#but they still own their apartment (after renting for years. they got lucky )

[rainbow-demon503]

I never had to and there's actually some family history on why it's probably like this.

so neither my mom nor my (bio in this story) dad ever had to go to church.

but apparently some of my grandparents did.

from the retellings, it wasn't uncommon in their time that parents would just send their kids to church but not necessarily go themselves. important to know for both stories is that the church bells in my birthplace still ring the time to this day.

We also used to have quite cold winters in the coldest ones the bodensee was completely iced over and you could drive cars from one end of it to the other. And even if it wasn't that cold, little lagoons and smaller lakes would be still iced over, and thick enough for kids to play ice hockey on it.

A phenomenon that happens with frozen lakes is that gas gets trapped in the ice. You can do many wondrous things with the gas bubbles. what nearly all kids did (seemingly) was to break a small hole on the bubble, and then set the gas alight, resulting in a delightful little explosion. (many kids used hockey sticks for that and broke them in the process. my stepfather broke one during actual ice hockey once but still got yelled at for the ice bubble thing)

So my grandpa on my mothers side got sent to church, but, like many kids, thought that there were funner things to do tha mass, so he went to the lake and found himself some bubbles. But, with one bubble he miscalculated, and he didn't get away fast enough, or maybe the hole was too big - anyway it resulted in him getting his eyebrows burned off.

So when he got back home his father asked , probably due to a strange intuition, if he went to church today. My grandpa looks his old man straight in the eyes and answers yes. (he did get slapped for it, not the skipping but apparently the lying, sadly not such a funny ending)

my grandma on my dads side doesn't have a story with such elaborate setup. Basically, it's not uncommon for adult children to live close by their parents, making visits very spontaneous and regular. Afaik, multi generational housing also took a bit longer to go out of fashion here than it did in the usa. All this is due to our villages and cities being quite small, even in my birthplace most of the sprawl and increase in numbers happened during my parents' adulthood.

So my grandma also skipped church a fair bit, and to my knowledge there weren't any events that would make it visible with a look. The only problem she had tough, is that the pastor was drinking buddys with her grandma. Meaning that my grandma would get home, after waiting for enough time to pass and all, only to immediately be in trouble because the pastor already arrived before her.

I never got it confirmed, but this might've influencedy families church going habits. The only significance sunday got in parents (and stepdads) life was, that on Sunday's the family would get one bottle of coca cola to share between the family.

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[suguann]

tags. fem!reader, boss/employee relationship, stupidly domestic, little wife kink in there somewhere, nanny reader, single dad gojo, breeding kink [18+ only]

You sometimes find yourself wistfully imagining having a family of your own—a soft and sweet little bundle to cuddle and someone strong and capable (competent) at your side. But you can’t think of the last time you’ve been on a date where that person had the same interest in something more serious than casually sleeping around. 

Nannying seemed like the natural conclusion, especially when you’re still settling in a new city and barely scraping by for rent and student loans for a degree you don’t use. 

You pick up a few jobs just to get a feel for it: parents going away for a honeymoon, a last-minute call-in, a weekend business trip. Then a friend of a friend says she makes enough to afford one of those picturesque apartments that overlook tall high-rises and iridescent lights, the very ones you’ve dog-eared in real-estate magazines.

All it takes are a few phone calls and an interview until you’re packing up your apartment and taking the freeway outside of the city to somewhere remote and expensive, your car looking almost out of place parked beside the shiny new one in the long driveway.

You rap on the front door before you lose your nerve, and a few moments later, it opens, and you’re unsure who looks more out of place: this man with a smile too big, dressed for work, immaculate suit dampened by the baby rag slung over his shoulder and what looks like drool on his crisp collar, or you in your scuffed shoes and second-hand store clothes, standing in front of the nicest house you’ve ever seen.

“The nanny?”

“Yes,” you mutter, licking your lips. “That’s me.”

“Good, Ren just woke up from his nap,” he says, opening the door a little wider with a creak. The darkness behind him is almost comforting.

You take a deep breath and pass over the threshold into his home.

The entire time, his hand stays on the small of your back to steer you toward the nursery, and a shiver threatens up the length of your spine.

Three months. That’s how long it takes before your employer poses a problem.

It’s not that he’s a terrible boss; in fact, he’s quite the opposite. He lets you take over one of the many spare rooms in his massive house, pays you double the regular rate, and gives you time off when you ask for it.

It also helps that Ren is cute, only a year old, and still so sweet and tiny. 

Perfect.

The problem lies in that you know what he sounds like first thing in the morning, that he knows how you like your coffee, that he helps you fold laundry in the living room while the baby naps, how you catch him staring anytime you hold his son—his expression shuttered, a foreign thing that you can’t read. It’s all so terribly domestic. 

Terrible in that you think it’s a horrible idea to develop a crush on your boss, that you can’t help but get flustered anytime he so much as looks your way, even if it’s fleeting. How a sleepy smile before he retires to his room for the night can turn your thoughts into a scattered, ill-defined mess of what they used to be until all that’s left are words like spun sugar melting on your tongue.

But also, it’s not normal, at least not from your experience. 

You were lucky in the past if your employer even wanted to know about their kid’s day. Barely saying hello once they walk through the front door before sending money to your bank account.

Satoru—because that’s what he asked you to call him one afternoon while you were in the middle of feeding Ren mashed banana, a lazy smile curling the edges of his lips after you say it for the first time—wants to know everything: what Ren ate, if he laughed, how your day was, if you finally got your hands on that book you’ve been meaning to buy. 

“You don’t have to ask about my day,” you tell him shyly, accepting the glass of wine he proffers you after spending the past hour trying to put a teething baby to bed. “To make me feel better, that is.”

“Would it be so bad if I said I want to? You live here, too.”

You try to separate the two: that he cares as your employer and not for any other reason, and how you sometimes catch the soft look in his eye whenever he looks at you could make you believe otherwise.

Cool fingers cup your chin gently, thumb caressing the top of your cheek, now close enough that you catch a few of the warm notes of his cologne, a move that’s probably very inappropriate between a boss and an employee.

“I never say anything I don’t mean.”

You swallow, nodding, slightly shaky, breath caught in your chest. “Okay.”

“Good girl.” He retreats to his office before witnessing how those two words knock the wind out of you.

He starts saying things like our shopping list, our car—because he gave you the keys to the SUV parked beside his car and hasn’t touched it since; for you and the baby, he said, plus it’s terrible on gas when I drive it to work—our house, our baby. You don’t think he means to do it; it's more of an easy slip in conversation.

But then, one morning, he’s rushing around the kitchen, hair still damp and smelling like his shampoo, as he grabs his coffee and briefcase from the counter, kissing Ren’s forehead first…and then yours.

You’re half convinced that you imagined it—that his lips hadn’t stayed there for a second longer than necessary—until he straightens his tie and heads out for the day with a ‘be good’ tossed over his shoulder, and you’re left wondering if he meant to say that to you or Ren.

It sets off a chain reaction of thoughts whirling away in your head, leaves you wanting and wondering—only ever allowing yourself to fantasize a little when the house is quiet and dark, the baby monitor humming on your nightstand, and images of your boss flit behind closed eyelids as you fit your hand underneath your soft sleep shorts.

In the morning, you worry he can tell what you did, his smile almost too sharp, too something—more teasing than what you’re used to—his hand resting on your lower back as he leans down to kiss Ren’s chubby cheek while you make breakfast.

“I have a meeting this afternoon, so I’ll be late. Want me to pick up some food on the way home?”

No, you think, there’s no way he knows.

You spend most of the morning cleaning and folding the array of graphic onesies Satoru has a penchant for dressing Ren in, and the later half walking around the pool because it’s warm and Ren enjoys splashing around in the water. It’s enough to tucker him out for bed early, unable to keep his eyes open while eating a plate of mashed potatoes.

It’s also the first time in weeks that you have the night to yourself, no baby keeping you busy, no Satoru to—well.

After a long shower, you step out of the bathroom, moving into the hallway. And there are many reasons why you felt confident walking the few steps it took to reach your bedroom. Most revolve around what Satoru told you that morning, so you don’t expect him to be standing there, shirtsleeves rolled up, piercing gaze sliding down the length of you wrapped in a towel and little else.

“I brought home those drunken noodles you like,” he says when his eyes focus back on your face, his whole expression softening into a smile.

A beat. “Thank you,” you whisper, unable to look away.

He tucks the wet strands of hair clinging to your cheek behind your ear. “Why don’t you get dressed, and I’ll join you downstairs?”

The noise in your brain goes static.

You’re unsure what causes it, but everything changes when he comes home early one afternoon and finds you and the baby napping in the nursery. He has this soft look on his face and something else you can’t decipher with his piercing blue eyes settled firmly on you.

Ren coos softly into your shoulder. 

When Satoru picks him up and settles him in the crib, then walks you to your room—here, let me help you—and when he hovers in your doorway, you let him in without question.

He doesn’t waste any time peeling off your clothes, eager to have you naked and splayed out underneath him. You cum on his tongue more times than you can count until you’re silently begging him to fuck you.

He laughs, large hands spread over your tummy. 

“Use your words, baby. I’m not a mind reader.”

You feel like you’re someone else watching you from somewhere else, another body rocking against the length of your boss’s cock, back arching every time you manage to find the friction you need. He’s hard against your back, thick in a way that makes you wonder if he did enough to stretch you out. 

“I-I want—”

All other thoughts are obliterated by the stretch and press of him against your cunt. 

“Think I’m going to keep you,” he rasps, lips dragging over your throat. “Keep this drippy little cunt spread open on my desk whenever I want while the baby naps. Would you like that? For me to fuck you full until you give me a baby.”

You clench, nerves shot.

“Gonna get all round with my baby, stay here forever,” he mumbles when he draws away, and you can’t tell if the words are meant for you to hear or slip out without him realizing. “Fuck—breed my little wife until it takes—”

Your eyes roll up, lost in the little promises he paints across your skin, body shivering over and over until you’re sobbing from it until he has to clamp a hand down over your mouth—shh, you’re going to wake the baby—going limp when he finally cums, pressing as deep as your body will allow, as if he can somehow imprint himself there. 

Wonders if maybe he’s been building up to this moment all along. 

It’s so easy to lay there after, blissed out while he litters kisses across your face and collarbones, letting him lift your hips up to slide a pillow underneath, even though the position is awkward when he tries to cuddle you afterward.

His fingers draw shapes on your stomach, giving you a wistful look, like he can’t believe he’s laying here with his cum still dripping between your thighs—no matter how many times he scoops it up and pushes it back inside you. “Do you think it’ll take?”

And you don’t have the heart to tell him about the little foil packet of pills tucked away in your nightstand.

[just-jordie-things]

we weren’t just friends - okkotsu yuuta

word count: 11.9k warnings: heavy second base action (no tops, dry humping) but no smut, swearing, drinking but it’s legal summary: their friends think that if there’s tension between new roomates (y/n) and yuuta, then they should just act on it.  more info: college!au, aged up characters, roommate!au, childhood friends, unrequited(?) love

part one: “face it, you want it, you crave it” ___

Having Yuuta as a roommate was never all that weird for (y/n).  Things sort of just worked out that way, and honestly she was so relieved that she didn’t have to scramble to find a stranger to split the rent with- or face homelessness- that she hadn’t really given it much thought until a few days after he’d moved all of his things in and had settled into their now shared space.

On paper, he was the perfect candidate after all.  They’d been friends for years, having known each other since childhood it was easy to trust him in her space.  He already spent so much time in her dorm when she still lived on campus that having him in her living space didn’t seem like it’d be that much different anyways.  Not to mention she knew him to be tidy and a pretty good cook, so as long as he was able to supply half the rent every month, she was content.

The day he’d moved in she’d been so happy that she’d hardly focused at all on helping him unpack.  Most of her time was spent dancing around to the moving playlist she’d made, and she insisted they jam out while they- he- unpacked his things in the empty room adjacent to hers.  When she wasn’t dancing, she was rambling on about how delighted she was that he agreed to move in with her.  Looking back it was probably a little much, but Yuuta wasn’t overwhelmed by her excitement in the slightest.

As soon as she’d mentioned being on the hunt for a roommate he hadn’t thought twice about offering himself.  They both just so happened to decide to move off campus to find cheaper, and steadier housing.  The market wasn’t all that great so living alone wouldn’t have been possible even if either of them had interest in the roach infested studios in the area.  Even the two bedroom apartment they shared was rather tiny, the living space and kitchen was essentially all one room, and there was only one bathroom, but they made it work.  It was still more affordable than living on campus, and that’s all they cared about.

For the first two weeks it had been fun, even.  It felt like a sleepover with their best friend, but every night.  They spent most nights in cozy pajamas curled up on the couch sharing their favorite movies and swapping snacks.  (y/n) couldn’t believe how lucky she was to have him, and she was happy to tell him so every chance she got.

Yuuta couldn’t believe how lucky he was to get to spend all his free time with her.  No longer did he have to coordinate around both of their schedules in order to have quality time with his favorite person.  If she had to study for the evening and couldn’t hang out, he’d happily sit on her bed scrolling on his phone or reading.  When their friends were free they’d come over unannounced, because either (y/n) or Yuuta were bound to be around to hang out with.

It was just so easy, it almost felt like a dream.  The beginning of having their own space as young adults to do with as they please.  

Yuuta bought a fish tank for their living room, a whole ten gallon aquarium for a pretty betta fish that (y/n) helped him pick out.  They spoiled it with plants and cool rocks for decoration.  They took turns feeding him every three days, and regularly sat in front of his tank to admire him.  If one of them weren’t present, the other would spam their phone with photos and videos of it swimming around, doing next to nothing, with captions full of hearts and emojis to swoon for their pet.

(y/n) spent her freedom a little differently.  

At first it was decorating her new room with a maximalist aesthetic.  Posters, tapestries, string lights, and any strange pretty thing she’d taken a liking to covered her walls so thick that most of it began to overlap.  It could be overstimulating to some- as Maki had remarked when she first visited the place- but she loved it that way.  It took her a full three days to collage a whole wall full of her favorite photos.  Ones from childhood, some from grade school, most from her most recent experiences and adventures through college.  If she were to pull out her phone and snap a photo to make a proper memory of the day, it was likely getting printed out the next day and taped up to the wall.  Soon, those too began to pile up and overlap, but again, she loved it that way.  Even Yuuta began to take pictures for her, printing them out when he found the time and sticking them to the fridge to surprise her.

Once the project that was her room had been tackled and she was satisfied with the home she’d made for herself, her desire for freedom took the form of heavy drinking.  It might have been concerning, Yuuta certainly panicked a little bit when he’d come home from a late study group session and find her dancing around the kitchen with her favorite handle in her clutch and the belting of her favorite song echoing in the small space.  Eventually her time of drinking alone proved to be just a phase, one too many hangovers having taught her a lesson on time and place for drinking hard alcohol straight.  But he did come to learn that she was quite comfortable as a social drinker.  So if the Zen’in twins and Toge were coming over, it wasn’t odd to find a drink in her hand.  At least she started taking his advice and ending the night with a full glass of water and an ibuprofen.

All in all, living together hadn’t been too strange of a milestone for them.  It was fun, it was easy, and they really couldn’t have asked for more out of a roommate.  Being best friends was an added perk that just made it all the more smooth.

Until recently. ___

“I’m tellin’ you,” 

(y/n) huffed as she pulled the straw from her mouth as she spoke.  A signature vodka cranberry mixed to perfection after months of honing the skill of a perfect pour.  Her movements are a little delayed and awkward as she leaned back into the kitchen counter, her elbows coming to rest on it to hold herself up as she leaned her head back dramatically.  Maki, who had only been semi listening to the girl’s ranting, remained silent as she raised a brow at the display.

“I think he’s doin’ it on purpose” (y/n) finished with a mumble.

It was difficult to hear her over the game of mariokart that Yuuta and Toge were currently playing in the living room- they got quite competitive when it came to that game in particular- but Maki caught enough of it to understand where she was going.

She looked over at her sister with only mild interest in her expression.  Mai touched her fingertips to her mouth as she chuckled to herself, finding the situation far more amusing than Maki.

The situation began as simple as this: In order to save time in the mornings when both (y/n) and Yuuta had class, they’d been working on a bathroom schedule in order to optimize their time.  For example, (y/n) had started doing her hair and makeup at a mirror in her room, where she’d sit on the floor and go through her skin care routine, and any other beautification and styling she’d felt inclined to for the day.  That helped a lot with cutting back on hogging the shared bathroom.

Yuuta’s idea of helping to cut back on time, is to go back to his room directly after a shower to dry his hair and get dressed for the day.  It was a great idea in theory, and would definitely save an extra five to ten minutes.

However twice now (y/n) had run into him in the short hall from the bathroom to his room.  She shouldn’t have been so flustered.  Realistically, she wasn’t seeing anything she hadn’t seen before.  There had been plenty of times she’d seen him without a shirt.  In the backyard of the home she’d grown up in they’d often set up a sprinkler to run through.  In high school they’d gotten their volunteer hours in through lifeguarding together.  In their freshman year of college they’d gone to just about every frat party, bonfire, and beach day that was thrown, just to be able to say they had taken on the party scene in their younger years.  Seeing Yuuta shirtless was nothing new.

But twice now she’d practically run into him, with nothing but a towel held around his waist, damp hair sticking to his forehead and falling around his eyes, pale skin still littered with droplets of water, and had he started working out-? 

Even thinking about it now she felt her face heating up.  She shouldn’t have committed that image to memory- but it happened twice already so it couldn’t have been more than her mind staying sharp, right? 

“If he’s doing it on purpose,” Mai’s voice had (y/n) snapping her head up as she crash landed back in reality.  Her blush was obvious to the twins, but she hoped to play it off as the alcohol in her system.

Certainly not the thoughts that had started littering her mind, thoughts that you just don’t have about a best friend and roommate.

“Then why don’t you just do something about it?” Mai finished with a small smile on her face that suggests she has quite a few ideas in mind on how she could fix this problem.

(y/n’s) eyes widen, and she brings her drink back to her lips to ease her racing heart and spiraling thoughts.

“Like what?” She mumbles, as if there was a chance the guys could possibly hear their conversation.

Nothing could compete with the sound effect of a blue shell incoming, and Toge’s defeated screeches.

Maki scoffs before laughing, finally finding entertainment in this whole ordeal (y/n) had gotten herself so worked up about.  The last ten minutes of their girl talk in the kitchen had been for nothing, it seemed, if she wasn’t going to act on her obvious infatuation.

“Just bone?” She suggests with a small laugh.

(y/n) swears her eyes were going to bulge right out of their sockets, and what was meant to be a small sip of her drink turned into a gulp as she sucked a little too harshly on her straw.

“Maki,” Mai hisses, smacking her sister’s arm, before turning back to (y/n).  “She’s not wrong though, that would definitely solve everything” 

“I can’t do that!” (y/n) squeaks.  “I just- it’ll pass, it’s just a little crush, right? That’s normal, right?” 

She looks between the twins for confirmation, validation in her silly feelings that were bound to pass with time.  Mai winces.  Maki rolls her eyes.  This wasn’t looking promising.  But perhaps they were just too eager to set up their friends and see some drama to unfold, so (y/n) decides that their advice might be a bit on the biased side.

“Just test the waters a little first,” Maki suggests, shooting Mai a look as she tries to telepathically tell her to reel it in.  “Dip your toes in a little.  No harm in that, right?”

“You live together, how have you not experimented a little already?” Mai mumbles, her brows furrowing together as her eyes glaze over, as though trying to process how it could be possible.  The calculations simply weren’t adding up.

(y/n) gnaws on the inside of her cheek, and her fingers begin to tap on her glass.

“I guess…” She says, but her uncertainty is obvious.  “Well… how much is a little?” 

The twins burst into laughter, and they’re looking at each other like there’s an inside joke she’s not in on, and (y/n) pouts at them for teasing her in their silent twin way.  This wasn’t the first time, she should be used to feeling like an odd man out when it came to hanging out with these two, but they were her last hope for guidance, so she took what she could.

For now, she determined that Maki and Mai weren’t going to be of much help as they snickered and muttered to one another.  (y/n) couldn’t make out what they were saying exactly, but she gathered enough to realize they were slights against her, and she had enough of the bordering-on-friendly fire.

“I’m playing mariokart” She huffs, strutting out of the kitchen space and across the floor to the living room.  In this small apartment it was an open floor so the couch was only ten feet away, but it was far enough that she couldn’t hear their laughter anymore, and for now that was enough.

Yuuta and Toge were sitting on the sofa, both heavily concentrating on the competitive game.  Their wrists are flicking the switch controllers with precise movements as they steer, but when it comes to using items and drifting, their fingers are smashing buttons viciously.  As she rounds the sofa she eyes the screen, seeing that the pair are battling it out for first place, with Yuuta currently claiming the spot.

That is, until (y/n) plops onto the cushioned armrest right beside him, and he glances up at her out of habit.  The two seconds that he takes to smile up at her- even though she’s watching the screen- is all Toge needs to creep up Yuuta’s character and throw a green shell directly at his kart.

The remote tingles in his hands with a familiar vibration, his character having taken a hit.  Yuuta’s head swivels back to the screen, as he desperately tries to make a comeback, but two other characters have already passed him, and now he’s in fourth place.

“What the hell!?” He groans as he realizes his demise is inevitable.  It was the third lap of the game, and Toge’s Yoshi was about to cross the finish line.  “That was so uncool!” 

Toge’s cackling to himself, proud of his sneaky attack.  He had a feeling it would work, all he needed was the perfect distraction.  And nothing distracted Yuuta like (y/n).

As Yoshi crosses the finish line, Yuuta drops his controller to his lap with a defeated huff.  He leans back into the sofa, head hitting the cushion as he glares at the screen displaying Yoshi’s victory dance, before he turns to (y/n), who gives him a sympathetic smile, before offering her drink to him.

“That was a dirty move,” She sides with him- typical, Toge rolls his eyes at the two of them, which goes unnoticed- “You’ll get him next time” 

Yuuta takes the glass from her hand, sipping from the straw experimentally.  There had been a period of time where her drinks were so strong he was about ready to cut her off from alcohol altogether.  When a perfect mixture of vodka and cranberry juice hits his tongue, he’s pleasantly surprised that it’s not too bitter.  His eyes light up at her before he swallows.  She giggles at the obvious reaction.

