#but my roommate keeps telling me to turn off the pantry light so. night light it is

[jonathanrook]

can someone remind me after work that i have to go buy night lights

[kuroopaisen]

heart attack || bokuto koutarou

➵ your hot roommate likes to walk around without his shirt on. 

wc: 2.8k

warnings: implied f!reader, swearing, pure chaos

a/n: @stelleum jac darling, happy birthday! i tried writing you shipfic but i chickened out and wrote this instead (mayhaps i’ll finish the bkak fic one day, but for now it will sit in my drafts hh). i’ve already wished you a happy birthday so i won’t write you an essay here (although i’m fully capable of it), but i love you, and i’m so grateful to be counted amongst your friends. you bring such light and laughter with you, and i honestly feel like i’ve learnt a lot from being your friend. i hope you find this fic delightfully chaotic (just like you), and that it manages to make you smile a little -- you deserve nothing less (also big shout out to remy and ren for reading over this disaster fdsljk)

“he’s doing it again.”

“huh?” oikawa’s voice crackles from the other end of the phone.

“he’s walking around the house shirtless.”

it takes oikawa a few seconds to catch up. “oh, right. your hot roommate.”

you two have had this conversation many a time over the past two weeks. you’d quickly surmised that bokuto koutarou would be the death of you. probably by heart attack. oikawa had found that idea stupid.

“what do i do?” you ask, chewing on your lip.

“you could always ask him out.”

you scoff at the absolute certainty in his voice. “how dare you assume i wouldn’t shrivel up and die if i so much as attempted that?”

you don’t need to see your best friend to know he’s rolling his eyes at you. “why would you shrivel up and die?”

“what if he says no?”

“he’s not going to say no.”

“but he could.”

“you’re hot, it’ll be fine.”

“but you haven’t seen him, tooru,” you huff, waving off his assurances like they’re nothing. “pictures don’t do him justice.”

“i can’t believe you’re an adult…” oikawa sighs.

“you’re one to talk.”

“at least i can talk to people i find attractive,” he grumbles.

“he’s going to be a professional volleyball player,” you stress. “you know what they’re built like.”

“you were friends with us all throughout high school, and yet i don’t remember you ever talking about any of us like this.”

“the only one of you worth talking about is iwaizumi.”

a moment of silence. “that’s fair.”

“anyway, that’s all besides the point,” you grumble.

“do the other guys know about this?” he asks. you don’t like the playfulness in his voice.

“as a matter of fact, they don’t.”

“why not?”

“if i told them, they’d meddle,” you stress. “directly.”

“you can’t stop me from telling them.” you can tell from his voice that he’s grinning.

“i’ll block your number and never speak to you again.”

oikawa doesn’t need time to decide that it’s a viable and realistic threat.

“wait, are you hiding in your room again?” he asks.

“duh.” you roll your eyes. “i wouldn’t be talking about this in the living room, would i?”

---

meanwhile, bokuto’s sitting on the couch, quite shirtless as he twiddles his thumbs.

when kuroo had first told him that the best way to win his roommate’s heart was to ‘just walk around shirtless,’ bokuto had been a bit doubtful.

of course, kuroo hadn’t won the heart of his partner by walking around shirtless, but boukto was loath to completely disregard his friend’s advice. he does, after all, have a partner, so perhaps following his advice isn’t the worst idea.

but you’d scurried into your room almost immediately upon catching sight of him, and bokuto fears that he’s frightened you.

he likes to consider you friends. sometimes you’ll watch movies with him -- on occasion, you’ll even commit to a full anime series (even though he needs you to explain what’s actually going on half the time) -- and there’s a certain ease of conversation between the two of you. in his mind, it’s only natural that he should develop a little bit of a crush. 

unfortunately that line of common sense didn’t follow through to the next step of actually asking you out. 

---

your sheer embarrassment goes head-to-head with your insatiable hunger and loses.

you peek through a crack in your door, trying to ensure that the hallway was clear. perhaps you could survive seeing him in the front room, but an encounter in your cramped little hallway was bound to end in humiliation.

you manage to skitter into the kitchen quietly, every one of your senses on high alert for the enemy (see: bokuto koutarou’s god-like body). 

you spy the back of his head on the couch from your new vantage point. if you’re quiet enough, chances are he won’t notice that you’re in the kitchen. if the universe really gave a damn about you, then it would let you be invisible for a few seconds. 

“hey!” bokuto calls from the couch, holding a hand up.

“hey,” you mumble as you make an active effort not to look at him. damn him and his masterfully sculpted biceps. they’re almost enough to make iwaizumi jealous. almost.

you dash over to your pantry, opening it up and rifling through a couple shelves. you don’t have the mental or emotional fortitude to stand around and cook a proper meal right now, so the next best thing is instant ramen.

“whatcha looking for?”

you almost shed your skin in fright.

there’s a warmth hovering over you, and you’re far too aware of what it is.

“something to eat.” you can only hope that those words came out legibly.

“oh, yeah, there’s not really much,” he shrugs, tilting his head at you.

you’re still not looking at him. has he done something wrong?

“ah,” is all you can muster in response.

“did you want to order in?” bokuto asks, a certain lightness to his voice. it’s similar to the tone he uses when he wants to pick what you guys watch on a saturday night.

“uh—” oh no. “i—i don’t—um—”

what are you trying to say? you don’t know. bokuto has no chance of deciphering it.

but, he simply beams at you. “i’ll pay!”

sure, he has more money in his bank than you could ever dream of having – damn professional athletes and their egregious pay checks – but you still don’t want him to pay for you.  

“it’s okay,” you manage to say, holding up a hand to wave it off. 

you don’t expect him to take said hand. 

“please, let me treat you,” he grins. “as a thanks for helping me out with the bills last week.”

ah. that’s right. bokuto may be a sports star in the making, but he’s horribly lacking in the common sense most people rely on to make it through the day. 

“okay.” 

it’s very hard to say no to him when he’s looking at you like that, with his golden eyes all big and round and his fluffy hair falling around his face. damn him. 

you let him fiddle away with one of the delivery apps – you admittedly aren’t paying much attention to what he’s ordering – and entertain yourself with the bare walls of your kitchen. 

maybe you could sneak back to your room until dinner came? 

“how was your day?” bokuto asks brightly, effectively trapping you in a conversation. 

shit. 

“uh– fine?” you swallow. “my lectures felt like they wouldn’t end, but i survived.” 

“good thing you did,” he beams, tilting his head at you. 

you blush, trying to ignore just how handsome he is. “how was practice?” 

sure, you want to turn your tail and run, but you really don’t want to hurt his feelings. 

“it was good!” he grins. “tsum-tsum’s been less annoyed with me recently!”

“oh, that’s great!” you mean it. from what you’ve heard about his team, this ‘tsum-tsum’ seems like he’s the sort of person who’s hard to keep up with. 

“he almost gave me a compliment today,” bokuto said, voice brimming with pride. 

“really?” ‘tsum-tsum’ doesn’t seem like the type to give compliments, but bokuto always has a way of seeing the best in things. 

“yeah! he said my cross-court shot wasn’t half-bad!” 

you’re not quite sure if that counts as a compliment, but you won’t pop his bubble. 

“and omi didn’t flinch as much when i patted him on the back, either,” bokuto nods. 

“do you still use that hand sanitiser i gave you?” it had been a mindless little gift, one you’d bought after finding out he works with a germaphobe, but you are curious nonetheless. 

“of course!” bokuto nods enthusiastically. “it’s my lucky charm.” 

your breath catches in your throat. does he not understand what saying something like that could do to a person? especially when it’s coming from the world’s best himbo? what are you even supposed to say to that?

for the first time today, the universe takes pity on you. 

there’s a loud knock on the door. 

bokuto perks up. “i’ll get it!” 

“wait!” you call out instinctively.

bokuto pouts at you over his shoulder, frozen mid-stride.

“you’re shirtless.”

bokuto blinks at you for a moment. “is that a problem?”

three more brain cells stop fighting the good fight and perish. “no?” you frown. “yes?” he’s staring at you. “maybe?”

he’s still staring, a unique concoction of confusion, earnestness and disappointment in his eyes.

“it’s… a lot,” is all you manage to sew together.

“a lot?”

“you’re… a lot.”

“i’m a lot?” bokuto looks like he doesn’t know whether he should be upset by that statement or not.

“yes… muscles.” it’s official. you want to die. there’s no coming back from this.

bokuto glances down at his chest for a moment, a perplexed expression on his face. well, he is beefier than most, and none of his teammates are quite as built…

“just let me get it,” you breathe, well-aware of just how red your face is. after what is bound to be a horribly awkward dinner, you’d need to hop online and look for a new place to live.

you take a deep breath as you open the door, hoping, praying that this exchange, at least, would go smoothly.

you freeze as you look at the delivery boy’s face.

no way.

“holy shit,” makki grins, eyes crinkled and red cap slightly askew.

“no.” this is the last thing you need right now.

“this is where you live?” he asks, trying to pop his head through the doorway.

“uh—” you push him back instinctively, mustering up all your strength to budge the headstrong six foot asshole currently trying to force his way into your apartment.

he freezes, and you know the worst has happened.

“is that your roommate?” he asks, taking a step back with an infuriating grin on his face. “or are you getting some?”

“oh my god makki, i’m going to—”

“do you know this guy?” bokuto’s suddenly behind you, hands clasped behind his back and head tilted to the side.

“unfortunately,” you mumble, trying to keep your expression as neutral as possible. if makki catches even a hint of weakness, he’d press at it relentlessly.

you look him up and down, frowning. “i thought you were working at a tech shop or something.”

he shrugs. “i lied.”

“why?”

“i dunno,” he says, as if lying about your part-time job is the most casual thing in the world. “it sounded more impressive than ‘delivery boy’.”

it’s not like you expected any more from him, but even this feels a little strange.

bokuto’s stomach grumbles from behind you. you remember that he’s right there – and makki’s staring at him.

“why is he shirtless?” makki tilts his head to the side. “who is he?”

“my roommate,” you admit through your teeth.

makki stares at him for a few seconds more, a smirk spreading across his face. “is this why you won’t let us come over to your apartment?”

change of plans. time to pencil in a murder for seven o’clock. after your scheduled self-implosion, which is bound to happen any moment now.

“give me my food.”

“not until you answer my question,” makki grins, holding the takeout bag above your head. damn him and his height.

you glare at him, fists clenched at your sides. “i won’t hesitate and you know it.”

the threat of a knee to the balls is usually enough to make any man quiver. but not makki.

“really?” he smirks. “in front of your hot roommate?”

“i’m going to kill you—”

“i can’t believe you’ve been keeping him from us,” makki tsks, holding out a hand to bokuto. “nice to meet you. i’m a friend from high school.”

bokuto shakes his hand tentatively, a bit behind on exactly what’s going on here.

“and you are?” maki asks, a disgustingly sweet smile on his face.

“bokuto.”

“nice,” makki nods, looking him up and down. you know this will be immediately reported in the group chat. you’re never going to live this down. and, makki now knows where you live. you expect that you’re going to get some unwanted visitors very, very soon.

“get out of here,” you grumble, taking full advantage of makki’s distracted gaze and grabbing the bag out of his hand.

“hey!”

“have a nice night!” you call, pushing him out of your doorway with one hand. “i’ll leave you a bad review!”

“no, don’t—”

the door slams in his face, and you feel like you can breathe properly for the first time in the past ten minutes.

that is until you remember that bokuto’s standing right behind you. 

“should we eat?” he asks, a little too close to your ear than you would like. 

you flinch, taking a step forward. your nose presses against your front door and you curse every conceivable deity that comes to mind. 

“yes,” you nod, lightly banging your head on the door. perhaps it’s what you deserve. 

“okay,” bokuto says slowly, as if he’s not sure about what to do next. “i’ll get some plates.” 

you take a moment to catch your breath. all you have to do is make it through, what? the next twenty minutes? surely you could manage that. surely. 

bokuto’s already over by the couch, two plates in hand, and still very, very shirtless. that’s the reason everything’s gone tits up today. because he wouldn’t constrain his pectorals behind a thin wall of blended cotton. 

but you sit yourself down on the couch after unpacking your food on the coffee table. you sit yourself down on the couch, unsure if you can find the strength to start eating. 

bokuto plops himself down next to you. it’s almost like he’s vibrating with excitement. why does he have to be so damn hot and cute?

the two of you sit on the couch in total silence. 

bokuto stares at you. you make a pointed effort to look anywhere that isn’t him. 

“are you okay?” he asks, a genuine pout on his face. 

“can you… can you put a shirt on?” it feels a bit like an admission, or some kind of surrender, but this has gone on too long. 

“oh, okay.” bokuto hops up, watching you for a moment before dashing off. 

once he’s out of sight, you sigh, resting your head in your hands. what is going on? when you’d gotten back from university, you hadn’t expected the day to go like this. 

bokuto reappears out the corner of your eye, now modestly covered with a white shirt. it’s almost worse, honestly – the shirt really compliments his tan. 

“are you okay!?” his voice pitches as he moves towards you, placing a hand on your back. 

you flinch, dropping your hands from your face and closing your eyes. “yeah, i just…” honestly it feels a bit like you’re in purgatory. but that might sound a little dark. “it’s just been a weird night.” 

“i’m sorry.” you can’t see bokuto’s frown, but you hear it in his voice. 

you finally brave a proper look at him. somehow, his hair looks more deflated than usual. 

“i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable,” he specifies, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“uh–” you swallow roughly, unsure of where to go with this. “thanks? i guess?” 

bokuto pouts at you, his gaze flicking down to the floor. “i was just trying to impress you.” 

every single thought skids to a stop. what? what? he was walking around shirtless because he was trying to impress you? well, it worked, but he probably didn’t expect it to leave you speechless. 

“you… were trying to impress me?” the words feel strange coming from your mouth, but you manage to meet his eyes. 

“yeah,” he nods, his own cheeks darkening. it’s nice to know that the embarrassment isn’t one-sided. “my friend told me it was the best way to win you over.”

whoever this friend is, you intend to have a very stern word with them.

“you could just… ask me out,” you blink at him, unsure of how to proceed. 

“i could?”

“yeah?”

“would you have said yes?”

“i–” you clear your throat, breaking eye contact. “i guess?”

“so… that’s a yes?”

“yes?” 

bokuto stares at you, cheeks even redder than before and mouth slightly agape. 

“what?” you stare back at him. is he broken? has his brain finally given up too? 

“do you wanna go on a date?”

“i–” it’s your turn to have your mouth hang slightly agape. 

“please?” he asks, eyes going round and sad. 

“sure,” you blink. you? bokuto? a date? when? how? what–

“woo-hoo!” bokuto cheers, pumping his fists in the air. “alright!” 

oh man, this boy is definitely going to be the death of you. probably by heart attack. but, maybe that’s not the worst fate. 

[neonponders]

Based on @lovebillyhargrove ‘s This Steve with This Billy. (original concept credit to @youfuckingdonut)

I’m having more success with mafia drabbles than my on-going mafia fics orz

• • • • • • •

Steve didn’t know what Billy’s job actually was.

He knew the guy wore nice shirts and nicer blazers, suit jackets, and tuxedo pieces. He knew Billy had to be either the boss or close to it, because he only wore the pieces of a full suit or tuxedo. Steve wouldn’t be surprised if he burned every tie he saw. Always had too many buttons undone.

But he looked good. And he knew he looked good. He walked right up to Steve waiting in line with Robin at a cafe before it closed. They’d gone to a nightclub at the absurd time of 8 o’clock. Hey, no door charge because they showed up so early. They were drunk off their ass and sweaty by 11pm. He called it an efficient night out.

“I’ve never been so happy to have a box of stale croissants in my life,” Robin mused as the tired barista used the tongs in the glass display case.

Steve bounced from foot to foot, still dancing to the bad radio pop overhead. He cracked open his juice from the chilled shelves, since asking for a coffee five minutes shy of closing might get a wad of spit mixed in - 

“You’re light on your feet.”

Steve didn’t think too heavily on it when he was drunk. Everyone was prettier when the brain behind the eyes was in some cups, just like all food tasted better. Maybe he should’ve devoted more brain cells to the moment. But that was a lost cause now.

He and Robin chatted and Steve apologized for his hand being wet with condensation and sweat when the guy offered a handshake. Even through the sparkly haze of alcohol, Steve could tell he gave Steve the time of day more than Robin, but they were on their way out anyway.

Steve might’ve said, “Well that was a great nightcap. He’s tasty,” a bit loud before the cafe door shut behind them. Robin coughed on her croissant and Steve guffawed and swiped it for himself before taking off down the street with her chasing after him.

But then Steve just kept running into him.

The guy from the cafe.

Walking into the park as Steve was leaving it. Strolling by the bank before Steve went inside.

With his designer clothes and his clean shoes and smooth, clean shaven jaw made ever so slightly tacky from skincare and lotion when it touched Steve’s face. Because he leaned too far forward over the table he was serving at his upscale restaurant job and

Time froze in a vacuum

Because Steve could’ve sworn he - Billy - lifted his face into the shadow of Steve’s neck. Inhaled.

It was a miracle he didn’t drop a plate or spill a glass. He dared the briefest glance but blue eyes pierced him regardless of the emotion behind them. Steve felt like a dagger tied on a string hung through his belly, lazily stirring his nerves and threatening to land dangerously in his groin.

He left the table before he made a fool of himself and all the company present. Large tables guaranteed large tips. He’d be set for the next month if he just didn’t fuck this up. He strode past the open-air kitchen and the ‘butler’s pantry’ area to hallway with the staff bathrooms -

Hands turned him around by his hips, surprisingly warm despite the thick poly-cotton of his white apron and the black slacks underneath.

The dagger fell.

The kiss was soft despite how ravenously Billy plundered his mouth. It was all Steve could do, to hold onto his nape and then wrap his arms behind Billy’s neck. He tasted like steak and amaretto and neutral sweet, like a man. Mewls and moans left Steve’s throat like he couldn’t stop them. Didn’t want to. Just wanted to drown in whatever this was.

Billy pivoted them so Steve pressed into the wallpaper. He hummed again as his hand found the clean shaven fade on the back of Billy’s head, his blunt fingertips petting and scratching there like he hadn’t known this man for more than an hour of collective encounters.

A sound left Billy’s chest. It hit Steve’s core like a pebble on a bell before he broke the kiss enough to meet Steve’s gaze. Clear blue eyes far more sober than Steve felt and probably looked. Wrecked with lust for this stranger who had money and means to always find him.

“A car’s going to pick you up later.”

Steve blinked with reticence, not wanting to leave this haze but already out of it.

“Get into the car.” The pad of Billy’s thumb touched Steve’s lip, light but insistent. He breathed, “Steve,” before leaving the hallway. Pleading. At least, Steve wanted it to be a plea.

But he was gone when Steve checked back at the table to top up waters and drinks. In singles and pairs, the group left until Steve was left to collect dishes and wonder who the hell managed their tabs. His manager answered that question for him moments later, by shoving a thick fold of cash into his apron pocket.

“Your tip from table twenty-three.”

“I didn’t see you get the bills,” he commented, intending to reach in and see what the high rollers tipped - 

She shoved his hands away from his pocket. “You don’t take money out in the open, silly. Get back to your locker for that.”

Steve knew he never saw her with a pile of receipt folders with credit cards sticking out of them. But he went back to work and didn’t take inventory of his tips until closing.

That table might’ve spent $1200 on dinner and drinks.

Steve got $1100 in tips. What kind of math that was, he didn’t know, but he couldn’t fixate on it too much, because inside the fold of money was a piece of paper with a phone number. No name. Steve could assume it to be Billy’s but he didn’t know...

Get into the car.

Steve zipped up his coat as he stepped out of the employees’ entrance. He emerged out of the service alleyway to...a regular city street. No cars more or less than normal, and none of them stood out...

Did he even want to get in?

He almost shook his head, just to jostle his thoughts around. “Don’t be stupid, don’t be stupid,” he whispered to himself as he turned and marched his ass home. He didn’t know this guy: a person with a scary amount of recon on his life to be able to find him at any ol’ time. His dinner friends weren’t exactly a college reunion, either.

But he kissed like a god and tasted like one too.

He held Steve like he wanted him, and Christ, Steve wanted to be wanted.

The privilege of being craved.

He was wrist deep in shampoo with his eyes closed when he realized someone pounded on his apartment door. The panic of rinsing suds off his body as fast as possible, the terror of someone at his door at 2am, and the fury of pissing off his neighbors at 2am spurred him out of the shower and into a t-shirt on top of the towel around his waist.

God sure as hell could’ve been at his door and Steve would’ve answered it the same way.

“It’s 3am! Shut the hell up!” he hissed.

Billy looked equal measures of pissed and concerned, but he blinked and amusement crept in. He wore a long, swanky pea coat that looked soft to the touch. Steve was more preoccupied with moving out of his way when the guy strode right into his apartment.

“Why didn’t you let the car pick you up?” Billy’s gaze moved around the Spartan yet cluttered living room.

“Uh, I didn’t see one?” Steve sassed before he admitted, “Or...it’s a street? Lots of cars.”

Billy’s attention landed on him like he didn’t quite believe it. Steve stood in a towel with dripping hair, for god sake. Billy’s eyes raked over him as if he were putting together some pieces of a puzzle that Steve didn’t understand. Or was mundane life so difficult if you could just drop $1100?

Billy took his hands from his pockets and started removing buttery leather gloves. “Do you have a roommate?”

Steve felt like another dagger was about to fall, but where, he couldn’t tell. He inhaled and sighed, “No.”

“Who is that woman to you?”

Steve’s brows reached for his hairline. “You mean my best friend?” he challenged.

Billy laughed. Derisive and amused and...impressed? Relieved?

He threw his coat, jacket, and gloves on the IKEA couch and those hands found Steve’s waist again. “Billy?” he managed before he had those lips again. Before Billy’s hand found the base of his skull and encouraged him to tilt for better access.

Then Billy let a moan seep into his sigh. Their lips parted audibly and he breathed, “No one talks to me like you do. About me. To me. You-mmh.”

He took Steve’s lips again like he craved. Steve shivered against his erection brushing against the fibers of his towel.

“Can I finish my shower?”

“No,” he purred darkly, arm locking behind Steve’s waist as the other pressed a rolling hand to Steve’s front.

He trembled through a broken shout, panting against Billy’s lips and jaw, gripping his silk shirt at the risk of scratching the threads. Billy licked over Steve’s lips, and Steve was dangerously close to cumming right there.

“Billy...” he whined. He warned.

Bright eyes gazed steadily at him through hooded, dark lashes. “Keep saying my name like that. I’ll give you everything.”

[therealvalkyrie]

Basil Part 1

Pairing/setting: Pro-hero!Bakugou Katsuki x Female!Reader

Summary: After bringing home Bakugou from a bar, you invite him to stay for breakfast.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: swearing, kissing, mentions of sex, soft bakugou, aged up characters

AN: I’m sending it lmao. Figured I’d just drop this and go to sleeb, then maybe I’ll find the motivation to finish the second part tomorrow. We shall see!! Don’t forget to come tell me what you think:) Be kind to yourself and others!! ~valkyrie

Something different wakes you this morning. The familiar presence of your cat, Tonic, curled next to your head on the pillow isn’t it, and it’s not your alarm. You crack open a heavy eye and close your dry mouth. Judging by the pale cloudless sky visible through the window, it’s not time for you to get up yet. Was it a noise? A neighbor? A dream? You try to think back on what you’d been dreaming about in your sleep, but the visuals get hazier by the second as you blink lazily. The urge to stretch and your body washes over you quietly, achingly, and you start to roll onto your right side, away from the cat, only to be prevented by a body across your waist. Alarm jolts through you as you glance down. A head of disheveled blonde hair nuzzled into your side greets your gaze. Then, as your eyes slide down the very naked body attached to the hair, you remember.

Oh. Right.

It’s the man from the bar. The one with striking eyes and an attitude problem who nevertheless charmed his way into your pants with drinks and well-timed wit. It’s the man who tucked you under his arm as you giggled your way out of the bar, made out with you in the back of the taxi, and fucked you until you couldn’t think straight. Bakugou Katsuki.

The memory brings a lethargic smile to your dry lips and a warmth to the rest of your body as you experimentally ghost your fingers down his naked back. He looks tranquil here, torso rising and falling easily in sleep, arm thrown over your stomach, and head using your underboob as a pillow. Your sheets are bunched around your tangled legs but you still feel comfortably warm from his body heat. He’s practically like a furnace, skin hot and slightly sweaty on yours.

Eventually, after staring at him through soft eyes for what should be an embarrassingly long time (but really, you can’t find it in yourself to be ashamed, not when he’d devoured your body with his eyes the night before), you stretch your arms as much as you can without disturbing him and reach for your phone on the bedside table. The screen lights up as you tug out the charging cord, displaying the time (6:13) and a flurry of notifications from your girls’ night group chat. Scrolling lazily through without bothering to open the app, you read the conversation in reverse while tracing gentle circles on Bakugou’s toned back:

carolina, 6:00: ferny have u been murdered in the night

carolina, 5:59: i am alive…………………….barely

Then, it’s arguments and teasing about another friend, Ichika, leaving with a “short ass man,” in Carolina’s words, and then confirmations of everyone arriving safely home. So you weren’t the only one who left with someone last night? It makes you feel better about abandoning your friends. It wasn’t that they couldn’t take care of themselves, more that nights out with your girls were few and far between, given your hectic schedules. You know they wouldn’t hold it against you, but you were looking forward to spending time with them. Scroll, scroll, scroll.

carolina, 00:46: we want details in the morn😈

Mei, 00:45: in that case, take your time sweaty😘

Mei, 00:44: WHAT THE FUCK????

ichika, 00:44: Ground Zero??

Of course they’d discuss this, thirsty whores, you think, grinning. You knew who he was the second he leaned up against the bar next to you with a cocky smile and a pick-up line; it’s not like you’re completely oblivious, unlike Mei, even if you don’t generally keep up with the latest pro-hero gossip. And he didn’t let you forget it, either. Fresh heat rises up your neck as echoes of last night ring in your mind.

“Say it, baby, who’s fuckin’ you so good?”

“Y-you are!”

“And who am I?”

“Ground Ze-ero!”

The ghostly feeling of his fingers digging into your hips makes your thighs twitch together.

ichika, 00:44: omg no way

Mei, 00:44: who?

carolina, 00:44: of course i saw, that was motherfucking bakugou katsuki!!!!!!

Mei, 00:43: y’all see that smokeshow she left with? we won’t be hearin shit until tmrw

carolina, 00:41: or don’t;) we know you’re occupied

ichika, 00:41: lmk when you get home safe, love!!

When you’re finally caught up, you open your phone and type out a clumsy response with one thumb.

Ferny, 6:18: was not murdered, promise i will give deets later

Ferny, 6:18: he’s still here uwu

A low, sleepy grunt pulls your gaze from your phone screen and onto Bakugou. He’s finally stirring, nose pressing into the pudge of your stomach and body twisting further into the sheets.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” you murmur, locking your phone and tossing it back onto the nightstand.

His head jerks up and he looks momentarily caught off-balance, guarded, before he turns to look at your face and his expression softens.

“Mornin, beautiful,” he mumbles in a gravelly morning voice, pushing up the bed to press his lips to yours. Your cat mewls at the inconvenient shift in the pillow and brushes down your body to settle by your feet instead. Indulging for a moment in the soft glow of kissing him, your arms loop around his neck and his warm hand ghosts over your cheek, down your neck, across your clavicle. You let out a singular satisfied moan at the feeling of his bare chest against yours, then gently pull away.

“I have morning breath,” you complain with a pout. He only smirks devilishly.

“You taste alright to me,” he quips before sneaking another, faster kiss to your lips.

You squeal and push him back playfully with an indignant, “Bakugou!”

“Alright, alright,” he concedes defeat, flopping on his back next to you.

Finally, without his body practically pinning you to the mattress, you’re able to sit up and stretch satisfyingly. Your back gives a series of gratifying pops as you yawn and twist, and Bakugou makes an alarmed sound behind you.

“Jesus, you sound like fuckin bubblewrap! Is your back okay?”

“Oh, it’s fine! Always happens when I sleep funny.”

“I dunno, you should maybe get that checked out.”

“After coffee,” you agree noncommittally, then lean down to scoop Tonic from where he’d retreated on the end of the bed and extricate your legs from the tangle of sheets and blankets. “I just have to feed this little guy, and then I was thinking… breakfast? There’s a great bakery across the street.” You’re suddenly shy, voice breathier with the suggestion. 

The protocol you usually employ for one night stands is simple: if you’re at their apartment, make your excuses and skedaddle before anything more intimate like food can happen; if they’re at yours, make your excuses and kick them out before they start doing weird shit to your kitchen. But Bakugou feels different. There isn’t an ounce of regret or shame or embarrassment when you think back on the previous night, and the morning already feels intimate, with its lazy kisses and easy banter. You wouldn’t mind spending more time with him, but you can’t tell if he feels the same. Or if he’s waiting for an excuse to leave and get back to his life.

“Let me make you breakfast,” comes the unexpected reply, and you twist to look at him, eyebrows arched in surprise at both the acceptance of your invitation and his willingness to cook for you. He must mistake it for doubt, though, because he looks suddenly defensive, brow creasing in a frown. “Hey, I can cook, get that dumb look off your face!”

“No, no, that’s not it,” you placate, leaning back and into his side while cradling Tonic to your chest. “I’d love for you to make me breakfast.” You press a kiss to his shoulder as he loops his arm around yours and grumbles something too quiet to hear. “It’s just,” you mumble into his skin, “I don’t have much in the way of a stocked pantry.”

“What do you mean?” You glance up to meet his perplexed gaze.

“I mean, my roommate travels a lot for work and he’s more of a cook than I am,” you explain, not missing the way Bakugou tenses when you mention your male roommate. But he doesn’t say anything, just blinks down at your cat who’s spilled from your arms and across his chest like an uncontainable liquid. “Sorry” —you wince, trying and failing to scoop him back towards you— “he’s very affectionate.”

“S’okay,” he mutters, blinking twice more before focusing back on you. “Let’s at least see what you’ve got, I could probably whip something up.”

You shrug. “Well, okay. Might be a challenge.” At this, he chuckles darkly and narrows his eyes.

“I love a challenge.”

You giggle and push up to sitting again, legs dangling over the edge of the bed and Tonic cradled to your chest. “Alright, Gordon Ramsey, let’s take a look.”

Sauntering over to your closet, you can feel Bakugou’s gaze on you until he stands up as well and starts casting around for his clothes from the previous night.

“Oh,” you start as you reach for a hoodie from the top shelf, dragging his eyes back to you. “If you want some clean clothes, my ex left some stuff that’d fit you.”

He makes a choked sound behind you, then clears his throat. “Uhm, no. Thank you.” It’s strained, and he doesn’t say how he’d rather get food poisoning than wear the clothes of another man who fucked you. The thought makes his skin feel tight and sends an unfamiliar rush of jealousy through him.

You only shrug. “Suit yourself.”

You dress in comfortable silence, trying not to steal glances at his incredible abs while you do it. 

In the hallway, you point at a door, holding Tonic in your arms. “Bathroom’s through there, I think I should have a new toothbrush in the cupboard if you want. The kitchen’s this way, once you’re done.”

He grunts thanks and ducks through the door, flicking on the light switch as he goes.

It puts you slightly off-balance to be aware of someone else in your apartment as you feed Tonic and open up your living room curtains to let the morning sun stream in. You stand there for a moment, looking out over the city and willing your nerves to settle. You like Bakugou, you want him to stay. So just don’t fuck it up.