“Yeah yeah” She mutters before he could even say anything.  He didn’t have to for her to understand exactly what he was thinking.

Yuuta chuckles at her, before scooting over on the sofa, closer to Toge, so that there was some space for her to sit next to him.

“You want in?” He asks, holding his controller out to her.

She squeezes awkwardly into the small space, her legs still hanging over the armrest, and her back almost completely pressed into his side.  Toge had shifted completely to one side of the couch, giving Yuuta more than enough space to also move so that (y/n) could sit properly.  But neither of them seem to notice the blonde boy’s silent offer.  Or, if they did, they didn’t pay any mind to it.

(y/n) takes the controller with a grin and a nod, and Toge starts up the next round.  Yuuta had chosen Rosalina as his character, a favorite between them that they often fought over so much she was usually off limits when the two of them played.

Despite having a delayed start because Yuuta had finished the last race somewhere in the middle of the lineup, (y/n) makes a good comeback for the both of them.  He cheers for her, leaning forward in his seat again as though he were still focused on the game for his own win.  (y/n) remained in a relaxed position slumped back against him, her fingers moving with swift ease over the controller.

She giggled at the way Yuuta was on the edge of his seat, literally, sipping down the rest of her drink as he watched her play.  He threw out advice when she picked up items, and winced for her when she took a hit.

“Use that! Throw it! Throw it at-!” 

“Yuuta you’re being a backseat driver” (y/n) said calmly, keeping the red shell in her inventory despite his demands.  

Toge barks out a laugh, still coasting in first place without much competition from the computers.  But (y/n) was quickly gaining on him, drifting and gliding past the other spots with ease, and Yuuta began to realize her strategy.  With a knowing grin on his face he leans back into the couch again, and puts his faith in her abilities.

She kicked his ass most of the time when they played one on one anyways.

Soon enough she was in second place and Yoshi was in sight.  Yuuta’s hand happily tapped at her shoulder, giddy with his excitement.  Toge had gone eerily silent as he put all of his focus in remaining in first.  But his efforts were wasted, without an item to defend himself, (y/n) was able to take him out with one blow, stealing first place for herself and crossing the finish line on the final lap shortly after.

She raised her arms victoriously, but even more excited than her was Yuuta, who bragged in Toge’s face before wrapping his arms around his roommate and congratulating her on her win.  She laughed, her head falling back on his shoulder as she laughed at his antics.

He beamed at her, and even though it was silly, there was no doubt in her mind that his pride in her was anything but authentic.  Yuuta was just like that.  He celebrated even the most minor of conquests.

Toge tossed the controller onto the coffee table with a string of curses muttered under his breath.

“Good timing,” Maki calls, dangling her keys in her hand and catching their attention.  “Are you crashing here or are you leaving with us?” 

(y/n) lifts her head up from Yuuta’s shoulder, peeking over the back of the couch at the twins who suddenly had their shoes on.  She gives them a pout.

“Leaving so soon?” 

“We’ve been here for eight hours” Mai giggles.

“It’s one in the morning you maniac” Maki rolls her eyes.

“You could just spend the night,” (y/n) offers, her features brightening up at the idea.  “Sleepover-!” 

“No,” Maki shakes her head firmly, despite Mai’s excited expression at the idea.  “We have class in the morning, we’ll do it another time, okay?” 

(y/n) nods, satisfied with that answer.

Toge shuffles off the couch, giving a bitter congratulations to the winning pair of mariokart, although he made it clear to Yuuta that he only won because (y/n) took over.

They bid their friends goodbye, promising to meet up again at some point soon, knowing fully well they wouldn’t make a plan, and someone was bound to show up on their doorstep without invitation tomorrow or the next day.

And then it was just (y/n) and Yuuta.

She was still tucked under his arm, he was still drinking the remnants of the drink she’d made for herself but had conveniently forgotten about so he could have the last of it.

“Are you going to bed, too?” She asks him, and he chuckles at her desire for staying up late.

They’d always been opposites in that aspect.  

(y/n) was a night owl through and through, whether party mode was on or not.  She was most productive when the sun went down.  It wasn’t odd to find her studying or doing chores at odd hours of the night.  He’d actually had to tell her she couldn’t vacuum in the middle of the night, claiming she was going to make their neighbors complain.  But it was a treat for him to wake up and find the apartment spotless and organized.

Meanwhile Yuuta was an early to rise kind of guy.  He had a decent morning routine for himself that involved an alarm going off at eight in the morning every morning, and it wasn’t often he broke that routine.  He’d be up for a few hours before (y/n) would drag herself out of bed and into the kitchen for breakfast- which was usually waiting for her on the counter.

“It is the middle of the night now,” He tells her, before checking his phone.  “Actually it’s not technically night anymore, it’s Friday morning”

(y/n) frowned at him.  He chuckles again.

“Fine, fine” (y/n) starts to sit up, but doesn’t go too far.  She pulls her legs onto the cushion beneath her, and then turns to face him properly.

For some reason when she looks up at him again, she’s brought back to her conversation with the Zen’in twins, and she can’t help but wonder what they would have advised her to do if she’d stuck around for the rest of their conversation.  She wondered if Yuuta had ever experienced this dilemma, or if she was the only one creating the tension in the apartment.  She wondered if he even felt it.

“Som’thin’ on your mind?” Yuuta asks after a few beats of silence pass.  His eyebrows furrow in the slightest, and (y/n’s) expression eases into something calmer.  She must’ve been thinking too hard, she supposes.

“Not really, just had a weird talk with Maki and Mai” She tries to brush it off as not a big enough deal worth talking about, but for some reason, this seems to catch his interest.

“Oh yeah?” He muses curiously.  “Don’t tell me they want to move in-” 

“No!” (y/n) let out a burst of laughter as she shook her head.  “Where did that come from? Where would they even stay?” She asks, gesturing to the small space around them.  Yuuta laughs with her, shrugging his shoulders.

“My thoughts exactly,” He agrees quietly, as though they were keeping it a secret just between them.  “But everyone hangs out here all the time, I don’t want them getting any ideas,” He says, half seriously.  “This is our sweet deal,”

Yuuta laughs again, but this time when she laughs along with him it’s soft, almost unsure.  Her heart flutters in her chest at the sentiment he shares for having this place with her.  Even after all this time, she feels relief in waves of warmth when he voices his happiness here.

“What is it then?” He asks.  He leans back into the couch cushion, but keeps his eyes on hers.  She tilts her head and hums in question.  “Your weird talk,” He reminds her, “What was it about?” 

“Oh,” (y/n) drops her gaze from his, her face warming up at the idea of admitting to him what they’d been talking about.

I’ve just been thinking about you shirtless a lot lately, and sometimes I can’t sleep over it just doesn’t seem to be an appropriate thing to say to a long time best friend who she now lives with.

“They were just asking questions about what it’s like to live together” She settles on a half lie.  They had been curious about the living situation.  She didn’t necessarily have to disclose that Mai found it unthinkable that they were able to share a living space and not tear each other’s clothes off… right?

“For us to live together?” Yuuta raises a brow.  (y/n) tucks her hands into her lap and nods.  

She tries to get comfortable leaning her back against the arm rest, but everytime his gaze falls on her, it feels heavier than usual, and she struggles to sit still.  Her hands fiddle in her lap, she squirms in her seat, and she can only hold his eye contact for a minute at a time.  Did he always look at her like that? She wondered when she dared to meet those deep blue irises again.  Was it the few drinks he’d had that made them look darker? Or was she seeing things? 

“Why was that so interesting?” He asks.  “I mean, it’s been six months,” 

Again, her heart flutters at the thought of him knowing exactly how long they’d been living together.  Or maybe she was being stupid and he was just keeping track of the rent.

“What’s so interesting about now?” 

(y/n) shrugs, a small smile on her face that she can’t help.  “I don’t know” 

But he sees through the statement, especially with that smile on her face that tells him there was more she wasn’t telling him.  Curiosity gets the best of him, and he raises a brow at her.

“Well,” He ponders, “What were they so curious about?” 

(y/n) drags her bottom lip between her teeth as she narrows her eyes at him, proving that she could read him well, too, and she could tell that he was trying to pry even though she’d been repeatedly dismissing the subject.

“Nosy tonight,” She scolds him as she kicks her legs out to throw them over his, stretching the sore muscles from sitting on her feet for too long.  “Were you eavesdropping, Okkotsu?” 

“No,” He lets out a small laugh.  “Though now I wish I had been, since you’re being unusually cryptic about it” 

“Unusual?” She repeats the word in a drawl, tilting her head and pretending to think it over.  “I wouldn’t say unusual,” She argues softly.  “I don’t tell you everything” 

“Yes you do” Yuuta replies matter of factly, his expression doesn’t even flicker.  (y/n) blinks at him.

“No…” 

“Oh yeah? Tell me something you haven’t told me then” He challenges, his lips curling into a smile.

She huffs, and quickly tries to rack her brain for something she’d kept from him.  Secrets and embarrassing moments fly through her train of thought as she tries to latch onto a memory that she was sure she hadn’t shared with him.

Her eyes light up as she finally remembers something she’s sure he didn’t know.

“Oh!” She leans forward with eager anticipation to prove him wrong.  “Remember my first boyfriend? In middle school?”

Yuuta raised a brow, but nodded in confirmation.

“On our first date, he took me out-” 

“Mhm,” Yuuta hums, recalling the details of that date without much thought at all.  “Bowling” He said calmly.

“Right,” (y/n) chuckles, flustering a bit that he already seemed to remember the event as easily as she had.  “Well, at the end of the date, when we were waiting outside for his mom to pick us up, he’d asked if he could kiss me while we were alone, before she got there,” Her words are a little slurred, which she was quick to mentally blame on the few drinks she’d had.  “But I told him n-” 

“- you told him no because you ate chili fries while you were bowling and you didn’t want him to taste it and then he kissed you anyways and you slapped him on instinct and he was a little whiner about it and said you did taste like chili fries and you smacked him again” Yuuta filled in the rest of the story, his head rested back against the cushion again, as though he was bored just from retelling it.

(y/n) blinked, her lips parting into an ‘o’ shape as she realized maybe he did know everything about her already.  Should it have been obvious to her from his confidence on that matter? Probably.  Did she still feel a determination to find something, anything, that he didn’t know? Definitely.

At her lack of response, Yuuta rolled his head to the side, a lazy smirk tugging on his lips when he regarded her soft surprise.  Her eyes narrow in the slightest at him, playful mockery of his know-it-all attitude.

“Well, then,” (y/n) scoffed as she took on a refreshed attitude when it came to rubbing in his face that she knew something he didn’t.  “I suppose you already knew that the twins were curious about how you and I seem to manage living together without some kind of netflix-romcom-level sexual tension” 

The teasing tone in her voice and eager gleam in her eye seem to disappear as soon as the words come out and she realizes what she’s just said.  In slow motion, and as her face falls into one of regret, she realizes two things.

One, that by addressing the sexual tension, whether it existed or not, it instantly thickened in the air.  All at once she’s aware of it.  Suddenly the weight of her legs in his lap is so heavy she feels a desire to curl up into him completely.  Yuuta has one arm draped over the back of the couch cushions in her direction, his hand hangs loosely just in front of her shoulder.  If she were to lean forward in the slightest movement, his fingers would graze her sweater.  His other hand lays on her knee, and sporadically he taps his index finger against it.  Sometimes she thinks he’s playing a familiar beat that’s been stuck in his head, too, but then he pauses and she loses track of figuring out what song that is.  Even her breathing is suddenly manual, and she’s afraid if she sucks in a breath too sharp, he’ll question it.  So she takes slow, shallow breaths, barely filling her lungs with oxygen.  Was that why she was getting so dizzy? 

Two, now that she’s admitted what her and the twins had been talking about earlier, (y/n) fears that she’ll have to confess that the reason they were talking about the sexual tension was because she’d created the sexual tension- and yet she had gone to them to blame him for it.

Yuuta blinks, his brows furrowing at first, as though to process the information, but he just as quickly relaxed his face and pursed his lips, giving her a small nod.

(y/n) doesn’t dare utter a word.  Instinct claws up her throat and begs her to take it back, make a joke and apologize to smooth it over and hopefully they’d never mention it again.  The words die before she can utter them.  She remains frozen beside him, focused on his every microexpression, hoping to figure out what he was thinking before he voiced it.

“I see,” He says, a small smile gracing his features that has her relaxing just a little bit.

Yuuta can feel her weight shifting as she sinks further into the couch cushion.  He could sense her nerves from a mile away, so he spoke carefully, hoping not to spook her into retreating early.

Comfortingly, his hand smooths over her knee, long fingers grazing her thigh from the short caress.

“I don’t think I would’ve guessed that,” He admits with a chuckle through his nose.  His eyes flicker over to hers, watching her closely.  Her cheeks are pink, and her gaze shifts between his eyes at a faster rate than usual.  She’s still anxious.  “But I can’t say I’m surprised” 

Her lips twitch with a curious emotion Yuuta can’t read as well as before.  Her brows pinch and then relax.  She’s reading him, he thinks.  His mind is a little hazy from the few drinks he’s had, so he might be seeing things that aren’t there, but he’s equally intrigued by the conversation.

“You don’t think it’s weird?” She asks.  Her voice is quiet, but he doesn’t mistake it for uncertainty.  In fact, he can tell just how genuinely interested she is in obtaining his thoughts.  Just as he is, she’s on the edge of her seat, and only pushing further to see where this new line of thought would lead them both.  “Living together, I mean” She clarifies, unnecessarily.

The pad of his finger taps against her knee, once, and then twice.  His lips purse and she watches the movement with her breath hitched in her throat.  The room was getting hot from the thickening tension that she’d created.  It was almost uncomfortable, her body screamed for her to get up from this couch, pull herself from where she was half draped over his lap and put as much distance between them while she still could.  She was approaching a line between them that she’d never even tiptoed across before, and she wasn’t sure what lied on the other side, but god, she was just dying to find out.

“Weird? Not in the slightest” Yuuta murmurs honestly.  She can tell from the way his eyes lock onto hers that he does mean it, and relief flooded her.  Before it came back in the form of excitement, and now her skin was buzzing everywhere that their bodies were touching.

“You’re not just saying that?” She double checks, leaning forward off of the arm rest to study him up close.  

They were already close enough, but there was a quiet desire in the back of her mind longing to push closer, until she could make out the individual swirls of blue in his irises.  Her lips curve into a soft, lovely smile as she admires him, and Yuuta fights the way his own breath chokes up in his throat.

“You really don’t think it’s weird we’ve never…” She trails off, her head shaking in a small movement, just enough to make a few stray hairs fall into her eyes.  “I dunno, like, even kissed or anything?” 

His eyes grow rounder at the question, widening just a little bit, but enough for her to notice.  She knew such a blunt question would make him nervous, Yuuta always grew nervous at any sort of romantic prospect.  He’d been that way since they were kids.  If he had a crush on someone it was obvious, but as soon as (y/n) would press about it, he’d get red in the face and begin to stutter.  It had always been cute, if not a little silly.  But now it had her curious as to why.  They’d been friends for so long, and even now that they were older, it was like his initial response to such questioning would make him shut down.

‘You could bring girls here, you know,’ She’d told him once, shortly after they’d settled into the apartment.  ‘I could even leave for the night.  Stay with the twins, or somethin.  That way it’s not weird’ 

He’d laughed, and given her a puzzled look, like the mere idea was ridiculous, like he didn’t even understand what she was suggesting.  The pink in his cheeks told her he knew fully well what she was saying.  She’d returned the confused look at the time.  ‘Don’t you want to bring girls here?’ She’d asked point blank.

‘N-no, well, maybe,’ His response was immediate but he had no clue what he was saying.  ‘I just haven’t thought about it’ He’d said instead.

She’d teased him for it, but dropped the subject.  It might’ve been entertaining to watch him squirm, but she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.  So she’d simply reminded him that it was alright with her.  Followed by, ‘I mean, you wouldn’t mind if I brought someone here, would you?’ 

He’d stared at her for a minute, his answer not as instantaneous as the last.  His heart lurched to his throat, or perhaps it had been bile, and he found himself biting down on his tongue to keep from speaking too quickly.  His expression hadn’t flickered even for a moment, remaining neutral as she stared at him, awaiting his response.

Yuuta hadn’t said a word.  He simply shook his head, and then left the conversation completely by returning to his studies, hoping that giving his attention back to his textbook would drop the topic.  It had worked, she’d moved on right away, and it hadn’t been brought up since.

Neither one of them had brought a visitor to the apartment, besides their friends who frequented regularly.  There were no dates, no lovers, no visitors of the night snuck in, or even mentioned.  Pondering it now, Yuuta supposes there were very few things she didn’t tell him.  Then again, he didn’t exactly have an interest in knowing those things.  In fact, the mere idea of it had bile rising in his throat.

Yuuta arched a brow at her, silently questioning her train of thought.  Since that conversation early on in their roommate-ship, (y/n) rarely brought up this sort of topic.  Occasionally she had a date, but nothing seemed to last longer than a couple of weeks, and she didn’t talk much about those events in detail.  Always beginning with a simple ‘I have a date tonight’ and later followed up with ‘it didn’t work out’ and a shrug as she’d cozy up to him on this very sofa.  Yuuta never met any of the people she’d go out with.  (y/n) never offered him to.  They left it that way, unspoken, and simple.

Well, it wasn’t all that simple at all.  The nights she’d spend out of the house on these mystery dates Yuuta found himself sitting frozen and staring off into space, letting time lapse slowly as he waited for her return.  A part of him hoped no one ever lingered at the door, so he wouldn’t have to see who it was she spent her time with, who it was that was her type.  

But another part of him, the part that he tried to bury deep down, longed to look one of these men in the eyes, just once.  He wouldn’t even say anything, he was sure he wouldn’t need to.  If he could get one good look at them, he was sure he could make it clear just how undeserving of her time they were.  Because at the end of the day, she had him, and she had him in every way that mattered.  Since they were children, he’d been there, showing her what true love really looked like, felt like.  He was there for every important event and milestone.  He was here now, sharing a living space with her.  And he’d be there for everything that came next.  Because he cared about her.  Because he loved her.

And when she had him the way that she did, wrapped around a perfectly manicured finger, how could anyone else be remotely deserving of her? 

The gears in Yuuta’s mind are operating as fast as they can, spinning and whirring as he tries to decipher where exactly she’s going with this.  But the alcohol in his system has him under a haze, and he realizes he has yet to give her an answer to her question.

He clears his throat, and his lips twitch into an amused smile as he locks eyes with her.

“Is kissing the true evaluation of roommates?” He asks, a teasing lilt to his voice that has her blushing and rolling her eyes at him.  

A chuckle rumbles from his chest as the back of her hand smacks into his shoulder, the action soft, as though she were trying to be gentle with him, as though he were fragile, even with his broad shoulders and lean muscle built into his body.

He can’t help but tease again, for the sole purpose of seeing her continue to fluster before him.  The idea of making her forget how to behave around him after all this time has his heart skipping a beat, and a mischievous glint flashes in his eyes.

“What exactly are the Zen’ins feeding you, hm?” He asks, and she struggles to look him in the eye now.

“I wasn’t trying to suggest- they just- they got in my head…” She huffs defeatedly, her bottom lip sticking outwards in a small pout.  Yuuta’s eyes catch the plump pink skin, and they linger there for a moment longer than they should’ve before meeting her gaze again.  Her eyes have noticeably widened, proving he’d been caught, but he doesn’t feel as much anxiety about it as he should have.

“So what,” He speaks curiously.  “Are you asking me to kiss you?”

A small laugh escapes her, a tinkly little sound that is exhaled with the breath she’d been holding.  Yuuta’s lips quirk upwards at the nervous response, his excitement getting the best of him the longer he watches her shift her gaze and fluster.  Why this had been on her mind, he didn’t quite understand, but in their current predicament, he didn’t care too much to peel it back layer by layer.

“I didn’t-” (y/n) starts to shake her head, but her uncertainty overcomes her and she tries to switch gears.  “I don’t know… I guess they made me sort of… curious” She admits bashfully.  Her eyes focus on her fiddling hands in her lap before turning the question onto him.  “Is that weird?” Her voice is quiet again.  “Have you ever… I dunno… thought about it?” 

The hand that he had resting before her shoulder reached out then, fingertips barely grazing along the soft material of her cable knit sweater.  His gaze followed the motion as his fingers twitched and moved further on their own accord, stopping at the hem of the neckline, just before skin could touch skin.  He looks back at her, surprised to find her attention locked on him again.

All of the fucking time, his brain is so loud it almost overpowers the heartbeat pouding in his ears.  I don’t think I’ve ever truly stopped thinking about you.

“I suppose you’ve got me thinking about it now” Is what he says, quiet and smooth, although the blush on his cheeks betrays him and makes him appear a little softer than he was going for.  (y/n’s) lips twitch into a smile nonetheless, relieved again that he hadn’t made a fool out of her for admitting such a thing.

When she leans closer to him, his fingers finally graze against the side of her neck, and he wastes no time in sliding his large hand around the nape of her neck, not quite pulling her any closer than she’d already brought herself, but the presence of his hand is firm, making sure she won’t distance herself too soon.

“Do you want to?” She asks, her eyes lighting up with an excitement he’d sparked as soon as he’d validated her curiosities.  Her voice holds the silly eagerness of a girl much younger than she is.  A schoolgirl with a crush, Yuuta thinks to himself as he eyes her bright eyes and slowly growing grin.

The hand on her knee flexes with anticipation, giving her leg a slight squeeze.  He wants to say all the right things, he wants to do all the right things, because jesus christ this was a once in a lifetime opportunity and Yuuta could not afford to waste even a second of it.  He wanted to commit it all to memory, her soft voice, the smell of her perfume, the curve of her lips, the stars in her eyes- there was so much of her to take in, and not nearly enough time for him to adore it all properly.  With hooded eyes he studied every feature as best he could, wishing he could slow down time, or even freeze it altogether.

“Yeah,” He mumbles, and the word drawls out of his mouth in a long sigh as his eyes move between hers and her lips with a longing she’d never seen on him before.

If she didn’t know any better, (y/n) might have thought that look was desperation.

“Yeah, I want to,” He repeats a little louder, and he moves closer to her then, invading her space and clouding all of her senses with him.

His eyes, dark from how blown out his pupils had grown, his low almost raspy voice, the lingering remains of his musky cologne, the way his tongue barely poked out of his mouth to wet his lips- her heartbeat was racing, and her hand trembled as she reached out to place it against his collarbone.  Her touch was feather light, almost experimental despite having touched him on plenty of occasions before, just never quite like this.

Her long lashes flickered quickly as she too struggled with where to look.  When their gaze caught in passing, Yuuta gave the back of her neck a gentle squeeze, silently instructing her to hold his stare.

“You’re sure?” He asks softly, and she almost laughs at how thoughtful the question is.  How thoughtful he is.  But she doesn’t.  Instead, she gives him a sweet smile and a shrug of her shoulders.

“It’s just a kiss, right?” She murmurs, blissfully unaware of just how worked up Yuuta’s gotten himself over the prospect of just a kiss.  

He doesn’t wait for further confirmation.  He simply draws her closer by the back of her neck.  Her eyes flutter shut and she tilts her chin forward in the most miniscule of movements, and yet he can read her anticipation with ease.

Her breath hitches in her throat, and Yuuta’s closing the rest of the distance as his lips touch hers.

For half a second they’re both frozen, paralyzed by the sudden fear that there was no taking this back, there was no going back from this.  (y/n’s) blood ran cold in that brief moment, worried that Yuuta also realized this was a grave mistake.

But then his mouth moves over hers.  His warm lips catch hers with a soft yet determined kiss, and she gives into every temptation that consumes her.

Her hand presses into his chest a little harder, before her fingers are curling into the soft cotton of his tee shirt.  Her other hand falls against his shoulder when he tugs her closer in a moment of thoughtless desire.  Yuuta pulls her by her knee, sliding her closer until her legs drape completely across his, the curve of her ass flush with his thigh.  As soon as he does it he panics again that he’s made a mistake and taken this experiment of a kiss too far, but she responds so eagerly, with a quiet hum against his mouth and her hand curling around his neck as she deepens their kiss.

For a kiss on a whim between friends, (y/n) kisses him with the fervor of a woman starved, and Yuuta internally struggles on where the boundary between them currently lies.  His hand twitches on her thigh, squeezing the plush of her leg and aching to move, to explore the rest of her warm and inviting body, to touch her everywhere he could reach.  He has to hold her a little tighter just to fight the urge.

(y/n) is less worried about taking strides across the gray area of a boundary between them.  The hand on his neck slides into his hair, scratching at his scalp before her fingers tangle into the dark tresses.  She gives it a small tug, and his lips part against hers as he gasps, before chuckling quietly at her curiosity.  He feels her smile against him before she’s pressing closer again.  Her tongue darts over his swollen bottom lip, and she gives him no time to react to the hot and wet sensation before she’s capturing his lips again.

Yuuta wasn’t sure what he should’ve predicted when they’d drunkenly admitted to sharing a curiosity for kissing one another, but he hadn’t expected this.  Her hands have a tight hold on him, on his shirt and in his hair, and her sweet, cranberry flavored lips feel relentless as she slots them into his again and again.  He supposes he’s treating this little experiment the same, meeting each of her kisses with the same amount of heated excitement.  He tries not to think about when he’s supposed to stop, when he’s supposed to pull away and say ‘well that answers that.  Goodnight!’.  So for now he pretends that moment won’t come.

On the other hand, (y/n) knows she should stop.  She knows she should pull away from his addictive lips and release her shackles from him before she gets carried away.

But she’s already too far gone, isn’t she?

Shakily, she releases his shirt, and her hand blindly maps across his shoulder, then down his arm.  Her touch is light but the tips of her fingers burn across his skin.  His muscles are taut, and she wonders if he’s flexing to be impressive or if he’s filled with so much anticipation he’s fighting the urge to go further.  When her hand reaches his it stills, and she presses her palm into the back of his hand where it lies on her leg.

A shudder escapes her and she pants softly into his mouth, breaking their kiss as she grabs his hand a little tighter, and moves it.

Yuuta breaks away instantly, wide eyes meeting hers and an apology on the tip of his tongue.  But before she can pull his hand away from her, he realizes she’s holding it to place it somewhere else, not to pull it away.

She blinks her eyes open lazily as she sits up further, curving one of her legs across his lap, setting her knee down beside his hip.  Yuuta follows her movements in a daze, his hooded eyes flitting across her body as he watches her straddle his lap and settle back into him carefully.  She’s slow, agonizingly slow, giving him ample time to halt her, to say the word that he was done and his curiosity had been satiated.

He doesn’t.

Her hand pushes his again, guiding it up to her waist, and then down over her hip.

“This okay?” She mumbles, and his gaze moves from where she’s still lowering his hand.  He tilts his head back as he looks up at her, and the look in his eyes has her melting right in his lap.  Her free hand spreads out over his chest, fingers stretching as far as she can reach to feel as much of his heated skin through his tee shirt as she could.

He looks at her with his pupils so blown they almost eat up every last splash of blue in his irises.  His lips are swollen and parted as he takes in quiet, heavy breaths.  He nods at her lazily, drunkenly, and she wonders if it’s from the alcohol or from her.

When she pushes his hand under her ass, she doesn’t have to guide him any further.  He squeezes into the supple flesh right away.  She giggles quietly before his other hand is pulling her into him again and smashing her lips against his.

They’re much closer now, it had taken little to no effort for him to pull her into his chest, and their hips collided at the sudden movement.

All she thinks about as she tangles her hands in his hair and parts her lips for his tongue to lazily explore her mouth are those couple of times she’s caught him in a towel fresh out of the shower.  How she’d scurried into her room and tried to ease her mind of the dark thoughts he’d made blossom.  She thinks about how there hadn’t been anything to quite satisfy those thoughts.  Ignoring them did nothing, acting on them in the safety of her room and her hand down her panties made them worse, and even now she feels tortured by the image, making her ache for more, more, more.  Nothing was quite enough.

His teeth sink into her bottom lip and she whimpers, her brows pinching as her hips stutter against her will.  She feels as though she should apologize for grinding on him so shamelessly, she could feel what this makeout session was doing to him after all, but he doesn’t seem to want an apology.  His hands grip her hips and he pulls her down again, dragging her slowly over the growing hardness in his pants with a low groan.

The guttural sound reverberating from his chest only spurs her on, and she complies with the rhythm he sets on her hips, slow and painful.  Their kiss breaks as she lets out a few soft pants, but she never fully catches her breath as she grinds into him.

She can’t help but peek her eyes open at him, falling in love with the way his eyes are screwed shut and his lips are parted as small moans fall from his mouth.  The sight makes something spark send a jolt of pleasure down her tummy and to her core.  She knew she should’ve given him a quick peck of the lips and called it a night, because she’s not sure she could muster the strength to stop where she so desperately wanted this to go.

As though annoyed that she’d stopped kissing him for too long, Yuuta pulls her in again, his hand curling around the back of her neck as his lips plant hot kisses down her throat.  A high pitched gasp escapes her as his mouth drags along her skin between each kiss, and her hands are curled into his long hair again.  Her hips stutter in their pace, but he has no issue with grabbing them tighter and guiding them back through his favorite rhythm.

His mouth lingers at what little of her collarbones are exposed, leaving wetter kisses there as he appreciates them as fully as he could, before traveling up the side of her neck.  His teeth barely graze the sensitive skin, and he’s dying to mark up every inch of her, but he restrains himself from doing so, instead compromising for lingering nips and gentle sucks against her skin.

“So fucking beautiful,” He praises in a husky murmur, biting down on a particularly sensitive spot just under her jaw.  He’s rewarded with a sudden rut of her hips and a pretty little moan as she angles her head further back to expose more of her neck to him.  He soothes the spot with a painfully slow drag of his tongue before kissing it sweetly.  “So perfect, so perfect f’me” 

The praise sends her into a dizzy spell so strong she’s not sure she’s still on earth with him.  This must be another universe, maybe heaven, maybe a dream.  Her fingers fall from his hair, tugging at the collar of his shirt with an irritated whine.

When she tugs a few more times and he doesn’t get the hint, she throws her hands against his chest defeatedly.

“Yuu” She whines, and the sound of his name has his dick twitching in his pants, which he’s certain she could feel.  His face flushes with embarrassment, but she just as quickly grinds into him with a roll of her hips.

He hums questioningly against the side of her neck, before tilting his head and kissing his way to the other side to give it attention too.  She sighs, half irritated, half pleasured, as he sweeps her hair to the other shoulder with one brush of his hand.  (y/n) continues to paw at his shirt, bunching up as much material at his shoulders as she could, her desperate attempts were weak, barely exposing the skin of his abdomen.  When he still didn’t comply with her unspoken desire, she opted to reach for the skin that she could get her hands on.

Yuuta’s abs tensed and he shuddered as her fingers ghosted over the exposed skin.  At first she barely trailed her fingertips over the muscle, but watching him twitch and shiver had her eager to slide her hands up his stomach, eagerly mapping their way up his chest, and pushing the rest of his shirt upwards on their mission.

His face is completely red as he watches her heavy gaze admiring his body.  He wants to laugh and remind her that she’s seen him without a shirt many times before now, and he’s never seen her look at him like this, but her eyes are darkened with lust and his voice is stuck in his throat, so he doesn’t say anything.

Instead, when the hem of his tee shirt is bunched up at his chest, he leans forward off the couch cushion, and takes his hands off of her hips so he could grab his shirt from the back, lifting it over his head in one quick yank.  (y/n) watches with her lip between her teeth as his hair falls back in his face, and he’s left shirtless before her.

The idea of slowing this down now is far from either of their minds.  She hums with appreciation as her hands smooth along his collarbones, fingers drawing loopy shapes into his skin as they travel down his chest, slowly exploring the skin she’d been fantasizing about for weeks now.  His blush runs down his neck and stops just short of his collarbones, and (y/n) admires every inch of it.

Eventually her stare is too intense and Yuuta begins to stir, wrapping his hands around her hips once more to pull her against his chest before his lips meet hers.  It’s a slow kiss at first, and her tongue brushes over his in a way that almost feels sweet.  He could still taste the vodka and cranberry juice in her mouth, and he swears it's enough to get him buzzed.  But as his hands climbed her hips and dipped below the hem of her sweater, she picked up her pace, and he could feel quick puffs of air from her nse hitting his cheek.

She’s getting worked up again, and he’s eager to see just how far he could push her before she gives in completely.

He pulls her in close enough that her hands dart back into his hair, gripping at the back of his head tight enough that he couldn’t tear his lips from hers if he wanted to.  Not that he’d want to, with how drunkenly she’s sucking at his lower lip and whimpering into his mouth with every roll of her hips.

Learning she’s so vocal when she’s turned on was a mistake on Yuuta’s part.  Because now all he longed to do was find all the right things that made her tick and do it more.  Every strained whine and whimper was music to his ears, wordless praise that he was doing something right, and he’d be damned before he found every spot that had her making those sweet noises for him.

Calloused hands roam over her abdomen, feeling it dip as she inhales sharply, and smirking against her mouth when he reaches higher, skimming the hem of her bra.

Unlike him, she wastes no time at all.  Leaning back from their kiss abruptly, and grabbing her oversized sweater from the bottom and pulling it over her head with great urgency.  Yuuta’s eyes fall to her chest instantly, wide and eager as they take in the simple red bra and how pretty the color makes her tits look.  The thin lace on the edges complimenting the swell of her chest so beautifully he hopes he commits this image to memory.

Now it’s her turn to fluster and blush while he unabashedly stares.  And she could tease him, remind him that he’s seen her in a bikini, that this was the same amount of skin he’s been gifted to see before, but she finds herself growing bashful under his heavy gaze.  She can feel the way his eyes take a mental picture of her before he finally leans forward to enjoy the exposed skin further.

“Fuck,” He mumbles, lips brushing over her clavicle before kissing downwards, between the valley of her breasts.  “You really are s’fucking beautiful, y’know that?” His words are slurred as his hands roam up her sides and hesitate just before reaching her chest.  “Can I touch you, pretty girl?” 

The praise and pet name swirl in her mind in a sweet haze that gets her high.  She gives a soft mhm and a nod of her head before his hands gently cup over her chest, squeezing with a surprising softness into the warm flesh.  Yuuta continues to kiss along the exposed skin he could reach, her collarbones, the swell of her tits, her shoulders, his lips dragged over every inch, making sure to disperse his attention diligently.  

“So beautiful,” He sings praises between each kiss, noticing the way it has her squirming in his lap.  “So perfect, every part of you” 

He grabs her hands by the wrists, pulling them up to his shoulders, until her fingers twitch and reach for his hair again.  Her hips roll over his with a quiet moan.  He lifts his head at the noise, a lazy smirk on his lips as he gazes up at her.  She furrows her brows at him as she moves her hips again, trying to get more friction between them.

His hands squeeze her tits simultaneously, before his left thumb drags over the thin material covering them, finding her hardened nipple with ease and rolling over it teasingly.

“Yuuta,” She sighs, tilting her head at him as her gaze drags slowly down his body, the desire in her eyes obvious.  

It made the room thick with sexual tension, and they both only grew hotter in temperature the longer this was dragged out.  When her eyes met his again it was undeniable what she was thinking.  Her every want and desire was clear solely from her eyes focused on his, and how her fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him close to her face, but not quite kissing him.

His hands slid up her chest, fingertips prodding at the lacy cups of her bra until it gave way and he could slide his hands over the soft skin beneath.  Her bottom lip quivers with what she wants to say next.

“Yuu, I-” 

A sharp rap of a fist against their door has them jolting back to reality with a harsh swivel of both heads turning towards the sound.  Without thought Yuuta’s hands fall to her waist and he pulls her into him, instinctively covering her barely exposed body if someone was to let themselves into the apartment.  But the door doesn’t move, and the knocking persists.

“What the- it’s two in the morning,” (y/n) mumbles with a brow furrowed in confusion.  “Who could-?” 

The pair lock eyes as realization floods over them at the same time.  Oh.

“Shit” Yuuta curses, and (y/n) quickly scurries off of his lap as she begins searching for their discarded articles of clothing.  

Yuuta’s faster, tossing her a shirt and pulling one on for himself as he gets up off the couch and quickly heads for the door.  He glances down at his pants with a wince, trying to adjust the obvious hard on, but to no use.  He tugs as far as he can at the hem of his sweater to cover it.  It’s a half decent job, and as he approaches the door he hopes it’s enough to hide it.  He gives (y/n) a quick look to make sure she was decent.

She’s still sitting on the couch, her head peeking over the cushions curiously as he goes to open the door.  Her hair is a mess, and her cheeks are flushed, both obvious giveaways to what she’s been up to for the last fifteen minutes.  Yuuta’s sure he doesn’t look any better, and his hands rush to his head to smooth his hair down before he finally grabs the door knob and swings it open.

“What?” He greets Toge with more annoyance than usual, and the blonde on the other side of the door raises a brow at the tone.

Lavender eyes sweep over Yuuta’s flushed face and messy hair.  He points into the apartment, vaguely towards the living room.  Yuuta steps aside, letting his friend in for whatever it was he’d forgotten.

Toge gives (y/n) a friendly smile and waves as he strides into the living room.  She returns the smile with weak lips.

Their visitor grabs a hoodie off of the arm chair to the left of the couch, something neither (y/n) or Yuuta had noticed left behind.  He shrugs it on and stuffs his hands into the cozy fleece-lined pocket with a satisfied smile before waving goodbye to (y/n) and walking out of the room just as quickly.

“Sorry I didn’t notice it sooner,” Yuuta says sheepishly as Toge passes.  “I could’ve brought it to you tomorrow” 

Toge waves a dismissive hand, before twirling his finger around and shrugging.  He must’ve still been in the area, Yuuta realizes.

He’s about to step out the door and leave without a catch, but he hesitates just as he steps over the threshold, his eyes doing a double take as he notes the dark green cable knit sweater Yuuta’s wearing.

His eyes linger on the article of clothing, brows pinching with familiarity, before he lifts his gaze to Yuuta’s, who’s also suddenly aware of the shirt he was wearing.

Before he can stop himself, Yuuta’s head is swiveling to where (y/n) was still watching them both from the couch.  She’s sporting a tee shirt too loose on her frame to be hers.  Toge follows Yuuta’s gaze, his eyes widening with realization.

“Anyways!” Yuuta clears his throat as he turns back to Toge with a grin so forced his cheeks hurt.  “I’ll see you later?” 

Toge opens his mouth, a grin of his own forming and a small laugh coming from his throat, but before anything could be said, Yuuta was ushering him through the rest of the doorway, already trying to shut the door in his face.

“Yeah, later, goodnight, Toge!” 

The door closes a little harsher than he meant it to, the frame shaking as the latch clicks into place.  Yuuta locks it just as quickly, before groaning and hitting his head against the wood.  It felt like his heart was beating in his throat.  He worried he might throw up from the anxiety coursing through his veins.

“That was close,” (y/n) says quietly, just loud enough for him to hear.  

He’s too anxious to look at her.  He squeezes his eyes shut and stays put against the door.  Distantly, he remembers his dick is still hard.

He can hear (y/n) stirring, getting up from the couch and padding closer to him.  She pauses just before she reaches him.

“Do you think he noticed the shirts?” She asks quietly.

Yuuta sighs, finally lifting his head from the door only to throw it back and stare at the ceiling.  He doesn’t want to see how worried he’s sure his expression looks.  He doesn’t want her to get the wrong idea about the regret pooling in his stomach.

“Probably” He admits in a quiet groan.

(y/n) shuts her eyes as she winces, covering her face with her hands.

The tension in the room is no longer due to sexual desire overtaking their inhibitions.  It was awkward.  Painfully awkward.

“I feel so stupid,” She mumbles into her hands.

Yuuta’s head snaps towards her, taking in the shame in her body language.  His heart sinks towards his stomach.  Had they made a massive mistake? (y/n) drags her hands down her face before looking up at him, her brows drawn together with a knot of worry between them.  Had he made a massive mistake? 

“I am so- I’m so sorry,” She tells him weakly.  “I shouldn’t have- that was- I was-” 

She can’t even finish a thought, much less an explanation on how ridiculously impulsive and embarrassing that was.  Her face is growing pale and she feels sick to her stomach.  She couldn’t believe she’d just ruined one of the greatest friendships she’s ever had over a silly conversation with the Zen’in twins about a silly crush.  She couldn’t believe she’d just ruined the perfect living situation with the perfect roommate over a crush that probably would've gone away on it’s own had she just handled it maturely.

“It’s okay-” He starts to say, trying to find the right way to explain to her that he wasn’t upset in the slightest about what happened between them.  He’d only been embarrassed about practically getting caught.  He knew their friends well, and he was sure that Toge wasn’t the only one to notice the swap of shirts.  Surely Maki and Mai had already been given an earful about the whole ordeal.

Before he can say anything else, (y/n’s) cutting him off.

“I should go to bed,” Her voice is too soft to overpower his, but he shuts up as soon as she speaks.  “I’m… I’m really sorry, Yuuta,” 

His eyebrows furrow as he takes in her sad, apologetic eyes.  She really meant it.  She really felt guilt over what had happened.  His stomach twists with disturbance, and fear.

“Please forgive me, I… I hope you can forget about… that” 

Forget? No…

But she’s turning away from him, running her hands through her hair in a stressful manner as she quickly darts for her room.  Yuuta’s left standing at their door, wide eyed and open mouthed in his shock.

Did that all really just happen? 

His palm comes up to cover his mouth, the realization settling into his bones and making his blood run cold.

God, it did, it really did.

He’s slow as he puts the switch remotes back on the console to charge, before turning off all the lights and going to his own room.  He unzips his pants and kicks them off somewhere in his room before crawling into bed, not bothering to change into something proper to sleep in, or take off the sweater he’d accidentally stolen.  He lays on his back, eyes focused on the blank ceiling of his bedroom as he replays it all over and over in his mind.

(y/n) also sits awake in her bedroom.  But she’s far from frozen.  She repeatedly kicks the covers off herself before tugging them back on, undecided on if she was hot or cold.  She’d abandoned her pants and laid awake in Yuuta’s tee shirt, the scent of his cologne and something else that was distinctly him still clinging to the fabric.  Tears welled in her eyes as she curled in on herself, hugging her pillow to her chest in a desperate attempt to seek comfort.

Neither one of them gets much sleep. ___

xoxo ~ jordie

[gaybae1021]

Spent way too much time thinking about a backstory for Shane, and ended up drawing a ton of it. Enjoy!

Shane grew up in a rough family. Not outright abusive, but his parents never really had concern for him outside of his basic needs. He spent as much time as he could out of the house with his friends. For the sake of simplicity ill call them John and Jane. They all grew up in the same neighborhood, and had similar parental issues, so stuck together closely. They had a bad reputation at school and often got into trouble with the law for petty teenage crimes, but despite all the strife they were thick as thieves.

The only family member he was close to was Marnie. He would usually spend the summers with her, and despite complaining about working on the ranch, he secretly appreciated that Marnie trusted him with responsibilities, since everyone back home considered him nothing but a trouble maker. After graduating high school he brought John and Jane to meet Marnie, and the three had a great summer there.

John and Jane had been dating since high school, but after graduation their relationship became more serious. Shane was not as lucky with love, but was still happy for his friends. Despite their rough upbringing, as they matured John and Jane wanted to make something of themselves, find some kind of stability. Shane honestly didn’t have that drive, but went along with it to stay close with his friends. They all found okay jobs in the city and pitched in to get a decent apartment together.

After a few years John and Jane tried to have a baby, but were unsuccessful. They asked Shane to be a donor. He was hesitant but eventually agreed, and the ensuing pregnancy was successful, with Jane giving birth to Jas. They made Shane her godfather, but all agreed telling her or their friends would be too complicated, so kept her bio relation to Shane secret.

After a few months in the apartment John and Jane felt it wasn’t the best environment to be raising a baby. They moved into a home of their own, forcing Shane to find new roommates. Though they kept in touch, he felt some bitterness that helping them have a baby had inadvertently pushed them away. That never translated to bitterness towards Jas though, he loved being her “cool uncle” figure.