You hear the bathroom door close and take a deep breath.

In the kitchen, Bakugou stares at your empty cupboards and fridge for a long moment while you stand beside him, awkwardly rubbing your neck.

“What do you eat?” he barks in disbelief, turning to look at you like you’ve got two heads.

“Sunlight and water.”

“What?!”

“It’s my quirk! I, um, photosynthesize.” You cross the kitchen to one of your many plants, a large fern that spreads across half the wall. “Here,” you motion Bakugou over, kneeling down to touch the dirt in its planter. “Watch.”

Bakugou crouches next to you, a confused scowl still etched on his face, but nevertheless looks to where your fingers gently dig into the potting soil.

As you close your eyes and concentrate, pushing will out of your fingers, you feel the fern’s whole network of roots, stalks, and leaves, pulsing with the energy of life. Concentrating, you encourage it to flow towards you, splitting the dirt with a sprout. You allow a smile of satisfaction to split across your face when you hear Bakugou’s gasp of surprise when the sprout bursts into the air and unfurls.

You open your eyes to find his lips slightly parted in awe and his eyebrows raised where they’re normally pinched.

“I photosynthesize and make plants grow.” You lean forward to lightly stroke the little fern’s softly curling leaves. “I can still eat real food, though. It’s just cheaper to get some sun.”

Bakugou leans forward as well, one hand reaching hesitantly toward the fern.

“You did that?” He looks at you in awe.

You nod, smiling lightly. His eyes seem to search yours for a moment, then an air of contemplation crosses his face and he takes a breath.

“Can you do basil?”

[peach-pops]

Roommate HC

Request:  hi i love ur account! do u think u could write a HC with kuroo, oikawa, and bokuto on how they would be as roommates! thank you!

Author’s Note: This request had me dying thank u so much! I made this to be platonic but if u guys want a part 2 to make them like each other/you want to see other roommate hc with other characters, let me know!

Warning: mentions of sex, adult language, reader thirsting over iwaizumi cause same 

Pairing: Kuroo || Oikawa || Bokuto 

Part two

-Kuroo-

You can only be roommates if you’re hella close with Kuroo because if you’re living in a closed space together, shit is bound to happen. He’s basically you’re best friend so nothing is off-limits. 

Exhibit A: Shower rants

“ And I told her to mind her own damn business before I kicked her ass!” You said loudly as you sat on the counter of the sink while Kuroo was showering

“ You liar I know you didn’t say all that. Also, can you hand me my toothbrush?”

“ Mm, okay, I didn’t say it but I was thinking it!” You grabbed Kuroo’s toothbrush and opened the curtain to hand it to him,” it’s the thought that counts but then she told me that I was being a bitch! In front of the whole class!” 

Kuroo opened the shower curtain to poke his head out,” She called you a bitch in front of the class? What a fucking bitch.” 

I feel like Kuroo sleeps in a bit and waits until the last second to wake up so you’re basically his alarm clock 

Your favorite way to wake him up is to just bash his head with a pillow until he grabs it from you and hits you back with it ten times harder

“ I think you gave me a concussion.”

“ I- It’s a pillow, you big baby.” 

Getting ready in the morning is always pretty chill since Kuroo practically rolls out of the bed, looks at his hair, and decides yep, this is stylish 

If he has extra time in the morning, he’ll sit on your bed and watch you do your makeup/hair as you tell him your schedule for the day just cause he can 

Can we please remember that Kuroo is a big nerd so that means a lot of all-nighters at the dinner table. If you know he has a big test coming up, you order takeout from his favorite restaurant and you have to physically sit across from him so he actually takes a break to eat dinner

Sometimes he falls asleep at the table while studying so you always grab his phone to set a 15-minute alarm because while he needs to sleep, he also needs the time to study too 

On chill days, Kenma usually comes over and the two play video games until the middle of the night. While they’re always super loud, that’s a lie it’s just Kuroo, but whenever they get too loud you come out of your room and you just glare Kuroo down 

“ What’s wrong with your face?”

“ My face? This face will be the last thing you ever see if you don’t shut the fuck up. Kenma sweetie, ✨you’re doing great✨!”

OH okay this is just a bonus

so your upstairs neighbors are like bunnies if ya know what I mean. Like they go at it 25/8 and you and Kuroo can’t stand it because how are yall supposed to concentrate 

One night while you and Kuroo are watching a movie, you can literally hear your neighbors having crazy-ass sex and Kuroo gets so petty. He grabs a broom from the kitchen and starts hitting it against the ceiling like

 ‘ Shut! The! Hell! Up!” 

“ STOP! What if they get mad?” 

“ Who cares? I haven’t had sex in months. If I can’t get laid than no one can get laid!”

“ I don’t even want to think about you and *gags* sex in the same sentence.” 

So all in all, Kuroo is probably the easiest roommate to have and you two just work so well together

-Oikawa-

Oikawa isn’t as bad as a roommate as people might think. He’s surprisingly clean and not only does he clean up after himself but he always cleans up after you. He will sass you on how messy you are though

“ Y/N-Chan, I can’t even see the floor to your bedroom, you’re disgusting! I can’t even look at you the same way!” 

“ If it’s bothering you then get the hell out of my room!” 

“ Your room is a biohazard, how can you live like this?” 

“ I SAID GET OUT SHITTYKAWA!” 

There’s only one bathroom in your apartment so it’s always a battle to get ready in the morning. His side of the sink has way more stuff than you and you even try out some of his products if they happen to find their way to your side

You can’t even hide it from Oikawa because once you leave the restroom, he notices right away 

“ Are you wearing that SPF moisturizer I bought from that new skincare store the other day?”

“ Wha- how did you know?”

“ I can smell it you rat, stop using my skincare products!” 

He says that but the next day when you wake up to use the restroom, you see that he bought you your own moisturizer and there’s a sticky note on it ‘ because you desperately need some’ 

Oikawa also always manages to lose his glasses in the morning so when he’s late, he always wakes you up to help him find his glasses which are somewhere around the apartment 

“ Bitch, how hard is it to keep it next to your nightstand before you go to bed?” 

“ I forget” 🥺👉🏼👈🏼Oikawa pouts as he squints back at you cause he’s a blind bitch 

If Oikawa is your roommate, that definitely means Iwaizumi, Matsukawa, and Hanamaki are always over. One time in the middle of the night, you went to go get a glass of water and you screamed so loud when you saw a dark figure sleeping on your couch 

Your heart literally dropped to the floor but when you squinted your eyes, you could make out that it was Hanamaki just crashing on your couch 

Thank god, you actually thought there was a stranger-

What you didn’t know was that Matsukawa was sleeping on the floor of the living room and you tripped over his huge, built ass body 

“ Y/N? Is that you? Are you okay?”

“ I’m fine-”

“ Ow! Y/N, that’s my hand!”

“ Shit! Sorry- wait, Hajime? Is that you? What the hell-Who else is sleeping here?”

“ Meeeee!”

“Toru?!?! What are you doing out here?” You asked as you turned on the lights to find all four boys camped out in the living room. TF is this? Summercamp???

“ Duh, it’s a sleepover! Wanna join? You can lay next to me Y/N-Chan!”

“ Fuck no you weirdo. Except for you Hajime😚 my room is always open for you!” 🤩🥰🤪🤰🏻 

Oh speaking of frick fracking, you and Oikawa have a solid rule that if you’re planning on having sex, please let the other roommate know so there’s not a repeat of that one incident you’re not allowed to speak of 

Toru: Can you be out of the house from 8:30-9:30? I’m bringing someone over👉🏼👌🏼

Y/N: You bastard I was going to bring someone over!

Toru: Oh yeah? Who u trying to fuck?👀👀👀

Y/N: Hajime 🤤🤤🤤🤤

Toru: STOP THIRSTING AFTER MY FRIENDS

Y/N: BUT IT’S TRUE LOVE!

Besides all of that mess, Oikawa is such a fun roommate. If yall could live together forever, you definitely would because the banter never stops between the two of you, yall are like an old married couple uwu 

-Bokuto- 

JESUS you two take a while to mesh 

You two are best friends so when he suggested to move in together, you were all for it 

But it just took some getting used to 

Bokuto wakes up sooooo early to go run and this means blasting music in the shower at 5am & him blending the shit out a smoothie in the kitchen 

One time, this dude barged into your room around 5:20 in the morning and had THE AUDACITY to ask if you wanted to go run with him 

“ I feel bad leaving you here in the apartment alone, what if you miss me?”

“ If you ever wake me up this early to go run out of all things, I will shave your head do not test me owl.” 

He never asks you again don’t worry but he does walk in your room to whisper, rather loudly, that he’s leaving to go run just to give you a heads up

On some mornings when he knows you’re going to have a long day at school, he’ll make you breakfast and it’s actually super sweet cause you two will eat together in the kitchen and talk about what the plan for the day is 

If he’s ever too lazy to make breakfast, he’ll grab your favorite pastries during his run and bring it home cause he’s just that type of person 

Bokuto is a bit messy and you find yourself cleaning up after him a lot but he makes up for it by being an absolute sweetheart 

He assembled all the furniture in the apartment because he likes building stuff and he claims it’s manly. Don’t Mind my language but ✨U couldn’t give a shit ✨about building furniture so you were 100% okay with it

Akaashi came over to help put the couch together and that was arguably the most entertaining thing you had ever seen

“ Bokuto-San, I’m pretty sure these pieces don’t fit.”

“ Akaashi! Are you doubting my ability to read and follow instructions?!?!”

“ I think he’s right, those don’t fit at all.”

*cue emo bokuto ughhhhhhh this bitch*

Whenever Bokuto gets emo at home, you drop everything to help him get out of his funk. Not because what you’re doing isn’t important but if you don’t help, this dude will show up next to your bed full on close to crying

“ Ko, it’s two in the morning, why are you awake?”

“ Are you angry at me that I broke that plate earlier?”

“ Wha- no I’m not mad over a cheap plate. Just go to bed PLEASE!” 

No matter how busy yalls schedule gets, you two always make time to have a movie night at least once a week because he claims it’s good for roommate moral 

It’s just an excuse for him to snack through the pantry but whatever

He’s also the worst at grocery shopping. Like he notices all the snacks and desserts you like so he’ll buy so much of those things but will fail to get actual protein and vegetables 

I know it seems like I’m shitting on Bokuto and I’m not, I feel like Bokuto would also be such a fun roommate. There are some nights where you two will dance around together in your pajamas and camp out on the couch together and those are the moments where you’re thankful he’s your roommate

But he snores so loud I’M SORRY I HAD TO SAY IT 

[etherrealoblivion]

Chapter Fifteen: Fuck It

Table of Contents

Fic summary: Owning a bookstore in downtown D.C. came with its fair share of downsides. You never thought that being the target of a serial killer would be one of them. Luckily, a nice FBI agent by the name of Spencer Reid is assigned to watch over you. What's the worst that could happen?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 2,770

RATING: MATURE

MASTERLIST

~

The awkwardness toned down after a while. There wasn’t much more you could be embarrassed about now that you’d been sleeping in the same bed together for days. What was strange was the fact that it was Christmas Eve and neither of you really knew what to do.

“Should we celebrate?” he asked finally after a few episodes of the strange true crime show on VHS — it was called Felon’s Brains and Spencer hated it, but there wasn’t any cable this far out and there were fifteen seasons of it on tape.

“I’m not sure.” Christmas hasn't always been a happy holiday for you. That coupled with the fact that you were hiding from a killer, what was there to celebrate?

Looking over at Spencer sitting next to you on the couch, his face contorted as he thought hard. There’s something to celebrate.

“When was the last time you ate?” While he was skinny in the first place, his shirts seemed to be falling a little looser lately.

It was a good question judging by the way he had trouble remembering.

“I’m not sure. A few days ago.”

You would be surprised, but there hadn’t really been many opportunities for either of you to eat. You’d grabbed an apple just before you left the hotel but that was pretty much the only food you’d had in a while.

“We should have a feast,” you said excitedly, your stomach grumbling at the thought. Spencer also looked relieved, probably more at the idea of keeping busy.

“Okay! I’m not all that sure what’s in the pantry.”

The yield was minuscule, but you could make the best of it. Surprisingly, there was an old pasta maker with a stiff crank, but it would work well enough. There was flour, eggs, olive oil, all the ingredients to make pasta from scratch.

However, when presented with this idea, Spencer blistered.

“I’ve said this before, I’m, uh, not exactly a chef.”

You smiled gently at him, gathering the ingredients.

“Me either. But pasta from scratch is like the one meal I can make. And there’s some canned vegetables in the pantry. You can prepare those.”

He seemed daunted by the idea, but moved to the cabinet and took out several cans.

So you did your best making the pasta (perhaps adding a bit too much flour) and soon the meal was ready.

“Oh my god!”

“What?” you said nervously, watching him swallow the first bite of pasta.

“This is amazing!” he dug in, savoring it. “How did you learn to make this?”

Pleased, you took a bite yourself. It did taste really good. But so did Spencer’s vegetables.

“I learned from my old . . . roommate.”

You tried to play off the slip. Hopefully, he’d go along with it.

“Cool! Well, it’s delicious. Thank you.”

His eyes crinkled when he smiled, sending a spark through you and you grinned back at him.

“You know, this isn’t a bad Christmas Eve.”

He nodded, glancing from the meal to the window to you. Startled at the sudden eye-contact, you looked away, no doubt a blush spreading to your cheeks.

Spencer cleared his throat; he did that a lot.

“Ahem, did you know that Christmas is just the evolution of a popular holiday in the Roman Empire that celebrated the winter solstice as a symbol of the resurgence of the sun, the casting away of winter and—“

“While it does drive me crazy when you ramble, in a very good way, maybe we could talk about something a bit more personal?”

He wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed or relieved.

“Sure. Like what?”

“Hmm. What was your favorite Christmas?”

A bright smile lit up his face.

“The Christmas after my tenth birthday. My dad dressed up like Santa and we went and saw reindeer in Baskin’s park. I got to ride one. My mom was so scared the whole time. She kept thinking I was going to fall off, even though my dad was right next to me the whole time. That was really the last family time we had. He left the next year.”

His smile turned to a frown.

To change the subject, you took the plates to the sink, then sat on the couch, patting the place next to you. Spencer stood and ambled over, plopping down next to you, attempting to smile. Your positions were similar to how they’d been in the bookstore, all those nights ago. Strange how close you’d grown after such little time.

“What about you? What was your favorite Christmas?” he asked.

You took one look at him, wearing a thick burgundy sweater that looked far too scratchy to be comfortable, woolen mismatched socks, and regular jeans, his head tipped back on the couch and staring at you so sweetly, awaiting your response.

“This one.”

You had whispered it so quietly you would have been sure he didn’t hear it . . . if not for the sharp intake of breath next to you.

Quickly moving past that, you said, “I’m not sure. I’ve never really had super special Christmases. I mean presents and stuff is great, but none really stand out. Well, stand out in a positive light.”

He chewed on that for a minute.

“Then what’s been your worst Christmas?”

You shot him a look, “I’m not sure you wanna hear about that.”

“I do! Here,” he scooched closer, picking up your legs and swinging them into his lap, surprising you with the closeness of the gesture, “I’ll go first. My worst Christmas was the year after my dad left. I didn’t get any presents because he wasn’t there and my mom was admitted.”

“Admitted?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

“She, um, she has Schizophrenia. She lives in a mental facility.”

It was such a personal confession, you weren’t sure what to say. He told you something extremely private! That’s good! Right? No. If anything it just blurred the lines of your relationship further. Was he telling you to indulge you, make you feel more comfortable with him knowing so many personal things about you, or did he actually want to share that part of himself with you? Either way, you needed to acknowledge it.

“I’m here, Spencer.”

He looked at you in surprise.

“Most people say they’re sorry when I tell them that.”

Shit. 

“Oh, I didn’t mean—“

“No, no,” his eyes were full of curiosity and wonderment. “I’m actually grateful. It’s weird when people apologize because there’s really no right response. I can say, ‘it’s okay’, which is a lie; ‘thank you’, even though I’m not really thankful; or I can ignore it which is just mean. An apology creates an unconscious obligation.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, digesting the words.

“I promise never to apologize to you,” you said, smiling.

He smiled back, chuckling softly. “I promise, too.”

“My worst Christmas was last year.” He adjusted his position so he could look at you better. “I had just started my Linguistics PhD so my schedule was constantly full. At the time I was living with my ex-boyfriend, Matthew. He, um, had problems with me being gone so frequently; he always wanted to know where I was and what I was doing. So when I surprised him by coming home early on Christmas Eve, I thought he’d be pleased. Turns out there was a reason he was so obsessed with my schedule. He didn’t want me coming home to someone else in our bed.

“I remember when I walked in and saw them together how sad I was. But even more so, I was relieved. Looking back on it, I was just looking for an excuse to get out of that relationship.” You looked off in thought. “Huh. I’d never really thought about that.”

His hands were slowly patting your legs, sliding up and down your clothed shin. It seemed like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. 

“I’m here for you.”

He had said it as a comfort, as a substitute for ‘I’m sorry’, but you couldn’t help taking it as though he was saying he was there for you and he always would be, unlike your ex. Spencer seemed to realize this, his hands freezing on your leg. 

But he kept stroking after a moment, and said, “I never liked the name Matthew. So pretentious.”

You laughed lightly, reaching out for his hand, clasping it in yours and running your thumb along the back. 

“Spencer. How is this going to end?”

When the FBI had first talked to you, Morgan had assured you that the stalker wasn’t trying to kill you. But then why were they being so protective of you? 

He waited a moment before answering, holding your hand tightly.

“The model of a stalker killer deciding to rehearse his fantasy multiple times with possible intent to have you complete the final scenario concludes itself with one of two possibilities. The more likely being the stalker will kill himself.”

“What’s the other possibility?”

Embers from the fire snapped and crackled in the heavy silence.

“He’ll kill the object of his desire.” 

Although you had kind of put together the fact that there was more to the danger you were in, it still came as a shock to have it confirmed.

“Have you had cases like this before?”

He paused, biting his lip.

“Yes.”

“And how do they end?”

“The ones we win, the victim goes through therapy, the stalker goes to prison, and eventually we move on. It never goes away, but it gets better.”

You nodded seriously.

“What about the ones you lose?”

As the logs in the fire snapped again, a lightbulb burned out, making a loud popping noise above your head and shrouding the room in darkness.

Spencer stood on the couch, adjusting the bulb.

“Sorry, I guess there’s not the best electricity out here.”

“Well, there’s a generator out front. It’s probably just the lightbulb.”

“No, these lightbulbs were changed recently. Are you sure you saw a generator?”

You nodded.

“Then it must be the circuitry.”

He unscrewed the bulb and sat back down, setting it on the end table. The only light in the room came from the fire. It cast a golden glow over his sharp features, drawing your attention to the cut of his jaw and the plumpness of his lips. The firelight in his eyes as he stared sparked something inside you; a sort of sudden urgency.

You sat up, moving closer to him on the couch. His hazel eyes glowed in the soft light of the room. 

Slowly, you brought your hand to his face, gently caressing his cheek. His lips parted and his eyes grew dark, glancing down at your lips.

The threat of death was just around the corner, closer than you’d thought. You loved Spencer and you needed him to know before . . .

“Y/N. . . .”

It was barely a whisper but you felt it in every part of your body.

Letting the feeling wash over you, you picked up his hand, placing it on your cheek and melting into the touch.

Spencer stroked your cheek, thumb brushing against your lips. You parted them, staring at him as you mouthed his thumb. 

He suddenly pulled back, balling his hands into fists and trying to catch his breath.

“Listen, there’s this thing called ‘transference’ it’s when—“

“Spencer, I like you.” Well, that was one way to shut him up. 

At his shocked expression, you quickly burst into a ramble. “Not because you’re protecting me, I've thought hard about this. I can protect myself, I'm not helpless. That being said, everything about you makes me want to be with you. The fact you love reading, knowing all sorts of random facts, you love memorizing lists, the way you raise your eyebrows when you’re shocked like you’re doing now. I want you, not the idea of you. I want you.” You said the last part with such conviction you thought you’d explode.

Meanwhile, Spencer was speechless.

Testing the waters, you leaned in as slowly as you could, giving him the opportunity to stop you if he wanted. 

When your mouths were millimeters apart, neither of you moving, just breathing heavily, you said, “You don’t want this?”

“Drink,” and the second he said it, your lips met harshly with tongue and teeth clacking together. It was desperate, urgent the way you pulled him on top of you, laying back on the couch. His hands were everywhere at once, running through your hair, snaking around your waist, brushing against your neck. 

Breaking the kiss to pull his sweater over his head, you marveled at his bare chest. It was different than you’d pictured. Not muscular per se, but not nearly as scrawny. It was perfect. He was perfect.

He hesitated at your gaze, so you pulled him back down, ravishing his mouth and scraping your nails down him back, leaving a trail of white marks.

But, ever the hero, he pulled back, shaking his head softly.

“Wait, wait . . .”

The absence of his mouth was unbearable, but you would respect his boundaries. Although you knew now that if anything, it was his job interfering with his feelings for you. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you. He just couldn’t have you.

The thought was too much, you looked away from him, still hovering above you. When, after a moment, he still hadn’t moved, you looked at him, surprised to see an extremely pained expression on his face.

You tilted your head, eyebrows furrowing. For him, that seemed to be the last straw for he sighed and leaned back down muttering, “Fuck it,” and kissing you harder than ever before.

It was the first time he’d cursed in front of you. Moaning against his mouth, you could feel his fingers brush against the skin of your sides. You gasped at the contact and he started to pull back, but you pulled him closer, nipping his lips and letting your legs fall open, closing any gap between you.

He grunted softly and inadvertently thrust against you in just the right spot, causing you to thread your fingers through his hair and pull. 

The yank made him gasp and his hips jerked unconsciously against yours.

“D-do that again,” he whispered between kisses. 

Delighted, you did, hard, your other hand desperately trying to unbuckle his belt. He occupied himself with kissing up and down your neck, occasionally biting and subsequently soothing with licks.

You finally got his belt undone, throwing it to the floor as he pulled your shirt over your head. He pulled back for a moment, admiring you. Your bra wasn’t all that special, just a plain tan one, but Spencer looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Tired of the space between you, you pulled him back, kissing him deeply and moving his hand to your breast. The moment he was given permission, his hand slipped underneath, kneading gently.

As you popped the button on his jeans and shoved them down his legs, he found the clasp of your bra and snapped it, probably breaking something in the process. Now your chest was bare, Spencer’s hands moving all over your body, soaking up every inch possible. You gently reached down and felt his hard length, both of you moaning at the contact. He thrust into your hand, desperate for more.

But you had to stop him, you pulled him back, hands moving to gently grasp his cheeks, holding his face inches from yours.

He seemed alarmed by the shift, stopping all movement and staring into your eyes.

In that moment, with him on top of you, looking at you with such care, such caution, like you were the only thing that mattered in the world and he’d do anything you asked in an instant, you realized you needed to tell him. If you kept it in any longer you’d burst.

He knew what you were going to say the moment before you said it.

“I love you.”

The two of you held eye contact for a moment, the only sound in the room your breath. Then, his expression softened and he opened his mouth to speak.

But before he could say anything, there was a loud THWACK and he fell forward onto you, unconscious. Behind him, standing above you, was a dark figure holding a blunt object.

Terror rushed through you, chilling the marrow in your bones. But before you could so much as scream, the figure lifted the object and brought it down on your head, hard.

Everything went dark.

~

notes: I am so sorry.

~

Taglist: @aperrywilliams @mjloveskids666 @dolanfivsosxox @criesinreid @fanficsrmylife @racerparker @sammypotato67 @lukeskisses @reidcrimes @you-had-me-at-hello-dear @l0ve-0f-my-life @thatsonezesty13​ @yourmisosoup @queenofthebees003 @pinkdiamond1016 @eu-solidao @perverted-guardian-angel @boiled-onionrings @rainsong01 @lesbian-emilyprentiss @andiebeaword @itsmoony @cielo1984 @baby-i-am-fireproof @mendesminimuffin @fukyouthink @addie5264 @gretaamyk @sercyan @expressiodeppresio @matthewreid

[singswithmicoff]

Here is a short story I wrote for @isearchedtheyooniverse for the @exolssecretsanta event. I hope that you like it. Merry Christmas!!

It's also available on A03.

Baekhyun Byun looked around the baggage claim area for a sign of his former college roommate, Chanyeol Park. He had met Chanyeol their freshman year of college when they were paired as roommates. They had gotten along so well that they continued to live together for the remainder of college. After graduation, Baekhyun returned to his hometown while Chanyeol had stayed to complete his master’s. 

Even though they were halfway across the country from each other, they had remained close, talking almost every day and getting together for trips as their schedules allowed. Baekhyun made several trips back to their alma mater, as well as a vacation to Turks and Caicos the previous winter. This would be Chanyeol’s first time to visit Baekhyun in his hometown. He had finished his master’s degree and was coming to interview at the mental health facility that Baekhyun worked at.

“Yah, Baekhyun!” 

The shout startled Baekhyun out of his daze and he snapped his head around to find his friend. It didn’t take long to spot the six foot tall man, and Baekyun felt his face break out into a large grin rivaled only by the grin Chanyeol sported.

“Loey!” 

Baekhyun rushed to the man, taking in his features. He was always amazed by how attractive Chanyeol was. He was tall with wide brown eyes. His hair was dyed a light brown and peeked out from under his hat along with his ears that stuck out in a way that had endeared Chanyeol to him from the moment they met. Baekhyun allowed himself to think, just briefly, about the crush he had always had on his friend as Chanyeol hugged him tightly.When they pulled back, Chanyeol smiled brightly at him. 

“It’s been too long! I can’t believe I’m finally going to get a chance to see the infamous hometown of Baekhyun Byun.”

Baekhyun reached for Chanyeol’s carry on, but Chanyeol pulled it out of his reach. 

“Once you nail this interview, you’ll get to spend so much time there you’ll regret all your choices.”

“If only. I’m not convinced they’ll agree,” Chanyeol replied as he threw an arm around Baekhyun’s shoulders. They watched the baggage carousel as it began to produce suitcases.

Baekhyun leaned into him slightly, inhaling his scent. Even with the hours spent on the airplane he still smelled wonderful. 

“They’ll hire you on the spot. Even if you weren’t qualified, the need for a male therapist coupled with the overwhelming need for more therapists in general... There’s basically nothing you could do to not get hired.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Chanyeol laughed and pulled away to grab a large metal suitcase. “This is mine.”

“You’ll crush it,” Baekhyun said. “Ready to hit the road?”

Chanyeol grabbed Baekhyun’s hand and nodded. “How far is it again?”

“It’s about an hour and a half,” Baekhyun answered, leading them out of the airport. “If there’s anything special you want, we may need to stop somewhere here for it. I’m afraid we’re a bit podunk.”

Chanyeol laughed and followed. “I’m sure we’ll be fine. I’m only here for a few days anyway.”

“Longer when you get the job.” Baekhyun looked around the parking lot for his car.

“If I get it,” Chanyeol replied.

Baekhyun gestured at his car and popped the trunk. “When. When you get it.”

They filled the ride to Baekhyun’s house singing along to the playlist Baekhyun had made that reminded him of their time in college. Baekhyun loved how, regardless of the time spent apart, they were able to slip back into each other’s lives as if they hadn’t been apart. He was glad to have a chance to spend time with Chanyeol, someone he still considered one of his best friends.

“This is it,” Bakehyun said as he pulled into the driveway of a modest ranch house. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

Chanyeol looked at the house as they climbed out. “I’m sure it’s wonderful.”

“Sehun should be moved into his new place by the time you move here, so you can stay here until you find your own place,” Baekhyun said, letting Chanyeol into the house. “We both thought he’d be in already.”

Chanyeol took in the house. He had seen bits of it during video chats with Baekhyun, but it was nice to see it in person. 

“If I move here. They might hate me.”

Baekhyun shook his head and offered Chanyeol a pair of slippers. 

“They’ll love you. Anyway, once he’s moved out, you’ll have a room to stay in. Until then, unfortunately, you’ll be stuck sharing with me.”

“It’s hardly the first time,” Chanyeol replied, placing his shoes in the storage rack. “At least now you’ve got more than a twin bed.”

Baekhyun laughed as he thought about the semester they had spent squished on a twin bed in an attempt to save money and maximize the space they had. 

“Never again. I was so glad when Junmyeon graduated at semester.”

“Especially when he insisted on paying rent to keep us from trying to squeeze another person in,” Chanyeol said.

Baekhyun laughed again. “I’m pretty sure Minseok would’ve snapped if had we after living with Jun’s mess.”

Chanyeol followed him down the hall. “How they managed for two years, I’ll never know.”

“That’s my studio, there’s room for all your equipment...well, not the drums but we could always figure out a space.” Baekhyun pointed at the first door on their right as they came down the hallway. “There’s a half bath here across the hall with the shower and tub between it and the other half bath.”

They stopped at the end of the hallway and Baekhyun gestured at the closed door to the left. “That’s Sehun’s room, soon to be yours. Then I’m across the hall.”

Chanyeol followed him into the doorway to their right. “You’re so confident they’ll hire me. I wish I was half as sure.”

Baekhyun shrugged. “I know you. I know them. I know the needs. You’ll be a great fit. Plus, I’m putting it out there because I very selfishly want my best friend to live in the same place as me again.”

“Fair enough.” Chanyeol laughed and looked around the room. There wasn’t much furniture: a king size bed, a dresser, and a 50 inch television mounted to the wall across from the bed. It felt like Baekhyun though. “Plus you’re afraid to live alone.”

“I’m not afraid to live alone,” Baekhyun exclaimed.

“Sure you’re not.” Chanyeol laughed.

“I’m not!” Baekhyun insisted. “I’m just a social person and I like to have people around the house.”

“Well, if they hire me, I’ll take you up on your offer to stay here,” Chanyeol said. “It’d be fun to live together again.”

Baekhyun nodded in agreement. “Just like old times. Except instead of getting wasted on a Tuesday, we go to bed at a reasonable time.”

Chanyeol laughed. “How very exciting.”

“That’s how we roll,” Baekhyun laughed again. “Do you want to take a shower or anything? We’ve got about an hour before everyone gets here.”

Chanyeol nodded. “That sounds like a good idea. Get some of that airplane funk off.”

“Okay, cool. There’s clean towels above the toilet.” Baekhyun gestured at the closet. “You can store your luggage in there...there’s room to hang stuff if you need. And I’ll be in the living room setting up if you need anything.”

“Great, thanks, Baekie.”

Baekhyun smiled and left the room to give Chanyeol his privacy. He wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt nervous, but he did his best to put it out of his mind. It didn’t take much to get ready for the night, but it gave him something to do. He went into the pantry and pulled out cups and plates. There were snack trays and drinks in the garage fridge but he didn’t want to put them out until people started to arrive.

“Honey, we’re home!” Sehun shouted as he came into the house with their friend Jongin.

Baekhyun set down the plates. “Just in time. Chanyeol’s in the shower. I’m getting things set up.”

Jongin appeared from around the corner. “I can��t believe I’m finally going to meet the infamous Chanyeol Park.”

“When are you going to tell him you love him?” Sehun asked.

Baekhyun pushed him. “Shut up! He could hear you.”

Sehun shrugged. “Good. He should know.”

“There’s nothing he needs to know,” Baekhyun replied. “If you’re going to be bratty, at least help me set up.”