It had been a few months since he’d seen them when he received a letter in the mail informing him that Jane and John had died in a car accident. They had left their house and custody of Jas to Shane. Shane was destroyed by the news, but knowing the only other option for Jas was John/Jane’s parents or foster care, he did his best to step up. Though with his mental state, his best was far from enough.

After a few months of missed mortgage payments, losing his job, and a large amount of money spent on alcohol, a case worker came knocking on his door, warning him that if the situation didn’t change, they would need to find another arrangement for Jas. Out of options, he reached out to Marnie, who agreed to take them in. Her stable position in the town was enough to reassure the case worker. They moved in with her, with Marnie agreeing to help with Jas financially provided Shane kept up on rent and got a job. But with many of the town businesses struggling as it was, the only place hiring was JojaMart. Despite being in a steady place, his grief and fear of failing with Jas took its toll on his mental health.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Within Reach

Prompt Day 5: Winter Sports | Word Count: 846 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: AU, Olympic AU, Sports AU, Doubles Luge, Childhood Friends, Secret Relationship, Steve Harrington Has Good Parents

The run is adrenaline-pumping, and makes his nerves stand on end, even all these years later, as he hurtles down the ice track.

But the launch? That's the actual terrifying part.

Getting it right, setting yourself up for a good run or a bad one, that's the part that Eddie hates.

He fell into this sport by accident, literally. Steve was the one that was signed up for the Slider Search by his parents, and Eddie just tagged along to watch. When he was asked if he wanted to do it, too, he said sure because it looked like a thrill ride. 

It wasn't ice, just pavement, but hell yeah, eleven-year-old Eddie Munson wasn't about to turn down the chance to do some daredevil shit.

The rest, as they say, is history.

Two kids from Hawkins, Indiana, on the Junior National Team, and now, Team USA.

It was unlikely, and has made for a great puff piece leading up to the Games. Everybody wants to know about the childhood friends, turned pro. Wanted to know if they hated each other yet, after living, breathing, being joined at the hip for this many years.

They don't. 

That's why this works.

Solo riders, turned doubles, because you can't manufacture the kind of trust they have in each other. Eddie is a bottom man, at least on the sled, and that means he can't see. Can't do anything, other than be along for the ride. 

But he's always been along for the ride with Steve Harrington, and he just has to trust that Steve won't steer them into certain death. 

Steve hasn't yet. 

He's steered them lots of places together, from childhood, to careers, to this love that they've tucked away and kept just for themselves.

Of course, there have been gnarly crashes, it's just the way of the sport, but when they're lucky they can turn a wreck into a controlled crash and walk away to slide again tomorrow.

He'll never forget the first time they took their newly learned skills to actual ice. It was electric. 

He never, ever could have afforded an Olympic run on his own. Wayne didn't have the money, only the love, and Eddie never would have dared to dream to ask for more from him. But the Harringtons just folded him into the budget, as if they'd always planned to have two Olympians, not one. 

Buying double the sleds, double the suits, double everything. Year after year, until they made it high enough in the ranks that their equipment was partially, then fully, covered by USA Luge. Still, the Harringtons help pay the rent for their nice apartment, and deposit money into both of their bank accounts on the regular. 

He'll never be able to repay them.

But they've never asked him to.

Steve's independent, always has been, and they've let him take the reins on his life from way younger than most do. But they were there. In the background, nudging him the right direction, and by association, Eddie, too.

The run's over, and it wasn't good enough. Getting up to their feet, Eddie wants to break the ice. Wants to tamper the stinging sadness of defeat, even if they were prepared for this to happen. They weren't front-runners. Not yet. They've worked their way up the pyramid from the bottom of the Junior National Team to the top, then starting over again at the bottom of the Senior National Team heap, until they got here. Chosen for Team USA for the fucking Olympics. 

That's wild. Crazy. Still unbelievable.

"They think we're fucking," Eddie says under his breath, waving to the crowd, just wanting to make Steve laugh.

"We are fucking," Steve hisses back through his plastered on smile.

"Yeah, but they don't know that."

Steve laughs, a real laugh, not the one he puts on for the public, and it makes Eddie grin. They didn't place. They won't make the podium, turn five was too tricky, and it just didn't go their way this time. 

At least they didn't eat shit and die. 

Next time, maybe they'll do better. With more practice. More time in the start house, the weight room. There's room for improvement. And the time. They're young. Younger than most, and they have plenty of time to peak.

They'll do it. Eddie knows it. Because Steve does everything he sets his mind to. Always has, always will.

It won't be hard to commit another four years to training, as long as he gets to do it with Steve. Still chasing their dream. The one they've had since they were little kids and playing on snow sleds up on Turn Back Hill. 

And then they aren't alone anymore.

The first one to grab him is Wayne, and right after, Mama H. They're happy, all of them. Nobody is disappointed that they finished out of the top ten.

They made the Olympics. 

They've got the time, the drive, the desire, to finish higher next time. And maybe then, when they're four years older, the podium will be within reach.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun! 🛷

Notes: Slider Search is real, and started in the US in 1985. Since 2002, at least 70% of Team USA came from Slider Search! That's pretty cool that such an open tryout event is proven to produce Olympians. I feel like that's probably not true for most Olympic sports!

[wingzie]

Home - Mi Casa

On 20th December, my flat flooded. This was due to a fault in the flat above, which caused water from their boiler to vastly flow into my flat. This happened for about six hours until someone came to fix the problem. The only way I can describe it is like watching a waterfall of warm water cascade across my entire flat. It will probably come to no surprise that, after the event was over, my flat was deemed unlivable due to the water damage. I have since also had to throw out most of my furniture and belongings. After having a somewhat stressful Christmas at my Mother’s, I came back knowing that I was effectively homeless and I have been living at a hotel for over a month now. My current stay is until the end of March, but I have been warned that the work in my flat might take up to June to complete. Which is somewhat poetic, if it will take that long. All of this has got me thinking about one thing though: What classes as a home? I have mentioned before how, due to my parents work, my childhood involved moving location every couple of years. I thought this was “the norm” and just went along with it. Even when my parents divorced. When my Mother wanted to move closer to her own family, she asked if I wanted to move to somewhere near her. Or stay closer to work. I chose the later option and found a lovely place to rent near work. Where I had just been promoted at the time. Things were going well and I wanted to use this opprtunity to start my own life.

Lockdown happened shortly afterwards, so I missed a big chunk of getting to know the area and the local people. However, I made up for it later on with community work and have since made some amazing friends. These include army and non army and this is where I consider myself very lucky. Though I am still having nightmares and my mental health isn’t the greatest right now, the kindness of people around me since the flood has been incredible. 

I have several colleagues who fight over who will do my washing or bring me meals. Some friends have invited me to their houses. The belongings which survived are scattered around different houses in storage. People often check in on me. And I try to do what I can in return to thank them. It’s a big part of what makes a community a community. And thus what makes the community a secure part of a home. It keeps things going even if one falls down or needs support.

In terms of BTS, we have seen Yoongi be afraid of moving in the past. Jungkook mentioned the members being back together in BV4. How the members congregated together during ITS or at hotels whilst on tour. No matter where they go or no matter how long apart, they make it work or lift each other up. The same goes for their group chat too or hearing each other's voices on the phone. As long as they are together, they are able to keep going as a team. And in part of that, I am also very grateful that Jimin and Jungkook have each other right now. 

Not being in your physical home throws you completely off balance, but knowing you have that connection with others and the love around it goes a long way. And that is what makes a home. Note: I know this is very different than what I normally post, but I have had this in my drafts for a while and decided I might aswel share it. Talking about how traumatic the last month has been is somewhat helpful to and I would like to thank everyone who has reached out, offered helped or been so understanding about my lack of post schedule. Much Love, Becca xx

[evans23]

Falling

Pairing : Hans Gruber x Reader OC

Summary : In the remanence of winter, Hans makes an unexpected encounter, which will bring a bit of peace in his chaotic life. Unfortunately, there is no happy ending for a man like him. 

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : Smut. Angst. No happy ending here.

A/N : Enjoy dear reader 😁

Part II

Also read on AO3

It was a chilly afternoon in the middle of Spring in Kensington Park. It was your favorite park, even though you didn't really know why. After all, according to your parents, all the parks in London looked the same, but you disagreed with this assumption.

Also, you were slightly biased as you worked as a saleswoman in the little shop adjacent to the palace. You didn't like your job, but you loved the castle and its history. In fact, your dream was just in front of the park, in the form of a school called Royal College of Art. Unfortunately, after having got your A-level, you didn't succeed in getting a scholarship and your parents were unable to finance your study. Therefore, you started to work for a local McDonald's, and then, you found yourself lucky to get a job in the souvenir shop of the castle, thanks to a relative who ceaselessly reminded you what you owed him as the job was well-paid and not as tedious as your previous one. More than often, the customers, tourists for most of them, were far more agreeable than the ones who frequented the fast food, and you didn't stink of the greasy fries each night when you came back to your cramped apartment.

Also, the uniform was more comfortable and flattering than the horrendous one you had to wear and you could let your curly hair hang down your back without being reprimanded by your boss who was afraid of seeing one of your unruly hairs in the middle of a bag of fries. On the other hand, what should have been temporary had become permanent and while all you're friends were breezing through their plan life, you struggled to keep your own life on track.

That day, you had finished your shift in the early afternoon and as you weren't ready to face the loneliness of your life, all alone in your small apartment with a too expensive rent for so few rooms, you had decided, despite the coldness, to sit on a bench in the Walk of Flower to read one of your favorite book: "Notre Dame de Paris" from Victor Hugo.

You didn't notice the stranger who sat on the bench next to yours. You were too engrossed in your book for that and anyway, the park was well frequented by many people, locals, residents, or tourists for you to really notice them. 

However, there weren't too many tourists at this time of the year. It was still too cold and rainy. It will change in less than one month. The park, the street, and the castle would be crowded for six months or more until the winter settled anew, a welcomed calmness around the venue but also in the busyness of your work.

During the summer, you didn't have any time for your hobbies as it was busy as it get at each hour of each day. You often worked more than eight hours a day as you were always willing to help your overworked colleagues either in the shop, the little coffee, or at the reception, diligently searching the bags with your little flashlight, looking for anything suspicious or sharp.

“Love is like a tree: it grows by itself, roots itself deeply in our being, and continues to flourish over a heart in ruin,” said the stranger in a thunderous voice and with a perfect French if it hadn’t been for his slight accent.

Startled, you looked up at him. He was tall, his broad shoulders and his black hair adding something quite intimidating to his natural charisma. He also had a hooked nose which was nothing short of engrossing.

"I apologize," he said, now speaking in English, "it wasn't my intention to frighten you..." 

"[Y/N]," you said, your voice shaking a little bit.

He chuckled at that. He knew what effect he had on women.

“Nice to meet you, [Y/N]. I am Hans.”

He didn't know why he had given you his real name. Not that he was hiding in London. Actually, he owned a humongous and beautiful property only 30 minutes by car from the park. It was a secure place where he came after a rough mission or when he needed to vanish into thin air for his own sake.

“You're not from here,” you said, having recognized a foreign accent.

“Indeed,” said Hans who got up.

You looked at him from your bench. He was more intimidating up in front of you than before.

“May I?” he asked, gesturing towards the bench where you were comfortably settled.

“Of course,” you answered, moving your bag to make room for him.

“So, you read in French,” he said as a matter of fact.

“I don’t understand everything,” you admitted.

"I believe so, Victor Hugo is a convoluted author, even for a native speaker."

“And where are you from?” you insisted, wanting to know where this delicious accent came from.

He chuckled at your persistence, yet he told you he was from Germany. Hans was able to imitate the British accent perfectly, but he hadn't felt the need to deceive you. You looked quite innocent, and you were. Anyway, how could you have guessed you were talking with a thief, a mobster, a criminal ?

He talked with you the whole afternoon. You understood very quickly that he was an educated man, with a lot of culture and a perspicacity you could envy him for.

As you parted, he kissed the back of your hand like a true gentleman, the one in your romantic books. You didn't know what had got into you to confide so many private things about yourself to a stranger, but talking to him was easy, and there was so much on your heart that you needed to confide. Maybe because you knew he was just a stranger that you would never see again had made things easier. You felt lighter but also disappointed to know that you would never see him again.

But Hans wasn't indifferent to you either. Hans was intrigued by you. He had already noticed you a few days before when you were walking in the streets to reach the metro station. You were wearing your work uniform, that's how he knew that to find you, he had to go for a walk around Kensington Park.

Hans didn't really know what had caught his attention about you. Your face was certainly pleasant to look at but it didn't stand out from the crowd, your stiff gait spoke volumes about the pressure you felt in your life and you had a disillusioned pout that probably didn't make many people want to get to know you.

However, there was something about you that had intrigued him. Enough to want to meet you at least once. He hadn't expected to see you sitting all alone in the Walk of Flowers. Walkers rarely sat for too long, the cold quickly numbing their hands and feet. And yet, there you were, reading your book, a book that Hans had read many times in its original version too.

He had been surprised at how easy it was to talk to you. You were intelligent, not as much as he was, but not everyone could come up with escape plans and high-flying heists, you had wit and a dry sense of humor that he appreciated. You also had that disillusioned look of those who had already seen too much to still be truly surprised by existence. Hans knew this expression well for having experienced it himself. 

It was a long time ago when he was a teenager dragged from home to home, separated from his brother, missing a father who died when he was only eight years old, and a loving mother. Their mother to Simon and him was an alcoholic who beat them for yes or no. It was often his big brother who suffered their mother's anger because he was not afraid to defy her or to come between her and his little brother. He remembered a day when his mother who had drunk more than reason and had just been dumped by her umpteenth boyfriend had destroyed the model airplane he was building for no good reason other than to make her son suffer as much as she suffered. She had raised her hand to hit him, but Simon had stepped between him and her, taking the slap instead of Hans.

Hans shook his head as if to make all those bad memories go away. It was a long time ago. When he was just a weak little boy. It was before the army that he had met an important man who was a member of German high society. Thanks to him, after his military service, he had been able to join the university where he had received a solid education in history, foreign languages, economics, and politics. Hans was intelligent and able to absorb thousands of pieces of information in no time. His eidetic memory was a real gift that had allowed him to join the Volksfrei where he had definitely hardened himself. So hardened that his ruthless behavior had earned him being kicked out of the organization.

He had worked as a mercenary for a while after that, but tired of having to answer to other people's orders, Hans had decided to become his own boss by carrying out his own terrorist activities with a group of trusted men in his pay. It had been a long time since the weak little boy had disappeared in favor of the man he was today.

And yet, your presence this afternoon had awakened something vulnerable in him. He wanted to see you again. He was going to see you again. He was going to make you his, whether you wanted it or not.

He thought about it, developing a plan to make you fall into his nets. He wanted to be subtle to give you the impression that you had had a choice. Little did he know that you were already partially won over to his cause. Indeed, the man with the imposing stature, the broad shoulders, and the nose of a Greek god had not left you indifferent.

He returned to Kensington Park two days later, waiting for your service to end. He watched you from afar to see you following the same path as last time to join the Walk of Flowers where you sat on the same bench as last time, another book in your hands.

"Did Victor Hugo get the better of your determination?" he asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

You jumped, which made him chuckle.

"Hans," you said, a hand on your chest, "you scared me."

"Sorry, that wasn't my intention."

He sat down next to you without asking your permission, not that you minded.

"So, Victor Hugo?"

"Finished last night."

Hans arched an eyebrow, surprised. You had finished one of the most difficult books in French literature in two days and after admitting that you didn't always understand the formal language of the book.

"Test me if you don't believe me," you had challenged him when you saw the doubt etched on his features.

He didn't need to be asked twice and had to admit that you had read the book, which make you be more surprising and impressive than he thought you were at first glance.

This little game of cat and mouse had lasted several months. Hans could afford it, his last heist, the robbery of a Russian bank, had earned him enough to live on for the next ten years. Of course, he wouldn't sit idly by for the next ten years. He wanted more. Much more. Millions to be able to disappear forever and live the great life he had always dreamed of. Except that now, he wanted you to be part of his dream.

However, how could he involve you in his life without putting you in danger ? And how could you never find out who he really was ?

Some of his men had a woman in their life. One of them was even married and had a child, but was it really a life to have to hide who you really are from the person who shared your bed ?

Of course, Hans had had many women in his arms, but never a woman he wanted to spend more than one night with.

Six months after your first meeting, he had invited you to his secluded house. A large mansion that could have contained your apartment, your parent's house, and your big sister's house all in one. Hans had cooked for you and charmed you a little more with his words that flowed like honey in your ears and his German accent that made you shiver constantly.

A year later, you were an official couple, much to Hans's delight, who for once in his life hadn't had to fight too hard to get what he really wanted. And God may be his witness, he wanted you, loved you and he would never let you go. You lived at his place and while he didn't hide the fact that he was a rich man, you didn't really know where the money came from.

Officially, he had introduced himself as a businessman. But you knew that something wasn't right in what he had told you. The designer clothes he lavished you with and the one he wore every day, the jewelry he showered you with at every opportunity, the luxury cars and the incessant business trips, something didn't add up to what he was telling you.

Yet, he was a passionate lover and even if you had already seen his bad temper surface when something displeased him, with you he was nothing but tenderness and patience. A trait that no one would have granted to Hans. He himself was amazed at how much he could be another man with you. You brought a calm to his life that he had ignored he had needed until now. You were the calm in his tumultuous life as a gangster.

You had tried to question him several times, but each time, he had turned you down, sometimes harshly and you had ended up understanding that what he did for a living was a subject not to be discussed. You were not totally stupid and even if you didn't know exactly what he did to earn all this money with which he flooded you, you assumed that he must be part of the mafia. Or something like that. Something that should have made you run away, but you were already too much in love with Hans, too captivated by his mysterious aura and the danger that surrounded him to be afraid of sharing your life with a mafioso.

The fact that with you, Hans allowed himself to be softer, and more vulnerable, only made him more endearing. Your parents didn't approve of the relationship between you, your mother having immediately had doubts about Hans' intentions. But neither he nor you gave any importance to what others might think. You wanted him more than you had ever wanted anything else in your life, more than you had wanted to study at a prestigious art school or become the next greatest painter in the United Kingdom. You were hopelessly in love with the mysterious German man who had captured your heart and soul.

Although Hans was less demonstrative in his feelings, he felt the same way about you. You were the calm, the peace, in his hectic life. He found solace in your simple presence. Many times he had told himself that he had to end this union, that he had to push you away, but each time he had tried to do so by being cold and distant with you, your confusion and incomprehension at his sudden coldness towards you had made his heart melting and he had always come back more in love and tender than before, doing his best to be forgiven for his harsh behavior towards you during the day with a crazy and passionate night of love.

Hans wasn't naive, he knew that if he wanted to build something serious with you, he would have to put an end to his activities and disappear with you. At some point, he would have to confess the truth to you even if he was well aware of your suspicions and how close you were to the truth.

It was on September that he had a brilliant idea. An idea that would earn him millions. Enough to ensure a comfortable life for both of you in Fiji or anywhere that would please you. He was going to attack the CEO of Nakatomi Tower. A high-flying theft worth more than $600 million if he and his men played their game well.

But it was not going to be easy and his sharp mind had to prepare the best of plans. He had already worked out dangerous, complicated, risky cases, but this one was the most important of his entire gangster career. When a man steals $600, he can just disappear, but when a man steals $600 million, he knew that the police and secret agencies of the whole world will be after him. Unless they thought he was dead. However, he was no longer alone now and he had to think of you, which made the whole organization of his plan more difficult than usual, even for a gifted person like him.

His brother had warned him that getting emotionally involved with you was dangerous for him, but he had not listened to him, sure of himself as usual. Except that for once, Simon was right. The love he had for you was worse than all the enemies he had faced so far.

"Another departure Hans ? You've already disappeared all of October," you said wearily.

It was the first week of December and he had just told you that he would have to be away until the end of December on business trip.

"Work is work. You're happy to have nice clothes, to parade around in beautiful jewelry, to wear designer perfume, and to live a life of luxury. Without me, you would never have been able to quit this job that made you unhappy and to treat yourself to these art classes that you wanted so much," he pointed out more harshly than he had intended.

But he was tired of your reproaches. It had been the same for a few months every time he had to leave. It was stronger than you. You wanted to know the truth, a truth that he refused to tell you and it hurt you. Yet, you loved him too much to have the courage to leave him.

"If you think I'm with you for the money, then you don't know me very well Hans. Keep your clothes and your jewelry. I never asked you for anything! If you did it, it's because you wanted to!"

"Exactly! The best for you is everything I want and nothing else. We've been together for two years, you're an intelligent woman [Y/N], and you know that this life that I allow you to lead doesn't come without sacrifice."

You didn't answer because somewhere, somewhat, you knew he was right and even though you were frustrated by his unspoken words, you loved enjoying the life of luxury he was lavishing you with.

You sighed, closing your eyes and rubbing your forehead, feeling a headache coming on. Hans came closer and took your hands in one of his while the other gently massaged your lower back.

"Mein leibe, I promise you that after that everything will change."

"How?"

"You'll see. In the meantime, don't give me the cold shoulder. I don't want to go to the United States knowing that mein pearl is mad at me. I won't be able to concentrate if I know that you're angry with me," he coaxed you.

"I'm not angry Hans, I'm just... worried and... I'd like you to be completely honest with me."

"Mein leibe..." Hans sighed, "everything will change, I promise, but no more questions for tonight, okay?"

You nodded, still a little frustrated by his silences that separated you more than they brought you closer. Sensing the distance that your disappointment was putting between you, Hans placed a series of kisses along the back of your neck.

"Bitte, mein leibe, bitte, don't be angry with me."

"Hans..."

"Bitte," he whispered in your ear.

You turned your head and he took the opportunity to capture your lips. Very quickly, your kiss turned into a fiery passion. He hoisted you easily and you instinctively hooked your arms around his hips. He led you to the bedroom where he gently laid you down on the bed.

"You can't always get away with a quickie, even if sex with you is better than a pizza from Rudy's," you said jokingly.

"Mein leibe, I'm sure that my cock inside your tight pussy is the best way to have you under my control," Hans whispered with a predatory smile.

You gasped and your breath got caught in your throat. Hans's smile widened even more and with an expert gesture, he removed your t-shirt. You weren't wearing a bra to his great pleasure and he immediately went in search of your chest to suck on one of your nipples. You moaned in pleasure, your hands running under his t-shirt to caress his firm chest.

"Tell me you want me," Hans whispered.

"Hans..." you moaned under his caresses.

"Say it!" he ordered while walking two of his fingers near your entrance, delighting in your pussy swollen with arousal and your wetness that wet his fingers even though they weren't penetrating you.

"I want you, Hans. I need you, I need you inside me," you said breathlessly.

It didn't take much for Hans to help you getting rid of your skirt and stockings. You unbuttoned his pants and he helped you take them off, while with a quick gesture of his hand, he got out of his t-shirt which joined the rest of your clothes on the floor.

He didn't bother with the foreplay, entering you directly. You were already so wet that he had no trouble sinking all the way into your tight pussy, moaning as he felt your walls tighten around his cock.

"Your pussy has been made for me, just for me," he whispered in your ear.

"I only exist for you," you replied, biting his earlobe.

He pushed himself deeper into you, the sound of skin meeting skin with each thrust echoing through the room, mingling with your panting breaths and Hans' deep voice whispering words of love to you in both German and English.

"[Y/N], my lovely [Y/N], if you knew what you're doing to me, you and your tight little pussy... HAAA... [Y/N]," he groaned, making you hornier still.

As you reached your climax, Hans pulled out suddenly, making you hiss at the feeling of his cock being lost in your cunt. With a deft gesture, he turned you around and, your stomach pressed against the bed, he pushed in as hard as he had pulled out of your little cunt, tugging gently on your hair while his other hand was on your throat. He thrust faster, again and again until he felt the two of you approaching your climax. He then turned you to the side with one leg between yours and the other above yours, one hand still on your throat, the other cupping your breasts as he continued to thrust into you at a frantic pace.

"Hans, please, don't stop... I'm gonna... I'm gonna..."

"Come meine leibe... Come, come for me," he whispered in your ear.

It didn't take him more than two thrusts for your orgasm to shake your entire body with pleasure. Feeling your tight walls contract against his cock, Hans was quick to come in turn with an animalistic growl.

He pulled out carefully and you immediately snuggled up against him, finding solace between his arms, basking in the afterglow of your encounter. You quickly fell asleep, exhausted by the passion shared with Hans who stayed awake almost all night watching you while caressing your nipples with his fingertips, taking pleasure in seeing them harden under his caresses.

The next day, you woke up alone with a note on Hans' pillow.

Ich leibe dich. Hans.

Three weeks later

You were in front of the TV watching the Nakatomi Tower attack, tears flooding your eyes when you recognized Hans. In the end, he was not a mafia boss but a gang leader, a gangster, a thief, a criminal. And despite this revelation, your love for him didn't weaken.

You couldn't help but scream when the roof of the tower exploded, leaving the building on fire, and when the journalists announced that all the hostages had gone and the terrorists were out of control by a hothead working for the police. Later, the man named John McClane told reporters that Hans had fallen to his death from the top of Nakatomi Tower.

You fell to the ground screaming before curling up into a ball, sobbing and screaming Hans' name until you fell asleep. The next day, a man came to your house. He introduced himself as Simon and claimed to be Hans' brother. You knew your lover had a brother but he had never told you anything more about him. However, something about this man inspired confidence in you. The same confidence you had had in Hans. He returned the next day with a man with a gaunt and severe face, a lawyer who had papers for you to sign. Hans, afraid of not getting out of this, had prepared everything to ensure your future without him. Considerate, he had left you a fortune that could have benefited you for your next three lives. Except you didn't want a single one of these lives if Hans wasn't by your side.

A year later

Wrapped in a thick coat, a woolen scarf eating your face, you stood in front of a headstone, in the middle of a small, poorly maintained cemetery, in the town with the unpronounceable name of Schkeuditz.

It had taken you a while to make up your mind and come say a last goodbye to him, but the closer the anniversary of his death had got, the more you needed to be close to him, even if he had left you a gift that would allow you to keep him by your side forever and ever.

There was only a first and a last name on the grave. Hans Gruber. No words in his memory, no flowers. Just an unfortunate headstone in the middle of a thousand others. A name among many others, a name that no one would remember in a few years. No one except you, until your own death relieved you of the pain of losing your great love. You would never be able to get over Hans' death, you would never be able to love as you had loved him and you knew that no man would ever be able to offer you what Hans had offered you. You didn't think about the money and the luxurious life you continued to lead thanks to his thoughtfulness, but about his charismatic presence, the strength he gave you with just a look and the unyielding love you shared. The intimate moments that had made you closer than ever and how, even when you had tragically learned who he really was, you had loved him even more.

"[Y/N]," a baritone voice said.

You turned to acknowledge Simon's presence.

"You shouldn't come here."

"It's been a year today. A year since he... Nakatomi Tower... A year," you said, crying.

"I know. But coming here to mope won't bring him back."

"I know," you said through a sob.

"You're not supposed to be associated with him. Ever. Not now that a part of him is alive."

"No one knows he's his," you pointed out right away.

"And no one must ever know. Go home, [Y/N], grieve as much as you need, then start a new life, forget what you went through with Hans, pretend he never existed, and never come back here," Simon said coldly.

You knew Simon was saying that to protect you and the precious passenger waiting for you in the back seat of the car you'd rented to drive here.

"Go get to him before he wakes up and sees you're not here. I don't want my nephew crying. It's Christmas, and on Christmas, he should be the happiest little boy in the world."

You nodded and walked away, but not before kissing the tips of your fingers that you then placed on Hans' grave.

You got into the car and turned to the back seat, smiling fondly, though your smile didn't reach your eyes.

"I promise to be strong for both of us," you whispered so as not to wake the child who was fast asleep in his car seat.

Your heart was broken by the death of the man you had loved more than life itself, but as a testament to your love, he had left you with a good reason to live and fight. An eternal love that would live forever in the heart of your son. His son. Your son.

[malk1ns]

march 27 @ sabres, 7-3 loss

sidney crosby is officially the most consistent player in the history of the sport. boy oh boy are we a lucky, lucky fanbase. don't ever take watching him play for granted!!!!

and that's all that happened in this game i'm pretty sure.

@beggingwolf talked me into doing a little mini-AU of my influencer!geno story that i'm hoping to work on this offseason, and that + this picture reappearing in my life where he really DOES look like an influencer got the wheels turning. and here we are!

Normally Zhenya vets his brand trips pretty thoroughly. There are some people out there who jump at every sponsored vacation that’s thrown at them regardless of who’s picking up the bill, and while Zhenya’s not about to pretend he’s some scrupulously ethical guy who only shills products he supports with every fiber of his being, he’s also not interested in flaunting a lavish trip for some brand his followers have never heard him talk about before.

Some of his vetting is selfish, of course. He wants to be flown out to fun places with people he can actually tolerate, not the ever-growing mass of early-20s fitfluencers who all talk in the same cadence and over-filter their videos so their followers can’t clock the injection sites and surgery scars while they’re talking up some new weight-loss fad product as if it’s the secret to their looks.

Zhenya’s not like that. He’s still filming on the same camera he bought back when he first started recording himself, well before the pandemic and when the concept of being an influencer as a full-time career didn’t really exist yet. He doesn’t even think he knew the word ‘influencer’ when he posted his first video to YouTube all those years ago; he just wanted to make workout videos for people who can’t get to the gym and maybe raise his own personal trainer brand a little at the same time. Rent isn’t cheap in NYC after all, even on Zhenya’s Equinox salary, and new clients, especially ones above a certain income bracket, are never a bad thing.

When the pandemic hit, Zhenya seriously thought he’d have to somehow move back home, slink back to his parents’ house in backwoods Russia and admit that his dreams had been a little too big after all. Five years ago, he never could have guessed where he’d be now.

Quitting his day job had been risky, a decision he agonized over for weeks. But the partnership offers were piling up, and his manager was fielding high-profile celebrity requests by the dozen to have him come and design custom workout plans for them. The money piling up in his accounts was staggering, an unfathomable total to a boy who grew up in a one-bedroom apartment in an industrial post-Soviet town.

Even if it all comes crashing down tomorrow, it was worth every minute. Zhenya’s trying to be smart with his money, squirreling most of it away into investments he can live off and buying property instead of yet another shitty Amazon ‘must-have’, but he’s enjoying the fruits of his labor, too—the nice cars, the nice house, the nice vacations in five-star hotels.

He would not classify Buffalo in March as one of the nicer places he’s been to, but the reason he’s going makes this trip the most exciting one yet. The chance to watch his favorite hockey player break a Wayne Gretzky record as the Penguins’ guest isn’t something Zhenya would pass up in a million years.

«I don’t know what to wear,» he whines, stabbing at his phone until it switches to speaker and tossing it on the floor at his feet as he continues to paw through his closet. «Is it tacky to wear a jersey? Do I look good in jerseys?»

Artemy sighs so loudly Zhenya’s phone crackles. «You sound like a teenage girl,» he informs Zhenya, who rolls his eyes and holds up his plum puffer vest in consideration. Maybe this with a long-sleeve shirt…? «Of course jerseys are tacky. But everyone in the damn arena will have one on. Bring something else for after if you think they’ll let you take pictures you’ll want to post, but if you want to wear a jersey, wear one. You’ll look fine.»

«But which one?» Zhenya muses, turning to look at the long row of Penguins jerseys taking up nearly a quarter of his closet.

Artemy hangs up on him. Zhenya doesn’t bother calling back.

He does pack a jersey though—a game-worn one that Zhenya saved for months to afford and really had no business buying at the time. It’s not autographed, but Crosby scored 23 goals while wearing it, and Zhenya’s nostalgic for the Vegas gold color scheme.

He brings a hat from his collaboration with Goorin Bros too, one of the gray beanies. The black sold better, but Zhenya prefers the gray, and it’ll look better with his purple vest.

The Penguins offer to put him in a suite—apparently the demand isn’t high for premium seating in Buffalo this year, go figure—but Zhenya manages to wheedle a seat on the glass, right next to the visitor’s penalty box. He wants to be close to the action, where he can hear and see everything and hopefully get some good pictures.

The flight to Buffalo is short, but Zhenya upgrades himself to business class and spends the entire 90 minutes slouched in his seat scrolling through Sidney Crosby highlights on YouTube. He’s watched all these videos hundreds of times by now, but he could use a refresher—what if he meets Sid? He wants to sound like he knows what he’s talking about, like he’s a real fan, not just a clout-chaser or a puckbunny.

Stupid, really. The PR person hadn’t been sure Zhenya would be able to meet any players—they’re going straight from the game to the airport, everyone eager to get home after the road trip—but he’ll get a tour of the locker room anyway, and the team wants to take some pictures of their own to post.

They put him up in the same hotel where the team is staying, and Zhenya spends the afternoon fantasizing about walking down into the lobby, running into Sid, and charming him with some line that gets them talking.

The very thought of it terrifies him, so Zhenya orders room service and goes to bed as early as possible.

Zhenya’s been a Penguins fan for what feels like his entire life. When he was younger he was obsessed with Mario Lemieux and Jaromir Jagr—his parents couldn’t afford to put him into the hockey program in Magnitogorsk, but he used to play out on the pond with his friends, and he always had dibs on taping a 66 onto the back of his coat. Most of the kids in Russia cheered for Detroit, and Zhenya had a Red Wings hat too, but it was the Penguins he followed as best he could.

When they drafted Sidney Crosby and Zhenya got a look at him on TV for the first time, that just sealed it. He’s followed Sid’s whole career, digging through the bowels of the internet for game footage in the middle of the night until he moved to America and could watch games at a reasonable hour, and the first vacation he took in the US was to Pittsburgh, to watch the Penguins play up in the rafters of the Igloo.

Now that Zhenya makes real money he’s been to a lot more games, in much better seats. He’s talked about the Penguins on his platforms as long as he’s been on social media, sometimes dedicating entire videos to rant about poorly-officiated games or gush over a play Sid made that didn’t get enough attention. He supposes it was only a matter of time until someone on the team stumbled onto his account, but he still can’t believe they reached out to invite him to potentially watch history be made.

The hotel gym is deserted the next morning, and Zhenya runs off as much of his nervous energy on the treadmill as he can tolerate. He spends too long primping in the mirror after his shower, pushing his hair back and forth until he remembers he brought his hat and rolls his eyes at himself before cramming it onto his head.

The Penguins send a car for him late afternoon, and Zhenya spends the hour before warmups wandering KeyBank center with a pretty brunette from the comms team. She giggles and blushes when he casually flirts with her—Zhenya might be gay but he has eyes, he can appreciate a beautiful woman, and everyone likes to be flirted with.

He has time to grab a canned cocktail before heading down for warmups, settling into his seat and sipping on his drink as he films a quick video to post to his feeds. When the players come out Zhenya practically plasters himself to the glass, staring raptly as the Penguins skate past him and getting as much footage as he can to sort through and post later.

He’s never had seats this good. This fucking rules.

It gets even better a few minutes into the game when Sid takes a penalty and spends two minutes barely two feet from Zhenya’s seat. Normally Zhenya would be watching the penalty kill through his fingers and holding his breath, but this time he spends the entire penalty half-turned in his chair so it’s not quite so obvious that he’s staring at Sid.

Sid sprays water down the back of his jersey and then in his mouth, and Zhenya learns what it looks like when he has drops of water on those big red lips up close. He spends most of the two minutes chatting with the penalty box attendant, but when there’s about half a minute left and he’s standing up in preparation to skate back out, he glances to the side, right at Zhenya.

Zhenya watches Sid’s eyes widen, then glance up at his hat, and then the penalty is over and Sid skates back out to rejoin the game.

“Holy shit,” Zhenya mutters, placing his phone in his lap so his shaking hands don’t drop it. “No way, holy shit?”

He’s so flustered by the direct eye contact that he almost misses when Sid officially passes the record, a beauty of a goal that sends Zhenya and what feels like the entire arena to their feet. The applause is long, even from the home fans, and Zhenya practically wears out his thumb taking pictures of the scoreboard, the bench, the crowd, and himself. He didn’t get a video of the goal, but there will be enough footage posted all over—Zhenya got to see it with his own eyes, practically in front of him.

Unfortunately, that’s the high point of the game. Zhenya winces through most of the second period, and even a pair of goals in the third to make the final score a little less mortifying doesn’t quite match the emotional high of Sid’s goal.

Zhenya loves seeing his team in person, though, even when they lose, and he’s shaken off his disappointment by the time the brunette comes to take him to the players’ area.

Zhenya wrinkles his nose at the workout facilities—he’s still an Equinox snob at heart, sue him—and badly wants to poke through the refrigerator in the player’s lounge, but when they approach what can only be the locker room he clams up.

The girl—Emma—pauses with her hand on the door, looking up at him. “They’re all going to be in the change room by now,” she says reassuringly, adjusting the camera around her neck. “And they know we have a guest, so you’re not intruding. I know this is a little weird, I hated coming down here when I first started, but they’re totally used to it. If anyone pops in it’s because they watch your stuff and want to say hi—some of the younger guys were really excited when we told them you were coming tonight, and I’m pretty sure Tanger follows you. Anyway, don’t worry about it. We’ll be in and out.”

Tanger does follow Zhenya. That happened about three years ago, and Zhenya spent most of the afternoon having a quiet panic attack in his apartment when he got the notification. He didn’t think that meant Tanger actually looked at his posts. How embarrassing.

The Penguins are expecting content out of this, so Zhenya squares his shoulders and flashes his brightest smile at Emma, who turns pink and lifts up the camera, pushing the door open and clicking record.

Zhenya hams it up in the room, putting on the slightly-exaggerated public personality he’s been cultivating for years. It’s not entirely fake, Zhenya wouldn’t be able to sustain it for this long if it was, but it’s a little bit more than he is in real life. It plays well on social media, so whatever.

Once Emma’s happy with what she got, she takes a few pictures of Zhenya on his phone. He flips through them before they leave, pausing on the one of him sitting in Sid’s locker and looking to the side—that’s the one, he thinks. He’s glad he took his jersey off for these pictures.

“Oh,” Emma says, and Zhenya looks up guiltily—she’s been so nice, but he’s sure he’s keeping her from getting home. She’s staring down at her phone. “So, Sid wants to meet you? Is that cool? He’s still with the trainers, but can you wait a few minutes?”

Zhenya’s brain shuts down.

He must reply with some form of affirmative, though, because Emma taps something on her phone before guiding Zhenya out of the locker room and back to the player’s lounge.

“I’m so sorry, but I have some stuff I need to take care of before we head to the airport,” she says apologetically. Zhenya can hear her phone vibrating in her hand. “Are you okay waiting here alone? Sid knows where you are, he should come find you soon.”

“Sure,” Zhenya says faintly, and Emma smiles at him before rushing off.

Zhenya looks around the room, then shakes his head and sits on the couch, taking a deep breath. He’s going to meet Sidney Crosby—he needs to get it together.

He distracts himself by making a few color adjustments to that picture and typing out a few different captions before settling on one. He debates over the hashtags, but it’s not like the Penguins could possibly be surprised—Zhenya’s very, very out, and he’s never shied away from praising Sid’s looks as well as his hockey on his platforms. If they don’t know, that’s their own fault.

He’s just hit post when someone clears their throat.

Zhenya’s head whips up so fast he almost pulls something in his neck.

“Hey there,” says Sidney Crosby, standing a few feet away from Zhenya and dressed in the tightest, most threadbare pair of lululemon leggings Zhenya’s ever seen. “Geno, right? Thanks for sticking around, sorry to make you wait.”

“Um,” Zhenya says intelligently, fumbling his phone into his vest pocket as he gets to his feet. “No problem, like, fun to see the locker room and stuff.”

Sid steps closer and sticks his hand out. Zhenya takes it, praying his palm isn’t as sweaty as the rest of his body feels. Sid’s hair is still damp, but he smells like cologne, and Zhenya wonders if he’s going to faint. “Great to meet you, man,” Sid says, smiling at Zhenya. His teeth are so white. “We’re all big fans, the boys were pretty excited when Jen told us you were coming. Tanger’s gonna be pissed at me forever, he really wanted to meet you but he’s still stuck with the docs.”

“Oh wow,” Zhenya says, holding Sid’s hand for a hair too long before dropping it. Up close, Sid’s mouth is so red and his eyes are enormous. He’s a little shorter than Zhenya thought, but he’s broad, and his biceps are straining the sleeves of the t-shirt he’s got on. “Um, I’m not know you watch. Well, I know Tanger follows, but I don’t think he actually watches, you know.”

Sid bites his lip. “I follow you too,” he says, voice low like he’s sharing a secret. “I’ve got a…I think they call it a finsta? It doesn’t have a profile picture or anything, you wouldn’t know it’s me. But I started following you during the lockdown, your videos were great. I was getting so bored with the stuff the trainers sent out, and everything else I found was like…it just wasn’t good, you know, but then Tanger found your account and—” Sid pauses, and Zhenya watches in amazement as his face turns red. “Sorry. Jesus, I’m babbling, I get like this after games. Anyway. Sorry we couldn’t get a win for you, but I hope you had fun anyway.”

“Best,” Zhenya rushes to reassure him. “Your goal, like, it’s so good, classic Crosby goal. So cool to see you break the record, I can’t believe. I’m a fan for so long, I never think I get to see something so close like that.”

Sid’s smile returns in full force. “Oh, you’ve been a fan for a while, eh?” he says, tilting his head coyly. Abruptly, Zhenya realizes he’s being flirted with. “Well, it’s a shame it took so long for us to get you down here—I would have loved to have met you sooner.” 

“Yes,” Zhenya says dumbly, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. Is this really happening?

Sid’s eyes follow his hand, widening when he looks up at Zhenya’s beanie. “Oh, your hat! I saw that when I was in the box, that’s really cool. Goorin, right? Kris has a ton of stuff from them, I remember when your collection came out. You got any extras of those lying around?”

Zhenya takes a deep breath and decides to be brave. “Yes, I have at home, lots of colors,” he says, reaching into his pocket for his phone. “I can send to you, maybe? But you’re have to tell me what kind you want, like, hat or beanie, what style—maybe you give me your number, I can send you pictures?” He unlocks his iPhone and holds it out, hand shaking only a little.

Sid stares at it for a minute, and just when Zhenya thinks he’s made a horrible mistake snatches it out of his palm. “Maybe instead you should come to Pittsburgh and bring some with you,” he says, pulling up the messenger app and starting a new thread. “I mean, probably it would be better for me to see how they look, right? And it’ll save you shipping. If you’ve got time you could stay a while, come to a few games—we have another roadie coming up, but our last couple of games are at home. What do you think?” When he hands Zhenya his phone back, his smile is sly and his eyes are sharp.

Zhenya heads back to his hotel with Sidney Crosby’s phone number burning a hole in his pocket. It’s a good thing his flight isn’t until later tomorrow—there’s no way he’s sleeping any time soon tonight.

thanks to @beggingwolf for photoshopping sid's nameplate into this picture to complete my geno influencer dreams. you Will see this picture used again, god willing. i'm responsible for the caption which is why it looks terrible <3

[kitthepurplepotato]

My weird roommate, Midoriya Izuku!

Alternative title: Midoriya Izuku’s weekly shenanigans!

Midoriya Izuku x Reader

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

🥦Summary🥦

“So you are telling me that you lost your job and got evicted on the same day?”

Well, yes. You’ve never been a lucky gal and you are also quirkless. Jirou, your pro hero friend decides to help you out of your misery and give you an opportunity to live beside a mysterious man for barely any rent. The mysterious man is ends up to be the pro hero you’ve been obsessed with for ages! After a few days you realize that Izuku Midoriya is an absolute weirdo… in a really adorable way.

Week by week, the reader explores Midoriya’s weird habits and slowly falls in love with all his flaws. (Eww, so cheesy.)

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Genre: Comedy, romance (no smut, sorry! Might get a bit suggestive, but that’s it!)

General info and warnings (each chapter will have their own): swear words, blood, injuries, potential other hero ships, tooth rotting fluff and extreme amount of awkwardness. No real angst! Reader is 23, Deku is 25.

Other minor relationships in the story: Kirishima x Bakugou, Denki x Shinsou

16+ for safety!

About the author: English is the potato’s second language, please be kind to the potato.

Check out the potato’s Master List!

UPDATE: The story is now being translated to Vietnamese! Click here to read it! Thank you @izukuslittlekitty 💚

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Week 0 - Just go with the flow!