“You should tell him,” Sehun said.

“Go get the trays and drinks from the fridge. And quit being an asshole or I’ll drink your beer.”

Two hours later the group was gathered in the living room.

“We should play a game,” Sehun said, grabbing another beer.

Baekhyun shrugged. “What kind of game?”

Sehun smiled. “Truth or dare.”

“How old are you again?” Baekhyun rolled his eyes and took a drink of his water. He wasn’t much of a drinker and was trying to pace himself.

“Never Have I Ever,” Jongin suggested.

Amber, one of the therapists from the agency and one of Baekhyun’s closest friends, laughed. “Even better! It’ll give us a chance to get to know Chanyeol.”

“Can’t we just play Cards Against Humanity or Azn Flush?” Baekhyun asked.

Hazel shook her head. “I’m not playin Azn Flush with you again. It’s not fair.”

Baekhyun made a face. “I’ve told you isn’t our fault you aren’t Asian. You’re a bad Koreaboo.”

Chanyeol laughed. “Let’s just play Never Have I Ever, Baekie.”

Baekhyun pouted. “They’re just trying to get me drunk.”

“I’ll go first,” Sehun replied. “Never have I ever experimented to see my sexual orientation.”

Everyone except Hazel took a drink. “You always forget I’m the token straight girl. I’ll go next. Never have I ever watched an episode of Keeping Up With the Kardashians.”

Chanyeol was the only one not to drink that round and took his turn. “Never have I ever really liked a Justin Bieber song.”

Baekhyun glared at Chanyeol. “This isn’t fair!”

Jongin laughed. “I’ll go. Never have I ever sent nudes.”

“I hate you.” Baekhyun retorted, continuing to glare.

It went like this for another ten rounds, with Sehun keeping a close eye on Baekhyun’s glass and refilling it whenever it looked like it was close to empty. Baekhyun could feel himself getting tipsy as he took a drink each round.

“Never have I ever had a crush on someone I lived with,” Amber said.

Sehun went next after they had taken their drinks. “Never have I ever had feelings for someone in this room.”

Baekhyun finished his drink and stood up. “That’s it for me.”

Chanyeol stood up and took his empty cup to the kitchen. “Me too, I think. It’s been a long day.”

“It’s great to finally meet you,” Amber said. “I look forward to working with you.”

“It’s great to meet you too,” Chanyeol replied. “You’re all so sure they’ll hire me.”

Baekhyun waved his hand at Chanyeol. “They’re gonna snap you up before another agency has the chance. Amber and I like you so they basically have to hire you.”

Amber laughed. “It’s true. They value our opinions highly.”

“You guys are welcome to stay, you know where the extra bedding is,” Baekhyun said. “Feel free to keep hanging out.”

They all said their good nights, and Chanyeol followed Baekhyun to his bedroom. Baekhyun was barely through the door before he began to strip down to his boxers, leaving his clothes in a heap on the floor. Chanyeol followed and left his clothes on the floor next to Baekhyun’s. Once in his boxers, Baekhyun collapsed onto the bed.

“Don’t you want to brush your teeth and wash your face, Baekie?” Chanyeol asked, much more sober than his friend.

Baekhyun shook his head and pulled the blankets over him. “Too sleepy. Come snuggle me, Loey.”

Chanyeol smiled. “Let me wash up and I will.”

Ten minutes later Chanyeol climbed into the bed next to Baekhyun who immediately wrapped himself around the taller man. 

“I love you,” Baekhyun mumbled against Chanyeol’s chest.

Chanyeol hugged him close and whispered, “I love you too, Baekie.”

Baekhyun woke up the next morning, still wrapped around Chanyeol. He froze as he remembered he had told Chanyeol he loved him. It wasn’t the first time the pair had told each other they loved one another, Baekhyun just hoped Chanyeol didn’t realize the different type of love he had meant when he said it. Baekhyun squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in Chanyeol’s chest. He was nearly back to sleep when he felt Chanyeol run his fingers through his hair.

“I wish I could wake up to this every day,” Chanyeol said in a low voice, Baekhyun felt his voice rumble through his chest and froze. “I wish you weren’t in love with Sehun.”

Baekhyun lifted his head, confused. “What are you talking about? I’m not in love with Sehun.”

Chanyeol swore, startled. “I thought you were still asleep.”

“What makes you think I’m in love with Sehun?” Baekhyun questioned.

Chanyeol looked up at the ceiling. “Last night, you drank because you’d had a crush on someone you lived with. And because you’ve had feelings for someone in the room. Then you couldn’t wait to leave the room.”

Baekhyun rolled his eyes and poked Chanyeol in the side. “I’ve lived with you...and had-have feelings for you.”

“Me?” Chanyeol looked at Baekhyun, unsure. “You...you have feelings for me?”

“...yes.” Baekhyun blushed. “I’ve  been in love with you since like midway through freshman year.”

Chanyeol laughed. “Why didn’t you say anything?!”

Baekhyun sat up and moved away from Chanyeol. “It’s not funny! What was I supposed to say? What if you didn’t feel the same? You’re my best friend, Chanyeol, I couldn’t risk it.”

Chanyeol grabbed Baekhyun’s hand. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at how ridiculous we both are. Baekhyun, I’ve liked you since our first week of freshman year when you didn’t tease me for being homesick and crying myself to sleep.”

Baekhyun punched Chanyeol in the arm. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“For the same reason you didn’t. I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same,” he replied.

“Well I demand you take me to breakfast to make up for making me suffer all these years,” Baekhyun said.

Chanyeol laughed. “I can do that.”

-

“I can’t believe you’ve lived here a year and still haven’t unpacked everything, Sehun,” Jongin said as he refilled his drink.

Chanyeol shook his head. “It won’t be a year for like two more months. He moved out right before I moved in.”

Jongin raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “No, he moved in in August because it was hot as fuck. Baekhyun nearly passed out.”

“I interviewed in October.” Chanyeol looked at Sehun then at Baekhyun who avoided his eyes. “Baekhyun? You told me Sehun was still living with you when I interviewed and that’s why we had to share a bed. Sehun, you slept there.”

Sehun laughed into his drink. “Did I?”

Chanyeol looked at Baekhyun again. “Baekhyun! When did Sehun move out?”

Baekhyun bit his lip. “...August?”

Jongin cackled. “Did you seriously pull the ‘there’s only one bed’ thing on him?”

Baekhyun shot him a dirty look. “Shut up! I didn’t know how to tell him how I felt.”

Chanyeol laughed and pulled Baekhyun to him. “You’re lucky I love you, Baekie.”

Baekhyun curled into him. “I love you too.”

Jongin and Sehun pretend to gag but Baekhyun ignored them and pressed a kiss to Chanyeol’s shoulder. His small lie had been worth it.

[aquaminwrites]

Fake Love | Jung Hoseok (M)

PAIRING: Jung Hoseok x F!Reader, mentions of Namjin

GENRE: Fake dating AU, enemies to lovers, fluff, smut, minor angst

WARNINGS: Explicit sexual content, dirty talk, slight dom!Hoseok

WORD COUNT: 16.2k

DESCRIPTION: Every year, your family spends the holidays at your parents’ cottage in the country. Freshly single and not wanting to be picked apart by your family for being alone, you decide to recruit one of your friends to pretend to be your boyfriend. The only available volunteer? Your brother Namjoon’s roommate, Hoseok. Only problem? He absolutely hates your guts.

I should get up, you think to yourself. Daylight is precious in the dead of winter, and you’ve probably already wasted at least half of it wallowing in self-pity. You’re lying in bed, duvet pulled high over your head, wondering exactly how and when your life took such a left turn.

Breakups have never been easy for you. You’d always had trouble when it came to dating—you’d always described yourself as the girl that no one would fall in love with, but who had a lot of friends. You were social, flitting around with ease between one group of friends to another, but you had always wondered if your absence would be noted if you were to just stop showing up to parties or work functions.

But then you met Jackson.

The office you worked in had a Christmas party three years ago, back when you’d just been an intern and were keep on rising through the ranks to a full-time position. You were well liked, always offering a helping hand to anyone who asked and generally did your best not to make waves. You didn’t know what to expect when you showed up at the bar, which had been totally rented out for you and your colleagues. You also didn’t really know anyone at the party—the one other intern that you’d befriended having gone home for the holidays—so you’d just lingered by the bar on your own, silently surveying the crowd.

Jackson had come to join you, muttering something about how he hated office Christmas parties. You weren’t sure if he’d been speaking to you, or just muttering to himself, but the smooth, dulcet tones of his voice had you turning to look at him.

He was handsome. More than handsome—he looked like he just strolled out of a men’s fashion magazine, wearing a black turtleneck, a dark grey blazer, and a pair of ironed dress pants. He held a glass that held two thimblefuls of amber liquid that he casually sipped as he leaned against the dark oak of the bar. He tilted his chiseled jaw in your direction with an eyebrow raised, and you hoped he hadn’t caught you openly staring.

“I don’t know if I’ve seen you around the office before,” he noted with a curious glint to his eyes.

“I’m just an intern,” you admitted, breaking eye contact to fiddle with the sleeve of your dark green crushed velvet dress.

“Not just an intern,” the man corrected, leaning his elbow against the bar so that he could turn to fully face you. You offered up the same courtesy, though, you felt heat rushing to your cheeks as you realized just how close he’d been standing. He held out his hand, a warm smile on his face. “I’m Jackson, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you replied, feeling the warmth of his palm pressing against yours. “Nice to meet you.”

And that’s how your relationship with him began. It was a whirlwind, the two of you falling in love hard and fast. Within the first three months, you’d moved into his penthouse apartment, and you’d both met each other’s parents. Jackson had been a blessing in your life, teaching you what it meant to be in love and how to love another person. Your happiest memories were of his smiling face, of him telling you for the first time that he loved you, and the nights that you two explored one another’s bodies until the sun came up.

There was so much good in your relationship that it felt easy to slip into a false sense of security. You’d been hired on as a full-time employee at the company, taking on additional responsibilities and getting your own cubicle on a different floor. Jackson had been working hard as well, his eye on a big promotion that would have bumped him up to a six-figure salary if he landed it.

Of course, he did. And it was when he did that things started to fall apart.

He was never home. He always promised that he would make it in time for dinner, than he would spend the weekend with you and work wouldn’t be involved. He made reservations at restaurants, and wouldn’t show up. He’d take you to the movies, but have to leave halfway through to make an important phone call. On your third anniversary, as he was balls deep inside of you in an expensive hotel room, his cell phone rang and he actually had the audacity to stop and answer.

The breakup had been mutual, though it had been you who initiated the conversation. You loved Jackson, and part of you still does. But he was married to his job, loved it more than anything. It was his priority, not you. And to his credit, he’d admitted his faults and that he’d been a neglectful partner. You knew that you hadn’t been the best girlfriend either, not wanting to try to communicate with him because you were scared he would just leave you for someone better.

It’s been about two months since the two of you ended your relationship. You hear he’s dating someone else. Someone as handsome as him never stays single for long.

With his promotion, Jackson had also become your boss. And after your mutual split, working under him proved to be too difficult. So after a week of severe anxiety about even setting foot into the building and living in a hotel, you quit your job and had to find a new apartment.

The only saving grace had been that your older brother, Namjoon, knew that there was an empty apartment in his building, on his floor. You’d moved in without much thought, glad to have family nearby. Namjoon was only a year older than you, so the two of you were extremely close. You were the first person he’d told when he started dating his boyfriend, knowing that all you cared about was his happiness. Namjoon had started seeing Seokjin about a year ago, and the two are still going strong.

As for the job part, you’re still figuring that one out. Thankfully you have enough savings to last you for a while, but finding employment was definitely something at the top of your list. Right underneath ‘Get out of bed’.

Having your brother as your down-the-hall neighbour has its pros and cons. One pro is that you sometimes buy groceries for him and vice versa, the two of you always looking out for one another and making sure your pantries are always full.

One con is that Namjoon has a key to your place. And he likes to use it.

“Sis, where are you?” Namjoon calls from your front hallway. “I thought you were coming over for lunch today. Jin’s already here.”

You tug the blanket higher over your head, releasing a whine. You hear Namjoon’s socked feet padding towards you, and the sigh of disapproval at your current state.

“You have to get out of bed sometime, you know?” He says, and you can hear his frown before you see it. “It’s been two months, Y/N. You can’t just stay in bed all day. You’ve barely unpacked your apartment.”

You grumble, though you know he’s right. You don’t have that many belongings, nor is the apartment even that big. But you still have boxes in stacks in the corner of your living room, the bare minimum having been unpacked before you began to sink into the pool of self-pity that you find yourself in now.

You feel a light tug at the duvet before it’s yanked halfway down our body, exposing you to what remains of the afternoon sun. You’re in your typical pyjamas, an oversized shirt and shorts, and with how quickly Namjoon had ripped the sheets off, you begin to shiver and pout.

“Fuck you, fine, give me fifteen minutes to shower and freshen up,” you groan, blindly grabbing your pillow and swinging it in Namjoon’s direction.

Your brother dodges the blow and hops backwards, opening all your curtains and flicking on every light switch he can find. You haven’t moved yet, but you shout an affirmative when you hear him asking if you’re awake yet by the front door. He leaves you to your own devices, and not wanting to keep him and Seokjin waiting, you stumble out of bed and towards your bathroom.

The shower does you good and you examine your reflection in the mirror. The dark circles under your eyes haven’t gone away, no matter how many daytime naps you’ve taken over the past few weeks. You swipe some concealer under your eyes so you don’t look like a total corpse, slip on some leggings and a sweater, and tie up your wet hair in a bun.

With whatever remaining energy you have, you trudge down the hall to Namjoon’s apartment, rapping lightly on the door. You hear shuffling inside, and the unmistakable sound of Seokjin’s windshield wiper laughter. The door finally swings open, revealing the last person in the world you ever want to see.

“Wow, Y/N, you look like shit,” Hoseok says with a smirk, as if his insult is in any way charming. You shoulder your way past him into the apartment.

Jung Hoseok has been the bane of your existence since your junior year of high school. He was a transfer student, same age as your brother. Namjoon had been the one to take Hoseok under his wing when he’d first arrived, and the two of them quickly became best friends. But for some reason, he absolutely hated you. Whenever you were around, he would only ever tease you and try to get a reaction out of you, and you could never figure out what you had done to make him treat you this way. It’s infuriating, to say the least.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were going home for the holidays,” you grunt, not expecting your brother’s best friend and roommate to still be home so close to Christmas. Usually, Hoseok spends the holidays with his parents and his sister, and you don’t have to deal with him being a total pain in the ass whenever you come to visit Namjoon.

“My parents decided to go to Europe on vacation, and my sister is with her boyfriend’s family for Christmas,” Hoseok shrugs. “So I’m stuck here. Aren’t you lucky?”

You roll your eyes, heading towards the kitchen where you hear Seokjin trying to keep Namjoon away. “Lucky as a heart attack.”

“Y/N!” Seokjin cries when he sees you, his arms opening so you can shuffle into his grasp for a hug. “There you are. Namjoon and I were taking bets on how much longer it would take for you to get here. I beat him by one minute, so now he owes me a shoulder massage.”

“You cheated!” Namjoon pouts as he sets the table. You notice that he places down four sets of cutlery, and you inwardly groan knowing Hoseok will be joining you. “You just guessed one minute sooner than what I guessed, then she happened to walk through the door.”

Seokjin tuts. “Strategy, love.” Though he saunters over to where Namjoon stands, pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead before hip-checking him back into action.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Namjoon pipes up as everyone takes their seats. Hoseok decides to sit across from you, in a move that you can only assume is to aggravate you further. “Don’t forget that we’re all driving down to Mom and Dad’s cottage on Friday for Christmas.”

You give a solemn nod, and pick at the green beans on your plate. Every year, you and Namjoon join your parents for a weekend at your family’s cottage for the holidays. It’s a long-held tradition, one that you were more than happy to share with Jackson when the two of you had been dating. He’d always been the perfect buffer between you and your parents—not that you don’t love them, but they have a tendency to be a bit overbearing. They’d toned it down when you and Jackson had gotten together, and now that you’re single, you’re dreading the flood of questions and pitying looks from your mother in particular.

“Why the long face?” Hoseok questions, spearing a piece of chicken with his fork. “I thought you loved going to the cottage for the holidays.”

“She’s glum because her and Jackson broke up, so she has to carpool with us,” Seokjin supplies unhelpfully. You kick his shin under the table, earning a loud, indignant yelp.

Hoseok’s eyes widen. “You and Jackson broke up?”

“Don’t act as if Namjoon didn’t already tell you,” you scoff. “I didn’t move down the hall just for the fun of it.”

He shrugs, speaking between mouthfuls of food. “I thought maybe you two were downsizing. No need to get snippy with me, I don’t know or care about every minute detail of your life.”

You’re rolling your eyes before you even realize that it’s happening. “Maybe if you actually used your brain, or the power of observation, you’d realize that Jackson and I haven’t been together in almost two months.”

“Again,” Hoseok repeats, slower this time, as if you’re a child who can’t understand his words. “I don’t care about your life.”

“Hey,” Namjoon warns. “That’s my sister, bro.”

“Okay, let me rephrase,” Hoseok declares, tapping his long index finger against his chin. “How’s this: I don’t care, period.”

“Seokjin, babe,” Namjoon asks softly, back straight, cutting into his chicken with far too much calmness. “Where do I keep my rubber flip flops?”

“In the front hall closet,” Seokjin replies around a mouthful of food. “Why?”

Namjoon immediately focuses on Hoseok, eyes narrowing significantly. “My roommate is about to have an accident.”

You clear your throat loudly, muttering to yourself about how annoying it is that men can’t just figure their shit out with words. “I’m not upset that I have to carpool with Joonie and Seokjin, if you must know. It’s just…” Your voice gets quiet, and you can’t believe you’re voicing these fears out loud, but it’s too late to stop it now. “It’s my first Christmas in years without Jackson, you know? Even though we broke up, I really miss him. And I haven’t told my parents about it either, so now I not only have to break it to them, but also have to field all their questions about my love life, and my mother will inevitably try to set me up with one of her friend’s sons.”

Namjoon can’t help but snort. “Yeah. Remember that time she made you go on a date with her coworker’s nephew?”

“Of course I remember,” you grumble. “He took me to dinner and then tried to get me to invest in his pyramid scheme.”

Hoseok cackles, shaking his head.

You prop your elbow up on the table and place your chin in your palm, blowing few loose strands of hair from your face. “Maybe I could bribe a friend to come to the cottage and just pretend to be my boyfriend for the weekend. Mom and Dad will be shocked that Jackson isn’t there, but at least they won’t try to set me up with anyone and I can go back to wallowing in self-pity once the holidays are over.”

Namjoon considers it, his head titling from side to side. “Not the worst idea in the world, if you’re really that stressed about going alone.”

You give a nod. “You think Jungkook would want to come? He’s a little young, but at least he’s easy on the eyes.”

Seokjin shakes his head. “Jungkook and his brother are with their parents on a cruise or something. They’re not due back til after this cottage debacle is done.”

You frown. “What about Taehyung? Or Yoongi?”

“Taehyung’s got plans, and Yoongi went back home for a few days,” Namjoon responds apologetically. “I could maybe ask Jimin if he’s free.”

You shake your head. “I spoke to Jimin the other day, he’s going back home for the holidays to be with his family, too.”

Hoseok raises an eyebrow, looking around at everyone at the table. You’re purposely not making eye contact, but when he speaks, he voices the one thing you desperately do not want.

“I’ll go.”

You regard him wearily, your heart hammering in your chest. No. He did not just offer to come. “What? Why?”

Hoseok shrugs, listing off the reasons on his fingers. “My family’s not around this year, and your parents already know me. I’ve got nothing better to do, and if I’m being honest, I’m curious as to how this train wreck of a weekend is going to go.”

You frown, wanting nothing more than to faceplate into the spring mix on your plate. “I have no other option, do I?”

Hoseok smirks. “Get ready, babe. You’re in for a hell of a weekend.”

It’s just for a few days, you can survive a few days. Besides, if this is going to happen, you are absolutely writing down a list of rules for Hoseok to follow. Groaning, you decide to just accept your fate after weighing the pros and cons. When you finally agree, Hoseok blows you an exaggerated kiss, causing you to gag.

From his seat across the table, Namjoon watches the two of you with cautious eyes. He glances over at Seokjin, who just subtly shrugs his shoulders.

A hell of a weekend, indeed.

—

You end up driving down with Namjoon and Seokjin to the cottage, Hoseok having to work last minute. He had promised he would still be in time for dinner, he just needed to wrap up some stuff at his dance studio before the weekend began.

You’re about ten minutes away, the three of you driving in comfortable silence, when Namjoon turns in the passenger seat to look at you. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Y/N?”

You shrug, tucking your phone into your coat pocket. Nothing interesting is happening on social media away. “What other option do I have?”

Namjoon mimics you, his shoulders lifting nonchalantly. “Just seems like a lot of trouble just to get Mom and Dad to get off your back about being a single Pringle.”

“First off, you and Jin have been spending way too much time together,” you state with a frown. “Second, you have no idea what it’s like dealing with Mom and Dad when it comes to this stuff. They honestly worshipped the ground Jackson walked on. At least with Hoseok there, I have some sort of buffer.”

Seokjin eyes you from the rearview mirror. “Still surprises me that Hoseok was down to do it in the first place, to be honest. Are you paying him or something?”

“I offered,” you say, leaning back in your seat and watching the snow-covered trees pass by. “He said he didn’t want my money.”

Namjoon glances at Seokjin with a weary expression, but you don’t see it as you lean your head against the window.

You arrive at the cottage, which is really more like a second house. Your parents had always wanted a vacation property, working hard and making sacrifices to turn their dream into a reality. And the house was beautiful—you and Namjoon had spent many summers there as children, running through the woods behind the house until you reached the lake, splashing about without a care in the world. You spend every Christmas there as well, a long-held tradition that carries on to this day.

The cottage itself is a two-storey home with tan bricks and a wrap-around porch. White Christmas lights line the edges of the dark-shingled roof, wrapping around the porch banister and creating a pathway to the front door. There had been a decent amount of snowfall earlier that day, so some of the lights are diffused under the powdery blanket that covers the house.

Seokjin parks the car and you all file out, collecting your bags. You’re just about to ring the doorbell when the door flies open, revealing your mother, washed in the golden light emanating from inside. She’s wearing one of those god-awful patterned Christmas sweaters that Seokjin got her last year (he’s sporting a matching one, to your chagrin), with a Santa Claus hat perched atop her head.

“My babies!” She coos, dragging all three of you inside. The house smells like home, a combination of spiced scented candles and home cooking, and stepping across the threshold feels like a warm hug. Or perhaps it’s your mother’s arms locking around you, cutting off your circulation. It’s hard to tell.

“Hi Mom,” you smile, looking around. “Where’s Dad?”

She waves a hand flippantly. “Your father got a new barbecue for himself as a Christmas gift. He’s out in the backyard, bundled like a fool, cooking up more meat than we could possibly eat.”

As you, Namjoon and Seokjin file inside, you notice as your mother does a mental head count, and see the look of realization dawn on her face as she catches that there is one less ball of testosterone than she is expecting.

“Where’s Jackson?”

“Oh,” you begin sheepishly. “We, uh…you see, he’s…”

“They broke up,” Namjoon offers, taking everyone’s coats and dutifully placing them on hangers in the hall closet. “A few months ago.”

Your mother’s eyes widen and that look of pity that you hate filters into her irises. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry,” she sighs, tugging you close as you allow your body to go limp in her hold. Tears start to well in your eyes, which you don’t expect. But it’s also the first time you’re telling her about your break-up, and sometimes you just need to be held by your mom. “You know, if you’re looking, I have a coworker who has this son—”

Ah, there it is. You peel yourself away, going so far as to take a step back. “Actually, Mom, I—”

You’re cut off by the sound of the doorbell, and your mother cocks an eyebrow. She peers out of the window, and suddenly looks taken aback. She swings the door open to reveal a rosy-cheeked Hoseok, overnight bag slung over his shoulder, holding a bouquet of red roses and what looks like a pie.

“Hoseok!” Your mom says his name with a slight inflection at the end, both a statement and a question.

“Hi, Mrs. Kim,” he beams at her, and she allows him inside. “Sorry I’m late. I hope I didn’t interrupt if you guys already started dinner.”

“Oh, no, the kids just got in,” she waves off. “But…and pardon my rudeness, but what are you doing here?”

“Mom,” you interject, taking a step towards Hoseok. “That’s what I was going to tell you just now. Hoseok is…uh, he’s…”

Oh god, I’m so awkward, you chastise inwardly. Why can’t I just say it?

“We’re dating,” Hoseok offers. “Y/N didn’t tell you because she wanted it to be a surprise.”

Your mother tilts her head before she nods, a smile breaking across her face. “That’s so great! I always thought that you two disliked each other, but I suppose love always finds a way.”

“Uh, yeah,” you say unconvincingly. It’s then that you take notice of the giant bouquet of roses he’s carrying, and you point at it dumbly. “What are those for?”

Hoseok smirks, breaking character for a split second before his face transforms once again into that of an angel. “For you, Mrs. Kim,” he responds, giving a slight bow and offering the flowers to your mother. She gushes, because of course she does. She’s always considered Hoseok to be one of her favourites amongst Namjoon’s friends, and she loves roses.

“How sweet! Thank you so much!”

Hoseok’s smile grows wider at her acceptance of the gift. He then, however, plucks one rose from the bunch. “You’re welcome. Except for this one,” he says before he turns in your direction. “This one is for you.”

When you take it from his grasp, he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to the apple of your cheek. It takes all your willpower to not jump back, but to keep your feet planted where they are. You’re meant to be posing as a couple, of course he’s supposed to kiss you. So how come your heart won’t stop racing in your chest?

You decide to ignore it and just accept the rose with a bashful smile, one that has your mother in an absolute joyous fit.

“You’re too kind, Hoseok. Here, let me take that into the kitchen, and Y/N will help you with your coat. We still have some preparations to do with dinner, and Seokjin’s already offered to assist. Y/N, why don’t you bring yours and Hoseok’s bags up to your room and give him a tour? It’s been ages since he was last here.”

You mutely agree before taking Hoseok’s coat to put in the hall closet. As he sheds his layers, you can’t help but notice how nice he looks when he cleans up. His hair is styled so that it’s parted close to the middle in loose waves away from his face, and he’s sporting a thin, dark green knit sweater over a pinstriped dress shirt. It looks like he even ironed his dress pants.

“Okay, babe,” Hoseok grabs your bag as well, emphasizing the pet name. You want to gag. “Let’s go to our room.”

That was one thing that you’d somehow forgotten in this whole mess. You and Jackson had always shared your bed, which obviously was never an issue. But sharing a bed with Hoseok means…well, sharing a bed with Hoseok. And you’re pretty certain you would rather cut off both legs and serve them with Christmas dinner than have to share a bed with him.

You curse yourself for not fully thinking every detail of this arrangement through, but begrudgingly lead him upstairs nevertheless. It’s too late now. Your room at the cottage is at the end of the hall, beside Namjoon’s. You’d decorated the room as a teenager, and your parents left it largely untouched, never bothering to change it. The same went for Namjoon’s as well, except they knew not to touch anything because your brother was—and still is—so particular.

The room itself is pretty simple. It’s painted an off-white with a combination of framed art and little polaroids and other photos pinned to the walls. String lights frame the window, and there’s a dresser, and a vanity with more pictures of you and your friends throughout the years taped to the sides. It’s cozy and warm, and being here reminds you of all the happy memories of your childhood. Hoseok looks around the room with an expression that you can’t quite place before dumping his bag on the bed. He saunters over to your vanity to look at the pictures you’ve kept up there all these years.

You watch him with both curiosity and apprehension as his eyes skim over the pictures of you and Namjoon as kids, you and your best friends in high school, and you almost miss the imperceptible clench of his jaw at a strip of photo booth pictures of you and Jackson. You see where his eyes are trained and immediately stride over, placing the rose he’d gifted you earlier on the tabletop, and pulling the photo down.

He watches as you regard it with a heavy heart, noticing how you breathe out heavily through your nostrils. You look as if you want to tear up the pictures and throw them in the trash, but instead you just open one of the empty drawers of the vanity and place it gingerly inside.

“Not over him yet?” Hoseok asks, his voice quieter than you’re expecting.

You look up at him, expecting to see either mirth or pity, but surprisingly, when you look into his eyes, you see gentle understanding.

“I…” you begin, unable to maintain eye contact. You run your hand through your hair and fold your arms over your chest. “I miss him,” you admit. “But our relationship was over way before we broke up.”

Hoseok gives a nod, but doesn’t prompt you to explain any further. He just shoves his hands in his pockets and moves away from the photos, understanding that maybe he’d overstepped his bounds.

It’s then that Namjoon pops his head in the doorway.

“Hey, lovebirds,” he grins, obviously having a hard time maintaining the façade. You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Dinner’s ready.”

“We’ll be down in a second,” Hoseok states, and Namjoon just shrugs before disappearing.

You turn and give Hoseok a wry smile. “Gonna try to kiss me again or something?”

Your brain nearly short circuits the minute the words leave your mouth. Am I…flirting with Hoseok?

He snorts in reply, hands still in his pockets. “No one’s around, so nah, probably not. This weekend is just for show, remember? I know I clean up nice, but try not to fall in love with me, yeah?”

“Ah, there he is,” you say with just the slightest hint of irritation. “For a second, I thought aliens had kidnapped you and replaced you with someone who was actually tolerable.”

Hoseok holds his hands over his heart and makes a fake pained noise. “My lady, you wound me! How doth I go on in a manner such as this?”

You blink at him. “Doth?”

He just shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. Look, I just, uh…I wanted to let you know that…”

You wait for his response, unsure of what he’s about to say. Your eyes meet his, and you can see the conflict plain as day on his face. With a sigh, he shakes his head.

“Never mind. I just wanted to say that I hope this weekend goes well.”

You regard him curiously, but give a slight nod. “Yeah. Me too.”

The two of you head downstairs to find everyone else in the dining room, Namjoon and Seokjin sitting and sipping wine while chatting animatedly with your father.

Your socked feet pad along towards the delicious smell of a home cooked meal, Hoseok following close behind. You’re not used to being so physically close to him, and you can feel the warmth radiating off of his body. You try not to think about how you can smell his cologne, a delicious, perfect smell that has you biting the inside of your cheek.

You sneak a glance at him. Has his jawline always been so sharp? Admittedly, Hoseok has always been good-looking, but you’d never bothered to notice until now. You mentally slap yourself for thinking these things—this is Hoseok. Asshole extraordinaire, your brother’s best friend and roommate, and the bane of your existence since you were sixteen.

“Hoseok! Y/N!” Your mother calls as she lowers the hot dishes down onto the placemats. You turn away from Hoseok momentarily to eye her, a frown forming at the obvious giddiness filtering into her voice. She nods skyward, causing the two of you to look up as well. And then she says the one word you’d been dreading since you set foot into the cottage: “Mistletoe!”

She’s right. Pinned to the entryway into the dining room is a sprig of mistletoe, dangling over your heads. She’s evil, you concur. My mother is the devil.

Hoseok turns to you, and your eyes widen at his proximity. He smirks, that insolent, infuriating half-grin that both has your blood boiling and your heart racing. “Well, baby,” he purrs, wiggling his eyebrows. “Shall we give them a show?”

Before you have the chance to vehemently protest, One of Hoseok’s hands is on your lower back, and the other is cupping the back of your neck. He dips you down, catching you off guard. Your arms instinctively loop around his neck so you don’t fall, and in that split-second of shock, he kisses you.

Like, really kisses you.

This isn’t the peck on the cheek that he’d given you when you’d first lied to your mother about the two of you dating. The way he’s kissing you now feels different, like it’s grounded in something you can’t quite place. And, perhaps in a moment of temporary insanity, you kiss him back.

As soon as Hoseok feels your lips moving along with his, a deep groan rumbles in his chest. Your fingers curl into his hair as he presses you so close, and you swear you feel the wetness of his tongue gliding across the seam of your mouth.

Namjoon wolf-whistles and the two of you break apart before it can get too heated. A good thing, since you were starting to lose yourself in the feeling of Hoseok’s lips against yours, the gentle way in which his thumb rubs circles against your lower back. Hoseok lifts you back to standing and you immediately hide your face against his shoulder, your back to the rest of your family as he holds you close. You’d never been overly affectionate with any of your exes in front of your parents, even Jackson. So having practically made out with someone who you consider your nemesis in front of them is mortifying.

You feel his lips against your crown, almost imperceptible. You peel yourself away from him to look into his eyes, his expression unreadable. You hear someone at the table clear their throat, and it breaks the spell, causing you to take a step back, trying to hide the deep blush on your face behind your hair.

“If you’re done,” your father states in a teasing tone, “the rest of us would like to start eating.”

You bite the inside of your cheek as you and Hoseok take your seats opposite Namjoon and Seokjin. Your parents are sitting on either end of the table, Hoseok closest to your mother and you closest to your father. The spread of food on the table looks delicious, and you all start to dig in. Seokjin won’t stop piling sweet potatoes and turkey slices onto his plate, and when Namjoon scolds him for it, he proceeds to lick every item just to lay his claim.

You wonder what it’s like for your brother and his boyfriend to share one brain cell.

“So,” your father finally pipes up once everyone’s plates are full and the sounds of forks and knives clinking has filled the room. He gestures to you and Hoseok, an eyebrow raised. “When did this happen?”

You turn to look at Hoseok, realizing in your stupidity that you hadn’t come up with a backstory. Hoseok sees the apprehension in your eyes and decides to be the one to speak up.

“It was a few weeks after her and Jackson had broken up and she moved into our building,” Hoseok comments, addressing both of your parents. “I hadn’t seen Y/N in a while, since she was always working. But then one day she came over to visit Namjoon, and…” He then turns to look at you, making sure your eyes don’t stray from his. “I just thought she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and that I was an idiot for not noticing sooner.”

Your jaw can’t help but drop just slightly at the confession, but then you remember that this is all an act. This is just so your parents will leave you alone about what happened with Jackson, and Hoseok is just a better actor than you’d ever given him credit for. It sets a sharp bitterness in your mouth, forcing you to remember that you hate Hoseok, and that he hates you too.

For some reason, though it’s been fact for the majority of your adult life, the harsh reality has your heart clenching in your chest.

“How romantic!” Your mother’s cooing interrupts your thoughts. Hoseok is smiling gently at you, and you can’t help but blush and turn away to pick at your food as you gather your thoughts.

“Yeah,” you agree, clearing your throat. “We both thought that maybe it would be a little too soon after everything that happened, but…”

“It just feels right,” Hoseok finishes for you.

You can’t help but wonder if an alien really did abduct the real Hoseok and left an imposter as a replacement, but you play along, nodding slightly.

“Yeah. It does.”

—

Dinner passes with the expected amount of painful questioning, mostly from your mom. Your dad has always stated that he trusts your judgment when it comes to the guys you date, and since he already knows Hoseok, his questions are thankfully minimal. When you’d first brought Jackson home for dinner, you were worried that he and your father wouldn’t get along. But as was in your then-boyfriend’s nature, he won them both over with his sharp wit and bold sense of humour.

You sink into your chair as the memories long since past swirl around in your mind and have you staring off into space. Hoseok seems to notice immediately and he nudges you under the table as Seokjin and your father engage in a dad-joke competition that has your mother and Namjoon each refilling their glasses of wine.

“You okay?”

Your fingers drum along the stem of your own wine glass before pushing it away. “Had too much to drink maybe. I think I have a bit of a headache.”

Hoseok frowns, glancing at the others. “Do you want to get some fresh air?”

You offer up a small smile. “Actually, yeah. That’s a great idea.”

Hoseok beams at you before pressing a kiss to your forehead, catching you off guard, and rising to his feet. “Y/N and I are going to go for a quick walk. Too much wine, you know?” You hear him joke, though the ringing in your ears that began when his lips touched your skin hasn’t stopped just yet. You take a second to gather yourself, ignoring Namjoon’s apprehensive eyes, and follow Hoseok to the front foyer to collect your coats.

Winter has never been one of your favourite seasons—in fact, if you were forced to rank them, it would most likely place dead last, with summer being at the very top. But you have to admit, as you and Hoseok walk one of the trails that leads down to the lake, winter truly can be beautiful.

The sound of your snow boots crunching against the snowy ground fill your ears as you take in the sight of evergreens coated in snow, of other cottages in the distance glowing in the frigid night, and the decorative lights that break through the dark blue of the night sky. It’s quiet, save for the satisfying noise of snow being displaced under the rubber soles of your boots. Beside you, Hoseok is silent, chin tilted upward as he quietly observes everything around him.

Hoseok has been to your cottage before, just once, in the summer when you were teenagers. It had been the year he’d first moved to the city, and Namjoon had wanted him to feel welcome. That was the summer he’d wound up on your shit list, pushing you off the dock and into the lake where your foot had caught on some seaweed and you’d nearly drowned. After you’d been rescued and it was confirmed that you were alright, he’d laughed in that loud, maniacal way that you would grow to detest, dramatically making fun of how you’d fallen when he’d shoved you. After that, you had urged your parents to ban him from ever visiting the cottage again, having humiliated and nearly killed you that summer.

The path to the lake winds through the woods, though it’s a path that has been trodden by so many that you could walk it with your eyes closed. Neither you or Hoseok say anything—there’s no need to, you find, as the silence doesn’t feel as awkward as you’d expect. If anything, it feels comfortable and familiar. You chalk it up to just having known Hoseok for a long time, that his presence at your side isn’t as unfamiliar as that of a total stranger.

Eventually, the trees part and the sound of the lake lapping against the shore fills your ears. You’d always loved your cottage for this reason—being by the lake, hearing the steady rhythm of the water, always fills your mind with calm. There are a few fallen logs that serve as seating, and you dust off the snow to make room for you and Hoseok to sit down.

Your hands are shoved into the pockets of your coat and you sigh, glancing out at the horizon. It’s dark, but you can see dots of warm light on the other side of the water, and you smile to yourself at the thought of other families getting together and enjoying the holidays.

You wonder if Jackson is with his new girlfriend.

Prying your eyes away from the waves, you stare down at your boots, suddenly hyper focused on pushing a small pile of snow from the outside of your foot to the inside, and back again. Hoseok notices, his voice soft when he speaks.

“You know, it’s okay to miss him.”

Your head snaps in his direction as you peer up into the warm chocolate of his eyes. “What?”

“It’s okay to miss him,” Hoseok repeats with a shrug. “I can tell that you’re not totally over your breakup.”

You frown, turning back to fixate on the snow. “Is it that obvious?”

Hoseok snorts. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m doing the majority of the heavy lifting with your parents, right now. If Namjoon ‘secretly’ rolls his eyes one more time, I think they might actually fall out of his face.”

You nod absentmindedly, remembering once again that none of this is real. Hoseok isn’t your boyfriend, and neither is Jackson. You’re alone, single and horribly lonely, and the weight of that reality starts to really sink in.

You don’t want to cry, but you feel tears escaping as you take in a shaky breath. “It’s just hard to get out of bed sometimes, you know?” You admit feebly, ashamed of how small your voice sounds. “I just can’t help but think that if maybe I had done more, or been more, then maybe we might still be together. I wish…I just wish I was enough for him. He was always enough for me.”

Hoseok seems to hesitate, but then he apprehensively lifts his arm and places it around your shoulders. It’s a little awkward as his hand gives you a good natured pat, not trying to pull you into his body heat, just sitting beside you and trying to offer you comfort. You can’t help but notice the distinct difference between this Hoseok and the one that was trying to charm your family. In there, he was cool, funny, and warm. Out here, he’s awkward, contemplative, and nervous.

You can’t help but think that you kind of prefer this version of Hoseok.

“You know,” he begins, his voice cutting through the chill in the air. “You can’t live your life thinking about shit like that. You’re always going to look back at moments in your past and think that if you had done something differently, that the outcome would be more favourable. But honestly, dwelling on it is only going to make it worse, since you can’t change it now. What’s done is done. You gotta move on.”

Deep down, you know Hoseok is right. But still, as your breath hitches in your throat, it doesn’t stop you from asking, “Do you think it’ll ever stop hurting this much?”

It’s then that Hoseok scoots a little closer, pulling you into the warmth of his embrace. You let yourself melt against him, your head resting upon his shoulder, as he rubs your arm and places his cheek against your crown. You close your eyes, the scent of sandalwood and spice filling your nostrils. And for the first time in what feels like ages, you don’t see Jackson’s face when you’re met with the darkness behind your eyelids.

No.

This time, you picture Hoseok.

And when he speaks, you nearly forget about Jackson altogether.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I know it will.”

You arrive back at the cottage, not feeling nearly as horrible as you had when you’d left. You apologize to your parents about not sticking around to help clean up or clear the table, but your mother just winks and says it’s alright, that it’s only natural to want some alone time with your new boyfriend.

You hate that you’re lying to her, but you also can’t stop the way your breath catches in your throat at the insinuation.

Alone time with your new boyfriend.

You pretend that those words aren’t circling in your brain as you sink into the covers, squishing yourself on one side of the double bed. Hoseok is on the other side, doing something that you can only describe as touching himself.

Not in a sexual way. But he’s lying down, arms shot straight up in the air as he runs his fingertips along his inner forearms, alternating every few seconds. His eyes are closed, and he looks absolutely insane.

“What are you doing?” You have to ask, turning your head on your pillow to face him. He’s moved on now to gently caressing his own chest, looking just as  odd as before.

“My mom used to do this to me when I was a kid,” he explains, his eyes still shut. “It helps me fall asleep.”

You blink owlishly at him, unable to help the small giggle that escapes your lips. He cracks an eye open, glaring at you.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you respond, fully turning your body to face him now. “You just look crazy, is all.”

Hoseok drops his arms against the sheets in a minor huff. “Well, princess, sorry if it bothers you. You gonna volunteer to do it for me, then? Because if not, it’s going to be a long night.”

You gape at him for just a moment, though it morphs into an amused smile. “You really can’t get to sleep without someone touching you?”

Hoseok grumbles, annoyed that you know at least one of his secrets. “Unfortunately not.”

In a moment of boldness, you scoot towards him and gesture for him to face you. He does so with an unsure look, and you can’t help but notice his eyes widen as you start to run your fingers through his hair.

You don’t know what possesses you to do so, but all you know is that the strands are silky between your fingers, and your ministrations has Hoseok’s eyes starting to flutter shut. As your nails gently scrape along his scalp, he lets out a low moan, one that has him immediately darting awake and pulling away from you.

“I’m good,” he stutters out, creating distance between your bodies. “Th-thanks for that. But I’m okay.”

“Oh,” you respond, surprised and just slightly disappointed. “Well…goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight,” he replies gruffly, turning his back to you and tugging the duvet up to his chin. You sigh and do the same, attempting to get comfortable. You wind up staring at the wall as the minutes tick by on the clock, sleep deciding to evade you on this night.

From the other side of the bed, Hoseok also remains wide awake, his hands twitching as if he wants nothing more than to reach out and touch you.

But he doesn’t, because you’re his brother’s best friend, and you hate him. You’ve made that clear. So instead, he forces his eyes shut, and counts sheep until slumber decides to consume him in all-encompassing darkness.

—

The rest of the weekend passes by in a blur. There’s a new, underlying tension between you and Hoseok that you’re trying your best to ignore, although you know that at least Namjoon can sense that something is off.

You don’t tell anyone that when you’d awoken on Christmas morning, that Hoseok had been clinging to you like a koala, arms looped around your middle and a leg slung over yours. You’d carefully extradited yourself from his grasp without waking him, heading downstairs to help your father prepare breakfast for everyone.

But over the course of the entire weekend, Hoseok had been nothing but a total gentleman, always offering to help out with the dishes and setting the table, indulging your dad in talks of sports he knew nothing about, and even going so far as to help your mother with cooking. It made you look at him differently. He was so domestic, and you couldn’t deny the butterflies in the base of your stomach whenever he smiled in your direction. It had been confusing, to say the least.

It’s with the utmost relief that you find yourself backing your bags alone in your room, happy that you can finally return to your apartment to wallow in self pity all by your lonesome. You hear a rap against the doorframe, and as you turn, Hoseok steps into view. He’s dressed casually, wearing an oversized sweater and a pair of loose track pants, but you still can’t help but think that he looks effortlessly handsome.

You’re not sure when your brain started to produce these thoughts, but you try your hardest to ignore them.

“Hey,” he greets, almost sheepish. “You packing?”

It takes you a second to find your voice. “Yeah,” you nod, going back to sorting your belongings in the confines of your duffel bag. “You have all your stuff?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, pushing off from the door frame to make his way over to you. You feel his presence before you see how close he is, and his proximity has you standing up to your full height as you face him.

“Did you need something?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

Hoseok smiles with a shake of his head. Has he always looked this radiant?

“No, nothing like that,” he states, scratching at the back of his head. “I just, uh…wanted to say that surprisingly, I had fun this weekend.”

You can’t help but grin. “Yeah, me too. Definitely got my parents off my back, so I definitely owe you my thanks in that department.”

“Oh?” Hoseok raises an eyebrow. “Do I get to choose my token of gratitude?”

You tilt your head in confusion. “I mean, sure, I guess? Do you want money or something? Because that might have to wait until I’m employed again—”

“No,” Hoseok interrupts. “Nothing like that.”

You feel your palms starting to sweat. “Then what?”

You see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows hard. His voice sounds almost husky as he breathes out, “Kiss me.”

You almost take a step back, but force yourself to remain rooted in place, though shock is evident on your features. “W-what?”

“Kiss me,” he repeats, and you feel the warmth of his palm against your hip. “Without anyone watching, without the whole fake-boyfriend pretence.” He looks into your eyes, hopeful and oddly sincere. “Please?”

Your throat feels dry, and you swear the room is starting to spin. But your mouth speaks before your mind can catch up, asking, “Just once?”

The look in his eyes becomes unreadable, almost distant, before he answers, his breath fanning across your face. He’s so close. “Yeah. Just once.”

Your body feels like it’s running on autopilot as you lift your arms to loop around Hoseok’s neck. His grip on your waist tightens as he draws you in, closer and closer. You rise to the tips of your toes and feel his nose grazing against yours. You feel his lips barely grazing against yours, almost touching but not quite. You feel dizzy with want, this inexplicable spark of desire growing within you and warming your body from the inside out. For the very first time, you realize that you want him, that you want Jung Hoseok, and it terrifies you.

You’re just about to finally close the distance when you hear your mother from the doorway.

“Y/N, Hobi, I just wanted to—oh! Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt!”

You practically jump back from Hoseok, the moment shattered as you retract your arms from his body and curl in on yourself, squeezing your eyes shut for a second. You hear Hoseok sigh before he reluctantly moves his hands from your waist.

“That’s okay, Mrs. Kim,” he says in a strained voice. “I should probably finish packing up my car anyway.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek, oddly close to the corner of your mouth. The next question he whispers into your ear, so quiet you almost don’t hear him. “See you back at the apartment?”

Oh. Part of you had hoped that Hoseok would offer to drive you back, but you suppose it makes more sense for Namjoon and Seokjin to take you. You and Hoseok need some distance, a little space to figure out the whirlwind of confusing emotions that have threatened to consume you whole. You just nod dumbly, still not looking at him. If you look at him, you might say or do something you’ll just regret later, with your mother as a witness by the door.

He lingers a moment longer before finally leaving the room. Your mother smiles at him as he goes, and he offers her a small upward quirk of his lips in return. Once the two of you are alone, and you’ve shoved the rest of your things into your duffel, your mom walks over to you and sits on the bed. She pats the spot next to her, and you take a seat, hands folded in your lap.

“How are you doing, sweetie?”

You’re confused by the question. “Uh…fine?”

“No,” she shakes her head, reaching up to play with a strand of your hair. “That’s not what I’m asking.”

You’d known that from the beginning. Your mother had always been your biggest confidant, and she hadn’t had a chance to really talk to you by yourself since getting to the cottage. You’d been expecting this conversation, dreading it even. She continues.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner that you and Jackson had broken up?” She asks gently. You’d known that your mother had loved the boy, taken him in as a second son. She had joked in the past that the two of you should get married, and that had been the direction you thought your life was going in. But life has other plans. It always does.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts before replying. “I was embarrassed,” you admit truthfully. “I…I don’t know, Mom. I guess I always thought that Jackson was going to be it for me. I told so many people how much I loved him, and everyone would always tell me in return that we were the perfect couple. What kind of perfect couple breaks up because he’s married to his job?”

You take in a shaky breath and let it out slowly.

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. I just needed time to figure out my new normal again.”

She nods, staring off into space. After a beat, she pipes up. “Hoseok is great, though.”

You glance over at her, not realizing the tiny smile that has made its way onto your face. “Yeah. He is.”

“You know,” your mother muses, the distant look in her eyes full of nostalgia. “When you two were in high school, I always suspected that he had a crush on you. Boys always show that they like girls in the stupidest ways when they’re younger, what with all the teasing and such. But I have to say, the two of you together just make sense.”

You bite your lower lip. “We do?”

“Yeah,” she affirms. “I see it in the way he looks at you when you’re not paying attention. He really cares about you. And I know this relationship is new, and it’s coming off the heels of a breakup, but don’t let him go. Okay? At least not without a fight.”

In that instant, you almost tell her that the entire thing is fake. That none of it is real, that Hoseok is just a talented actor who had wanted to see how much of a shit show this weekend would truly be. But as your mother beams at you with all the love and warmth that you’d missed being holed up under the covers in your apartment, you just smile in return.

“Okay, Mom. I promise.”

Hoseok is already gone by the time you all pile into Seokjin’s car, saying he needed to get back to the studio to check on something, even though it was the day after Christmas. You don’t say anything, opting to put your headphones on and drown out everything around you as you stare blankly out the window.

“Can she hear us?” Namjoon asks his boyfriend as your eyes start to flutter shut. Seokjin’s hands tighten around the steering wheel as he glances back at you through the rearview mirror.

“I don’t think so. She’s got those giant noise-cancelling things on her head, and I think she’s taking a nap.”

Namjoon sighs, running a hand through his hair. “This is a mess, Jin.”

Seokjin agrees with a grunt. “Honestly, I still can’t believe Hobi actually agreed to come this weekend. Volunteered, even.”

“Yeah, well, you know how he feels about my sister,” Namjoon whispers, just in case you’re secretly awake or between songs. “This isn’t healthy for either of them. One of them is gonna get their heart broken, and it’s gonna be Hoseok.”

Seokjin tries to be optimistic. “But it looked as if she was into it, no?”

He strokes his index finger along his chin, pensive and frustrated. “I don’t know. Y/N has always been pretty good at hiding it in front of people whenever she’s upset or anxious. But whatever happened this weekend didn’t feel fake to me. From either of them.”

“Ah,” Seokjin tuts, driving with one hand as he leans his elbow against the windowsill. “They’re both adults, Joonie. They’ll figure it out, and everything will go back to normal.”

“I don’t know,” Namjoon responds with an air of trepidation. But he doesn’t say anything else.

—

Before you can blink, it’s New Year’s Eve. As soon as you’re back from your parents’ cottage, you pretty much go back to your previous routine—hiding out from the world in your apartment under the covers, only really coming out to eat or go to the bathroom. But this time, you’re not only hiding from the chaos that’s outside, but also from Hoseok.

You’ve never been more confused. You haven’t spoken to him since that weekend, nor have you gone over to his and Namjoon’s apartment. Your brother has reluctantly been giving you space, something that he only ever does when he knows you’re experiencing inner turmoil.

You flop down on your bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering just how you got here. You try to think back on when exactly these feelings had sprung up. Part of you wants to believe that it’s just because you were dying for affection of any kind after your break up, and Hoseok was just the one to provide it for you. You try to reason that if it had been any of your other friends, like Jungkook or Yoongi, you’d probably feel similarly.

But the larger part of your brain knows that that isn’t true.

You shut your eyes, taking in a deep breath. You need to be honest with yourself for once.

Truth be told, you’d always had a bit of a thing for Hoseok. When you’d first met him, you had just come home from varsity soccer practice, still wearing your uniform and dripping with sweat. He was sitting on the couch with Namjoon, joking around and teasing him as he struggled through some video game you didn’t recognize.

You’d immediately been attracted to him, his smile being the first thing that had you mesmerized. But you don’t really know what happened after that. He’d taken to teasing you, purposely pushing your buttons just to get a reaction. He was never particularly cruel, mostly annoying, but you figured that he hated you all the same. And because you refused to be pushed around, whatever he gave, you returned. If he was rude to you, you were rude right back. If he was passive aggressive, you accused him of being a giant baby.

Things only got worse when you started dating Jackson. Hoseok absolutely despised him and you could never figure out why. You figured it was because Jackson was quick-witted and often left Hoseok speechless, and he defended you whenever Hoseok decided to act foolishly. You never thought much of it until now, your mother’s words echoing in your head.

Had Hoseok been jealous all this time?

You try to shove the thought away, along with the butterflies that are still occupying your stomach, but to no avail. Maybe Hoseok really did like you, and maybe you like him too. Why else would he ask you to kiss him at the end of the weekend without anyone there to witness it? Surely that had to mean something.

You groan in frustration as your eyes shoot open.

You’re falling for Jung Hoseok.

In that instant, your phone buzzes. Part of you hopes it’s him, but instead it’s your brother’s name that pops up on your screen.

[Received: 10:07pm] Namjoon: The guys are all here. Are you still coming over for the countdown? We have wine

[Sent: 10:07pm] Y/N: How dare you tempt me with the devil’s juice

[Received: 10:08pm] Namjoon: Bitch

[Received: 10:08pm] Namjoon: You love wine. Come over

[Received: 10:08pm] Namjoon: Put on real people clothes. No ratty PJs allowed.

[Sent: 10:09pm] Y/N: You sound just like Dad. Fine. I’ll be over in 10

[Received: 10:10pm] Namjoon: Love you sooooo much. Jin and I are just doing some last-minute stuff, let yourself in whenever you’re ready

You heave a sigh and sit up, realizing you can’t hide from Hoseok forever. You drag yourself out of bed, quickly changing, making sure you look presentable, and trudging down the hall to Namjoon’s apartment.

You can hear the ruckus that is seven boys from behind the door once you approach. Everyone had come back from visiting their families, gathering at Namjoon and Hoseok’s, as is their tradition. You feel your palms start to sweat as you reach for the doorknob, slowly twisting it open and slipping inside.

No one seems to hear you come in, as there’s no break in conversation between the five boys situated in the living room. Jin and Namjoon are nowhere to be found, so you assume they’re still in the process of getting ready for the evening’s festivities. The television is on, showing one of the many New Year’s Eve countdown specials, some musical group performing their latest hit blaring from the speakers. You’re just about to make your presence known when you hear someone mention your name.

“Hobi, is it true that you actually went to Joon and Y/N’s cottage for the holidays?”

The voice belongs to Jimin. You peer around the corner into the living room, still going unnoticed. Hoseok is there, sitting on the couch nursing a beer.

“Yeah,” he responds gruffly, as if he doesn’t want to talk about it.

A new voice pipes up, this time belonging to Jungkook. He sounds incredulous as he asks, “Is it true that you went there posing as her boyfriend to her parents?”

Another affirmative grunt. You hear a chorus of laughter, and you can’t deny that it stings. Are they laughing at Hoseok having to spend a weekend with the person he hates the most, or are they laughing because your situation is just that pathetic?

“And how was that?” Yoongi asks as he downs the rest of his bottle of beer.

You can really only see the back of Hoseok’s head, but you can tell based on how he grips his beer a little tighter that he’s getting annoyed with his friends and their teasing. You’re about to step out from around the corner to put an end to all of it when he finally speaks up.

“Honestly? A waste of fucking time. She didn’t even put out. I figured she would be easier than that. Not that I want Jackson’s sloppy seconds anyway.”

Time stops.

You can’t breathe.

You can hear the guys speaking, but you can’t process it. You feel like you’re underwater, being dunked in a frozen lake with the ice trapping you below the surface. You don’t realize you’re crying until you hear your name being called.

“Y/N?” Namjoon asks as he pokes his head out from his bedroom. Immediately, all of the eyes in the room fall on you.

Hoseok stares at you, wide-eyed and mouth agape.

You want to throw up.

Namjoon approaches you quickly, hands coming to rest on your shoulders. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

You don’t break eye contact with Hoseok as you start to shake your head.

Finally, you spit out, “Fuck you, Jung Hoseok.”

You wrench yourself from your brother’s grasp and head for the door, slamming it shut on your way out.

None of it was real.

None of it was real, and you feel so absolutely fucking stupid for believing that it could have been. Every touch, every kiss, all of it was just Hoseok doing what he does best—pretend. You were right all along. All he wanted was just some sick entertainment, and to maybe lure you into bed so that he could go back to his friends and brag about it behind your back.

You make it back to your place and throw the door open, not looking back when you swing it shut with your foot. But instead of the sound of the door slamming against the wooden frame, you hear it whack against something soft. You turn and immediately become furious at the sight of Hoseok stepping foot into your private space.

You march over and shove him hard, causing him to stumble back.

“Get the fuck out of my apartment.”

You’re almost shocked at how eerily calm your voice is. But you know that the dam is about to break, and if Hoseok doesn’t leave right this minute, you’re going to unleash a tsunami upon him.

“Y/N, wait, I can explain—”

That does it.

“Explain what?” You can’t help but yell. You’re just so tired, so embarrassed, so humiliated that all you want is him to leave so that you can cry your eyes out under the covers in peace. You try to shove him again, but he’s expecting it this time, his feet planted firmly on the ground. “Explain how this whole thing was just so that you could have more ammunition to make fun of me? So that I could be another notch in your bed post? Well, guess what, I don’t want to hear it, so why don’t you just get the fuck out and leave me alone!”

Hoseok vehemently shakes his head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You bite your lip to stop from screaming at him, staring up at the ceiling in a feeble attempt to stop the tears from flowing.

“I’m asking you nicely, Hoseok,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Please just leave, I can’t even look at you, I can’t—”

Before you can blink, he’s on you, lips pressed so firmly against yours that the contact makes your teeth click. Hoseok soothes the sting as his movements slow, his mouth coaxing a light moan from your throat. His hand lifts to cup your cheek, and for a delirious moment, you sink into the feeling of the kiss, of him kissing you.

It isn’t until you feel him tugging you against the length of his body that his words come rushing back to you in a flood of shame, anger, and hurt. You plant your hands on his chest and forcefully push him away, a resounding CRACK ringing through your apartment as a red mark in the shape of your handprint blooms across his cheek.

Hoseok is stunned, immediately letting you go. He rubs at where you’d slapped him, his lips downturned in a frown that doesn’t suit his beautiful face. He gapes at you for a few minutes before finally choking out, “What the fuck was that for?”

“Stop toying with me!” You practically wail, tears stinging your eyes. “You don’t get to just…just kiss me like that out of nowhere and pretend like everything is okay! What am I, a joke to you? Someone you can play around with and then go back and brag about to your friends?”

You take in a deep, wavering breath, shaking your head as you force yourself to look him in the eye.

“I can’t believe I trusted you.” You see Hoseok’s face fall, his hands twitching at his sides, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you imagine that it’s because he wants to reach out and touch you. You hate yourself for wanting it to be true. “I can’t believe I confided in you, that I—”

You clamp your mouth shut before the secret you’ve been holding back ever since Namjoon had introduced the two of you all those years ago slips from your tongue. This seems to spark something within Hoseok, and his face sets in determination.

“That you what?” He demands, taking a step forward. “I’m not playing around, Y/N. I wouldn’t do that. Not to you.”

“Then why did you say those things about me to the others?” You cry, hot tears streaking down your face. You helplessly swipe at them with your sleeves, hating that you’ve allowed yourself to get this emotional, that he’s seeing you break down in front of him. You turn away burying your face in your hands. “I’m so stupid, I’m so, so fucking stupid…”

You feel his arms circling you, and you start to cry harder when you feel his lips press against your crown.

“You’re not stupid,” he promises quietly, a large, warm palm rubbing gentle circles against your back. “This is real. The entire weekend with your parents—every touch, every kiss, I meant it.” He lets out a laugh. Not one of humour, but one of weary exhaustion. “You’re really gonna make me say it, aren’t you?”

You force yourself to take deep breaths, force yourself to pretend as if his touch isn’t a welcome comfort. You will the tears to cease, shakily asking, “Say what?”

Another laugh, this one followed by a short, hitched breath.

“I’m in love with you.”

You immediately try to wrestle yourself out of his hold, though his hands remain steadfast on your waist. “You what?”

His grip tightens ever so slightly, his gaze soft as he smiles down at you. “I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes search his, breath caught in your throat. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” he promises, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”

You’re too stunned to speak. How long had you dreamed of Hoseok saying those exact words to you? For him to want you, only you, for the weekend at your parents’ cottage to have been real instead of just a ruse to get your family off your back? Your eyes are still fixated on his, trying to figure out whether or not he’s telling the truth.

Hoseok must sense the thoughts racing through your mind, so he decides to continue. “When Namjoon introduced us back in high school, the first time I came over and you’d come back from soccer practice, my jaw nearly hit the floor. Namjoon figured out how I felt and warned me to stay away from you, so I kept my distance.”

Namjoon knew? Your brother knew this whole time?

“I was an asshole to you because it was the only way I knew how to get your attention. We were kids at the time, you know? Just stupid teenagers. But by the time we’d all grown up, that was just how we spoke to each other, and it was the only way I knew how to get you to even look in my direction. And then you were dating that asshole Jackson, and you just seemed so happy, and I couldn’t do anything about it.” He scoffs at himself, letting out a deep sigh. “I’m an idiot, right?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your voice is locked up in your throat, refusing to come out. So you just stare at him, stunned.

He continues. “I shouldn’t have said what I did back there. The guys…they don’t know how I feel about you, and they wouldn’t leave me alone. I know that it was wrong, and I regretted it the second I said it. But I don’t regret spending time with you, getting to really know you, or getting to pretend like you were actually mine, if only for a few days. I know I have a lifetime to atone for, and I just need you to know that I’m going to try, if you’ll let me.”

You don’t know what to say.

Hoseok smiles nervously, one hand coming up to rake through his hair. “You know, Y/N, I’m kind of bearing my heart and soul to you here, a little feedback would be appreciated.”

You still can’t will yourself to speak, and you feel Hoseok’s hand on your waist starting to slip.

“Look, I’m really sorry, I should have just kept my fucking mouth shut. Forget I said anything, I’ll just go—”

Before he can turn, you cut him off with your hands on either side of his face and your lips against his.

Words evade you, so you hope that you can convey everything in the kiss. Hoseok melts against you, his hands holding you close, slipping under the hem of your shirt to fan across the skin of your lower back. You reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair, only pulling away for a second to catch your breath.