“So you are telling me that you lost your job and got evicted on the same day?”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Jirou. I still have a month to pack my stuff and I wanted to resign anyway. No biggie, really.”

Yeah, no biggie. The bottle of wine in your hand is only for pleasure, not to soothe your broken heart.

You’ve never been the luckiest gal if it comes to… well… anything. First, you were born quirkless, then you ended up helping your family financially for years after the family business went to shit, then right when you were about to be freed from the responsibility as your parents started a new business which actually made money this time, you lost your job and your really cheap apartment. You are not really stressed about the money part as you do have a side hustle; well, if you can call doing Pro Hero fan arts for commission a side hustle; and thanks to your upbringings you always made sure to have some spare money in the bank.

Your main problem is the fact that you just can’t have anything easy. Maybe you do have a quirk after all; one called “Forever Unlucky.” Quite a catchy name, actually, you might make a character based on this in the manga you’re about to draw.

“Bestie, I have an idea. I will sort out all your life problems. Give me one day.” The call cuts off and you are left alone with your thoughts. Oh, well. At least you can start your manga today… Or write a silly fanfiction about Deku being your roommate. You haven’t uploaded anything new to Tumblr in the last few months anyway.

~•🥦•~

“I’m not going to beg you, but this is a really good opportunity. You should take it. You’re the only one I trust enough to ask. Take that as the biggest compliment of your life.”

Oh well, this is such a lovely opportunity indeed; Move out of your place and move in with a random guy you can’t even check on social media because Jirou is a secretive little shit and doesn’t tell you his name. This person is also a guy, if that wasn’t obvious. There are so many things that can go wrong, it’s actually ridiculous.

“Sounds like this is a really great way to end up in a ditch, Jirou.” You sigh. You know she’s just trying to help you, but this is shady business. What if the guy is a pervert? Or a murderer? Okay, a pro hero like Jirou wouldn’t hang around a murderer but this guy can still be a pervert.

“Y/N, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but the guy is a pro hero. You love pro heroes, right?”

“Well, I do love them, but until Grape Juice is in the business this doesn’t make me feel any better about this.”

Oh, little Mineta. The fact that he’s still alive and rocking is beyond you. The guy had more scandals than rescues in the last few months.

“Y/N.” Jirou tries his best to sound authoritative. “You don’t have a job, you have nowhere to live, your parents live in the middle of nowhere. You also wanted to take time off to make a manga and get rich and famous. I’m giving you an opportunity to basically live in a fancy ass apartment for free and all you have to do is take care of a fucking cat and pay electricity and water. I know it sound like a stupid fanfiction, and to be fair, this is one, but bitch, let yourself be lucky for once. If everything goes to shit, I’ll let you sleep on my sofa until you find a place.” Jirou takes a deep breath after saying all of this without taking a single breath.

“I’m taking your bed. For 3 months.” You negotiate, clearly about to make the riskiest decision of your life.

“Deal.” Jirou answers and your phone beeps. “Call this number for more info. He’s waiting for your call.” The phone cuts off again and you can’t help but freak out.

NOW?!

You really wanted to sleep on this, give it a second thought, make a plan, get your thoughts together but oh well, you really can’t have it easy, can you?

If this would actually be a fanfiction, it would suck balls; there’s nothing but phone calls, jumping from one person to another, and the plot is way too unreal to be believable. What a shame.

The main character is also really lame; she’s a 23 years old who still reads and writes fanfictions and she lives in a fucking bubble where being a mangaka is still a legit dream to have. *

*the one writing this fanfiction is 28, so in case it wasn’t clear, this part was supposed to be a joke.

You sigh and grab your phone to make the last phone call of the day; you’ll definitely turn that shit off for the rest of the day after all this trauma.

~•🥦•~

“H-hello?” A shy voice comes through the phone.

As a pro hero enthusiast, you are absolutely ashamed of yourself; you have zero idea who the fuck you are talking to.

His voice is comedically high, his stuttering is absolutely adorable, but feels kinda fake; or is it the voice that’s fake?

“Hey man, Jirou gave me your phone number…” You are just about to explain your reasons for calling when the mystery man interrupts you with a high squeak. Is there a hero who’s quirk is being a rubber duck? With your luck, this is Grape Juice. Yeah, it’s definitely him.

“Yes! Y/N!” He squeaks again, this time, in pain. “Sorry, I just got back from patrol. I got hit by a quirk, so excuse my voice.”

Yeah, how original. The mystery man suddenly gets hit by a voice changer quirk right before a really important phone call, so this way the mystery man stays mysterious until the first, dramatic encounter. This smells extremely fishy.

“Let me guess, a random villain called Helium Man?” You ask, clearly not believing a single word. Is this really fucking Grape Juice lying about his voice to clear the suspicion?

“It was a child, actually. He wanted a picture and a hug but his quirk just manifested and he hit me with it by accident. I should be fine in 24 hours.”

Oh, a pro hero with a big heart who loves children and animals and stops in the middle of his patrol to hug a child? Yeah, sounds legit. Well, it really does sound legit, that’s something a hero would do. Fuck.

“Uhm, that’s a really nice story, yes.” You grumble, absolutely sure this is a stupid April fools joke. You can’t stop thinking about Mineta.

“Ahh, sorry to bother you so late at night with my rambling, I tend to ramble a lot actually.” A self deprecating laugh leaves the mysterious man’s mouth, and even with the annoying high voice, it sounds absolutely adorable. Fuck, are actually falling for this prank? “Long story short, I’m barely at home and my cat is really lonely and the flat is way too big for the two of us so I want to have a trustworthy roommate who can take care of the flat and my fluffy little son when I’m away. I’m not in need of money, hence why there is no rent and if it comes to the other bills, if you can’t pay them, that’s fine. I asked my friends to ask around in case someone in their close proximity is in need of a new home and Jirou recommended you. She spoke really highly of you.”

That was a really long short story for the fuck’s sake, but that’s fine. After all the Pro Hero Deku interviews, you are kinda immune to this kind of thing. You try to think about who else is prone to rambling in the hero world, but you honestly can not think of a single person.

“And if I understand this right, I won’t be able to pry any information out of you about your identity until I actually say yes and move in for… safety reasons?” You cut the bullshit for him and get to the main reason of your anxiety. The guy on the other side squeaks again.

“I’m really sorry about that. To tell you the truth, my name is well known in this country and I want to make sure the person moving in with me is not after my fame or my connections.” The guy says, then starts to ramble again. “I mean, there is no problem with someone being a fan of me or anything, it’s not about me feeling like a bigger person and not wanting to mingle with the crowd, I really don’t mind that kind of thing, I just want to make sure the person associated with me on such a personal level isn’t trying to use my name as a stepladder? Ahh, to be honest, these aren’t even my words, these are manager’s, she’s a little bit overprotective, because apparently I’m really naive if it comes to the real world… Ahh, I’m rambling again!” The guy makes another squeaky noise, clearly giving up on landing a good first impression with you. You kinda want to hug him.

“Well, I’m definitely not after your fame and it’s not like you are the number one hero Deku, so don’t worry too much.” You try to sound reassuring to calm the mysterious man down a bit.

“Do you not… like Deku?” He stutters, his anxiety obvious even without seeing his face. Is he also a Deku fan?

“Oh, I do. I really do. But I’m not sure Deku would appreciate me bringing a life sized cardboard cutout of his into his own flat together with my 10 limited edition figurines, then walk out of my room to get a glass of water in my Deku pajamas.”

“You can’t have 10 limited edition figurines, there is only 5 available.” The man giggles, and fuck, he’s adorable.

“Well, I have two of each. One in a box one without it, duh.” You roll your eyes, even though no one can see it.

“Fair play.” The mysterious man replies. At least your obsession won’t be a problem then. “So do you want to give my flat a try? I’m only home one day a week so even if you don’t like me, I won’t be too much of a bother to you.”

Fuck, you can’t say no when he sounds so sure you won’t enjoy his company. You don’t know this man but you want to show him he’s good enough to be your friend. If this is Grape Juice, he’s doing a really good job in deceiving you.

“Yes, I’m in. Please, don’t be a weirdo.”

This might not help with the guy’s anxiety, but for your own safety you decide to not tell this man that he actually made your heart race faster already.

“I can’t guarantee that, but I’ll try my best. See you soon, Y/N! Don’t be a weirdo!” He hangs up, his giggles getting more and more muted as he moves his phone away from his face to turn it off.

So let’s sit down and think about all the new information you got during this phone call.

This mysterious man has a high voice, apparently from a quirk related accident, but he might be lying to get brownie points.

He’s indeed a pro hero and a really well known one, which means he’s probably a UA graduate.

He knows Jirou and by your knowledge you are the only one in her friend group who’s not connected to her old schoolmates in some way, so this person might be an old classmate of hers.

This person knows what to say to make himself be more likeable but that doesn’t really mean much as Grape Juice is also really good at first impressions. His true self usually comes out after a few days, but until that point the guy is smooth as fuck, apparently.

Grape Juice also has a high pitched voice…

Fuck.

22:30

You: It’s fucking Mineta isn’t it?!

Jirou: Did you call him?!

You: Yes! He sounds like Grape Juice in those interviews when the interviewer is hot! His voice was also high!

Jirou: I need more information, wait.

Jirou: I can’t believe I’m friends with someone so stupid.

I swear on Denki’s life, it’s not Mineta!

Pack your stuff as soon as possible, the sooner you move in the sooner I can laugh in your face when you realize how fucking wrong you were.

You can’t believe you are doing this. Who in their right mind would move in with someone they know jack shit about?!

Well, apparently that’s you. You might need to get another appointment with your old shrink as something is clearly wrong with you.

~•🥦•~

“So, this is the building.”

“You are absolutely shitting me, Jirou.”

Today is the day. All your life is in boxes, your new place is a few steps away, your Deku cutout is resting under your arms because you won’t let anyone touch your husband with their filthy hands.

You almost drop the poor guy when you take a look at the area around you; this is the fanciest part of the city, nothing but skyscrapers with massive bulletproof windows; this area is so posh that people come here for sightseeing. You can get a massive mansion anywhere else for the price of one single flat in this part of the city. Only the biggest pro heroes and celebrities can afford this. You are quite sure you read on a gossip site about this area being the one where the top 10 probably resides.

That means, Deku might live close by. Or… he might be your neighbor.

Fuck, you are such a fangirl.

“Close your mouth and let’s go.” Jirou takes your free hand and pulls you into the lobby; yes, there is a massive lobby in the building just like the ones in fancy hotels. There is a fucking Starbucks in there, only for the residents which might sound absolutely ridiculous and a waste of money but seeing the size of the building (and the fact that the people living in it are loaded) they probably make enough money to keep it going without any loss. It might also be really helpful to the residents as going into a busy coffee shop while your face is all over the high street billboards doesn’t sound like the most pleasant feeling at 6AM in the morning.

Jirou waves to the guy sitting behind the lobby desk. The guy’s eyes scans Jirou’s full body; like literally scans it, sounds effects and all, then moves to you. He does the same thing and pushes a button; a massive door opens on the side of the lobby which leads you to a row of elevators.

“Mind to explain what just happened?” You mumble, while Jirou scans her fingerprint and presses the highest numbered button on the wall.

Fingerprints? Really?

“Oh, that’s Josh, he’s from America. He has an X-ray vision. He checks everyone new before letting them into the building, except the actual residents. I’ve been here a lot of times but he doesn’t like me so I get scanned every time since I tried to go up with a knife hidden in my boots that one time. I tried to tell him I left it there by accident, but he didn’t buy it.” Jirou sighs, like it’s a common mistake and to be fair, as a pro hero it probably was, but damn, these people live in another world for sure.

“But most pro heroes have weapons, don’t they?” You ask, really interested to hear more about this as it doesn’t really make sense to you.

“He doesn’t question it if you are in your hero suit, and he doesn’t bother the actual residents, but I was in my casual clothes and he was new back then. Don’t worry, you live here, you’ll be fine once he gets used to you.”

Well, you have a feeling that this Josh guy will be your new reason to feel self-conscious for the next few months. “Oh, also, remind Zuku to put your fingerprint on the system so you can use the elevator…” Jirou suddenly slaps her palms on her mouth.

“Zuku?” That name doesn’t ring a bell. Jirou let’s out a long, relieved breath.

“We are literally about to meet the guy, shut up and see it for yourself.”

That’s fair.

The ride to the 43rd floor is long and excruciating (it was 2 whole minutes!), but eventually the elevator dings in a pleasant voice and the door opens to a hallway with only one massive door.

This is the highest level of the building. And there is only one door.

“Does he live in a fucking massive penthouse?!” You literally shriek. Your little peasant ass can not process this shit. If buying a flat in this area was expensive, a penthouse is basically the price of a full office building. Whoever this guy is, he is loaded.

“It’s not that big actually, half of it is a rooftop garden with a pool and a hot tub, you’ll love it.”

“Oh, I see, so the flat is not a big deal, there is a fucking pool there instead, yeah. No biggie.”

Jirou is just about to give you a snarky reply when the door opens up; green curls poke through the small gap, shy and embarrassed from not being able to keep it in his pants and wait until the two actually knocked.

After a few seconds, he opens his door properly and…

The one standing in front of you is no other than…

“Pro Hero Deku?!”

The green haired hero scratches the back of his head, his self-deprecating laugh even more adorable than the last time; which isn’t really a surprise as back then he had a voice of a gummy bear high on crack.

“Uhm, hi, I’m Midoriya Izuku.” He waves awkwardly and comes over for a hand shake but you are frozen in place. This is not real. This is a fucking prank. No fucking way…”Can I take the cutout? I made some space next to my All Might one, they will be besties!” The greenette laughs awkwardly and slowly takes the cutout from you, looking at you the way you look at a stray, aggressive dog when trying to pet them for the first time.

“His name is Izu-Izu, Y/N’s husband, please treat both of them well.” Jirou says with a straight, but extremely red face and jumps into the elevator, her loud laughter resonating in the walls as the doors close on her.

This is the most awkward moment of your life. This just can’t get worse. You are on the top of the most expensive building in the country, in front of the hero you’re absolutely obsessed with since you first saw him in the UA sports festival. That said hero is now gently holding your fucking cardboard cutout of himself, looking at you warily, probably contemplating if he needs to take you to a hospital.

“Show me my room, I’m too mortified to speak.” You mumble, looking at a dark spot on the fancy marble. “There’s blood on the floor.” You inform the green haired hero like that’s a perfectly normal thing; and to be fair, it probably is in this household; and make your way after the hero.

You really hope the ground swallows you whole and you’ll never need to look into Deku’s eyes ever again.

~•🥦•~

You: I hope your guitar amp short circuits.

Jirou: Rude.

… Next Part!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Yay, I hope you enjoyed the first part!

If you would like to be added to the taglist, just ask! 💜

Random fun facts:

- I actually googled the average size of a skyscraper in Tokyo for this ficc and I also googled how long it takes to get to his floor, just to be “realistic.” 😂

- The whole voice changer thing was my boyfriend’s idea! We love a good, supportive boyfriend! 😂

- If you like the style of this story and you fancy some Reader x Bakugou Katsuki, check out my other ficc, Bakugou Katsuki’s daily Shenanigans! These two are basically twins.

See you in the next chapter! Reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated, they keep me going! 💜

[secretlywritingstories]

I am turning 30 today, which is the first "big" birthday since I turned 18 more than a decade ago.

Objectively, there's nothing special about this birthday compared to the one I had last year or the one I'll have next year. But it turns into something special because we assign meaning to it, and honestly, I can't really be mad about that.

I like that we as humans make all sorts of intricate rituals throughout our lives, like choosing to celebrate birthdays and even making some of them more of a big deal because you're entering a new decade. It's fun if you make it fun.

As a child, I thought someone who was 30 would officially be a Proper Adult. Looking at my own parents as examples, it was the year that they got married after a decade together and they would be having their first child (me!) about a year later. Very adult stuff.

It was supported by the view of society too, where you are meant to find a partner, settle down, get a job and a house, and start trying to have children. Especially that last one if you were born as a girl, since obviously the biological clock starts ticking real loud when you hit the big 3.0.

Thankfully, I don't feel that way anymore. I guess it isn't that surprising when you look at how my life is at the moment. I have never had a long-term partner, and while I wouldn't mind having someone next to me in my life, I also can do okay on my own. I've got the steady job, but I rent my apartment. And children are not really something I can image committing to, and as such I am freed from that particular "universal" stressor.

Oh, and I'm queer both in terms of sexuality and gender. I think that's part of the veering off from the hetero-normative constraints that are thought to be imposed on me by reaching this age. It has been confusing at times, but I am so thankful to know this about myself now.

And I have so much good in my life, even if it doesn't necessarily look how I would have thought it was "supposed" to look like when I reached this age. I have a wonderful family, absolutely incredible friends (a lot for more than a decade and also from all over the world! how lucky can I be?), my horse Moneypenny and the family dogs. I like my job and my colleagues that I have to spend so many hours with. I'm financially stable and able to take care of myself well.

I have written and shared so, so many stories, and coming out at about 4 million words total across them all. And I have so many more stories to tell, even if I don't know what they'll be yet. That's the exciting part!

I don't have a 5 or a 10 year plan. I never really did, so I don't think I'll start now. Who cares anyway? Time will pass no matter what I plan, and life is what happens when you're busy making other plans. So many of the good things in my life has been a string of coincidences that have placed me on this path and I am quite liking the view.

Still, I'll take this chance to celebrate life, on this supposed big birthday. Being happy that I now have three decades on me and know the bulk still lies ahead of me. I'll surround myself with loved ones, have an excuse to connect with people who reach out with birthday wishes, and just spend the day well.

And frankly, I think the 30s are only going to get better than my 20s.

[potatomountain]

"Do It Right"

🎀 Pairing: Yunho x Yeosang

🎀 Summary: Reunited with his lover of his past lives, Yunho felt a little restless with how slow things were moving- just for things to click into place instantly.

🎀 WC: 2k

🎀 AU: non-idol roommates | past lovers

🎀 Genre: pwp | friends to lovers

🎀 Warning(s): 18+ rating, mxm, masturabation, use of toys. pretty vanilla otherwise

🎀 Nets: @pirateeznet | @mirohs-aurora-society

🎀 AN: This was a birthday fic for a friend <3 They're not partial to x reader so i wrote them their favorite ship ^^

Main Masterlist

How did he get so lucky? Lifetime after lifetime Yunho would remember in his dreams, remember that birthmark on the side of their face, right by their eye, but this was the first time it seemed to be going well.

Well as much as it could.

Most of the time when he found them again, it was too late. They belonged to someone else, or they were already dying, or dead. The chance of Yunho having them once more already ripped from his hands before he even found them.

Not this time though. He found them young, he found him young. Fresh out of school, in the same group of friends, in the same dorms for college.

And now, by some stroke of luck, Yunho had convinced him to move in. Whined and begged for Yeosang to take up his spare room that his “original” roommate backed out of, leaving him fucked for rent. There hadn’t been one of course, just an excuse.

Yeosang agreed, and it was almost bliss from there.

Almost.

He was finally within his grasp, no other partners or illnesses, nothing but a long future ahead of them and Yunho could not find the courage to take that step. To confess.

To do everything he had been dreaming of for lifetimes.

Instead he was sitting on the couch in the shared apartment, staring at the marvel movie he had seen a dozen times over, but could not focus on it. Yeosang said he would come join him soon, but that was during the last movie, yet he was still here, waiting like a pouty puppy with nothing else to do.

With a heavy sigh he gave up waiting, pausing the movie. He listened for Yeosang, for any noise or sound. After a moment he picked up Yeosang's low voice but couldn't make out words. 

What was he doing? Nearly an hour, almost two, and he hadn't left his room. He supposed he had got held up in a game, maybe he just lost track of time? Yeosang does so often. He could leave him to it, let him come out when he remembers. He gets so cute when he's flustered and apologizing.

He could- but today he wasn't going to. He felt restless, much more than usual. Anxious even.

The many times Yeosang had slipped out of his grasp before flooded his mind and fear nestled deep in his stomach. What if he waited too long to make his move? It's been years, they were good friends, but never lovers. And he so wanted to be lovers.

Standing up, Yunho made his way down the hall surprisingly quiet. First he'd see if Yeosang was gaming or not, he wouldn't want to bother him if he was talking to one of his friends. The closer he got to the door, the less likely that was an option.

He wouldn't be moaning if he was talking to someone. 

All thoughts of his short-circuited, hand resting on the doorknob, staring at the crack in the door. Careless Yeosang didn't even shut the door before touching himself.

Swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, he listened in, pushing a finger through the crack in the door to push it open slowly. He didn’t expect the view he was met with, eyes going wide as he just froze.

Yeosang was on his knees, chest on the bed and face turned to the side, expression twisted with pleasure and drooling onto the sheets. The shocking part was the silicone toy he was awkwardly pushing into his exposed hole, his other hand wrapped around his dick.

How many times had Yunho imagined him like that? The toy replaced with his own cock, his hand where his was, the whimpers falling from his lips- his doing. Memories of having him in his past lives. From their first, to the few where only a quick one night was all he could have.

Once more he was reminded that he shouldn’t wait around. Would he get another chance? Would this chance be taken from him otherwise? Yet he hesitated, just a moment more, worry about chasing him away still shackling him to the floor.

Until Yeosang moaned his name, pleading breathlessly.

Yunho was stepping into the room and up to him before he even realized what he was doing. He snapped out of it when Yeosang heard him, his hands stopping their movements to push up instead.

“Y-Yunho I wasn’t- I uh-”

“Shut up Sangie.” The words rolled off his tongue with a bit of a growl to them, large hand reaching out to grab his bicep and pull him a bit closer.

Yeosang trembled under his grasp, whimpering for a whole other reason than he had been a moment before. Eyes wide, almost innocent despite the act he was committing, searching Yunho’s for some sign that he wasn’t going to be hurt.

Yunho pressed his forehead against his with a soft sigh, loosening his grip to instead cup his jaw. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Just got… carried away. Sangie… you could’ve asked me for help.” Not the confession he wanted to give, but it was a start. He could question him after he got rid of that stupid toy and took care of his lover the way he should. Even if Yeosang wasn’t his lover just yet.

He will be by the time he left this room, that he swore to himself.