“Holy shit,” Hoseok pants, his breath fanning across your lips. “You just kissed—”

You kiss him again, effectively shutting him up, because there are more important things the two of you can be doing with your mouths. Hoseok sinks into the kiss, moving you backwards until he’s crowding you against the wall of your front hallway. You moan when his tongue traces along your lower lip, and you open up for him, knees nearly buckling at the sensation of the first touch against yours.

The kiss is everything you’ve dreamed of and more. You can feel the sincerity, the desire, the love as Hoseok’s movements slow, stealing all the air from your lungs. His tongue gently caresses yours as he takes control, and you can feel his eyelashes fluttering light as a feather against the curve your cheek. Your fingers card through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. He moans into your mouth, the same erotic sound that had escaped him the first night at the cottage. Hoseok presses you more firmly against the length of his body, and you can feel his arousal against your lower stomach.

Pulling away with a great amount of reluctance, your eyes search his. All you see is the truth.

Both his, and yours.

“It was real to me too,” you confess, breathless in the best way possible. “I didn’t know I wanted it to be until you kissed me under the mistletoe, but I do. I want you, Hoseok. All of you. Deep down, I think I always have.”

The smile that spreads across his face is so beautiful and radiant that it rivals the sun. Hoseok presses his forehead against yours, and takes in a deep breath as his eyes shut. He doesn’t say anything, and you run your thumb along his cheek, pecking at his mouth.

“What is it?”

“I just…” he begins, his voice so soft and so full of emotion. You press your palms against his shoulders so that you can see him fully, and you’re shocked to see the tears clinging to his lashes. “I love you,” he confesses, and you still feel your breath hitch at the words. “I love you, and I just need a second to make sure I’m not dreaming.”

“You’re not,” you promise, smoothing out the collar of his shirt absentmindedly. You want to say those three words back to him, but you know that you’re not ready yet. There’s still years of hurt to work through, to resolve and fix. But your heart longs for him, marvels in how right it feels to be in his arms, to kiss him, to be as close to him as possible.

Hoseok seems to be able to read your mind, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your hip. “I know I have a lot of apologizing to do,” he says, barely above a whisper. “I’d like to show you just how sorry I am, and how much I love you, if you’ll let me.”

Even after his confession, and though he’s holding you so close that nothing else but the two of you exists, you have to feebly ask, “Promise you won’t use this to make fun of me behind my back with the guys?”

Hoseok’s head hangs in shame for a second before he rises to look at you, the smile gone from his face. It’s replaced by a look of sadness, pain filtering into his gaze. “Please, Y/N. I need you to believe me when I say that I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, ever. I’m not about to blow my chance with you for some stupid prank.”

You worry your lower lip between your teeth before you raise your hand, holding up your pinky finger. “Promise?”

A tiny smile begins to spread across his face as he holds his up as well, hooking his little finger with yours. “Promise.”

You’re not sure who leans in first after that. All you know is that his hand is cupping your jaw and you’re clinging to his shirt as he kisses you with so much love, passion, and adoration that you swear your heart is going to burst out of your chest.

Hoseok guides you in the direction of your room, and the two of you stumble along, clothes thrown overhead and shed along the way. By the time you feel Hoseok gently push you down on the bed, his shirt is off and you’re only in your bra and panties, a plain, boring white set that you wish was just a little fancier. Hoseok doesn’t seem to mind though, as he climbs over you and looks down at your body as if he wants to devour you whole.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he pants, his mouth scorching hot as he pulls bruises with his teeth along your neck and collarbone. You whine beneath him as he noses your bra strap down your shoulder, sucking and licking down the curve of your breast.

“Hobi, please,” you whimper as he tugs your bra down to expose your nipples, immediately looking you dead in the eye as he elongates his tongue and traces the very tip along the edge of your areola. He lavishes your breast with attention, his thumb grazing over your other nipple before he switches his ministrations. You arch into his mouth, and Hoseok takes the opportunity to slide his hands underneath you to unhook your bra.

He tosses it aside flippantly before pressing open mouthed kisses between the valley of your breasts, and down your stomach.

“I’ve been thinking about you ever since that first night at the cottage,” Hoseok breathes against the band of your panties, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. He tugs them down slowly, his voice deep and husky as he tries to keep himself under control.

You can tell it’s a losing battle, if his blown out pupils and the tent in his jeans are any indication.

“The things I want to do to you,” he growls, his palms spreading your legs wide so that they’re flat against the bed. You whimper out a moan as he trails kisses from your knee up your inner thigh, stopping just before where you need him most. “With my tongue…with my hands…” Hoseok runs his thumb along your dripping slit, not adding much pressure, but just a ghost of a touch to let you know that he sees what a mess you’ve already made. “Fuck, you have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

“Jesus Christ,” you gasp as you feel his calloused digit swipe lightly over your swollen clit. “Hobi, please, I need more—”

He smirks up at you, and you watch as he, with all the time in the world, bends down while maintaining steady eye contact. His tongue pokes out of his mouth and he flicks the tip of it against your clit, and it’s enough to already having you buck up towards him for something, anything.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and give me what I want?” Hoseok purrs before leaning down to suck on your clit, hard. You yelp at the sensation but then he moves away, looking up at you expectantly.

You card your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly at the roots. “Yes, Hoseok, please, anything. You already have me. Please, please, I need you.”

“Mmm,” he hums, sucking on it again before backing off. Part of you wants to smack him upside the head. How is he still so infuriating? “Can’t wait to make this pussy mine. Can’t wait to claim you, to ruin you for anyone else.”

You can’t help but grumble. “I don’t know, at this point, I’m starting to believe you’re all talk—”

You’re abruptly cut off my Hoseok latching his mouth to your clit, delivering the perfect amount of pressure as he licks and sucks at your most sensitive area. You moan out something akin to his name, and it only spurs him on further. He growls against your pussy and you feel it vibrating deep in your core, your fingers grasping for purchase against his soft strands.

Your eyes flutter shut as he focuses all his attention on your clit, drawing out more and more obscene moans and whines from your lips. It’s when you feel two of his fingers sliding into your heat that your eyes fly open and you start to squirm in his grasp.

“You’re so wet, baby,” Hoseok growls as he continues to massage your inner walls with his long, deft fingers. He curls them upward until he finds what he’s looking for, the spot deep inside of you that has you keening when he presses on it. You feel him grin against your skin. “Ah, there it is.”

You’re not sure if you can survive this experience, not if he keeps talking like that. But it stirs something within you, something primal and desperate, and you buck your hips as his movements get faster and faster.

The obscene sound of his tongue flicking against your clit stops as he suddenly sits up, and you let out a whine of protest. His fingers remain inside of you but he moves so that he’s draped along your side, slightly hovering over your body. He leans in to kiss you, just as his hand starts to move. The heel of his palm beats against your clit with every thrust of his fingers, and you cry against his lips as he shifts to whisper the filthiest things into your ear.

The wet sound of his fingers fucking you and his palm slapping against your pussy fills the room and has your legs starting to shake.

“Press those legs really wide for me, baby,” Hoseok orders as his hand picks up speed. You do as he says, and to reward you, his hand fucks you a little harder. “Good girl. Fuck. I’ve been thinking of making you come all fucking week. Mmm, how does it feel, baby? How does it feel to have my fingers fuck you open, prepare you for my cock?”

You want to scream, but you can see the light at the end of the tunnel, the release that you’d so desperately been longing for rapidly approaching. Instead you whimper out a barely-there response, Hoseok’s fingers dragging brutally against your g-spot.

“Always dreamed of watching you come, of making you come. It’s all I’ve ever fucking wanted, and now I have you right where I’ve always wanted you. Now I want you to come for me. Can you do that baby? Can you come on my fingers?”

One of your hands fists the sheets while the other holds him close, nudging him with your nose until he gets the hint to kiss you.

“Come for me,” he murmurs into the kiss, and you feel your walls begin to clench down on him.  The fluttering begins, and Hoseok’s tone becomes gentle, almost reverent. “Good girl,” he praises as he feels the beginnings of your orgasm. “Good girl, come on, come on…”

You come with a scream, bucking your pussy against his palm as he helps you ride out the pleasure. Shockwaves tear through you as Hoseok extends your orgasm for as long as possible, peppering your face and neck with kisses as you finally start to come down.

“Mmm, baby, look at you,” Hoseok purrs, sliding his fingers out of your wet heat and holding them up so you can see how they glisten in the dim light. “Open your mouth for me, Y/N.”

You do as you’re told, and you see his nostrils start to flare as he slides his fingers into your mouth and you suck the evidence of your own bliss off his skin. His prominent Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, removing is fingers before he kisses you for all he’s worth. Your fingers tremble as you struggle with his belt, still feeling lightheaded from his earlier ministrations. Hoseok eventually just lifts himself off the bed and shucks off his jeans and boxers in one go, abandoning them in a pile on the floor as he palms his hardened cock.

You sit up on your elbows as he places a knee back on the bed, and you bite your lip at his size. Hoseok is gorgeous, truly having a dancer’s body. He’s streamlined and lean, and his cock is thicker than you expect. He strokes himself steadily while gazing upon you like a wolf about to pounce on a rabbit.

“How do you want it?”

You bite your lip before reaching over to gently grasp his wrist. “I want to see you.”

Hoseok nods as you sit up fully and open the drawer to your bedside table to retrieve a condom from your stash. You open the foil and help slide it down his length, watching with a hint of smugness as his eyes roll back in his head when you squeeze his shaft. Once it’s rolled on all the way to his base, he nudges you to lie back, and you part your thighs for him once more.

He lets out a groan, hooking your legs over his elbows, before he leans forward, the head of his cock brushing against your still-sensitive lips. “I still can’t believe this is finally happening,” he chuckles breathlessly as he effectively folds you in half, leaving you completely open and exposed for him. You reach down to guide him in, your other hand cupping the back of his neck as he rests his forehead against yours.

You feel the head of his cock parting your lips and then the delicious sting of him slowly filling you up. You don’t realize you’re both holding your breath until Hoseok releases a choked moan and you whimper out his name in response. You take him, inch by delicious inch, until you feel his pelvis pressing flush against yours.

He takes a moment to just breathe through the feeling of your tight, wet heat wrapped around him, and it allows for you to adjust to his girth inside of you. Once you feel ready, you peck at his mouth as a signal to move.

More proof that Hoseok is a dancer—his hips, once they start to roll into you, are absolutely fucking deadly. He fucks you like he’ll never get the chance again, like it’s his last day on Earth and he wants you writhing beneath him to be his final memory. Your nails scrape along his back as he starts out slow, his cock filling you so perfectly, going even deeper than his fingers had just moments before.

You also notice that when Hoseok isn’t whispering into your ear with the some of the filthiest shit you’ve ever heard, he cannot stop kissing you. It’s almost as if he can’t believe you’re real, and the feeling of your lips against his grounds him in a way that he just can’t explain.

He starts to pick up the pace, his hips slamming against yours with more vigour. “How does it feel, baby?” He grunts, grinding into you. “How does it feel to have my cock buried deep inside of you?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond as he braces his knees against the bed and starts to fuck you harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling your ears. You moan as he nips at your jaw, your nails dragging long, angry red marks along the honeyed skin of his back.

You’ve never seen Hoseok like this before in all the years that you’ve known him. His brow is furrowed in concentration, forehead dotted with sweat. You can tell that he’s trying to hold himself back as he explores every inch of your body, worshipping and revering you like he goddess he knows that you are.

“Your pussy is so fucking wet,” he praises, sucking in harsh breaths as he pounds into you, the bed frame creaking under the force of his thrusts. You’re helpless beneath him, and you see the veins in his neck start to protrude as he starts to lose control.

“Baby, I’m so close,” you keen, pushing his sweaty bangs out of his face.

“Yeah?” He asks, even though he can tell that you’re almost there. He presses the full length of his body against yours and fucks you until there’s nothing left in the entire universe but you and him. “Come with me, baby.”

When you come for the second time, you come harder than you ever have before. You scream out his name as you cling to him for dear life, your back arching clear off the bed as you feel wetness coating you both. Hoseok nearly chokes as he comes, burying himself deep inside of you as he spills into the condom, pinning you to the mattress as your name falls repeatedly from his lips.

Hoseok collapses on top of you, effectively squishing you under the weight of his body. You pout and squirm, nudging at his shoulders, though his spent body makes no effort to move.

“Hobi,” you whine with an air of laughter in your voice, limbs going limp. “Get off.”

“Let me just…bask in this for a second,” he pants, face still buried in the crook of your neck. “I’ve never made a girl squirt before.”

“Oh my god,” you wheeze, shoving at his shoulders. He moves off of you and you roll onto your stomach, burying your face in your pillow. He takes the opportunity to peel off the condom, tying it in a knot and tossing it in the trash. You say something, but it’s muffled by the fabric and Hoseok can’t help but giggle.

“I can’t hear you, dumb-dumb.”

You lift your face, but then cover it with your hands. “I’m so sorry. I’ve never done that before.”

“Sorry?” Hoseok asks, rising slightly before wrapping his arms around you and tugging you flush against him. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, and the best sex I’ve ever hand, and you’re trying to apologize?”

You peer at him through the gap in your fingers. “It’s embarrassing.”

Hoseok wrenches your hands away from your face and kisses you before you can protest.

“Believe me when I tell you that it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. You don’t need to be ashamed of yourself, or your body, or anything. I love you. Every part of you.”

You bite your lip and look away, knowing you’re unable to say the three words that you know Hoseok wants to hear more than anything. But again, sensing your discomfort, he lifts his hand to brush your hair away from your face.

“Don’t feel guilty,” he says quietly, stroking his thumb along your cheek. “You don’t have to say it back. I hope that one day you will, but I don’t expect you to reciprocate right away.”

Your eyes bore into his, and you wonder why this version of Hoseok couldn’t have been the one you’d met when you were sixteen. You lean in and kiss him so softly and so shyly that it’s barely there. But when you pull away, he’s smiling at you. That beautiful, radiant smile that makes you glad you’re lying down because it makes you weak in the knees.

“I’m getting there,” you promise, nose brushing against his. And you know it to be true. Even as you’re in his arms now, nestled perfectly like you were always meant to exist in his hold, you’re falling, falling falling. You just need some more time. But you know you’ll get there, if his tiny, hopeful smile is any indication.

You suddenly start to hear a ruckus from the hall, and also loud cheers from street level outside. You rise slightly, trying to peer over at your alarm clock, but Hoseok drags you back down with a pout.

“Clean up later. I’m comfy.”

“What time is it?” You ask, ignoring his petulant frown.

Hoseok caves and rolls over, emitting a small noise of surprise. “11:59.”

Then you hear people starting to count down.

10!

9!

Hoseok turns back to you, his eyes wide and shining as he takes you in, still basking in the after glow.

8!

7!

6!

You smile at him, the tiniest tear clinging to your lashes, and as you blink, Hoseok wipes it away with his thumb before it can tumble down your cheek.

5!

He leans in closer…

4!

Your eyes slowly close as you slide your hand along the back of his neck…

3!

His arms pull you in until there’s no space between you…

2!

You feel his warm breath fanning across your lips…

1!

Happy New Year!

The clock strikes midnight just as Hoseok kisses you, fireworks exploding just outside to ring in the new year. You lose yourself in the feel of him once more, in the taste of his tongue as it glides along the seam of your mouth. You don’t protest as he rolls on top of you, his thigh pressing between yours to spread your legs yet again.

When his questing hand blindly reaches out for the drawer of your bedside table, you detach from him momentarily to pant out, “Shouldn’t we go back and rejoin the others?”

Hoseok merely chuckles, tearing open another condom. “Screw the others,” he grins, and you can’t help but bite your lip in anticipation as you feel his arousal growing stiffer between your thighs. “I have a lot of lost time to make up for. They can wait.”

And as he pushes inside of you again, you can’t help but agree. You’d spent so long feeling so sad and so lost, you’d nearly forgotten what it was like to experience true happiness, and true bliss.

But as Hoseok worships your body and makes you forget about the outside world, you figure that you deserve to cling to whatever small piece of joy that you can. And you do—over and over, until the sun comes up and neither of you have the strength or energy to carry on.

Even after all of that though, Hoseok still bugs you to run your fingers along his arms and chest to help him fall asleep. You snort and call him a brat, to which he taunts you by saying you’re going to need to buy extra sets of sheets for every time he comes over.

You just shake your head as he drifts off, snoring softly, looking more and more like an angel as slumber finally takes him. You press a kiss to his forehead and nuzzle against him, his arms automatically wrapping around you, even in sleep. You sigh with a smile, relaxing in his grasp. You know that you still have a ways to go, but with Hoseok by your side, you finally feel ready to step into the sun.

Happy New Year, indeed.

A/N: It is FINALLY DONE! This is the longest one-shot I’ve ever written. I meant to have this out sooner, but you know how life is sometimes. I hope you enjoyed! And I hope you all had a happy and safe new year. Drop me a line and let me know what you think!  Please share if you liked it!<3

[adrenaline-roulette]

It’s strange but it’s true

Okay, so this was my first Brian x Reader fic, and my overall first ever Queen fic too! It was written over Christmas of 2018, and since then, I’ve fallen down one hell of a Queen rabbit hole!

Word count: 3k +

One week ago

This had all been Roger’s idea, you had made a passing comment to him in the recording studio a couple of weeks ago, mentioning how you and Brian hadn’t had much of a chance to spend any time together, at least not longer than five minutes alone. He would come home from the studio in the early hours of the morning, waking you up as he crawled into bed beside you. In the mornings, you would be up before him and out to work just as he was waking up. It almost felt more like having a roommate, over a boyfriend!

“Don’t worry love, he’ll be free again soon. We’ve got it planned so we have a break between recording, and then touring again! But if you want, why don’t you drop by next week while we’re filming the video for I want to break free?” He suggested, a mischievous glint in his baby blues, though you decided it best not to dwell on the look.

“That sounds amazing! Brian won’t tell me anything much about the video, top secret he says. The mystery is killing me!” You muse, which only causes Roger to smirk.

“Don’t you worry Y/N, you’ll love it! You know how Brian gets when we’re recording, it’s all about the music.”

                                                                                *****

You could hardly contain your excitement as you walked through the parking lot leading towards Limehouse studios. You had managed to secure a car spot a fair distance away from the actual studio, though the warm spring day made for a pleasant walk towards the large building. The grin that was plastered on your face remained as you flashed your guest pass to the security guard at the entrance, who smiled and nodded you in the direction of the reception desk. A young woman, with brunette hair sat at the circular desk, a blush across her cheeks and neck, you could only assume this was Roger’s doing.

“Hello, I’m Y/N, I’m here to visit Queen.” You smiled, as the young woman acknowledged you.

“Of course, they’re in studio three. If the light above the door is red, that means that they’re filming, so just wait until the light is green and then you can go in.” She explained, as you nodded your understanding. Bidding her farewell, you made your way down the corridor until you found a set of double doors, with a large number three painted next to them. Casting your gaze up, you spot the light you had been told about illuminated with a green glow, with a pleased hum you push the doors open and walk in.

Looking around, you try to spot anyone you knew, Roger, John, and Freddie all knew you would be there today, and you had somewhat expected at least one of them to greet you and bring you to Brian. Though as you look around, all you see are strangers.

Stepping further into the studio, your attention is drawn to the scene set up on the stage, it looks like a typical living room. A plush brown sofa, set in front of a stair case, and then to the right on a separate section of the stage there is what appears to be a kitchen set up, complete with pantry and sink. “What on Earth are these boys doing?” You breath out, it was an odd set up, though at this stage of knowing the boys, you had given up in trying to figure out what they were doing. You had learnt that lesson after questioning Freddie over the meaning of Bohemian Rhapsody. Despite it now being one of your favourite songs they had released so far, at the beginning you were rather sceptical.

   “Oi Y/N!”

You whirl around on the spot, trying to see who would have called out for you, though you can’t see anyone you recognize, or who would recognize you.

“Y/N! Over here!”

You hear again, this time however you spot someone beckoning you over with a wave of their arm. A blonde woman, wearing bows in her hair, a school uniform, complete with pink and yellow neck tie, and white knee length socks stands by a closed door, and oddly familiar smirk on her lips.  A confused frown crosses your features as you head towards the woman cautiously, as you get closer though you find yourself beginning to recognize who she is. By the time you’re face to face with the school girl, you have an eyebrow raised, and your arms crossed over your chest.

“Roger…. What the actual fuck are you wearing right now?” You groan out, you are definitely not drunk enough to deal with Roger in drag right now.

“Oh, this old thing?” He offers, a sultry pout on his pink lips, as he lifts the tie from his padded chest. “Just a little something I had lying around. Why? Would you like to borrow it some time? You know how much Brian loves school…”  He winks at you and you find yourself blushing at the thought.

“You’re a horny idiot Rog.” You mutter with a shake of your head. Which only causes him to grin.

“Yeah, but you’re used to it by now! Now come with me, I have two people very eager to see you, and one who will be when he knows you’re here! We’ve got to start filming soon, once Freddie is ready, but it shouldn’t take too long!” He babbles, as he links his arm through yours and drags you through a door marked as ‘dressing room’. He kicks the door closed b­­­ehind him, humming along to the music that seems to be constantly playing in his head. “We have company!” He suddenly announces, and you stand in the doorway, causing three sets of eyes to fall on you.

You can’t help it, you want to play it cool, you truly do, but it’s nearly impossible. Freddie is sitting on a bench with his legs crossed, wearing black heels, stocking, and black miniskirt, pale pink shirt, and a wig, with his moustache on full display, along with an overly stuffed bra.

John is on the sofa in the corner of the room, strumming his bass, a silver curled wig hidden beneath a black bucket hat, pearl earrings clipped onto his lobes, and a long black woollen coat covering his body. He’s not as well endowed as Freddie, but he too has some padding.

And then there’s Brian, who until you had walked in, was tuning The Red Special, though had nearly dropped the poor thing when he saw you. His glorious curls were rolled up in hair rollers of multiple colours, a satin pink night gown draped over his tall lean frame, striped socks and fluffy bunny slippers on his feet. He was looking directly at you, mouth agape and hazel eyes piercing into yours.

“Darling! How wonderful of you to join us!” Freddie exclaims as he leaps off the bench, sashaying his was towards you, before wrapping you in a warm hug, which you eagerly reciprocated, laughing deeply into his shoulder at the scene you had just walked into. “Rog, go fix your socks, you look a mess!” He chuckles, once you release each other, shooing Roger away over your shoulder.

You wave over at John, who’s grinning at the shocked expression that seems to be frozen on Brian’s face. “Hi Deaky, the pearls suit you.” You tease, though you know he won’t take any offence to your comments.

“Hey Y/N, I had to threaten Freddie with Bodily harm to stop him from actually piercing me.” He smirks, and you can’t quite tell if he’s joking or not.

  You turn your attention to Brian, who still hadn’t moved, or spoken yet, “Hey…” You smile softly, allowing Freddie and Roger to bicker in the background. It feels like forever since you had last seen Brian, and you couldn’t care less that he was currently dressed as a woman, though you would have preferred something a little different, he was here and so were you, and that’s all that could possibly matter to you.

“Hi love. This is a bit of a surprise.” He blushes, before looking up at you sharply. “A nice surprise! I just wasn’t expecting to see you!” The words tumble from his lips, and you can’t help but chuckle at his rambling. Your hand lifts towards his face, and you brush your knuckles against his jaw.

“This is a good look for you, something from your personal collection?” You smirk, as he lifts an eyebrow at you, a groan escaping his parted lips.

“Yes, you caught me. This is what I wear whenever you’re out of the house.”

“He puts it on the minute we finish a show too!” Bellows Roger, who as you turn to look at him, has Freddie kneeling in front of him adjusting his socks.

“He takes forever in the tour bus bathroom too, takes him at least an hour to get all those hair rollers in!” Chimes in John, who had moved from the sofa and was biting into an apple by the minifridge.

Brian flops his head down, his chin resting atop your hair. “Make them stop! They’ve been teasing each other relentlessly since we got into costume.” He groans, before pressing a soft kiss to your scalp.

You wrap your arms around his waist, nudging your head up until Brian lifts his chin, and is again looking down at you. “I’ve missed this, being able to be in the same room as you for longer than five minutes. And you, I’ve missed you too of course.” There’s a moment where you’re both just looking at each other, nothing else around you matters, and you find yourselves wishing that this moment would last forever.

“When were you planning on telling me about this?” You ask, to which Brian raises a quizzical eyebrow. “The whole, drag thing! I mean, were you just going to wait and see if I ever found out, hoping that I wouldn’t?” You laugh, and he rolls his eyes.

“I wasn’t entirely sure how to phrase it, Hey Y/N, our new video has us dressing in drag! Though I would like to point out that this was all Roger’s idea.” He laughs.

“You all said it sounded like fun when I suggested it!” Roger cries.

“We were all drunk when you suggested it! You could have said we should film in black and white with a penguin and we would’ve said it sounded great!” Brian rebuts. He grins down at you, tightening his arms around your waist, to keep you securely by his side.

A loud knock on the door startles you both, and you practically jump apart. The door swings open, and a middle-aged man walks in, “Alright lads, we need you on set now.” He announces, before pivoting and walking out.

“That’s our cue. The sooner we get this started, the sooner we can leave.” Brian sighs, as he leans down and presses a kiss to your lips. He’s so soft and gentle with you, though the slight pressure behind the kiss reminds you of just what he would be doing to you if he wasn’t needed elsewhere. Freddie steps up behind Brian and grabs his hand before dragging him away from you.

“Come watch if you’d like?” Freddie calls over his shoulder, as you stand in the middle of the room, disappointment filling you from lack of a more passionate kiss.

With a shrug, you follow Roger out of the dressing room, and back into the main studio. Crew are running backwards and forwards, making sure everything is perfect for the shoot. John is sat on the sofa reading a newspaper, a woman readjusting his hat to make sure he looks perfect. Freddie is hidden away in the kitchen set, being handed a vacuum while Roger stands at the sink with his back to the door, and Brian has disappeared up the stairs, doing who knows what!

 “Quiet on set! We start it three… two…” The director calls, and mouths out one, when the cameras begin rolling. The music kicks in, a familiar tune you had heard over and over again in the recording studio for weeks now. The drum beat begins, and then Freddie appears, moving the vacuum back and forth in time to the beat, strutting around in his glorious costume. Next comes Brian rushing down the stairs as John peers over the top of his newspaper, before settling himself more comfortably on the sofa. Brian races into the kitchen, and then there’s Roger rocking his hips in time to the music. However it’s the moment Freddie opens his lips to start singing, that you lose it, stifling your laughter behind your hand. One of the crew turns to look at you, offering a sympathetic smile, and you look away, trying desperately not to make a sound. It proves to be nearly impossible and you soon make your way back into the dressing room, settling yourself down on the sofa and soon falling asleep. Dreams of men in drag filling your head.

                                                                                *****

You have no way of telling how long you had been asleep for, though you find yourself being woken up by a gentle hand brushing through your hair. You stretch your arms out, feeling your shoulder blades pop from the cramped position you had slept in.

“Y/N… It’s time to leave.” Brian’s gentle voice breezes past your ear, and you shudder, blinking your eyes open, and searching for him. “Hey, let’s go home yeah?” He offers as your eyes meet his, as he kneels beside your head, his slender fingers brushing through your hair, gently pulling at a knot for you.

“That sounds amazing.” You grin, as you look at him properly now. His hair was out of its rollers and once again flowing in its tight ringlets down his shoulders, and the nightgown had been replaced with jeans and a navy blue button down shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Sitting up, you push yourself up off the sofa, taking his outstretched hand once you are both standing. “Have the others left already?” You yawn, as the two of you make your way out of the studio, hand in hand.

“Only just, Deaky said something about cooking dinner for Veronica, I think Freddie is going out again, and Roger is doing something with Dominique… He wouldn’t go into any details, which is worrisome.” He laughs, as you make it to the parking lot, the warm day having turned to a cool evening. “Where did you park? I’ll drive us home.” He offers, as you lead him towards the back of the lot, to your car. Brian had arrived with Roger this morning to the studio, so now with Roger gone, it only made sense for the two of you to travel together.

The drive home only took fifteen minutes, the traffic being relatively quiet for the late hour, and as you both walked up the gravel driveway towards your shared house Brian hummed the tune to ’39, his arm wrapped around your shoulder. “You know, I’ve always loved that song.” You smile, as you kick off your shoes once inside the house.

Brian chuckles, following your lead and removing his shoes also. “And what makes you love it? Could it be because I wrote it? Or because I sing it?”

You roll your eyes up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, stepping him backwards until his back hits the door. “You know I love your voice.” You breath out, pressing your fingertips to his scalp, massaging gently as he leans into your touch. “And your hair, your hands, your lips, I love everything about you.”

The smile which illuminates his face is angelic, and you feel a sense of pride over the fact that only you can make him look that way. “I love you Y/N, more than anything else in the galaxy.” He whispers, before bringing his lips down to yours. There’s a passion deep within the two of you, one that had been boiling to the surface over these past few weeks, due to the limited contact. The kiss starts gently, noses bumping against one another, hands trailing along the others body as if they were just discovering each other for the first time.  Without any warning, Brian lifts you up, instantly you wrap your legs around his waist, securing your arms around his neck as he walks you to the bedroom, his lips never leaving yours. Carefully he places you on the soft mattress, hovering above you as if you were his prey. He trails his hands down your waist, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops on your jeans, rubbing small circles on your hips, watching as goose pimples form along your arms. His fingers move to the button and zipper on your pants, agonisingly slowly he undoes the fastenings, before pulling the pants down your legs. He grins as your legs are exposed to him, grabbing the hem of your shirt, and rolling it up your stomach. You lift your arms and raise your back off the bed, as he pulls the fabric over your head.

“You’re stunning.” He murmurs, as he looks over you in just your underwear. “How could I be so lucky?” He’s leaning over you again, lips trailing down your chest, to your stomach, causing you to squirm slightly.

“You’re wearing clothes still.” You pout, causing Brian to look up from where he was kissing along your hip bone. He almost looks feral from what you can see of him, his hair tangled in odd directions from where you had messed it up with your fingers, and there’s a hungry gleam in his eyes, he’s hungry for you. In an instant, he’s stood up at the foot of the bed and almost frantically undoing his own jeans, shimmying them down to his feet, before kicking them away into the corner of the room. Next, he makes quick work of unbuttoning the first three buttons on his shirt, before stripping it off over his head, and tossing it in the same general direction as his jeans.  You watch as he pounces back over you, sliding his fingers into the waistband of your panties, and slipping them down your thighs just as he had with your jeans moments ago. Your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the cool air against your naked sex, a shudder rippling down your spine. Reaching up, you snap the band on his boxers, a slight groan leaving his parted lips as you do so, and you grin at his reaction. You slide his boxers down, just as he wraps his arms around you, unclasping your bra with practised precision. Both garments are strewn to the side, a light thud informing you that something had been knocked to the ground, a problem for later however.

“I love you, so much. You’re my world Y/N.” Brian whispers, as his lips meet yours once again, no longer gentle like he had been earlier, your desire is at the surface now, passion growing as your tongues explore the others mouth, teeth and noses bumping against the others as your hands grip any available body part they can reach. His hands are planted firmly beside your head now, as he looms above you, smiling down at your breathless form.

“Stay with me forever.” You plead, as he positions himself at your entrance. Your palm is cupping his cheek as you watch each other, both waiting for him to make the next move. You gasp as he pushes into you, as gently as he can, despite how eager he is. You hook your legs around his waist, pulling his body closer to yours, as he pushes his entire length inside you. You bite down on your lip to prevent yourself from moaning, not wanting to give away just how close you already were, given how long it had been since this level on intimacy. He’s watching you again you notice when you look up, he’s checking to see if you’re ready for him, and all you can do is smile. He leans his head down, his hair tickling your bare chest as his begins thrusting into you. You know each other well, and it doesn’t take long until you’re matching thrust for thrust. Your hips roll against his, both of you moaning at the delightful sensations of being together once more, you’re kissing along his neck as you move together in perfect sync, he thrust up hard into you, and you cry out in bliss, before sucking down hard on his neck, kissing and swirling your tongue as you make sure to mark him proudly as yours. He’s moaning your name as you do so, moving one hand down to cup your breast, while the other supports his weight above you. His fingers are calloused from always strumming his guitar, but you love the sensation of his rough fingertips tweaking your nipple. His hands are warm over your breast, and it feels divine!

He’s grunting deeply now, while your moaning is becoming more frequent, neither of you will last much longer. “Never…. I’ll never leave you Y/N.” He suddenly replies, as if he only now realised you had spoken earlier.

“Fuck, Bri I’m gonna cum!” You cry out, as you feel your body boiling closer to release. His thrusting increases its tempo, and you know he’s close too. Your sex is clamping down on his length when you feel him spill into you, white hot pleasure seeping deep within you from his release as you join him in total bliss. Ecstasy fill your mind as he collapses on top of you, blindly pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth as you both ride out your pleasure.

It takes you both a few minutes to come back down to earth, and Brian carefully removes himself from you, before rolling onto his side and wrapping his arms around you. His nose nuzzles your neck, kissing you softly as your breathing becomes normal again. “God I’ve missed you.” He mumbles, as he draws small circles against your stomach.

You turn your head slightly to see him behind you, and he peers over your shoulder at you. “Do we need to schedule in a part two into your diary?” You grin, placing your hands on top of his on your stomach.

“I think I can fit you in tomorrow morning actually.”

You blink at him, shock evident on your face. “But you’ve still got the music video to film?”

“They can do without me for a few hours. You’re my priority right now. Besides, Roger kept laughing through his takes, so they’ll need to redo most of his scenes first.” Brian chuckles, as he pulls the bed sheet up and over your naked bodies.

You turn in his arms, burrowing your head beneath his chin, allowing your hair to get in his way for a change. “I love you Bri.” You whisper, as sleep slowly over takes you, your eyelids growing heavy.

“Love you more.”  You hear just as your world goes black with sleep.

My Masterlist

[curiositydooropened]

Self-Isolating Together

“No.” It was a good thing Steve had the reflex to catch the door before Robin slammed it in his face. “No way, shitbird. It’s called self-isolating for a reason, and it’s the same reason I got a one bedroom apartment without you. This isn’t happening.” 

“Come on, Rob,” Steve whined, sneakered foot trapped between door and jam, fingers wrapped tightly at eye level. She grimaced at his touch. “Work booted me for two weeks, and you know I can’t be alone that long.” 

“Go back to Hawkins then.” 

“It’s like a ten hour drive by myself, and my parents are stuck in Europe.” 

“Shit. Are they okay?” The sudden sympathetic switch to her voice signaled her surrender, and Robin stepped backwards into her apartment.

Steve shrugged, pushing the door open to let himself in. “As of eighteen hours ago, Mom sent a text and said they’re fine. Just stuck.” 

“Jesus.” Robbin hugged her upper half, chewing on her plump bottom lip to weigh her options. He was in now. Not like she had the strength or willpower to kick him out. Well, she could, but he knew she wouldn’t. She rolled her eyes.

“I love you, best friend.” He waggled his eyebrows.

She scoffed. “Just don’t touch anything until you wash you hands. Dump your bag by the door.” 

He did as instructed, dramatically holding his hands upward and avoiding obstacles on his path to the kitchen sink like a surgeon between sanitation and the Operating Room. He washed with soap and water, loudly humming Happy Birthday to appease his new roommate.

“Ha ha,” she spoke dryly, leaning against the counter beside him. “You aren’t staying for two weeks, you know. I’ll murder you before then.” 

“As soon as I’m a nuisance, I’m out,” he agreed, rinsing suds down the drain with nearly scalding water.

“Okay. Get out.”

He flicked water at her as it dripped from his fingers, and she squawked, snapping the hand towel to his arm. He yanked it from her, drying his knuckles before tossing it aside and leaning beside her. He’d let a little spill over the sink and he felt the water slowly dampen the waistband of his jeans. He sighed. “So, what do you wanna do, roomie?”

“I actually can’t stand you.” She groaned, bumping his elbow with her own.

— — —

They’d settled on an Alien franchise marathon, which Steve would have never agreed to without Robin’s coaxing. And yet halfway through Aliens, he was nodding off at one end of the couch and Robin was texting on the other. He nudged her with his toe.

“You going to spend time with your houseguest or what?”

“Hm?” She continued to stare at her screen, tapping away, the soft blue light illuminating her freckled face. 

“Earth to Robin,” Steve toed her again. “I need attention.” 

“You need a girlfriend.” 

“I have you.” 

“You need a real one. One who likes boys.” 

“Yeah?” He sighed, puffing up the pillow under his head. “And where am I going to find one of those?” It seemed to be Robin’s life purpose to try to set him up with someone. Maybe she thought he was still attracted to her and needed a distraction, but any semblance of a crush faded the day he saw her wolf down fifteen hot dogs in a competition and immediately vomit them back into the tin bucket beside her.

“The inter, I’ve told you a million times.”

He groaned. “You know I hate those dating apps. It feels so objectifying.”

As much as the woman race appreciates your fall from grace as Slimeball of the Century, you have to suck it up and get yourself back out there. Because this pathetic, whiny Steve wouldn’t exist if you finally got laid.”

“Well unless you’re offering, we’re supposed to be self-distancing. So I don’t see that happening for at least two weeks.” 

Robin shot him a sly grin, wagging her phone in his direction. “There are other ways, my dude. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to bed.” She leaned forward and turned up the volume on the television.

“You’re disgusting!” He yelled in her general direction, chucking a throw pillow at her. It hit her bedroom door where her smug face had been.

He rolled over and pulled out his own mobile device. Maybe she was right. His thumb hovered over the Tinder logo. He had several matches in the city, and a few DMs he hadn’t replied to. It just felt icky, for lack of a better term, like he wasn’t really trying to get to know these women. They definitely weren’t trying to get to know him. No one actually cares what his favorite cereal is. They’re just trying to figure out what to stock for the morning after. 

His brain overrode his finger and he ended up on TikTok instead, scrolling through endless videos of the nerds dancing with their siblings and trying to keep entertained during their own quarantines. Dustin posted a video an hour, documenting his day in a night vision filter, like a data log in a found footage film. Only he hadn’t done anything more interesting than eat four Snack Packs. So it was a typical Friday for him.

Steve checked Snapchat next, an app next to no one used, but the familiar notification from Nancy sent a familiar little flutter to his stomach. She’d sent a selfie in a face mask filter. It gave her thick, black eyeliner above a black leather mask, very much the contrast from her bubblegum pastel aesthetic. 

He smiled, using the same filter to respond. He retook it a few times, getting the right angle to illuminate his face from the glow of the television. bitchin’

He typed El’s new favorite phrase. She’d recently discovered the punk subculture of the 90s and used phrases like “bitchin’” and “gnarly” on every Insta story and TikTok caption.

He was shocked at the immediacy of Nancy’s response. Her next photo was dark, her soft features lit only from her phone screen. She lay on a fluffy pillow, curls tickling her cheekbones. A concerned look furrowed her brows and puckered her lips. Are you at home?

He snapped a photo of Robin’s television. nah. convinced rob to take me in.

Again, she responded quickly. This time, she was smiling. Good. Glad you aren’t alone.

His heart swelled. He knew it shouldn’t, knew he should be over her by now. It had been two years, and she was with Jonathan, and they were happy. 

He sent a photo of the dark room around him. me too. nite nance.

Nancy’s eyes were closed, nose scrunched around a smile. Night, Steve. Miss you. xx

He shut off his phone and rolled over, letting the sounds of flame throwers and machine guns drown out the dull ache and gaping voice in his chest.

— — —

Steve didn’t anticipate accidentally starting a fight on the first full day, but there he was, gangly legs tucked under him on the couch, mindlessly scrolling when Robin went in on him. All he’d done was offer to PostMate Mediterranean from their favorite place down the street, half-jokingly. Robin did not find him humorous, and he jumped at the slamming of her refrigerator door.

“No, dingus, we cannot just ask a random stranger to handle our food in his disgusting car two blocks just so we can eat.” 

“Great, so we’ll go pick it up.” 

“What is wrong with you? Can you take nothing seriously ever in your entire life?” Her tone, though always vaguely insulting, held no such understanding or humor. Instead her words felt cold, piercing.

He turned to look at her, nostrils flared and fists clenched on the edge of the linoleum countertop. “Whoa, Jesus, Rob, I was joking. Thought I’d lighten the mood. What’s your deal?”

“My deal? My deal, Harrington, is that I’ve somehow managed to confine myself to this tiny shithole with someone like you, who is constantly trying to ‘lighten the mood’ when the rest of the Goddamn world is going through something traumatic.” 

Steve fought back an eye roll. Robin Buckley, ladies and gentlemen, drama queen, people’s rights activist, extraordinaire. He really should have anticipated this. Instead, he stood from his crumpled position on the couch and stretched his limbs over his head. “Alright, alright. If it’s bothering you that much, I’ll leave.”

Robin harrumphed, hands on hips, bare foot tapping against beige tile. She didn’t respond, or stop him as he shut his laptop lid and shoved it into his bag by the door. He pretended to ignore her as she let out a dramatic sigh and crossed to her pantry cupboard.

“We have pita and hummus. Is that going to be enough for you, princess?” She scoffed.

“Ooh,” he shrugged. “I was hoping for falafel.” 

She reached into the cupboard and extracted a can of chickpeas before tossing it across the room. “Start blending.” 

He caught it and joined her in the kitchen to help place vegetables and pita on a serving platter for the both of them. Four carrots in, he bumped her with his hips. “Is everything okay though? End of the world aside?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” She avoided eye contact.

“Robin. It’s me, Steve, your best friend.” 

She sighed and shrugged under his knowing gaze, and she shot a displeased look at her phone charging near her keys and wallet on the counter. “Francesca’s pissed at me.” 

“Ah,” Steve nodded, slapping a hefty dollop of hummus onto her pita and then his own. “And Francesca is...?”

“The girl I’m... I don’t know. Seeing, I guess. Texting, calling, FaceTiming.” Robin threw her hands in the air for dramatic effect. He supposed you could take the girl out of drama club, but it never really left the girl, did it?

“Why is she pissed?”

“Because,” Robin spoke through a mouthful of pita. “She saw you being an idiot on my Insta story earlier.”

“And?”

“And I’ve barricaded myself from the world with you and I have committed to only communicating with her via the internet, dingus.” 

Steve picked carrot out of his molars with his tongue, contemplating her predicament and ways to fix it. He supposed he would also be pissed if let’s say Nancy was dating him but decided to hole up with Byers, before they were dating, of course. But that was a totally different ball game. “She knows you’re gay, right?”

“Yes, Steve, she knows I’m gay, but like... it doesn’t look great on my part to tell her countless times it’s safer to stay indoors and then let you waltz in like you own the place.” 

“Okay, well, do you even like her?”

“Yes!” Robin sighed, dipping her half eaten pita directly into the hummus. So much for the spread of germs. “I do, I really like her. Like, really, really like her.” 

“So invite her over now.”

“No, God no. Jesus, no wonder you’re single for life.” 

“Hey!”

“I just mean, if I invite her over now, she’ll think it’s just because she wants me to, and it won’t feel genuine. And I’m really not prepared for her to meet you. I can’t scare her away.” 

“Okay, unfair,” Steve prodded her hand with his carrot. She swatted him away. “Have you told her how you feel?”

Robin stared at her plate, shaking her head like a guilty five-year-old asked to apologize to a classmate. 

“That’d probably be a good start.” 

“Yeah? And who are you to give me relationship advice, Harrington? I saw you Snapping Nancy shirtless pictures this morning.” 

Steve had been caught in the act. He tried to played it off so smoothly too, also posting fresh-out-of-the-shower thirst traps on his Instagram to make sure Nancy wasn’t suspicious of his lack of wardrobe. His snaps to her were all smiles and dribbled toothpaste, relatable and modest, asking her how quarantine was going and if she had any book recommendations for the long haul.

She did, Don Quixote. And she shared her suggestions in a perfect powder blue camisole, makeup free, with her hair clipped up on the sides and out of her face.

“Steve,” Robin scolded. “You’ve got to get over it. Nancy’s happy, and she’s far too nice of a person to cut the cord and break your heart. So you’re going to have to be the one to stop contact.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled into his hummus.

— — —

After a long day of mutual sulking and watching various garbage content on their separate devices, Steve and Robin decided to open the bottle of Stoli at the back of Robin’s cupboard. She had some cranberry juice in her fridge left over from her last UTI (“TMI, Rob!”), and they decided to pour a couple of glasses and toast to Mother Russia.

It was a habit they’d been out of for a couple of months, trying to separate Hawkins life from life in the city. The vodka was reserved for particularly bad nights, long car rides, and the middle of cattle pastures. The night of Billy Hargrove’s funeral was one of those nights. Seeing Max that beat up over her dick of a brother was hard for all of them to watch. Knowing they’d had a hand in it was somehow more difficult to deal with.

Now though, they seemed to be celebrating the end of the world and being bad at girls and things, Steve couldn’t really remember. His head felt fuzzy, and his entire body was warm enough to strip off his sweatshirt by the collar.

“Why are you always naked, Harrington?” Robin cackled, tossing a tv remote in his direction. 

It bounced from his chest and thudded against the concrete floors, and the two of them howled in laughter. 

“Okay, okay,” Robin breathed, clutching at the stitch in her side. They’d gone drink for drink, and she was easily further gone than Steve, lacking experience and body mass. “Truth or dare.” 

Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair. He shrugged. “Are we five?”

“Truth or dare, dingus!” 

He laughed with her. He couldn’t help it. She was infectious, hyper and annoying, but endearingly so. “Fine, truth.” 

“Are you... still in love with me?”

It was her control question, like in a lie detector test. He thought she used it to see his mood, to gauge whether or not he was really going to play the game. 

“No, freak,” he responded, toeing at her exposed thigh across the couch. “I’m not still in love with you.” 

“Fine,” she threw a dramatic hand to her brow, giggling to break the fourth wall. “Your turn.” 

He sighed. “Alright, truth or dare.” 

“Dare.” She shot him a look with that fire in her eye, the one he’d seen time and time again in the face of real danger. Only now, the only danger was the world outside those four walls, a world without toilet paper.

“Okay, I dare you...” He looked around the apartment for something she could do that would feel mildly entertaining at this point in time. 

“I dare you to let me infiltrate your Tinder.” Robin cut him off, grasping his direction with tired movements.

Steve snorted through an eye roll, pulling his phone from between the creases of his legs for her to use. He supposed there wasn’t too much harm. He’d never speak to those women again, best case scenario, and worst case, she’d say something awful and he’d have a girl at a waitress if this self-distancing thing ever let up. Robin wouldn’t say anything awful anyway, being hyper-aware, hyper-“woke”, as they say.

“Yes!” Robin cheered, crawling closer so he could see over her shoulder. He’d gotten yelled at about proximity earlier, but apparently drunk Robin was blissfully unaware enough. He was just happy he didn’t have to think of a dare.

She spent a few seconds swiping, matching a handful of times, but she quickly grew bored of scoffing at girls she didn’t seem fit for her dingus. She switched over to the messaging function.

“Oh my God!” She squawked upon entry.

“What?” Steve laughed, picking apart the names to see what had her so shaken. None of the names sounded familiar or at all remarkable, just a lot of Jens and Jessicas and Stephanies.

“You haven’t responded to any of these women, dingus!” With a sigh of disapproval, she started her journey to find Steve Harrington love, like a virtual set of the Bachelor. 

“It looks like you had some rapport with Dana a couple of weeks ago. What was wrong with her?”

Robin scrolled through Dana’s profile. She was hot, curvy, short hair, kind of a badass. She was a hairstylist, it looked like. Her opening line was even about how great Steve’s hair was. He shrugged. “Nothing, I guess.” He wracked his brain to remember their interaction. He supposed it was during a particular Snapchat dry spell. Was it Valentine’s Day? That was a busy Tinder weekend for him.

“Well, I’m messaging her again.” 

And it went like that for a half hour, Robin scolding him at poor love life decisions and quickly trying to patch up broken contact with strangers. He was shocked to have received a few responses. People must really be bored. 

A few of the women responded “Hey, ghost”, which prompted Robin into drunken lectures about why Steve needs to be kinder to the women he communicates with. He agreed. It’s shitty to ghost people, but he knew Robin would be just as disappointed if he told every woman on the app he wasn’t interested because his heart was still wrapped up in his high school sweetheart, the love of his life.

Finally, Robin had connected with a girl named Roxanne, who owned a parakeet and happened to follow Steve on Insta after their last encounter around Christmas. Roxanne was still single, appreciated his (Robin’s) apology, and was happy to chat about life through the messaging function on Insta. Robin tutted Steve’s head with her hand and sent herself to bed, hiccuping. Her job was done.

— — —

Robin woke him up at 6AM because he was screaming in his sleep. He didn’t remember his dream, though nightmares usually rotated between five set situations. He was either with Byers and Nancy and the lights, or his pool, or the junkyard, or the secret base, or the mall. According to Robin, he was screaming for “Hargrove” to “watch out”. Ah, the mall then.

He was dripping with sweat, and Robin fetched him a large glass of water while he traipsed to the bathroom to towel off. He didn’t look hot, pale skin slightly green, normally lustrous hair clinging to his forehead like rats fighting their way out of the sewer. He splashed cold water over his face, ignoring the lingering doom that tickled at his spine and hung out just over his shoulder. 

“There’s pain meds in the cabinet,” Robin called softly.

He swung the mirror toward himself, ducking in the cramped bathroom. The generic brand bottle sat on the lowest shelf. It rattled it his hands as he removed the child-lock lid.

“Grab me some, will ya?” She groaned.

He popped two in his mouth, palming two more to meet Robin on his makeshift bed, covers tangled and strewn on the floor. They traded pills for water, and the cool condensation of the glass felt nice in his hand.

He collapsed in the spot next to her.

“You okay?”

He shrugged, staring blankly at the various liberal paraphernalia on the wall behind her television. “I guess. I don’t really remember my dream.” 

“I didn’t know you were still having them.” 

“I’m not, really. Just when I like... drink. I think that might be the trigger.” 

“Shit. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” he kicked at her ankle. “I’m the one that pulled it out of the cupboard.” 

After a long silence, Robin spoke with the least conviction he’d heard from her... ever. “You know you couldn’t have done anything, right?” 

Steve turned to her with furrowed eyebrows, wondering what the hell she was going for here.

“With Billy.” Her voice broke on the boy’s name. “He was long gone. I mean, the shit that was in his system. He wouldn’t have made it anyway.” 

Steve felt his face flush, and he ducked his head. He supposed they’d never really talked about it, about Billy, even on their most open of nights. They talked about being tortured, drugged, barely skating back with their lives or at least minimal brain damage. Robin never knew the extent of guilt that Steve harbored for his high school rival, how responsible he felt for the kid’s death. If only they had more fireworks, if only they closed the gate faster, if only he’d hit his car a little harder.

“I know, Rob. It’s just weird. I’ve never seen anyone die before, and I knew him. You know? We partied together. He kicked my ass once. Like, we had lockers next to each other in the locker room.” 

“Okay, we might need to unpack that one later.” Her tone was teasing, but soft, gentle with him. 

Steve snorted and shook his head.

Robin reached across and pulled his hand into her own. It reminded him of that time on the roof in the rain, before all of the trouble unfolded. 

“I love you, dingus.” 

“Love you too.” 

— — —

Work started the next morning, leaving the two of them propped against the countertop, staring at their laptop screens and sipping matcha from handmade mugs. Steve had been “fortunate” enough to work customer service for his dad, which typically involve emailing people about their various issues with finances. Last week’s stock market plummet had been a fun one. Steve felt overjoyed when Mom convinced Dad to force him to work remotely in order to avoid getting sick. 

Robin was a sort of jack of all trades. She did a lot of translation online, transcriptions and whatnot, headphones heavy and covering both ears. She couldn’t hear Steve talking to himself. He might as well have been alone. Occasionally, during the week, she’d hop into her bedroom to Skype her students. She taught private lessons for kids with various woodwind instruments. That alone made her pretty decent money.

Steve found himself drained within the first few days, unable to concentrate and needing an out. Luckily, Robin made up a grocery list and sent him out. She told him to be very careful and only touch the essentials. And that she’d be waiting by the door with soap and water upon his return. 

So, he shoved a beanie over his mess of hair and went out. It was cold, for March, and he didn’t appreciate the chill of frost pulling at his nostril hair and giving him the sniffles. One little inhale was enough to send a woman gasping with terror as she crossed the road. 

He made it to the corner store and soon realized he’d have to abandon his list. The shelves low of stock, and by the looks of it, they’d be wiping their asses with their hands in a few short days. He got what he could, piling it into Robin’s reusable bag, only touching the essentials. And he made sure to use the self check out on his way out. 

He made it back out the cold streets, bags slumped over each shoulder, and his phone started ringing from the buds in his ears. Hands full and incapable of reaching his phone in his back pocket, he struggled to press the tiny headphone in his ear. “Hello?”

‘“Steve? Hey.” Came the soft response of a voice he’d never forget. 

“Nancy?”

“Yeah, sorry, is this a bad time? Are you working?”

“No, no, no, no. This is fine. I’m just uh... getting groceries.” A bag slipped down the crook of his arm and he wondered how the hell women carried purses on a daily basis. 

“How was the grocery store?”

“Practically a wasteland.”

His heart did a backflip at her chuckle. Nancy’s voice was like a breath of fresh air in the stale, eery climate of a city under quarantine. It was like, as soon as she started talking, he could smell flowers blossoming in the park, feel the spring breeze roll by. She lifted the bitter cold.

“Have you been keeping yourself busy?” She asked.

He shrugged. “I’ve hunkered down with Robin, so we’ve just been watching old movies from the 80s and eating a lot of hummus. How about you?”

“Also 80 movies marathons. What a coincidence.” 

“Anything good?”

“Jonathan forced me to watch The Evil Dead finally, and it actually wasn’t bad.” 

Steve scrunched up his nose. He wasn’t sure if it was to block the wind or the scent of Jonathan’s name lingering in the air between them. “You turning into a big horror fan then?”

“God, no,” she cackled on her line. “I still prefer staring out the window looking longingly at empty streets. Feels like the end of the world, doesn’t it?” She snickered.

“A little bit, yeah.” He chuckled. “But, nothing we haven’t dealt with before.” 

She went quiet then, well, quieter. A knowing...something passed between them. She thought of Barb, he knew, and he thought of her, back to him, arm outstretched with a gun. A pitter of panic surged through him.

“Steve,” she barely spoke.

“Yeah, Nance?” He hadn’t realized he’d stopped walking. He picked up his pace again.

“Do you think this has anything to do with...?” She didn’t need to finish her thought.

“No,” he spat out before he had a proper answer. It terrified him, the idea that people were trapped in their homes, waiting for the world to crumble in vines and flower-mouthed faces. He glanced across the road at a woman delivering groceries to her neighbor. “No, Nance, I don’t.” The two women turned to smile and wave. He feebly attempted to wave back.

“How can you be so sure?” There was the stubborn Nancy he knew and loved.

“Because,” he smiled softly to himself. “If he was taking over, we’d be alone, isolated, sure. But something about this feels like it’s pulling us all together. Don’t you think? I mean, people are bringing their neighbors groceries. Have you seen the amount of instagram lives this week? Dozens. And did you watch that video of Italians singing from their balconies?”

Nancy chuckled. “Yeah, I did.” 

“See? If the world was ending, we wouldn’t be so supportive of each other.”

She paused for a moment, soaking it all in before her soft response. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.” 

He grinned, struggling to lift his arm enough to push the button for entry into the apartment building. Robin buzzed him in without question. “Well, I’m back, and I’ve got to put the groceries away.” He climbed the stairs a few at a time. 

“Okay. Stay safe. I’ll snap you later.”

“Please do. Thanks for calling.” He wrapped his knuckles on Robin’s front door. 

“Tell Robin hi!”

“Tell Byers hi.”

Robin shot him a confused look, giving him a wide berth to dump the bags on the counter and wash his hands. With hurried goodbyes, Nancy clicked off the phone. 

“Longer than that!” Robin scolded when he turned off the faucet. 

Smiling to himself, he turned the water back to hot and scrubbed for a second time, loudly singing the chorus to Toto’s Africa. 

“I hate you.” Robin grinned, unloading the groceries into the pantry. 

Steve sprinkled her with water from his fingertips and dried his knuckles with the towel. 

---

First, I'd like to preface this by saying my heart goes out to those effected by the CoronaVirus/COVID-19. This fic is in no way making light of this week, I just wanted to write the story stuck in my head. If you would like to learn more about the virus and dealing with quarantine, please head over to my post, where I will drop several links with information including how to sew masks for health care professionals and where to send them in. Thank you and please enjoy!

[fizzyxcustard]

Etiquette

Fandom: Pilgrimage (2017)

Summary: Raymond has found himself in 2019, somehow time travelling 800 years into the future. You have taken him in, but you must teach him modern etiquette to keep him safe.

Pairings: Raymond de Merville x fem!Reader (I say this now as I may just write more to this if it proves interesting)

Warnings: Language, modern day setting, comedy, banter, slight flirting

Word count: 1254

Comments/Notes: Requested from the imagine ‘Raymond has time travelled to 2018 and you must teach him modern etiquette and manners’ by @meganlpie and @lokilove3112. If you wish to be added to my tag lists for a particular fandom, character, or even everything, please send me an ask or a private message and I will add you.  

Raymond woke with a start, jumping up from the warmth of the sheets which were suspending him on the bed. He cursed in French, forgetting for a moment where he was. Then his eyes focused on the vase of flowers on the chest of drawers directly opposite.

“Pfft, still in this godforsaken pit of a place,” he growled.

You were in your kitchen, cooking breakfast and dancing to your music which played through the Alexa system. “Alexa! Play songs by Bon Jovi,” you called.

A blue light lit up on the edge of the black sound system. “Playing songs by Bon Jovi,” replied a robotic female voice.

You went back to preparing the food, not noticing Raymond as he came wandering into the kitchen. A shape caught your vision in the corner of your eye and you jumped, soon after realising who it was. “Morning Ray--,” but you stopped dead in your tracks, holding a pan with sizzling bacon. There, directly in front of you, Raymond stood completely naked. “Um,” you coughed.

Raymond smirked at you, noticing your eyes travel south down his body.

“Please, put some clothes on!” you snapped, breaking from the embarrassment. “Whatever you want to do in the privacy of your own space is up to you, but when you’re staying with someone else, for fuck sake, cover up!”

You turned away, a blush vivid red across your cheeks. The pan in your hand was moving, shaking with your nervousness, which you desperately tried to hide. Men knew how to use that against you, you thought.

After a few seconds you could still sense Raymond behind you. “Have I got to come and dress you again?” you barked.

“Now that is a proposal I would not turn my nose up at,” Raymond chuckled.

“Just get back in your room and get dressed. You’re a grown man, not a child!”

It was still a mystery how this man had suddenly appeared in your garden one night. There had been a flash of blinding light as you stood in your kitchen, washing dishes and then a raving lunatic of a man was stood at your window, banging on it. He was wearing old style knight clothing, looking like something from a medieval reenactment.

What was the light? That was the one aspect of this whole insane scenario that made you cling to a shred of belief in that Raymond really was from the year 1209.

Raymond appeared back in the kitchen a few minutes later, wearing the clothing you had brought for him the day previously. And again, the zip on his jeans was down. You sighed and stomped over to him. “You’re going to have to master this, Raymond,” you hissed. “You can’t walk around with your zip down.” As you reached out to attack the zip, you noticed that he was not wearing underwear. “Uhh, oh God,” you grimaced. “I brought you underpants!”

“Why should I wear an extra layer when they are not needed?” Raymond replied, narrowing his eyes and standing to his full height. He was considerably taller than you, standing a foot taller.

“Look, I’m not going to keep explaining everything to you,” you replied sternly, crossing your arms. “It’s for cleanliness. Our time is a lot different to yours. We’ve come along in terms of hygiene. Going commando isn’t exactly practical and especially with jeans. That’s going to rub something awful.”

“You’ve overcomplicated things,” Raymond said.

“Oh, like with toilet paper? You’re telling me that it would have been better if that hadn’t of been invented? What are you going to do, go back to wiping your arse on your hands and having skid marks in your trousers?”

Raymond smirked at you again. He did that a lot.

Finally, Raymond began to eat his breakfast, enjoying the bacon and eggs you had fried for him. He seemed happy to be eating something that reminded him of his own time period. You decided on a bowl of cereal.

“What is that?” Raymond asked as you poured granola into a bowl and poured on milk. “It looks like the food we use to feed horses.”

Irritated, you dropped your spoon into the bowl with a loud clank and stared at Raymond. “Have you finished? You eat your food and I’ll eat mine. Now, shut up!”

After breakfast you tidied the crockery away. Raymond, as usual, was asking what everything was and raided your pantry, holding up cans of macaroni cheese and spaghetti hoops. Then he looked down at an ugly looking contraption with a metal pole on the end. He kicked it, almost certain that it would rise up and begin attacking him.

“Would you mind not breaking my vacuum, please? It was my mum’s and is already about fifteen years old. And before you ask what it does,” you began sarcastically, still drying plates and utensils, “it sucks up bits out of the carpet.”

“Sucks?” Raymond asked, pulling a puzzled face. Then he nudged it again with his foot.

“Yes, it has air which pulls all the dirt out of the carpet,” you explained.

There came a knock at your door so you quickly dried off your hands and dashed to your front door. It was the postman, holding a parcel for you. The smiley man who was easily ten years older than you offered the parcel to you, his eyes not leaving you. You knew full well that he liked you.

“Thank you, Martin,” you said, giving him a smile.

He stood for a few extra seconds, waiting for you to say something else.

“Thanks again,” you said, feeling uneasy, and began to shut your door.

“Wait,” he said, his arm stretching out to stop the door.

“Yes?”

“Would you like to maybe go out one of the nights?” Martin asked, adjusting his bag of letters on his shoulder.

Suddenly a loud voice echoed down your hallway. “I have put the underpants on as you said!”

“Oh,” Martin said softly, seeing the tall form of Raymond soon appear. “I didn’t know….”

“No, it’s not like that, Mart,” you replied. “Raymond is my roommate for a while.”

“Who is this?” Raymond asked, his voice drifting towards the open front door. “Has he brought you a gift? Does he wish to court you?”

“Raymond, shut up!” you growled. “Get back in the fucking house now!”

“Have you asked her father before you consider courtship?” Raymond asked, stepping up beside you. He looked down at the short, startled postman. “Or do I need to draw my sword?”

“Um, I’m sorry for bothering you,” Martin said sheepishly and turned away, half running down the path.

You stormed back into the house and threw your parcel down on the kitchen table. “One piece of advice, Raymond. When you see me talking to someone: shut up!”