Yeosang’s tongue flicked out to wipe up the drool on the side of his mouth as he leaned into his hand, skeptical for only a moment before he was nodding. “Please? I couldn’t… couldn’t do it right. Not by myself.”

Yunho smiled sweetly, manuevuring him onto his back and pushing his legs up by the back of his thighs. “That’s okay Sangie, I’m here now. I’ll take care of you.” He thought it was so cute how the smaller man trusted him so much he was already so pliant in his hands. “Were you thinking of me?”

He nodded, lips parted softly and whatever he was going to say was turned into a moan as Yunho pulled the toy out of him. It wasn’t small, close to his own size, and it had his heart beating out of his chest at the idea Yeosang got this specifically because it resembles his size. He shouldn’t assume, shouldn’t get his hopes up. Sure he had no idea Yeosang was this into him until this moment, but he knew he could fluster him at times.

Setting the toy on the bedside table, he grabbed the lube just to hesitate. “Can I fuck you Sangie? It’ll be better than the toy.” He tilted his head, tongue poking the inside of his cheek thoughtfully as he took in the sight of the naked man before him. He already looked fucked out, thin layer of sweat coating his skin, from his forehead down his neck and over his torso where every muscle was defined almost perfectly. Cock leaking onto his abdomen, twitching from the sudden neglect.

Any worry Yunho had about moving too fast was pushed aside by Yeosang’s whine, hand reached for his own. “Yes. You’ll do it right Yunho. Always do.”

“What do you mean?” Yunho asked as he pulled his sweats down and off, debating on his shirt before tossing that aside as well. Yeosang was naked, it was their first time in this life, so he wanted to be just as bare and vulnerable as him.

Yeosang was flustered by his question, ears red and lips pinched in a flustered pout that the taller man adored. “In my dreams. You always touch me just right, make me feel so good. I can never… can’t do it myself.”

Chest tight from the realization that Yeosang had the dreams too, Yunho had to hold back the rush of desire inside him. Instead he leisurely stroked his cock to full length with the lube, climbing onto the bed and situating himself between his legs. “It’s a good thing I’m here to take care of you from now on, Sangie. Let’s see if I can live up to your dreams.” He could bring it up later, surely, since he couldn’t resist the sight of him much longer.

Neither could Yeosang it seemed, grabbing onto his forearms and tugging him closer. He lifted his head to watch, breathing heavily as Yunho lined up his tip to his already gaping hole.

While it was his body’s first time in this life, Yunho could vividly remember the many times he had his sweet lover beneath him like this. The many times he pushed in, the sweet sounds he would let out, and how perfect it would feel. But it also felt like the first time all over, especially at the deep groan Yeosan let out as inch by inch Yunho pushed in.

He took him as well as he did in lives past, welcoming his cock as if it was coming home. Perfect fit, and pure bliss.

Yunho thought it was quite ironic to go from wondering if he was taking his time, to now wondering if he was rushing things. The look on Yeosang’s beautiful features eased the worry once more, leaning down to finally press a kiss to his lips. He should have started with this first, electricity firing through his mind and down his nervous system as he bottomed out.

It was now like a fever dream, lips crashing with his in a growing desperation and the years of desire and love just tumbling forward. What would have been just a normal day was anything but simply because Yunho had been restless.

Heart swelling with so much emotion, he wrapped his legs around his waist and began to move. He wanted to take his time, to savor every second. Every kiss and sound that escaped his lips, every touch. The way Yeosang gripped at his back, how tight his legs were around his waist and how he lifted his own hips to take more of him together; it was all bliss.

But Yeosang was desperate, probably trying to make himself cum for some time before Yunho had come in. He was sensitive beneath him, nipping at Yunho’s lips and trying to pull him in more with each passing second.

With a soft chuckle against his lips, Yunho moved his own to Yeosang’s jaw, up to his birthmark and pressed a soft kiss there. “Are you that desperate for me Sangie?” The man whined for his answer. “Waited long enough huh? I shouldn’t be mean then. Should give you what you want.”

Another whine, which quickly turned into a loud moan as Yunho’s hips snapped into his more roughly. Pressing his temple against his, he was panting against Yeosang’s ear while he was moaning against his. Every sweet deep sound he made just spurred Yunho on more until the bed was shaking with each harsh thrust.

“Y-Yunho! C-coming~” Was the only warning he had before he felt him release all over their stomachs, tip rubbing against his own muscles that were tight with his own impending climax.

He buried himself deep for his own release, biting down gently on Yeosang’s shoulder in the process while he filled him up. For a split moment he was reminded of the many times he had done this, and every single time was pure perfect bliss.

Slowly he untangled himself from Yeosang, giving the other some room to breathe, just to get flustered at the sweet, lazy smile on his face. “Much better than the toy.”

Chuckling, Yunho pushed the hair off Yeosang’s brow, placing a quick kiss while he slowly pulled out, a very reluctant thing to do but he needed to clean them up. “Told you I’d take care of you. In this life-”

“-and all others. Mm, I remember it all so clearly now.” Yeosang’s eyes fluttered shut as he finished his statement. “Took you long enough.”

With a cheeky grin, he patted his thigh and stood up. “Yeah, it did.”

[gyumibear]

⌞BLUE SPRING⌝ — PROLOGUE: Incorrigible Song Mingi

SYNOPSIS — In which you, an upcoming idol, are saved from a dangerous encounter by Song Mingi, a jaded, third-year delinquent who falls for you in more ways than one. However, both of your responsibilities constantly tear you apart. Years later, you reunite. Are the sparks still there or was your love only meant for that one spring?

WARNINGS — Heavy swearing, Mentions of Fighting, Mentions of Death, Insulting, Intimidation, Mingi is RUDE. (Let me know if I miss a warning.)

WC — 1.3k

"Song Mingi, you're incorrigible! You'll never be anything if you keep this behavior up! What would your parents think if they knew about this?" The Headmaster had sneered, his beady eyes glaring into Mingi's own.

The comment about his parents had nearly made him ready to leap from his chair. How would the Headmaster react if Mingi had shown him what his parents thought? What then asshole? Mingi thought bitterly, finally tuning out of the conversation as the older man kept ranting on and on. What type of educational system allowed their administration to berate their students? Even if Mingi wasn't the best student, actually one of the worst, he still didn't deserve that type of harshness.

"You're lucky you're even still attending this school!" Mingi lowered his head, patience running out faster by the moment. He needed to get out of here and fast. Before someone got their feelings (and more) hurt. "We put up with this your second year, but seriously! You're nearly at the finish line and you're acting this way? What is the matter with you?" What was the matter? Mingi wasn't even sure himself. He'd been this way ever since... Since...

"Hey! Are you even listening to me, Song Mingi?" Oh right, he's still in the Headmaster's office. He nodded his head noncommittally, taking a moment to pretend like he actually gave half a crap about what the man was saying. Of course, he didn't. Mingi'd heard all this stuff before from many people before him. Employers, teachers, and even his friends and family had given up on him. "You're on your last straw, young man. Keep this up and you'll be here til you're legally unable to be, you hear me?"

Mingi's eyebrows shot up to the top of his head. Now this he actually did care about. Being stuck here was another level to his already perfectly crafted hell of a life. If he knew anything, he knew he was graduating this year. Damn sure.

"Yes, sir. I hear you perfectly clear." He lied through his teeth, feigning remorse like he'd done for the past two years. "I'm sorry about all this... I'm really trying to clean up my act, but it's hard for me... You can understand that, can't you?"

The Headmaster stared him down, scanning his face to try and find a crack in his facade. However, because of Mingi's years of playing pretend, he couldn't. A satisfied smile slipped onto the man's face and Mingi had to hold back one of his own. Got his ass. Mingi thought. Another successful trip to the Headmaster's office. After this, he'd deserve an award or something.

"Yes, I can. However, Song Mingi, I cannot possibly let you get away with this scot-free." Shit. "You'll be serving two weeks detention with me personally after school every day, starting tomorrow. Understood?"

"Yes sir." Fuck him.

⚘

Mingi checked his phone, leaving the school grounds as quickly as humanly possible. Of course, he had messages from clients. He made a note to text them later. A message from his landlord asking for this month's rent. He'll text her tomorrow. He was ready to stuff his phone back into his jeans but then noticed a specific combination of words lying in his unread messages. Do Not Reply #6. Shit. He only texted him outside of the group chat when he was really pissed.

Mingi read the messages, mood dropping lower than it already was. Great. Now Hongjoong was on the lookout for him. Mingi looked up into the overcast sky, wondering what God he had to make peace with to end his suffering. At least he'll kill me quickly. Mingi thought before remembering exactly who he was dealing with. The last thing Hongjoong'd do was make it quick. Mingi let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, before turning on his heel and walking the opposite way of where he knew Hongjoong and the others would be waiting. Nope, I'm dying on my own terms.

He found himself walking inside the closest convenience store. Why his feet had carried him here? No clue. He had food at home. The register attendant turned to offer a greeting, but at first sight, Mingi's intimidating aura led her to murmur with her head lowered. He walked past her briskly anyway, not intending to speak in the first place. He cut a corner, turning to the right and immediately clashing bodies with another person. That person, on dropping their things, immediately swore.

"Shit!" Off voice alone, Mingi realized he'd bumped into a girl, had dropped to the ground, scooping up her items. "My bad! I wasn't looking."

Mingi, though usually mild-mannered to strangers, was having a bad day so instead of letting it go like he'd do normally, just stared down at the girl until she looked up. When she did, Mingi was almost taken aback by how pretty she was. Didn't make his day any better though so he spat out the words "Clearly. Watch yourself next time."

The girl's apologetic face instantly turned to one of annoyance. "Woah. It was an accident and I apologized. No need to act that way." She stood up, items collected in her arms, and gave Mingi a hard glare. Almost as hard as Hongjoong's. "Talking to people like that isn't gonna make you feel better about whatever you have going on, you know? Costs zero dollars to not be an ass."

Mingi opened his mouth to retort, but she strode past him. Mingi let out a noise of frustration at the entire interaction, spinning on his heel and storming out of the store. While doing that, he passed the attendant and the girl who both glanced at him with unease and annoyance respectively. Fuck everybody! He almost wanted to shout. Today was not one of his best days.

"You trying to run from me, Mingi?" The blond male nearly jumped out of his pants at the voice that came from nowhere. Mingi's head whipped to the left, heart racing from shock at the appearance of the oreo-haired someone who was royally pissed with him. Kim Hongjoong rested against the wall of the store, arms crossed. Fellow ATZ members Jung Wooyoung, Choi San, and Choi Jongho were present as well, looking grim. Well, not Wooyoung. He had a knowing grin on his face. Bastard.

"I'm not," Mingi responded, trying to not die on the spot. "I was on my way."

"Funny~" Hongjoong smiled lightly, "Wooyoung watched you walk here."

Mingi's eyes flickered over to Wooyoung's, the younger male looking quite pleased with himself. Of course. Wooyoung was the gang's eyes. Mingi could never get away with anything simply because of Wooyoung's existence. He didn't even know what he did to make the guy hate him as much as he had to. Hongjoong cleared his throat.

"So." He looked back to his leader's eyes. "Care to explain?"

If Mingi could die on the spot, he would've. He knew whatever he said right now wasn't going to save his ass. Hongjoong was already in a mood. Mingi looked at the rest of the gang, locking eyes with San. San pursed his lips, looking sympathetic, but averted his eyes soon after. Then Mingi darted his eyes to Jongho, the youngest of them. Jongho had an unreadable expression on his face. Probably feeling pity for him. Mingi looked back at Wooyoung then, and like a brat, Wooyoung quickly stuck his tongue out. Bastard!

Hongjoong cleared his throat once more, the silence was deadly. Mingi swallowed his spit and prepared to talk. I'm going to hate myself for this, but I'm already done for. Mingi made a decision in his mind. Then, he turned on his heel and booked it. He could hear Hongjoong's enraged scream of his name but didn't dare to look back.

Yep, you're incorrigible Song Mingi.

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NOTE — Just as a note: if you see a “WC” on a chapter, know that there’s a written section! <3 Now for this chapter’s Fun Fact: Mingi has gotten expelled from 2 schools before this one and in the same year!!

BLUE SPRING TAGLIST: OPEN! send a reply or ask to be added! if bold, you could not be tagged! — @ad0rechuu @run2seob @xynokia @hearttakesworld @scarfac3 @gvnwks @asherthehimbo

© GYUMIBEAR. do not repost, modify, or translate my work onto other social media sites.

[somethingvicked]

True love of mine part 13

warnings: female reader, fluff, slight nsfw.

Now

Y/N

After Eddie’s statement things got better. Your Instagram was still private so no one could send hateful messages to you. That didn’t stop them from making rude comments on Eddie’s account however, but you could live with that.

As long as no one sprayed hateful words on your building or tried to throw eggs at you when you went outside, it was okay.

Already you and Eddie were planning to move in together. A bit soon, some might say, but you had known each other since you were barely twelve years old – you’d already gone through the dating stage back when you were teenagers.

It just felt silly to start dating again. Even so you both knew that fifteen years apart could’ve brought changes so you decided to wait a month at least before starting to look for a place together, and see if any troubles came up.

It didn’t, so when the month was up you gave your notice to your landlord.

Eddie was usually based in Los Angeles, where he had a house, but he also had an apartment in your city, which is where he had stayed since you two reconnected that night after the concert.

You couldn’t move to Los Angeles because of your job, though, and Eddie understood that. He said that his job was flexible, he could practically live everywhere. Most of his team lived in L.A. but in the age of technology everything was possible.

You two agreed to find a new place together, because your apartment was too small for Eddie to have a studio in and Eddie didn’t want you to move in with him – he wanted you two to have a place that belonged to you both.

Eddie would sell his apartment in the city but keep his place in Los Angeles, for when he was needed there.

You said no when Eddie wanted to buy a big house for you two – you had never seen the point in having a house with eighteen rooms when there was just two people living in it. Eddie also needed privacy from his fans so you decided on a condo, in a secure building. Eddie would pay the bigger share of the rent, because he needed more space to work.

You would get your own study for when you needed to work at home and to keep your collection of notebooks with your poetry as well as shelves for your regular book.

Eddie had been concerned over you going to yoga classs and after a few times when journalists and gossip bloggers had crowded you, you understood why.

Eddie offered to hire you a private yoga instructor, but you didn’t want him to pay for your exercise, so instead you two agreed that you would use apps on your phone instead. Eddie had already wanted a gym in the apartment - or live in a building with a gym available for its tenants - for his own workouts. Since Eddie would use the gym as well, you agreed. 

You didn’t try to be obnoxious on purpose, you knew that Eddie would share every penny he had with you, without you asking for it.

But the comments about you being a gold digger had stung more than you realized. They could call you ugly, old and everything in between that, but they wouldn’t accuse you of taking advantage of Eddie. You never had and you never would.

And perhaps it was a bit of a pride thing, too. You would never make as much money as Eddie did but you refused to not contribute to anything in this new home of yours.

Otherwise it would be the same thing as you moving in with Eddie, with everything being his, in all but name.

Eddie hired a real-estate agent to help you find a place and you two were lucky – only a month after the first, the ‘test’ month, they had found an apartment that met your criteria.

Eddie

It took about two weeks for Eddie and Y/N to move into their new home. It would take a bit more time to unpack and make it an actual home, but Eddie didn’t care. He and Y/N were back together and now they were also living together in a place of their own.

Eddie planned on making good of his promise, to propose to her, but decided to wait with that – maybe on the the very anniversary date which they both had tattooed on their arms – the day they met.

They could even have a year long engagement then and then marry on the same date. That would be amazing.

One day when they were unpacking and Eddie placed his box of jewelry in the closet while Y/N was stashing away her shoes – God, so many shoes! – she asked Eddie a question he had just waited for her to ask.

“Hey, what happened with your guitar pick necklace? You used to wear that all the time but not now.”

Eddie sighed, rubbing his eyes. He remembered the devastation he had felt when losing it. That pick had been like his lucky charm for so long.

“I lost it when I went to jail,” he confessed, shaking his head. “I had it on me the day they transferred me and it was supposed to stay among my things until I got out. But when I got out and my things were returned it wasn’t there. Someone must have taken it. I complained, of course, but what could I do?”

Y/N gaped at that and then came over and wrapped her arms around him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, running her fingers through Eddie’s curly hair. “I know how much that pick meant to you.”

He nodded. “Yeah. But still, if I had to pick which I’d rather have back, I would always chose you.”

Y/n snorted at that but gave him a kiss, a look on her face Eddie recognized. It meant she was thinking about something, but when Eddie asked what it was she just smiled and said it was nothing.

Turned out it was not nothing, Eddie found out a few days later when she came home with a present for him. Eddie was surprised, because it wasn’t his birthday, but she snorted at that and said that it hadn’t been her birthday when he got her the cat ring either. “When you’re in a relationship you can give presents whenever,” Y/N told Eddie with a smile. “In fact ���whenever’ is the best time for a present!”

He laughed at that and then opened the present, his jaw dropping when he saw that it was a small jewlery box, inside a chain with a small guitar pick in silver, and the inscription, I will always pick you.

Tears clouded Eddie’s eyes as he immediately put it on and then lifted Y/N up in his arms, refusing to let go for over ten minutes.

That was also when he got the bright idea for them to ‘christen’ their home by having sex in every room of it.

Then,

Hawkins, 1984

“Hey, can I ask you a question,” Y/N said one day when they were sitting on the couch in Wayne’s trailer, sharing a joint.

“Sure,” Eddie said, blowing out smoke. “What’s on your mind, kitten?”

“Where did you get this?” she asked curiously, leaning forward and touching his guitar pick necklace.

The neckline of her shirt fell with her movement and Eddie had to swallow hard to be able to answer and not just stare at her beautiful breasts. It didn’t matter how many times he saw them, they were always gorgeous to me.

“Earth to Eddie!” Y/N giggled and waved a hand in front of his eyes.

“Hmm? Oh! Well, it’s not that deep of a story, kitten. It was the first guitar pick I ever owned. I bought it myself with my allowance when I was eight years old and started to play guitar.

I of course bought and acquired new ones later on during the years, but somehow… that became my lucky charm. A reminder of the first time I managed to get a melody out of a guitar and realized that I was good at something. Not just a failure of a kid, with a dead mother and a criminal father. That I was good at something too.”

Y/N’s eyes became wet and she took the joint from him, wrapping her arms around my his neck and kissing him.

“You are good at a lot of things, Eddie. So many things. Not just guitar, even though you have a heck of talent. But you know what’s more important than that? You are a good person. The best person I know. And even better – you’re my good person. My favorite person.”

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[moonstruckme]

Okay sorry I don’t want to burden anyone I know irl so rant below ! Cw for anxiety maybe? Please feel no need to read, everything is fine in my part of the world :)

I’m graduating on Saturday and that’s already more scary than exciting unfortunately, but a couple of days ago I got turned down for the only position I wanted in the city I live in now, so I’ll officially be moving away at the end of the summer. The thing is, I have no idea where !! I’ve always wanted to move out of my home state so it was never the plan to stay here, but there was a weird sense of comfort in the idea that I could potentially just stay where I am right now, continue to hang out with my friends who are doing grad school, kinda sorta pretend to just still be in college for another year or so. Which maybe wasn’t the best idea, but the familiarity was like a security blanket. Now, I cannot stop thinking about how I have no idea what I’m going to do.

I really hoped I’d have a job lined up by now, but as it stands it seems like I’m going to be working 3 jobs until my lease ends in August and after that I have no clue where I’m going. Jobs in my industry are worryingly scant and while I’m trying to make my peace with working in like a coffee shop or a bookstore or something (which I think I would be perfectly content with, at least for a while) the amount of decisions that leaves me with is stressing me out so bad. I have to figure out where I want to live, get a job there, go and find an apartment with some roommates, make all new friends, etc, etc. I’m terrified.

I have literally one friend who isn’t going on to some kind of higher education and she’s already gotten her dream job after applying to two (2) places, and I’m genuinely happy for her but it makes me feel like such a failure that I’ve applied to dozens and not even gotten an interview. I want so badly to just do something I care about but I feel like soon I’m going to have to settle for whatever pays rent. I keep telling myself that that’s fine, because plenty of people live that way and I’m sure that so long as I keep writing and have some good people in my life I’ll be happy, but it’s so so scary to know that in a couple of months I’ll be leaving all my friends and family behind but have no idea where I’ll be going.

I’m really not trying to whine, I know that I’ve been extremely lucky to go to college and enjoy barely paying for anything the last few years (I have a scholarship that pays for most of my rent and my parents help me with grocery money). There are genuinely awful things happening all over the world right now, and I live in a country that affords me a good amount of safety and have parents who I know would step in to help me if I were literally starving. I’m just sort of coming to terms with this being the first time in my life that I’m completely on my own. I’m confident that I can find something to keep myself alive, but I’ve been very lucky to have great friends and a very contented life so far, and I’m both grateful for that and terrified it’s going to end soon.

I can sort of feel myself on the edge of a wee breakdown and that really cannot happen right now because my family and my long-distance bestie get here tomorrow for graduation so I’m going to have to be very smiley and confident for at least the next few days ! And anyone I shared this with would be taking on the burden of feeling some kind of guilt, which of course I don’t want to put on anyone. So yeah. Sorry to do this here, but I really felt like I had to externalize this somehow and you guys are my unfortunate victims!

[jimmythejiver]

@softness-and-shattering

Okay so... I used to be a crayon collector as one of the few expenses I had as a kid besides ponybeads for crafting that wasn't taking paper and tape to make paper dolls and boxes and scraps to make dioramas. That was when I lived with my parents and was struggling middle class. At some point my older brother went to college and I inherited his prismacolor collection from highschool. In highschool I'd supplement this collection with stolen stubs from art class that was thrown in a general tub for class projects. Most of the colors were reds, black, white, peach and brown tones, but I got a lilac and an imperial violet that you could never find in stores without buying a complete set again. I cherished those and still have them, here they are with a parma violet from bro's old set I widdled down over time in twenty years:

Every so often I'd be lucky to replace a pencil here and there, but the prices would jump up. Recessions and living check to rent moving out of parents meant no major set replacements for years. I made do, used my pencils in a way where I'd have to cycle through other colors to not rely on favorite tones too much. I'd wonder why none ever showed up at thrift stores like cheap color pencils and crayons tend to. I even stopped drawing for years because of the pressure of surviving tbh. I focused on learning to write and set down my visual ability because I just don't have a grasp at anatomy and the three dimension anyway and landscapes do use up a lot of color.