“That man wants to court you. It was plain to see,” Raymond replied.

“I know that. But did you have to start with your courtship and drawing your swordspiel? Courting isn’t the same now, and you’ve got to understand that. And don’t you dare take your sword anywhere with you. You’ll get arrested and jailed for that. It’s illegal to carry weapons; I’ve already told you that.”

“I enjoyed watching him squirm,” Raymond said with a grin.

“You’re a cruel man,” you scoffed. “Now, get ready because we’re going to get you a haircut. You can’t walk around with your hair like that. We need to get it more up to date and styled.”

Follow Forever tag list:

@himoverflowers @shikin83 @theincaprincess @deepestfirefun @nowiloveandwilllove @houseofrahl @mynameisnoneya1991 @blankdblank @captainrainbowpanda @cd1242 @c-s-stars @thorins-magnificent-ass @patanghill17 @trees-and-ink @inumorph @leah-halliwell92 @msjava1972 @bespectacled-bunny @ghostlyandee @raindancer2004 @dottiechan @captain-almighty @hobbitlover23 @catthefearless @epicallychrissy @nelswp @adaliamalfoy @spn-obsession @armitageadoration @peneigh-dzredfohl @here2have-fun @greendragonette @littlebird54 @thophil2941btw @princessoferebor94 @banlaochranda @wilhelmyna @gabrieleaquaman @rachel1959 @serpensortia06 @rcrispina @kategorically-challenged @tigereyesf @jumpingmanatee @alae-megallen @tschrist1 @inlovewithamantwicemyage @aspiringtranslator @princessofthefandomrealm @letsbeinspiredby @lilith15000 @lealina-scarsdale @scarsfanfictiontrash @mechromancing-cinnamon-roll @ra-of-light @jassy2101@durinsqueen @hariclea @sherala007 @onewithleaf @legolaslovely@michelem703 @bthtallmadge2 @marieannetora @ladybugg1235 @valuedabovehoardedgold @tiredwritersworld

Richard Armitage tag list: @inkededucatednnerdy @crazytxgradstudent

Raymond de Merville tag list: @hails270105

[loveforjaehyun]

𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓗𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓐 𝓟𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓪𝓰𝓮

Jung Jaehyun X Reader

One-Shot

Ｓｕｍｍａｒｙ； You’re just a girl who wants to be excepted and find her soulmate.

Ｇｅｎｒｅ： Reader insert, Soulmates, Fluff

Ｗｏｒｄｓ：1,593

Ｑｕｉｃｋ Ｎｏｔｅ－ This is my first attempt at writing anything and putting it out online, so if you have any feed back let me know, or if you have any tips for writing! Thanks! Hope you enjoy!

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

You were walking down the street, trying to keep your head down, like any other normal day. If you looked up for a second, everyone would see the considerable size of the birth mark around your right eye. It had been there your whole life, tying you to your soulmate while also drawing unwanted attention. It was said that the more noticeable the mark was, the greater the connection you would have to your lifelong lover. Yours covered almost a fourth of your face.

You felt guilty for whoever your soul mate was, because while theirs may not be in the same spot, it was the same size and color as yours.

As you walked down the street, someone shoved their way past you, causing your body to go stumbling in the opposite direction. Rather than confronting them, you kept your head low and kept going. After all, this wasn’t an unusual occurrence. About fifteen minutes later you finally reached your relatively nice apartment. Your parents were well off and paid for most of your college and necessities. However, you still wanted to earn your own income, and thus landed a part time job out of the public eye, behind a computer screen, doing client’s finances for them.

As soon as you enter the apartment, your feline friend comes to greet you. He rubs his black coat against the white jeans you were wearing, leaving behind a layer of noticeable fur. You reach down and run your hand over his back until he decides that he has had enough attention and moves into the living room. You follow behind him, grabbing the TV remote off the coffee table, pressing the on button and putting on the news. You continue through the house, heading into the kitchen, grabbing a scoop of cat food to fill up the food bowl. You then turn into the pantry, trying to search for something that you could just through in the microwave without any effort. While searching you hear in the background,

“-was found this week murdered in their home.”.

You hurry back into the living room abandoning your search for food so you can listen in on what was being broadcasted on the news. You quickly grab the remote and turn the sound up some more so you could hear everything properly.

“The couple was supposedly killed last night in their sleep, along with their two children. Police reports say that it was another soul killer, trying to go against the will of God- “

You quickly cut off the man on the news by clicking to TV off while shaking your head in disgust.

Sure, the mark on your face has caused you some trouble in your life, but you saw no harm in having a soul mate to spend the rest of your life with. At least you didn’t have to go from one person to the next never really knowing if the person that you were with was right for you. But you quickly push the thoughts away from your mind and go back to the task of finding your lunch for the day.

After a few minutes of searching you finally decide on some leftovers from the night before, you put the food on a plate and put it in the microwave to get warm. You stand there watching it for a few seconds, until you hear a knock on the main entrance door. You start to head toward the noise grabbing a hoodie off the back of one of the dining room chairs, slipping it over your head and pulling up the hood to hide your face.

You keep your face down as you open the door, as soon as the person sees that you opened the door they begin to talk. But you don’t really listen to what he is saying, you become drawn in by his voice. It was deep, but not one of the deepest that you have heard, and it had a soothing tone to it, one that you would want to listen to for the rest of your life. But it quickly cuts off whenever you don’t reply, but you begin to stumble over your words, because you don’t know what he had said, so you don’t know what to respond. But your cat saves you, while you were distracted, he had snuck up behind you, and quickly darted out the door so he could rub against the leg of the stranger in front of you.

“Wa-wait! Sorry, h-he likes to get his smell on people he doesn’t know. I-I hope you aren’t allergic or anything.”

You stutter over your words, embarrassed but also thankful that you no longer had to reply to what he had been saying to you before the feline had interrupted.

But the stranger slowly bends down so he could give his attention to the cat.

“No, its fine, I actually love cats. I’m sure he is just smelling my roommates cat from my apartment.”

He replies nonchalantly, but before you can say anything thing else, he glances up at you from his crouches position. Giving him the perfect view of your face. And he freezes, as do you. You both stare at each other for a few seconds, before you quickly turn your back to him, hiding your face from his sight.

“Ho-hold on, is that- is that your birthmark? Not just a bruise?” He stumbles through his words, trying to get the questions out without trying to sound rude while asking. But your mind stalls anyways, trying to process what to do.

‘Why, why did he have to see it, the hideous thing that covered so much of your face. You were just supposed to open the door, take care of what he needed, and send him on his way. Not show off the mark the ties you to your future lifelong companion.’

As your mind finally processes what to do, your body begins to move. You swoop down and grab your black cat that was still rubbing his lithe body against the man’s legs. You then begin to rush back through the ajar door.

“Wait! I have your package!” He proclaims just as you were about to shut the door in his face. You pause, and your cat jumps out of your arms, now wanting to go do something else, after causing all the problems he did for you.

You had forgotten that you had ordered something, and it was supposed to come in today. So, you peak your head back around the door, no longer feeling the need to hide your face, after he had already seen what you had been trying to hide. This time you can now see his face clearly. His hair was a light brown that fell into his eyes, which were a deep chocolate brown that you could stare into forever. He had an oval face with wide eyes and prominent cheekbones. He gave you a small smile, seeming to be happy that you no longer tried to hide your face from him, doing this gave you a view of his dimples that were hidden in his cheeks before. And his lips fit perfectly on his face, the top one being smaller than the bottom. It came to mind that they looked like they would fit perfectly with yours.

You quickly shake your head trying to get rid of the thoughts that were flowing through your imagination. You stick your hand back through the door wanting him to place the parcel in it. And he did, but then he also grabbed your wrist, holding you in your place, not allowing you to retreat into your quiet apartment.

“Hold on just one second, I have something that you might want to see.”

He tells you almost begging you to give him one more second of your time. You didn’t really want to, but you knew that he wouldn’t let go of your wrist until you agreed to what he was asking of you. So, you nod in his direction and he slowly lets go of your wrist, like he was unsure if you would actually stay and let him show you. But you open your door a little more, so that he can see that you were going to stay and wait on him. When you do this, he lets out a sigh of relief, and slowly sets down the bag of packages you didn’t even notice that he was holding.

He slowly reaches down to the edge of his uniform shirt, that was tucked into his khaki pants that were held up by a plan black belt, and slowly began to tug it up.

“Wait, wh-what are you doing! Why are y-you pulling up your shirt!”

You question him quickly, not wanting him to undress right in front of you. But he keeps pulling it up until the right side is pulled all the way until it showed off the whole side of his abdomen. And there is was, plan as day. A large dark birth mark, sitting at the top of his ribcage, exactly like the one that you saw every time you looked in the mirror. And your mind froze over for the second time in ten minutes. But he held out his hand, like you would do when first greeting someone and said,

“Hi, I’m Jung Jaehyun, and I’m pretty sure you, are my soulmate.”

And back inside your apartment, your timer from your microwave goes off.

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

Chapter 1 - (totally uninterested.)

I tapped my pen on the page in front of me. Alexander III of Macedon, commonly known as Alexander the Great, was a king of the ancient Greek kingdom of Macedon and a member of the Argead dynasty. If I read the sentence three more times, maybe it would stick and maybe--suddenly--I’d give a shit.

Working at the library on campus would be great, I thought. I’d get homework done, get a fair share of people watching. Hell--the student center was right next door, leaving me with a plethora of snack options when I was stuck in the same spot from 8pm to midnight every Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Sunday.

“Do you have to keep doing that?”

I pulled my eyes up slowly, dramatically, if only to let him know how completely unimpressed I was with his existence.

“I’m trying to focus,” I nodded at him--not that he’d ever know the definition of that word.

“Well I can’t focus when you’re making such a ruckus,” his accent seemed to lilt off his tongue. I shuddered at the thought that I once--albeit with a fair amount of alcohol--found it attractive. When I first met him--when he was new on campus and still had that New Kid Charm, I thought his accent--paired with the long hair, the rings, you know, the vibe--was hot.

I thought, maybe just for a second, that there’d be steamy library sex in my future that I’d be able to brag about to Kristen soon. But alas, when I started spending my Wednesday and Thursday nights with him, I soon realized that his accent was rather overrated and his sense of humor was dry, sarcastic, and frankly, just not that funny. I especially noticed it when we suddenly were working every shift together.

I stared back at the textbook again. Alexander III of Macedon, commonly known as Alexander the Great, was a king of the ancient Greek kingdom of Macedon and a member of the Argead dynasty.

“S’cuse me--how do I reserve a study room for Saturday?”

I looked up to see Ethan Davis, who, up until now, I was convinced didn’t even know I existed. He had a sweet smile on, clearly waiting for me to respond, but in true Nora fashion, I decided that I’d just stare at him with my mouth ajar.

“Hey man,” Harry said, his eyes moving from my face and back to Ethan. “I can do it for you. What time?” He shook the mouse to wake up the desktop, typing in the username and password. 

“11am would be good,” Ethan said, keeping his eyes on Harry as he easily pretending that I wasn’t sitting right beside them.  

“Student ID number?”

Ethan handed his card over the counter, Harry took it and punched the numbers in quickly before handing it back. “Thanks, you’re all set.”

Ethan retreated, catching up with the group of boys who seemed to wait for him by the door. Again, another chance at becoming the future Mrs. Davis, ripped out of my hands by the worst coworker on the planet himself.

“You’re atrocious,” he said under his breath, turning back to his phone to compose a message.

“I am not,” I shot back quickly, feeling pressured to defend my honor. Harry had no idea what he was talking about. He seemed to be too busy finding me obnoxious and bossy to have the slightest clue what went on in my head when Ethan Davis neared the counter.

Sure--it’d only happened three times. Once was for a charger, the second was to ask what time we closed, and the third, tonight, was to reserve a study room. I would have handled it--but Harry was too quick and got in the way of what was sure to have been the moment that Ethan and I fell in love. He basically snatched my one chance at happiness right out of my hands. 

“You can barely even breathe when he comes over here. You might as well just lose consciousness altogether.”

I rolled my eyes at him, forcing myself, once again, to read the same line in my textbook. Alexander III of Macedon, commonly known as Alexander the Great, was a king of the ancient Greek kingdom of Macedon and a member of the Argead dynasty.

“What do you find so enchanting about him anyway?”

I flipped the book shut, pushing myself away from the counter and turning to face my less than pleasant front desk pal. “Well,” I drew out the word, flashing him a smile and fluttered eyelashes. If he were biting, I was sure to give it to him. “I mean have you just seen how dreamy his eyes are? And his hands,” I said, holding mine up in front of me to examine. “I just want them,” I slapped my own hands up to my chest, fondling myself for the entire library to see. “To be all over my tits.”

I figured that giving him the obnoxious reasons that a thirteen year old version of myself would have journaled about would finally shut him up.

Harry let out a quiet--yet dismissive--laugh, and shook his head. “Forget I asked.”

“I’m just answering, dude. Just giving you all the pervy details that I daydream about while we sit back here.”

He seemed rather alarmed by this, going back to his phone as he opened up Snapchat.

“Aren’t you low key friends with him, anyway?”

He clicked through someone’s story but didn’t lift his eyes from the screen. “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“We’re not friends,” he shook his head and furrowed his brow, as if the question was offensive.

“Right--okay, he’s on the basketball team, you’re on the soccer team. Rival enemies--that sort of thing?”

“No,” he turned to look at me, running a hand through his shoulder-length hair. “He’s friends with my roommates, so he’ll be in my apartment sometimes. We’re not friends, though. Don’t get any ideas.”

“I don’t have any ideas,” I lied, leaning back to stretch my legs up and in front of me to rest on the desk, he peered up at my movement but continued to ignore me. “I just figured if you’re friends with him, we could all--I dunno--hang out.”

“I’m not friends with him, Nora. He just ends up in my apartment sometimes with some other guys. That was the highlight of my relationship with him, what you just saw.”

I let out a dramatic sigh. “You’re no help. And you didn’t even finish stacking the returns.”

“You said you were going to do that!” He got this confused and disgruntled look on his face, which, if I didn’t know how much of a asshat he could be, I would have thought was kind of endearing.

**

On a Friday night two weeks later, I found myself in the dimly lit kitchen of a frat house somewhere north of campus. Instead of talking to boys like I should have been doing, I was busy trying to talk Kristen off the ledge. Somehow, she’d convinced herself that being out late tonight would lead to her failing her test on Monday morning--which, she argued, would clearly lead to her failing out of college all together.

My days of telling Kristen to live a little were pretty much gone, especially now that she had a boyfriend, good grades, and a good internship lined up for the summer (a whole school year in advance).

So, as good friends do, I was standing by her side with a beer in my hand instead of near the pong table and the cute guys in the living room--but I was definitely bitter. 

“Hanson,” a voice greeted from behind me. I turned over my shoulder to see Harry, lifting a beer in the air to greet me with a tight lipped smile. 

“Not now,” I said, waving a dismissive hand in his direction. If I wasn’t able to actually enjoy myself tonight, the last thing I was going to do was engage in the usual behind the desk banter. 

“Nice to see you outside of the library, too,” he rolled his eyes, laughing a bit at the scowl on my face. “You’re missing a chance at true love, I see.”

Kristen, who’d only spoken to Harry inside of the library twice in her entire life, didn’t seem to find his joking funny. “It’s not true love,” she rolled her eyes quickly, annoyed that I wasn’t supporting her academic anxiety.

“You don’t know that,” I shot back at her quickly, staring back out into the living room to take in the sight of Ethan Davis--in a much more formal get up that the last time we’d crossed paths outside the gym on Tuesday night.

I mean, it was formal if you considered grey pants and a blue button down to be formal. But really, I was just happy to admire anything on his body.

“You two seem to be busy,” Harry nodded to himself, reaching around me to grab another beer from the fridge before straightening back up. “I’ll see you later, Nora.”

“No, Harry, wait. Would you please tell Kristen here that she has a giant stick up her ass--mainly because she thinks getting a B on a paper will ruin her life altogether?”

Harry pushed his lips out as if he were deep in thought. He looked between me and Kristen and then settled back on me with a smirk. “Out of all the people I know, Nora, you’re the one with a stick up her ass.”

I let out a dramatic sigh, rolling my eyes and turning my back to Harry. If he weren’t going to be on my side, I had no reason to be consulting with him around anything other than the Dewey Decimal System and where the New England Periodical went.

“I’m leaving, okay?” Kristen said, letting her hand rest on my shoulder. “Have a good time, get drunk, make out with you know who, just don’t wake me up when you stumble in at 2am.”

She offered Harry a smile but left us in the kitchen and I called out after her. “Don’t forget to remove the stick up your ass when you get in bed!”

She held up her right hand to give me the finger (lovingly) as she walked out. I brought my eyes back to Harry and he only smirked down at me. I hated the smug look on his face.

Harry--who was really just a goofy kid with hair that was too long and who’s favorite outfit seemed to be adidas sweatpants and a t-shirt--wasn’t that much taller than me. I was right in the middle when it came to growth charts. I was never that short girl who could barely reach shit and needed help getting things from the pantry.

I was also never the girl who towered over all the guys in her grade.

But here, in the kitchen of some college party with lights dim enough to barely make out each other’s faces, I didn’t like that he could look down at me.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I said, my eyes narrowed, only causing him to smirk more than he’d been before.

“Okay,” he said. “Whatever you say.”

**

It was 5pm--the start of my Tuesday evening shift--and Harry was nowhere to be found. I huffed as I logged onto the computer to record the start of my shift.

I typed in the username and password, rolling my eyes at the lack of creativity that the full time library staff put into this sort of thing. InformationDesk, password: AmericanULibrary123.

American University, home of lots of politician-hopefuls and a bunch of idiot staff, apparently. I mean, it wasn’t like people were dying to break into the information desk computer, but you’d think that a good university in D.C. would employ people with a bit more...intelligence.

My phone buzzed on the desk beside me, Harry’s name popping up on the screen.

Not going to be able to make it. What do I need to do to get you to clock in and out for me?

I let out a snort as I typed out a response.

Pay me a million dollars.

Seriously, Nora!

I’ll try to make it in about an hour or two but it’s not likely. I’ll buy you a beer.

I thought on it for a second, and realized that Harry did have something I wanted, and it wasn’t beer. 

Bring me somewhere to hangout with Ethan.

I checked out a book for a freshman who appeared in front of me, scanned her card, and then read his next message.

You want to sit in my living room one night when he’s over? That sounds awkward.

Well we can act like we’re friends, you know.

I’m a poly-sci major, not an award winning actor.

!!!!!!

Okay, looks like a small paycheck for you this week.

:)

Alright. He normally hangs out with Ryan on Thursday. You can come.

Wow, I am so honored. Can’t wait. I’ll bring the champagne.

Please don’t.

**

Despite Harry’s warning that he’d miss his entire shift, he showed up around 9pm with a backpack and a soccer ball in tow.

“Where were you?” I asked, thankful for the distraction and shutting the textbook I’d had in front of me. “Don’t you finish practice at five?”

“Had a thing, don’t worry about it,” he said simply, shrugging his backpack off behind the desk and flopping into the seat beside me. He ran a hand through his hair (which was an in annoyingly stylish man bun) and picked up his phone--apparently uninterested in conversation.

“A thing?” I pressed, leaning forward to lower my voice. “Sounds secretive and mysterious.”

He looked at me out of the corner of his eye--clearly unimpressed with my curiosity. “Leave it, Nora. I’m here now.”

“You asked me to lie for you!” I whispered at him, hoping to convince him to give me the dirt. Not only did he basically owe it to me due to the way I put myself on the line, but I was also just nosey and interested. “When someone lies for you they get to be in on the secrets!” I reminded.

He let out a sigh and clicked his phone shut, leaning forward to place it on the desk. “I do a soccer workshop for The Boys and Girls Club. It’s community service.”

“Community service?” I pulled my head back, confused by his words.

“Yeah--I owe one hundred hours because I punched Luke Billups last year.”

“What?!” I leaned forward, my voice still a hushed whisper because--you know--library crap. “You punched Luke Billups? Why? Did you get arrested?!”

“No, Jesus, relax,” he let out a displeased grunt and cleared his throat as he leaned forward to give me more information. I was enthralled, really.

Harry definitely didn’t strike me as the type of person to get physically violent--let alone get in trouble for it. He was a nice kid, kind of quiet sometimes, but clearly very sarcastic and argumentative.

“We were drunk and he said something stupid and I punched him and he had to go to the ER to get stitches on his eyebrow,” he said all of this as if it were very casual information. His voice was still quiet enough to ensure that no one could hear us, but his tone seemed to minimize their altercation.

“Wow,” I said, my mouth still open in shock. “So you coach little kids, that’s cute.”

He shrugged his shoulder but didn’t respond, picking up his phone again.

“But wait, so why don’t you want anyone to know that you coach little kids?”

He let out another sigh, seemingly annoyed that I continued to ask questions--but he continued to answer, so I simply ignored his eye rolls and listened eagerly. “If I do the hundred hours, I get everything wiped off my record.”

I stared at him, still sort of unclear on the situation. He sensed this, leaned back in his chair, and continued. “If my goal is to hold public office at some point, I can’t have a record.”

His answer made sense, but I got distracted by his blatant English accent. “Don’t you have to be born here to hold office?”

“Federally, yes, locally, no. And I’m a citizen, I’ve lived here since I was thirteen.” He sounded almost offended, so I pulled away from him and let out a sigh.

“Damn, that’s wild. I’m so glad to just be a journalism major. I can get arrested as much as I want,” I let out a laugh, which pulled one out of him too.

“Alright, so you really want to come over on Thursday?”

I turned back to my textbook, opening it back up to the page I’d been on earlier. “Not to see you,” I said simply. “To see Ethan, yes. Can you guarantee he’ll be there?”

“Eh, yeah, pretty much. He always at least stops by after practice with Ryan.”

“What should I wear?” I asked quickly, leaning my head on my hand to fantasize about what the night would entail. Harry’s eyebrows dipped in confusion, but he kept his eyes off of me as he pulled out his laptop. “Is it casual? Should I wear like leggings and a sweater, or--”

“Just wear that,” he said as he let his eyes scan over my body and my current outfit. Jeans, a t-shirt, and a flannel.

I rolled my eyes at him, he barely put any thought into it--which told me that he clearly didn’t understand the gravity of the situation.

“Are you sure he’ll be there?” I asked again, keeping my eyes diligently on him as he typed away at something on his computer. He seemed completely unbothered by my stare, only looking at my quickly out of the corner of his eye before bringing his eyes right back to the webpage he had up.

He let out a sigh and turned to look at me. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a little bit obnoxious?”

I let out a snort quickly--not at his question, but at the fact that he thought it’d insult me.

[rareficsnstuff]

Monster [Kuroo, Tendou, (Bokuto)]

Summary: Kuroo’s new living arrangements don’t leave much to be desired. Everything is perfect… Until it’s suddenly not. His record’s been broken and he’s living with monsters. This may have been a mistake...

Words: 2,967

AN: Inspired by this post.

                     ______________________________________

Four months.

Just four months and Kuroo was already beginning to regret this life decision. Now in college, Bokuto, himself, and a guy from Kuroo’s class decided to rent an apartment together. It saved money, split household workloads, was ideally located, and it was good for everyone’s sanity to have buddies you got along well with in case you needed to vent or let loose once in a while. All in all, it was a great setup. The one drawback… only just manifested itself.

“STAAAAP!!” Kuroo was on the living room floor, thrashing and screaming under a very hyper Bokuto.

                        ____________________________________

About ten minutes ago, everything was perfectly normal. Bokuto and Kuroo were in the kitchen and their roommate was out getting groceries. Kuroo was on the phone with him as he rummaged through the fridge, confirming what needed to be bought.

“Yeah, and we’ve only got four eggs left, so go ahead and get a couple dozen, would ya?” he said, leaning further into the fridge when he suddenly choked on a grunt, straightening up in surprise and hitting his head on the fridge ceiling.

“Back off, Bo! I’m tryin’ ta get the groceries figured out! You’re in the way!”

“But I’m hungryyyyy!” Bokuto was now behind him, a hand on Kuroo’s side, trying to force him out of the way.

“Hohold on a minute! What? Oh, no, not you. Uh… looks like we finished off the spinach last night too- BOKUTO, STOP THAT!” The end of the command came out as yelp. “N-no, that’s it… Yeah, see ya soon.” Kuroo hung up just a heartbeat before Bokuto grabbed him by the waist with both hands and dragged him away from the fridge. At that moment, three things happened: first, Kuroo let out a strangled, high-pitched cry and flailed; second, Bokuto released Kuroo, jumping back like he had been burned, staring at him in shock; third, Kuroo got smacked hard by the realization that a long-standing personal record of his was about to be broken.  Kuroo tentatively turned his head back to look at Bokuto and the two locked wide eyes, Bokuto’s in astonished realization, and Kuroo’s in vivid terror.

“…You’re ticklish.”

“Bo-“

“You’re TICKLISH!”

“I… Bo-“

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?!” Bokuto slowly advanced on Kuroo, eyes sparkling in excited glee.

“W-whadaya mean ‘why didn’t I tell you’?! I didn’t want anyone to know!” he panicked, backing away until he felt his back hit the cold fridge door and he tensed. “Bokuto Koutarou, you leave me alone!”

“Now that I know about this?! No way! I mean, all through high school, I had no idea! I gotta make up for lost time, man!” Bokuto grinned like a devil and Kuroo bolted. He only made it as far as to vault the couch before he felt a sturdy impact from behind and the next thing he knew, he was on the floor with big Bokuto sitting on his back, pinning him down.

                      ____________________________________

And now, here he was, several minutes later with Bokuto still tickling the life out of him as he kicked and screamed.

“Boho, PLEHEASE! Y-you’re kihill’n’ meheheheee!”

“Really? Cuz I’m still see’n some signs of life here,” Bokuto teased as Kuroo tried his best to stifle the laughter.

“Yoo-hoo~” At that moment, their roommate came through the front door, laden with plastic grocery bags on both arms. Bokuto’s head snapped in his direction.

“Hey, Tendou!” Bokuto said, abruptly jumping off Kuroo to meet Tendou in the entry way. “Do you need help putting stuff away?” he asked, eager to be helpful.

“The last time you tried to help, you dropped a whole carton of eggs and I found the yogurt in the pantry instead of the fridge,” he replied cynically.

“They just… slipped! I was tryin’ ta get the job done quicker!” he whined. “And my mom always put pudding in the pantry; how is that any different than yogurt?”

“Are you talking about those gross snack-cup puddings? Some of those don’t need to be refrigerated, but you always refrigerate yogurt. Unless you want E. coli!”

While they bantered, Kuroo was still on the floor, collecting himself after Bokuto’s attack. This secret of his hadn’t gotten out since before middle school! And he had intended to keep it that way! Until just now, of the circle of people he spent time with, only Kenma knew. But now happy, hyperactive Bokuto knew! That in itself was a terrifying fact, but what else would he do with the information? Would he spread it?! Use it against him in public?! Kuroo was doomed. He groaned loudly from his spot.

“What’s the matter with you?” Tendou asked indifferently from the kitchen.

“Nothing,” he replied tersely.

“What are you doing on the floor, Kuroo? You should come help with this,” Bokuto scolded innocently, earning him a bitter remark. Finally getting off the floor, Kuroo headed to the kitchen to help put away groceries, still pouting slightly.

“Hey, Bo-Bo, don’t you have class soon?” Tendou asked when he saw the clock.

“… Oh, crap! I have to be at school in twenty minutes!” Bokuto shouted in realization. “But I haven’t even eaten anything yet!”

“Just take this and get outta here, dude,” Kuroo said, handing him a yogurt, two granola bars, and a bottle of water. “We can just order pizza tonight, so don’t worry about dinner.”

“Okay…” Bokuto said glumly, staring in disappointment at the small rations he was given. Moments later, he had put his shoes and jacket on, packed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and all but ran out the door for class leaving Kuroo and Tendou alone. After they finished in the kitchen, they both went to crash on the couch with some snacks while Kuroo flipped through TV channels.

“So… what the hell did I walk in on earlier, huh?” Tendou asked, side-eyeing Kuroo.

“Ah, Bokuto was just being a brat, that’s all,” Kuroo said dismissively.

“Oooh? ~” Tendou raised an eyebrow and turned his eyes back to face the screen. Kuroo suddenly gave a small gasp and startled a bit when Tendou leaned over him with a hand on his waist for ‘balance’, to grab a handful of m&ms from Kuroo’s side table. “’Scuse me,” he said impishly, returning to his former position and popping the candy into his mouth.

Kuroo was suddenly very uncomfortable. There was no way that just now was an accident. He knew Tendou well enough to know that he was being scrutinized right now.

‘He knows. Shit, he knows!’

But, wait, hold on! There was no reason to panic! This wasn’t Bokuto; maybe he was just teasing him and had no intention of attacking full-force. Maybe this was as far as Tendou’s playfulness would go…

“Heeey~” Kuroo’s reasoning thoughts were interrupted by a sudden poke to his ribs and he jolted. However, he was proud of himself for withholding the squeak that had tried to escape. His nerves were on fire.

“Huh, w-wha-“

“I asked you for the controller. You’re obviously struggling to make a decision here. Lemme have it,” Tendou said, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“S-sure,” said Kuroo in slight confusion, handing his roommate the remote. As Tendou settled on some cheesy ghost hunter show, Kuroo found himself eyeing him wearily and becoming more and more tense as time went on. Tendou merely continued to stare at the TV, lazily throwing an arm over the back of the couch and adopting an expression of boredom. He was almost relaxed again when a commercial came on and Tendou suddenly rose, stretching as he made his way around the couch.

“AAAaaaah! I’m getting thirsty! You want anything, Tetsu?” The question was accompanied by a couple light squeezes to the back of his neck and this time, Kuroo couldn’t stop the jolt and light shriek it caused. Trying to maintain some sort of calm, he gave a stiff shake of his head and a croaky decline. He was determined to prove to Tendou that he wasn’t all that bothered by it (even though, inside, he was quite literally panicking).

“Say, Tetsu, are you alright?” Tendou asked from the kitchen.

“Sure. What makes you ask?” Kuroo replied suspiciously.

“Oh, I don’t know… It’s just that ever since I got back, you’ve been a little… jumpy.” The last word was hissed directly into Kuroo’s ear, making him startle again. Okay, he had to hand it to him: Tendou was pretty damn stealthy. One second he was in the kitchen getting a drink, the next, he was close enough to whisper in his ear having made no sound at all.

Kuroo turned his head and met Tendou’s gaze (a mistake), the later not bothering to pull back to accommodate for the new proximity. Now that he got a good look at his eyes, Kuroo recognized that they weren’t in their wide, excited, analytical mode, but in the more unsettling, comprehending slits. He was smirking, as if silently saying ‘gotcha’. Kuroo took that as his cue to leave.

“I think I’m gonna go take a nap,” Kuroo said, standing abruptly. He wanted to get out of here quickly without looking like he was in a hurry. Tendou quickly made his way around the couch to cut off Kuroo’s escape, holding up his hands in an innocent gesture.

“Now, now, Tetsu. If you’re tired, maybe a massage will help you relax a little. You have been pretty tense after all.”

“No, no, that’s okay. I’m fine. You don’t have to-“

“Come now, I insist,” said Tendou, grabbing Kuroo by the shoulders and guiding him back to the couch and forcing him down. “On your stomach, Tetsuro.”