Eventually my brother was burned out, he was harrassed by our boss who tried to pit us against each other and legal stuff I don't want to get into here. We ended up back home at my parents to fight this asshole and retreat because our rent landlord also became unbearable, which is another story for another time. Back home my disability income didn't go up much and it went into paying expenses and no rainy day saving or escape money was possible and I ended up Pop's unpaid laborer when it came to home improvement crap. Brother tried to make other jobs work after losing his ten year stable job to work with asshole who preyed upon us, but couldn't keep them for various reasons on top of managing a toxic family life. He published a book (it started as a way to encourage me to go write when I was sitting at home wasting away between soul sucking house repairs) and did some editor freelancing afterwards. Needless to say one by one members of my family die, my mom in 2016, my oldest brother (who I haven't gotten into because he's why I left my family in the first place as soon as I could at 18) in 2020, my father (Pop) in 2023 and that is just immediate family, though my extended relatives aren't going to step in unless I denounce and detransition either. My future is uncertain.

My grandma can't take me in long without violating her rent conditions and she hides our cat among her own and hopes the other tenants make no fuss, my surviving brother is now in an estate dispute with my sister (another reason I needed to leave my family) who had brought a bunch of friends (more like people she thinks she can ingratiate to do things for her but are looking to rip her off), into father's house where they robbed whatever they could carry and stowaway and proceeded to trash the house... We never evict sister, but brother has to play bad guy to get her to get them out. There's a longer story in getting it put up for sale while we fix father's money pit he left us. The sale pays off what Pop owed on the remortgage and getting money pit some actual work put into it, but it's gutted with no floors, no heating and drywall everywhere and winter is fast approaching...

Meanwhile our surviving stuff was either incorporated into grandma's apartment or sitting unsecure on moneypit property. My prisma's and clay were at grandma's where I could occasionally have downtime to draw landscapes or character designs for a book I'm too stressed to write on a laptop I can't access often. It is at this point my long distance boyfriend and cowriter on a long-winded fanfiction series and I couldn't maintain constant contact and we've not really been able to fix that since unfortunately. I have this phone prepaid a year in advanced to go crazy watching the news or some bullshit discourse on tumblr. I can see I'm going crazy, even my friend halfway around the world politely calls me out. My situation makes me wallow further in everyone else's I can't change, like a distraction because if I dare admit I'm living in chaos then I'd have to answer for myself and now I can't answer for myself why I can't help anyone else and the vicious circle.

One of the bleak things of existing without a consistent roof over your head is constantly 'shopping' to be somewhere because loitering is discouraged. Who can shop when you have no where to put your stuff? I'm often at the craft stores (Michael's and Joanne's but never Hobby Lobby fuck them), usually as an excuse to pick up yarn for my grandma, maybe I can replace a pencil here and there now that some money is coming in that isn't going towards the pit, my collection is over twenty years old and widdled down. I notice they never restock lilac and lavender, it is driving me crazy. All the sudden they stock amethyst and orchid, wtf? I go online to find out they discontinued them in 2022 because whatever they used to make the pigment they no longer have access to. I do however go down a rabbit hole of prismacolor's history, from being manufactured in the United States, to Berol in United Kingdom to Canada when I was growing up (where my old Sanford set comes from) to now being manufactured in Mexico under Newell. I find that there are plenty of discontinued colors through the years since it debuted in the 30s, but nobody has a definitive list or dates, just missing numbers, as each color has one. Also the quality has gotten more breakable over time which I can attest to. Also people at thrift stores purportedly throw them out unlike crayons which explains why I never see them in my hunts. Thanks... I'd have loved the stubs y'all. I use those!

Which brings me to last spring, we had gotten the final floors installed. Family friend who was helping with the moneypit comes back from vacation, undermines our plans to move grandma's furniture in. Grandma already put in her notice to move in with us. Friend's wife starts a huge fight. It comes out that this whole collaborative project was some game of chicken where they hoped we'd sink so much money in we'd panic and sell the house to them. They ghost. House isn't done, but is livable.

Meanwhile I've been on the search for lilac pencils (had to let lavender go because I at least have an intact one from before discontinuation) on ebay and etsy to no avail, overcharged or old pictures on new listing, color not guaranteed. I try alternative markets like mercari and other places, one of them is a website for dollmaking, where you can buy supplies and parts to make dolls. They have a lilac listing, we e-mail them, they can send it. We try another place, they get back to us in a rant about the discontinuation and being a small business being fucked over, etc. We get another e-mail back from a kid's art supply store, but we don't get back to them soon enough unfortunately because an overstock website claims to have 26 lilac pencils! We shoot our shot.

This all happens as we wait and wait to move ours and grandma's stuff into new place. I'm now the owner of 27 lilac prisma pencils:

Postscript:

In my research on Mexican manufacturing of prismacolor I find out that not only do they make the Premier that I buy and the Scholar (think similar to Crayola branded color pencils in terms of quality, I have some random ones), but they have a midgrade set they don't import us called Juniors for kids who want nicer but affordable pencils and they have a color called Lavanda and I found import listing on Amazon, but I don't buy them. Months later I am at an Ollie's over a county away and find these:

[madsworld15]

Just Know I Learned to Hide It Well Part 2 (Brian/Justin WIP)

This portion takes place right after my previous post and is still Brian POV. If he seems out of character know that it’s intentional since I feel the writers really dropped the ball on his emotional growth by s4.

But then, Vic died, and everything got pushed to the side in favor of making sure Deb and Mikey felt supported in their grief. Vic’s death hit me hard, but I still couldn’t admit that out loud to anyone. So, instead, I used my blunt but honest way of speaking, which got me thrown out. I had hoped Justin would leave with me, but even he seemed angry at me. My head spun, trying to identify if he was mad at me or the world in general.

That night, instead of going back to Babylon and picking up a trick like I so desperately wanted, I stayed in my loft drinking Beam and trying not to think too much about all the pain around me. I wasn’t sure that Justin would come here after he was done at Deb’s, but my heart hoped for it. In fact, I couldn’t stop myself from continually looking over my shoulder toward the door as I pretended to work on an upcoming campaign for Eyeconic Optics.

Around midnight, my door slid open, and Justin came in without a word. By that time, I had retired to my bed with a joint and a bottle of water. I was still thinking heavily about what Ted had said the day before. Justin fits himself into other people’s worlds instead of making his own. I thought about how Justin was currently camping out on Daphne’s couch instead of using his Rage money to rent an apartment of his own. It seemed as though Ted’s observation had been right. I just couldn’t figure out why Justin refused to make a world for himself.

Justin scrambled onto the bed and wordlessly took the joint from my fingers. He leaned back on his pillow and exhaled smoke. It lingered in the air between us as I continued to ponder Justin’s motives and desires, and he lay there deep in his own thoughts. Then, I heard a sniffle from his side of the bed, and I turned.

Justin was crying. Not the typical quiet tears that you’d find in someone who’d lost a person they knew but weren’t extremely close to. I knew Justin had lived with Vic when he was at Deb’s right before the bashing, but I’d never gotten the impression that the two had bonded all that much. But here he was, sobbing so hard his nose was also running. Without another thought, I pulled him against my chest and held him close. I let him cry until he was ready to talk or sleep, whichever he preferred.

Justin eventually pulled his arms up to wrap around me and squeezed us closer together. The young man seemed to be unable to stop his emotions from spilling over. Not for the first time, I wondered how much of this was related to Vic’s passing and how much was an emotional release regarding his past trauma. (Don’t get weird on me. I do know certain psychology terms. In fact, I see a guy every once in a while who offers me a few insights.)

Finally, Justin turned his head so that he lay against my chest and stared toward my closet and attached bathroom. His fingers started to doodle things on my arm as he tried to steady his breathing, most likely muddling through his thoughts to create a coherent sentence. I let my hands run up and down his back, hoping it would help him calm down.

“Deb’s still mad at you, by the way.” Justin finally muttered.

I groaned both at how stubborn Deb was being and at Justin’s refusal to open up about anything of importance. But, then again, he learned from the master – me.

“You know, Vic would agree with me. He was damn lucky to have been given those years. And I’m not going to take back my words to make someone feel better.” A silence fell between us before I added, “But I’m sorry you had to face the family alone.”

“It wasn’t so bad. I mostly sat in the kitchen while Em flitted around making food.” What he didn’t say, but I knew to be true, was he sat in the kitchen because everyone crammed into the living room was too much for him.

Justin started to kiss my neck and then pulled back my shirt and kissed my clavicle. I knew where he was headed, so I stopped him. I didn’t want to have sex. I tried to get him to talk. But I also didn’t want him to think I was rejecting him because that would make everything that much worse.

“I was thinking. What would you say to have half of the closet back to store your clothes? And why don’t you set up a space here for your art? I could get you whatever you need.” My eyes followed his every move as he processed what I was saying.

“Are you asking me to move in permanently?” Justin looked like he wanted to bolt. Before Ethan, that question would have been enthusiastic; now, it just made him uneasy.

“I’m saying I want you around as much as you can handle. I want you to feel like you belong here because you do.” I rubbed my hand up and down his back in comfort.

Justin bit his lip and looked around the loft. “But this is your place. I don’t want to be in the way of your tricks.”

The tail end of his statement stung a little. I know he meant well because I did still occasionally pick up tricks. Mostly out of boredom while I waited for him to get off the graveyard shift at the diner. But I digress. Ted’s words echoed in my mind as I worked out the right words to say to keep him comfortable.

Have you ever considered that Justin molds himself to fit into other people’s worlds instead of demanding that others fit to him?

“What would make you most comfortable when you are here? I don’t want you to ever think you are in my way. Because you’re not.” I made sure my hand was on his back as I spoke to him to be sure he knew he was loved and wanted.

“But you don’t want me to move in.” Justin’s tone was broken and forlorn. I truly didn’t know what to make of him in this state.

“I didn’t say that. I am simply giving you control over what you want. I know you don’t want to be alone, or else you would’ve used your Rage money and gotten your own place instead of crashing on Daphne’s couch. If you’d much rather be here, I’m telling you that I wouldn’t mind it either.” I moved my hand from his back to his cheek, cupping it gently as my thumb rubbed his skin to soothe his racing thoughts.

“Can I decide later?” Justin whispered, turning his body away from me. It was a sure sign that he wasn’t in the mood to continue our conversation. So, instead of responding, I reached out and pulled him back down so that we were lying in each other’s arms once again.

I rubbed my hand through his hair as I felt his breaths even out against my chest. My mind was still racing, unable to stop. I wanted Justin to open up, but it seemed that all the things that had happened between us in the almost 3 years since we’d met had forever affected his ability to fully trust what I was saying to him. I will never admit it out loud, but that hurt more than him leaving me for the fiddler.

Eventually, I fell asleep, soothed by the sound of Justin’s breathing and the weight of him.

—

Two days after Vic died, Justin seemed to have perked up a bit. He was back to joking and laughing. He’d even given me an answer about making my loft a bit more of a joint space for the two of us. He’d done so by bringing his computer back to the loft along with a small desk that he’d bought for himself. Justin still hadn’t brought any of his clothes or personal care items, but I knew that the computer was a huge step toward him being with me more permanently.

We were enjoying an after-work sex session. It was so nice to finally feel the tendrils in my mind unfurl at the mere touch of the one person I would ever allow access to my body more than my standard couple of times. Justin was the only person I would ever allow inside the walls that guarded my most intimate thoughts and feelings. He was the only one who knew every inch of me better than even my most favorite of tricks.

“Uhh, Brian?” Justin repositioned himself away from my cock midblow job.

I looked down at him without adjusting my position. Looking at him through my lashes was always something that I kept stored in my memory to look back on when I was jerking myself off, and he wasn’t there. Only, this time, he wasn’t shining up at me with his usual enthusiasm. This time, he was looking at me very concerned. That alone forced me to sit up, putting a bit of distance between us. Something was up. My mind immediately jumped to Justin, deciding he wanted to leave me for good this time. It didn’t matter that this particular thought was extremely irrational, considering what we were in the middle of doing.

I couldn’t find my voice, so I simply raised an eyebrow at him in question. Justin got the idea and immediately started to speak once more.

“Were you aware that you have a sort of lump on your ball?” Justin looked nervous as hell as if he expected me to lash out. Which considering my emotionally immature history, he wasn’t wrong.

“A what?” I managed to croak out. My mind raced with fear over what the lump could be. Lumps on body parts were never a good thing.

“A, um, lump. It’s about this big.” Justin held up his hand, two of his fingers connected to make a smallish circle.

I leaned forward and placed my hands on his shoulders, “No, but I promise I’ll get it looked at. It’s probably nothing.”

I then got up and walked toward the bathroom. Justin had enough going on in his own head; he didn’t need my insane thoughts, too. But the young blond followed me closely. I knew he was probably switching into that annoying caretaker mode that he loved so much. I also didn’t have the heart to turn him away. Now that I was more open to admitting that he was important to me, I had found that I wasn’t as prickly about him seeing me when I was not my best.

“Brian?” Justin finally spoke as I leaned into the shower to turn on the water stream. I didn’t respond. Instead, I silently looked at him and nodded my head toward the shower. I wanted him in the shower with me even if I wasn’t ready to talk about the possible problem we’d just discovered.

Justin nodded silently, understanding, and rubbed his hand on my back as he followed me inside. Under the water, we both looked at each other before connecting our mouths in a way only the two of us knew. Feeling the love and support ooze from him with every move of his mouth on mine reminded me why it was never a challenge for me to agree to only kiss him on the lips. Even when we were broken up, I couldn’t bring myself to kiss anyone else because, after him, nothing was ever quite as good.

I was in the midst of washing his back when Justin finally spoke again. I knew he would eventually. If I was the epitome of walls and silence, Justin was openness and communication – usually.

“What if it’s cancer?” Justin’s voice was wet, and I knew it was from more than just the shower stream. Without responding, I wrapped my arms around his chest and pulled him against my own. I kissed the side of his head before I nuzzled his neck.

“Then, I’ll deal with it.” I finally whispered. “It’s all going to be fine.”

Justin turned in my arms so that we were now eye to eye. His gaze wandered across my face. “How can you say that when your dad died from cancer?”

I kissed him again, this time on the forehead. “Sunshine, my father ignored his health, and so the cancer spread beyond the point of help. I swear, when we get out of the shower, I will call my doctor and see what he says.”

“On a Saturday?” Justin looked unconvinced.

“You know, most doctors still practice on the weekends.” I ruffled his hair and reached behind him to turn off the water.

“Can I go with you?” Justin asked, his voice soft and timid.

I tossed his towel at him and started to dry off my own body as I thought over how I wanted to respond. If this had been before our breakup, I wouldn’t have even hesitated to push him away from something so intimate. But now we’d been through hell and back together, and for some reason, I found I could trust him better than I ever did Mikey. I found my heart aching for Justin to be there while I got the news, one way or the other.

“Sure.” I shrugged to make it seem like this wasn’t as monumental for our relationship as it was.

“Seriously?” Justin lit up like I hadn’t seen him do in weeks. He bounced up and down, pulling on my arm.

“Don’t make a big deal out of it, or I will retract the invite.” I rolled my eyes and turned to my closet to change.

By the time I had carefully selected a comfortable pair of jeans with one of the soft t-shirts I never wore out in public and had called my doctor to make an appointment, Justin was sitting at his computer, dressed and already immersed in some kind of art piece.

I smiled to myself while watching him work. His intense focus whenever he was creating made my chest ache in the most comforting way. I’d long wondered why he did that to me in the midst of art, but I was too terrified to put it into words.

I walked over to his desk and leaned over to nuzzle his neck once more. The smell at the point where his neck and shoulders met was always my favorite. It put my mind at ease every single time, though I would never tell him that. Or maybe I will someday.

“Monday morning at 9. What are you doing?” I finally asked, trying to gauge how committed he was to attend my appointment with me.

“I have a class, but honestly, I can skip it. It’s art history, and let’s just say I already read the entire textbook.” Justin turned slightly to kiss my nose with a smirk.

“Of course you have.” I roll my eyes, pretty sure Justin could detect that I did so fondly. “What do you say about going to the oncologist with me?”

Justin turned his computer off and gave me his full attention. I stepped back to give him room to get out of his chair. I watched him, nervous that he would go back on his offer. Even if I would never say it out loud, I was scared, and the idea of him being there made me happier than I ever thought possible.

“You were serious about letting me join you?” Justin looked incredulous.

“I never say or do anything I don’t want to.” I shrugged as if my response was remotely close to satisfactory.

Justin approached me, a smile growing on his face, and he wrapped his arms around my neck, locking me in place.

“Of course, I’ll come with you.” Then Justin laid his head against my chest, and we just stood there in silence for a bit. It was nice just existing with him. No expectations needed.

We spent the rest of the weekend dividing our time between Justin’s work hours, family obligations, and Lindsay begging me to come to the park with her and Gus. By the time Sunday night rolled around, Mikey was at the loft begging me to go to Babylon with him while Justin was across the room working on a project for school. Despite them making demands of him, I was glad Justin had finally decided to go back to school.

“Come on, Brian!” Michael whined. “You haven’t been to Babylon since before Vic died.”

“I’ve been grieving.” I deadpan, my gaze sweeping over to Justin, who snorted just as I finished speaking.

“Sure, you have.” Mikey looked between us enviously. Then he leaned over the kitchen counter so he could whisper to me without Justin hearing. “I thought you guys were keeping it casual.”

I look at Michael and then shake my head, “Mikey, what I do in my own time is none of your business. If I want Justin to suck me off all weekend long, then I’m allowed to. We are both consenting adults.”

“Barely,” Mikey whined again. “You never come out with me anymore.”

“You have your own hubby and child now, Mikey. I wouldn’t want to take you away from them.” I snark in a way that I hope will get Mikey to leave. The longer I watched Justin create, the more I wanted to make him come undone on my bed.

“They’re at some HIV group thing tonight.” Mikey shrugged. “Come on, I’m sure Babylon is much better than just staying home with him.”

Justin got up from his computer and stretched his arms above his head. Then, he brought his hands together to massage his damaged one. I strode from the kitchen, ignoring Mikey’s jab at Justin. I gently took his hand in mine and started to massage it like he always liked. Without a word, I knew the pain was slowly receding as he looked into my eyes, and we silently communicated.

“Mikey, my answer is no. Please leave.” I responded after some time, still not taking my eyes off Justin.

We heard the door open and then slam close. My eyes never once left Justin’s, which means I caught when he ever so subtly relaxed in Michael’s absence.

“You know he’s just…” I stopped myself, unsure how to explain what Mikey was doing.

“Brian,” Justin cupped my cheek to focus me, “It’s fucking Mikey. I never take what he says to heart. At least not anymore. He knows you’ll never love him, but he can’t handle you actually loving someone else.”

“Is that what you think this is, Sunshine,” I smirked and put my tongue in my cheek.

Justin didn’t respond, instead, he kissed me deeply on the mouth. I gave his tongue entrance, and soon we were wrapped up in each other, Mikey a mere memory. Before I wanted it to, the kiss ended. Justin smirked up at me and patted my bicep.

He walked back toward the desk to continue his art but turned slightly to respond, “Whether you want to admit it or not, you love me.”

And you know what, I do. Woah, that’s a terrifying thought.

The next morning, Justin was up long before our joint alarm, so I knew he was just as nervous about this appointment as I was. I was never a naturally comforting person, so I was at a loss for how to reassure him while my own fears were building up. My mind turned to Deb and how she always seemed to know the right thing to say. I couldn’t come up with anything. Instead, I got up and found him staring out of the bay of windows. I quietly walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his torso, letting my chin fall on his shoulder. It was one of our favorite ways to comfort each other without speaking.

“What if you have cancer?” Justin’s question from a few days ago comes out of his mouth once more. He says it very quietly with as much caution as I’ve ever heard in his tone.

I squeezed him even closer to my chest so he could feel my heart beating against his back. Then, with a kiss on his neck, I responded.

“Then I’ll have cancer. What’s one more thing for us to handle?”

Justin fell silent once more, but I didn’t push him to respond. I wanted him to process all his thoughts and then speak to me.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go today. If it’s bad news, you’ll want to sit with it for a while before you tell me. Like always.” Justin shrugged away from my embrace and plopped down on the couch. I ran my hand down my face before I turned around to face him.

“I wouldn’t have told you to come if I didn’t want you there.” I didn’t sit down; based on Justin’s body language, he needed some space right now. “I know I’ve been guarded in the past. But, I thought we were past all that after what happened with Stockwell.”

Justin sighed and then looked up at me; his eyes were brimming with unshed tears. He angrily wiped at them to make them retreat. Something was bothering him, making him emotionally vulnerable, but he didn’t want to talk about it. I needed to do something fast if I hoped to salvage what little ground I felt we had made since he found the lump. I crossed the room in three quick steps and sat down, angled toward him with our knees making contact.

“Justin, what’s going on?” I reached out to hold his hand, but he moved it away.

“Ever since I was running around with Cody, I haven’t been able to get Chris Hobbs out of my head, and then my thoughts morph into a version where you break up with me.” He paused to take a few deep breaths. “I know in here,” he pointed to his chest, “That you wouldn’t do that. Just like you wouldn’t stop me if I left. But,” He shrugged and stopped speaking. It was as if he’d lost his nerve.

Then he pointed to his head, “But up here, it tells me all the time that I’m a waste of space. That you think I’m always in the way. That no one really wants me. After all, if my parents, who are supposed to love me no matter what, could abandon me, how can I rely on anyone else?”

It was the most he had ever spoken to me about his mental health and how he felt. I knew that in the past, I hadn’t been very receptive to feelings or emotions. It made me feel good knowing that he now trusted me to hear his issues and not react badly.

“Sunshine. You are never a waste of space, and I will never think you are in the way. I l-” I faltered on that one four-letter word that came so easily to so many but not to me. “I care about you. I have for a very long time.” Then I pulled him into another hug, this time I made sure he could feel every breath I took.

“Let’s get ready for my appointment. I figure we could have some fun in the shower.” I winked at him with a mischievous smile. Justin just shook his head and smiled at me.