“No- look, Tendou, I told you, I- GAAH!” Kuroo shouted in protest when his friend shoved him down onto the cushions and took residence on his lower back with one leg on the couch, knee propped up, and the other dangling off the front, his knee almost skimming the floor. “Tendou, wait. Don’t-“

“Why are you so adamant about this? I just wanna help you relax, buddy~” Tendou began pressing into his shoulders and Kuroo flinched before melting into the touch and his eyes closing. It was surprisingly nice. Tendou was good at this. But Kuroo’s bliss was short-lived.

“See? ~ You’re already starting to loosen up.” Above Kuroo, Tendou’s face broke into a wicked grin. He let his hands slide down and a little to the sides, his touch lightening. Kuroo’s eyes shot open and he started squirming slightly.

“A-alright, Tendou, thanks, but u-umm… that’s enou-gh!” Kuroo’s voice caught in his throat when Tendou aimed a sharp pinch his lower ribs.

“What’s the matter, Tetsu? You’re gettn’ jumpy again~”

“Tendou, stop it! Lemme go!” His struggling increased when it became very clear what the jerk was up to. Dammit, he was such an idiot! He knew Tendou had been leading up to this from the beginning! He let his guard down! He should’ve made an honest-to-god break for it when he had the chance!

“Ya know, before I even walked in the door, I could hear you screaming from all the way at the end of the hallway. Bo-Bo really gotcha, huh? He found out when we were on the phone, didn’t he? Did he hit a sensitive spot when he was tryin’ ta push you away from the fridge? Were you tryin’ ta keep this a secret, Tetsuro? ~” The interrogation was accompanied by light, dragging fingers up and down Kuroo’s twitching sides.

“Noooohoho! C’mon, man, dohon’t! Gyaaha-NOho! I am nohot going through this agahahahin!” Kuroo chuckled, trying to pull himself free as Tendou’s hands began searching his torso ticklishly.

“Gehehe~ Let’s see… Where’s the gold… Hmmn. Well, I’d say there’s at least silver here,” Tendou pondered, moving one hand up to the back of his neck and squeezing rapidly. His other hand continued searching. Sides, ribs, back, spine, shoulder blades (Oooo, those got a squeal out of him), ribs again…

“AAHAhaahahahahahaaa! Kuroo threw his head back, trying to defend the bundle of nerve endings there. He pressed his palms against the cushion and lifted himself up, trying to dislodge the beanpole on his back. But when he felt the searching hand move a little too high up his ribs, he pulled his arms into his body, crashing, face-first, back into the cushion, his laughter being muffled in the process.

Tendou’s eyes widened, analyzing. The wandering hand moved down again, burrowing in between the couch and his stomach and wiggling his fingers there. Kuroo tried to curl in on himself, but with the weight of Tendou on his back and his weakened state from the laughter, he didn’t get far. If anything, it ended up giving the other better access. Meanwhile, his neck was still being attacked.

“GyeeEAHAHahahaaa-ha! T-tehendou! T-HA Tendou, STAP!” At this point, Kuroo was desperate to stop the incessant attack on his neck and slowly began to reach two trembling hands behind his head to grab the offending hand.

“Got you now~” Tendou sang, quickly thrusting both hands under Kuroo’s arms and digging in.

“nyAAHHAHAHAhaahaha!” Aaaand there was his ugly-ass hyena laugh. Kuroo hated this laugh and this was the second time today it had been forced out of him. High-pitched, nasally, wild cackles. Kuroo hugged himself tight and began thrashing and kicking so hard, Tendou actually slid up his back a little.

““I’VE STRUCK GOOOOLD! ~ Nice job, me!” Tendou praised himself for his deductive skills.

“EEEYAHAhahahaahaaaa! NahhHA P-PlehaaaAHA! Pleasehehe!”

“Hehe. So this is your real laugh, huh? It’s so… Kuroo-ish! I like it!” Tendou commented. Still thrashing violently, Kuroo somehow managed to squirm his torso off the couch, nearly bringing Tendou with him. The sudden shift in position made both of them brace for impact; Kuroo’s arms unwrapped themselves from around his torso and he slammed his hands into the floor to keep his head from colliding with it, while Tendou had to lean back so as to not pitch forward and topple over his victim and onto the floor, his hands finding purchase on the backs of Kuroo’s thighs and making him yelp and spasm. Tendou’s eyes widened again and he grinned.

“Oh, yeah? Here?~” Seizing the brief moment of disorder, Tendou scooted back so that he was more on balance and began spidering his finger over Kuroo’s bare thighs, his shorts offering zero protection.

His laugh changed again, this time to high-pitched, breathy giggles, but his squirming hadn’t lessoned in the slightest. On the contrary; if anything, it increased.

“What’s this? Where are you goin’ Putty Tat?” Tendou teased when Kuroo quite literally began clawing at the floor trying to crawl away, his legs kicking on the couch.

“Awahay from you, Scaharecrohow!”

“… OOOOOHH~” Tendou exclaimed in understanding. In one quick motion, he jumped back a little to where he could now sit comfortably on Kuroo’s ankles, pressing his knees against his victim’s calves, keeping them firmly in place.

“Could this be your platinum spot? Huh, Tetsuro? ~”

“Whaha-AAAAAAAAHAHA! NO! NOHO! DohahAHAHA-PleaHAHA! The hyena laugh was back for a moment before his laughter altogether faded into silent wheezing and gasping.

His knees. The soft backs of his knees were being targeted now and Kuroo was lost. He couldn’t even struggle anymore. He went limp, half lying on his side on the floor with his arms loosely hugging himself, half pinned to the couch as Tendou continued to torture his friend’s death spot. Kuroo’s face was challenging Tendou’s hair for the status of richest red.

“Uh-oh, there’s the waterworks! ~” Tendou exclaimed when he saw tears rolling down Kuroo’s cheeks. In a thin attempt to save himself from any further embarrassment, Kuroo lazily rolled onto his stomach, burying his face in the thick carpet. “Oh, fine, fine, fine, I won’t kill you this time,” Tendou said, finally moving away from his knees. Leaning forward, he began skittering his finger over the skin of Kuroo’s back (which had been exposed when he half slid off the couch and the hem of his t-shirt fell past his ribs). Kuroo’s voice revved back to life.

“Tsehehehaha! Stahap! Hehe-S-sahatorihihihi! Pleahese!” Kuroo giggled in exhaustion, tying weakly again to crawl away. Finally, Tendou backed off, adjusting to sit on the couch rather than Kuroo’s legs. When he was free, Kuroo slid the rest of the way onto the floor like a wet noodle, panting and wheezing, and sweating, and giggling, and grinning.

“Whyhehe?” Kuroo whined.

“Because I felt like it,” Tendou replied bluntly.

“UUUGH! You and Bokuto are both basteherds!” said Kuroo, still grinning.

“You’re ticklish just about everywhere, huh, Putty Tat?”

“AAH, Shut up! And stop calling me that!”

“You’re a lot more ticklish on your neck than I thought, but less than I thought on your ribs.”

“Would you stop talkin’ about it, man! How did you know all that, anyways?!”

“You told me,” Tendou said simply.

“The hell I did!”

“Well, with the way you were reacting, you may as well have.”

“Wha-“

“Every time I got close to a more sensitive spot, you subconsciously went to protect it, or you struggled harder, or your voice changed.��� Tendou was wearing a far-too-pleased-with-himself smirk.

“UUUGH! You’re the worst!”

“I am the GUESS MONSTER after all!” Kuroo scoffed.

“The only kind of monster you are is the tickle monster!” Kuroo said, relaxing into the floor.

All those memories of people being afraid of him, fining him odd or creepy, and calling him a monster suddenly came flooding back. Though, not in the cold, lonely way they used to make him feel. They suddenly seemed so distant, like he was seeing them from someone else’s eyes. Somehow, they didn’t seem to sting as much as they used to; didn’t seem so important. He smirked, his eyes soft.

“Heh. Tickle Monster Satori…”

[emovirgil-sanders]

A little more Human

Summary: Logan and Virgil are roommates. Logan is also a robotics scientist. And Virgil learns something about himself that he never expected.

Warnings: mentions of blood, cutting(non self harm), wounds, body horror

Ship: kinda platonic Analogical

Word Count: 1591 words

Authors Note: Minorly inspired by D:BH. It’s kinda run on and bleh cause I’m currently running on like four hours of sleep, but I really wanted to do this idea before I forgot. I may write more. I don’t know at this point. This also really needs a read more link, but I’m unfortunately on mobile, so I’m sorry.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Virgil hummed softly as he unlocked the door to his apartment, slipping his keys into his pocket before nudging the door open with his foot so he could pick up his book bag from where he had set it on the floor. He carried it and two bags of groceries into the house and headed for the kitchen.

“Logan! I’m home.” Virgil called, dropping his book bag on the table and setting the groceries on the counter. He started to pull the food from the bag and put it away where it went. He smiled a bit to himself as he grabbed two jars of Crofters from one bag and set them on the counter by the toaster. He swore he was spending more on the jelly than his college classes.

Logan entered the kitchen a few minutes later, smiling at Virgil. Logan was a tall man with dark brown hair that was usually brushed back, but only now hung partly in his face. He wore a short sleeved, black dress shirt with a dark blue tie and dark slacks.

“Afternoon, Virgil.” He spoke as he moved to snatch up one of the jars of Crofters and a spoon from one of the drawers.

“Hey Logan. Don’t you dare eat that whole jar tonight. It needs to last.” Virgil warns as he turns to put a jug of milk and a carton of eggs into the fridge. “Plus, I’m about to make dinner.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t.” Logan speaks with a faint rolls of his eyes, turning and heading out of the kitchen after popping open the jar of jelly. Virgil sighed and ran a hand through his hair before letting it flop back over his eyes.

Virgil was a few inches shorter than Logan with light brown hair that he had grown out to give him the typical ‘emo’ style haircut. Deep bags sunk under his dark brown eyes from long nights out and his typical eyeshadow only accentuated them. He wore an oversized and handmade hoodie over a plain purple tee and a pair of black skinny jeans with a few tiny holes in them. The only thing that stood out was a pair of bright blue socks- a pair of Logan’s that had somehow ended up with his laundry and he had been too lazy to return. Logan didn’t seem to mind.

“Alexa, shuffle the album, ‘Pray For The Wicked’ by Panic! At The Disco.” Virgil spoke up to the now illuminated disk that sat on one of the counters. He mockingly parroted the automated voice before smiling as “The Overpass” started to play. Virgil began to sing as he got out things to start to make dinner, which was a simple homemade pasta. He had made it plenty of times before. And he was a pretty decent cook.

Virgil set a pot of water on the stove so it could start to warm before pulling out another pan for the sauce. He grabbed a jar of premade sauce from the pantry and set it on the counter with a box of spaghetti noodles. He finally pulled a pack of mushrooms from the fridge so he could cut them and add them to the sauce. He got out a cutting board and knife and set them on the counter, opening the mushrooms and starting to slice them.

Virgil continued to sing as he worked, occasionally checking on the pot of water to see if it was boiling yet. Though, at one point during all of this, he got distracted by a message on his phone- which was sitting nearby- and leaned to the side in order to read the message. While he was also in the middle of cutting a mushroom.

The first thing that registered in his mind was a stinging pain that shot up his arm, radiating from his pointer finger. The next was the red spilling across the cutting board. Then the curse that spilled from his lips. He dropped the knife and pulled away, holding his finger close to his face in order to inspect the wound.

It was a deep cut and he’d probably have to go tell Logan to stitch it up.

Something sparking caught his attention. Wait, what? Virgil blinked a few times before focusing on his finger again. There it was again. Something actually sparked. But, humans don’t spark. Then he noticed it. Tiny wires ran under his skin, several now cut and open from his injury.

“What the fuck?” He spoke aloud before someone clearing their throat caught his attention. Virgil looked up to see Logan standing in the doorway. He looked indifferent- like he already knew what had happened. Logan walked over and held out a hand.

“Let me see.” He ordered and Virgil hesitantly lay his hand in Logan’s. Logan lifted it up and began to inspect the cut, muttering several things under his breath. After several minutes, he turned and dragged Virgil by the wrist into his room. Logan shut the door and led Virgil to sit on his bed, sitting down next to him.

“I suppose you’re wondering what this is.” Logan starts as he moves to retrieve a box of supplies from under his bed. Virgil just nods, all too confused on what had happened.

“The explanation is simple. You are an android. I built you for an experiment and decided to also keep you around for company. You are the most realistic android in the world, complete with accurate, artificial skin, realistic hair, a working heart and blood, pain receptors, and natural body functions.” Logan explains as he begins to work on reconnecting the wires in Virgil’s wound. Virgil flinched at first, pain still radiating from the wound.

“Oops, hold on one moment.” Logan spoke, standing up and walking behind Virgil. Virgil felt a faint pressure on the back of his neck before all the pain faded from his body. He relaxed and looked up at Logan. “There. I turned off all of your pain receptors. This shouldn’t hurt anymore.” And, with that, Logan sat and began to work again.

But, Virgil was still confused. How could he be a robot? It didn’t make sense.

“How? I can’t be. I remember being a kid. And I have parents and a brother. What about them?” Virgil asks, clearly confused as he watched Logan work.

“Oh, well, about those. They’re simply artificial memories I implanted in your brain. It’s really interesting how I can create a life for you that’s so detailed and realistic. It’s just me and several friends stashing together a bunch of random childhood memories to be points sticking out in your life. Your parents and brother are, essentially, just figures we’ve put into your brain. They don’t actually exist.” Logan explains, moving to grab some extra false skin and carefully apply it to the wound, smoothing it out so that there was no evidence of it ever being there to begin with. Virgil hesitantly nods, watching Logan quietly.

“So, you mess with my memories a lot then? Because I remember getting hurt and seeing blood, but none of this-” Virgil paused, gesturing with his free hand to where his wound had been.

“Yes, I do.” Logan nods slowly, carefully taking Virgil’s hand. “I’m just experimenting with how realistic I can make an android. How close I can turn you to a human. So, unfortunately, tomorrow, you won’t remember any of this conversation. It’ll just seem like life went on as usual.” He says before letting go of Virgil’s hand and shifting closer to him.

“Wait, first, how many times has this happened? You know, I get injured and I find it out and I probably ask about it?” Virgil asks, looking at Logan with a bit of worry.

“Several times now. Luckily, not too severe. Just skinned knees and cuts like this.” Logan says before moving his hands to either side of Virgil’s head, fingers gently resting at his temple. “Now, it’s time to sleep.” Logan pressed his fingers in until he heard a soft click and Virgil fell limply into his arms. He brushed back Virgil’s hair as he laid him down on the bed before pressing his fingers into the top of his hairline and pulling back the skin of his forehead to show a panel.

Logan got up and grabbed his laptop and a couple cords. He plugged one end of the cords into the laptop and the other ends into parts of the panel he had revealed. Logan pulled up a couple programs on his laptop and got to work typing and resetting Virgil’s memories. Erasing the ones from the past hour and rewriting in new ones. Giving them a nice dinner together and some hours sitting on the couch watching tv before Virgil would go to bed. Logan plugged in a couple dreams for Virgil as well before unplugging everything. He closed up the panel on his forehead, sealing it perfectly so it wouldn’t be noticeable at all.

After putting away his laptop, Logan picked up the rather light android and carried him to his own room, laying him on his bed and covering him up.

“One day, I promise I’ll let you know, Virgil. But, I can’t give up on my research now.” Logan speaks softly as he leans down to press a soft kiss to Virgil’s forehead before getting up and heading to his own room. He just had to wake the android tomorrow morning and everything would be able to return to normal.

[huangels]

you're too entertaining - johnny

request: hey there! may i request a fluff scenario where the female reader, after getting dumped by her bf, gets dragged to a club by her friends and ends up meeting/flirting with johnny (who works there as a DJ)? thank you!

a/n: ive been hella busy lately so scenarios are coming in slow lol and so because i haven’t updated in like two days i made this scenario a bit longer! (B/F/N = your boyfriend’s name, Y/F/N = your friend’s name), it’s mostly fluff so i tried to make the breakup in the beginning as dry and quick as possible :p

summary: After finding out your boyfriend is cheating on you, you’re outraged and need to let off steam. Gladly, your best friend invites you to a newly opened club, where you totally forget about your ex-boyfriend as Johnny is there to entertain you.  

genre: fluff

warnings: none

word count: 3.4k

The phone continues to ring five times before going to voicemail, you sigh for the umpteenth time.

Your boyfriend told you last night that he was going out with some friends for a drink. Yet, he isn't back yet and it's already noontime. You don't want to be the clingy girlfriend, especially since you both have just started dating not long ago. You want to be able to let your boyfriend have his own space, but you're worried that something might have happened to him since he's not picking up his phone or answering your texts. What if he got kidnapped or hurt? And no one was there to help him?

Clicking on the contact of your boyfriend, you try calling again. After the four ring, someone finally picks up with a sleepy "hello?" However, it is not the voice of your boyfriends but the voice of a female.

"Who are you? Where's Y/B/N?" you ask, your eyebrows scrunched in an unsettling manner.

"Who's this?" the woman asks in return without answering your question first.

"Umm, the girlfriend of Y/B/N. Now would you please tell me who you are and where he is?" you snap with a hand perched on your hip impatiently.

"Oh... He still hasn't broken up with you yet?"

You're silent, confused but outraged. Your breath hitches in your throat, stopping the oxygen from entering your system. Blinking a few times, you eventually come back to your senses.  

"Excuse me?"

"At least he could've told me that he's still with his girlfriend before sleeping with me..." She sighs over the phone. Before you can respond or even react, you hear a shuffling in the background.

"Who is it, babe?" It's the voice of your boyfriend's, raspy and low as if just woken up. You don't need any more information as you already know exactly what is going on.

"Y/N," the girl answers him casually. There's a quick silence before the phone hands up from the other side. You stay standing frozen still, not even removing your phone from your ear. Your mind runs wild, emotions crashing into each other. A mix of rage and bitterness takes over your thoughts. Whipping out the messenger app, you pull up your boyfriend's contact. The three dots display on the screen from his side, indicating that he's typing at the moment as well.

▬▬▬

From: Y/B/N

Baby I'm sorry

[Read 1:29 PM 04/06/2018]

▬▬▬

You ignore the text, not knowing if he's sorry for cheating or for not telling you.

▬▬▬

To: Y/B/N

Don't text me anymore, don't call me, don't talk to me. I don't want anything to do with you. Apparently, we've broken up already according to your play toy, so let's keep it that way.

[Read 1:31 PM 04/06/2018]

▬▬▬

And with that, you block and delete his number, not even letting him explain himself. You honestly don't want to hear it, the lies or excuses he has.

The phone buzzes at an incoming notification. You're about to blow up at your boyfriend for somehow trying to contact you after your warning, except it isn't a text from your boyfriend this time, but your best friend.

The notification slides away as you lack all of your energy, not being able to click on her contact message. After a moment and a few more texts, an incoming call from your best friend displays on your screen, you decide to let it go to voicemail because you don't want to deal with anything else today.

Due to you worrying about your boyfriend all morning, you didn't get to eat any breakfast or lunch. You trudge to the kitchen, hoping some food will give you energy. As expected, there is no food in the fridge for your to cook or warm up. In the pantry, however, are packs of ramen noodles. You grab a pack, preparing a pot of water to cook them in.

Your phone rings again, your best friend's name in big letters on the screen. You sigh, caving in and swiping the screen to answer the call.

"Y/N! Why aren't you answering my texts? I can see that you've read them," your best friend calls over the phone, loud enough for you to almost drop it. Resting the phone on the counter, you click on the speaker option as you continue cooking your ramen.

"You literally just texted me, I was about to answer," you lie, turning the stove to a higher setting so that your ramen can cook faster. "What do you need that's so urgent anyway?"

"Are you with Y/B/N today?" your friend asks. The name of him just puts a sour taste in your mouth, your face twists in anger and disgust.  

"No," you snarl annoyingly, with a low scoff. Your best friend senses the venom in your tone of voice.

"What happened? Did you guys fight or something?"

"I don't want to explain right now. Why did you ask?" you say, quickly changing the subject.

"Oh right! Did you hear about the hot new club opening tonight? Everyone's gonna be there! And guess what else? I also know the owner!! He was my old roommate's ex-boyfriend, but they broke it off like a year or two ago. Still, he's super hot! You know what this means right?" your friend continues to screech, you chuckle at her expression, "We have to go!"

"You know what Y/F/N, fuck it, yeah let's go," you answer, turning off the stove as you ramen finishes boiling. You need to loosen up and totally forget that today ever happened and you want to down some drinks so you don't have to deal with any of your problems for today. Another high pitched shriek sounds from your phone, causing you to groan.

"If you scream again, I swear I'll cancel," you threaten and your friend gasps dramatically. She quickly half apologizes and then proceeds to tell you to meet there at 10 pm, the premiere opening of the club. However, knowing your best friend, this means to be there at 11 pm because she is always running late and you do not want to be at a new club alone.

It's currently 2 pm, you pour the hot ramen into a bowl and make your way to your television. You watch reruns of The Office as you gulp down the noodles hungrily.

Without you knowing it, you've already binged a whole season of The Office and you would've continued if your phone wouldn't have rung 3 times in the past minute. You pick up your phone, glancing at the time. Shoot! It's 10:30 already!! You mentally yell at yourself.

Your phone screen displays a spam of messages and phone calls from Y/F/N. Scramming up to your room to quickly get ready, you pick up the phone, leaving it on speaker again.

"Y/N! Where the hell are you? I've been waiting outside for more than 30 minutes and I also tried to contact you for that 30 plus minutes but guess who didn't answer... And the bouncer outside kept asking me if I was lost, and I kept on telling him I was waiting for someone and he just kept giving me weird stares so I just went inside without you. Now the line is gigantic so good luck trying to get in. I'm going to find the owner," your friend rambles on and ends the call when she's done, not giving you the chance to answer.

In a hurry, you simply put on a plain red graphic tee, tying it into a knot on the front, and some black ripped high waisted jeans. You add some light make up since you're going to sweat it all off throughout the night anyway, finishing off with a swipe of wine red lip tint. Before rushing out of the door, you stuff your phone and wallet into a small purse and slip into your black chunky high heeled boots. Y/F/N is a lot taller than you so whenever you both go out, you have to wear some sort of heels in order to not appear as a dwarf next to a model.

It takes about 45 minutes for the taxi driver to reach the club, as traffic gets more congested once you inch near it. You text your friend to let her know you made it but you doubt she will see it. She's probably using her goddess-like charms to seduce some guy.

Y/F/N was right, the line by the entrance to the club is really long, looping around the block. You seriously do not want to stand in that long line because, by the time you reach the front, it'll be the morning already. You try to see if you know anyone in line you can join but no one is familiar enough.

You push back your hair and walk confidently to the front of the line. People waiting sends you a mix of confused and angry looks as you pass them all.

This is not your first time in a club, you've learned how to weave your way through the bouncer with the help of the almighty Y/F/N.

As you reach the front, you see a man stand by the fancy entrance. He doesn't look like the typical bouncer due to his appearance and attire. The man isn't small but he isn't super buff either, like the bouncers you've met before at other clubs. His hair is a hazel brown flowy mess and he has on more eyeliner than you. His outfit, instead of the usual all black suit bouncers wear, is more of a street style outerwear, with a bandana keeping his shaggy hair out of his face. From where you are standing, the guy doesn't look very tall or intimidating, as he leans on the wall next to the door. He also doesn't seem like a challenge to get through either, building up your confidence.

You try to walk past him as he's chatting with a few girls in the front of the line, but a hand darts in front of your stomach, stopping you.

The arm belongs to the brown-haired man. He raises an eyebrow at you, still posed on the neon lazered wall.

"There's a line if you haven't noticed," he states and stands up from his leaning position. Now that you've gotten closer, the man is a lot more intimidating than you thought. His intense eyes bore into yours, the makeup making them look even sharper. As he stands up straighter, you realize that he is also much taller, even with your 4-inch heels on.

However, you do not let his appearance faze you.

"I know the owner, don't worry," you say, sending a smile. The man smirks with a low chuckle, his arm still doesn't leave your front side.

"Do you now? And how do you know him?" he questions, with a lift of his eyebrows. You quickly gulp, trying to think of a reason. In other clubs, the bouncer would just let you in once you said you knew the owner, but of course, that probably only happens because Y/F/N was usually with you.

"He's an ex-boyfriend of my old roommate's," you swiftly retaliate, remembering what Y/F/N said earlier over the phone. You thought that you've won, but the smirk is still painted on his face.

"And what's your name?" he asked, displaying a more playful kind of grin. The man shifts so that he's fully facing you.

"Why do I have to provide a name? There isn't a list," you respond, crossing your arms over your chest. Before he can say anything else, you continue talking.

"Anyway, if we're done here, I have people who are waiting for me," you say, grabbing the man's wrist and pulling it away. Without further comments, you proceed to walk through the door into a dark hallway, following the music. Without looking back, you can still feel his gaze on your backside.

At the end of the hall, there's a black curtain in which bright lights, loud music, and busy chatter pass through. You push the curtain to the side, revealing a large room with an extensive glowing dance floor, stripper poles, tables and chairs, and a bar near the back.

You can't even see the dance floor, with the wall to wall of people dancing to the club music. There seems to be no room for any more people yet bodies kept pouring in. The music is mostly techno but with occasional slow sensual songs that called out all the couples and drunks to grind on each other.

Different colored lights flashes and shines but somehow you spot Y/F/N on a couch by the side of the room. As you get closer, you see your best friend on the lap of some man, tongues down each other's throats. Her tight bright red dress rises higher as the man's hands reach up and down her thigh, playing around with the hem of her red lace panties.

You finally reach them as you lightly kick the man in the shin, causing them to both pull away. Bright red lipstick is smeared all across Y/F/N and the man's mouth.

"Hit the road, she's my date," I say as I tilt my head towards the door. The man shoots me an annoyed look, pulling your friend's face back onto his. However, Y/F/N pulls away and climbs off the guy's lap, fixing her dress.

The guy flashes a confused look between you and your friend.

"You heard her," Y/F/N says, running her hands through her tangled hair. The man grunts something like "ugh whatever" under his breath and trudges away.

"Took you long enough. Although, I thought you would have to wait longer since the line is crazy long," your friend says, plopping back down on the couch. You follow.

"Yeah, I just kinda walked in, after fighting some guy at the door," you explain, wiping the lipstick off of your friends face, "You look like you just sucked Larry the Lobster's dick."

"Livin' Like Larry," you friend responds with a lazy smile.

"Wait! Did the owner let you in at the door? I told him if a Y/N comes to just let her in," she says, slapping your shoulder to gain your attention.

"I don't think so," you reply without much thought. "Come on, let's go get something to drink, that's mostly why I'm here."

You reach out your hand to help your friend up. She groans as you pull her from her spot and make your way to the vaporwave themed bar. You both take an empty seat at the counter as Y/F/N orders two shots. Right off the bat I see...

"By the way sorry to pull you away from your boy toy," you apologize, grabbing the shot glass and tilting it back into your mouth, the small amount of alcohol burning your throat immediately. She waves it off with her free hand as she also downs the glass. Then, your friend signals the bartender for another round.

"Nah, he wasn't that great of a kisser anyway, and I was just passing time while waiting for you to finally come."

The bartender places another two shot glasses in front of the two of you.

"Hey, wanna play coinage?" Y/F/N suggests, calling over the bartender again and asks for an empty glass. You nod and pull out a quarter from your purse.

She places the glass in between us and beacons for you to start first. You carefully bounce the coin, trying to get it into the glass. The quarter hits the rim of the glass but doesn't go in. You groan as Y/F/N takes the quarter with a smile. She is the master at this game, you have no idea why you agreed. Your friend beautifully bounces the quarter into the glass with a "woohoo".

"Drink up!"

You grab the shot glass and gulp down the vodka in one swift motion.

After a few more rounds of this, you call quits due to losing to all rounds. Your head starts getting buzzy and the alcohol is slowly getting to you. You're not a lightweight when it comes to alcohol but you can't hold too much either, you're somewhere in the middle.

Your friend pulls you onto the crowded dance floor, where you both completely let loose, rolling and grinding your bodies to the beat of the music. The two of you have been to multiple bars and clubs, by now you know how to move your body steadily to the rhythm.

Song after song rolls by, all great remixes of your favorite hits. You scan around to see who the DJ is, wanting to compliment his music taste. The DJ booth is off to the opposite side of the bar, surrounded by neon lights and colorful disco balls. From the distance, you can't decipher the appearance of the DJ, with the lasers shooting in every which direction. You pull your friend closer to the booth, a swarm of girls already packed in front of the DJ.

As you get closer, you realize that the DJ looks familiar, though the alcohol causes your vision to blur.

"Hey, the DJ's kinda hot," you slur to your friend who nods back, both beginning to dance again.

"Yeah he owns the place," she tells you while she grabs your hands to sway them to the beat.

"That's cool," you say, "You should introduce me to him since you know him right?"

"Oooo good idea, let me call him over!"

Y/F/N turns toward the booth, waving his hands to get the man's attention. You're oblivious to anything as you continue to dance with your back facing the DJ.

The man scans the crowd, looking over all of the people enjoying their time. He sees your friend waving at him before signaling him to come. The DJ takes his headphones off and places them next to his music controllers. Another guy walks up on the stage to take over the music.

Your friend informs you that he's coming, though her words are a bit slurred. You turn around seeing a tall figure weave through the crowd, saying hi to people as he passes them but not stopping. the closer he got the more familiar he is to you. Until he's a few meters away, and you finally realize that the DJ is the same man at the entrance of the club. Yet, your brain isn't in its right mind to put two and two together.

"Y/F/N. Nice to see you again tonight," the man says once he reaches the two of you. You stop dancing and so does your friend who gives the man a hug.

"Hey!" she yells over the music. "This is my friend Y/N! The one I told you about. Y/N, this is Johnny, the owner of this new awesome club."

"You told him about me?" you ask with a tilted head.

"Yeah, I told him to wait at the entrance to let you in when you got here. So that you didn't have to wait because I'm such a good friend."

As if all of the alcohol completely left your system, your mind clicks and you glance up at Johnny. He has on the same smirk that you came across earlier when you first arrived.

"Y/N...so that's your name. If you would've told me at the door, I'd let you right in."

"I got in anyway," you shoot back easily, mirroring his smirk.

"By lying to me, the owner. I could have you kicked out by the real bouncers of this place."

"You'd be losing profit then."

He looks around the busy nightclub, then back down to you.

"I highly doubt that," he says waving his hands around the room. "Though, I wouldn't kick you out anyway..."

You lift your eyebrow in curiosity. Johnny leans his head downwards, closing in on your face.

"You're too entertaining.” 

The back of your neck starts to heat up, not knowing if it’s due to the warm bodies of the surrounded dance floor or the closeness of Johnny’s presence. 

"Entertained only by me? Then what's the use of this club?" you reply quickly. Your best friend whips her head back and forth from you to Johnny, one comeback after another, confused as to if the both of you are flirting or attacking each other.

"I met you in this club, haven't I? You've caught my eye."

"I'm not some art exhibit at a museum."

"Though you look like you belong in one."

You scoff at his lame attempt to flirt with you. Yet, somewhere inside of you thinks his attempts are rather cute and slightly working. 

"Would you like a drink? I'd like to talk to you more," Johnny offers a hand towards you. Your best friend gives you a light shove from the back, a knowing look painted in her eyes. You take Johnny's large outreached hand before he leads you to the bar, with a warm smile. 

a/n: i’ll proof read later lol