#classes were a bit rough today so seeing all of your kind words after a long day is very encouraging to me!!

[zeldalizzy]

💛 Send this to the twelve nicest people you know or who seem to have a good heart and if you get five back you must be pretty awesome!!! 💛

- hero-of-the-wolf

Awwww thank you so so much @hero-of-the-wolf!! i appreciate you so much and love your detailed asks (the LOTR one was so fun)!! You also seem to have a good heart and are also pretty awesome too!! I hope you are doing well!! 🥹🩵🩵🩵

Thank you for always reading my rambling and for being such a sweet person too!!

[shrenvents]

Professor Howlett

Warnings: Minors dni, smut, no protection, fingering, vaginal, doggy, pet names, squirting, age gap (legal!)

Pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine x Student (Mutant) reader

Summary: Your history professor always seemed uninterested in you, that was until you missed his class.

Word count: 2.7k

…

Throughout high school I’ve always kind of stood out. To be honest, I only have myself to blame. Bright colours and statement pieces are just so much more appealing, than wearing something ‘plain.’ Unfortunately, I did more than just “stand out” that day, just three weeks away from senior graduation. That fateful day, I was so close to the finish line, before my stupid ex-boyfriend discovered my secret, and outed it to the entire student body.

I’m a mutant…

That’s what led me across the coast, for most of the past year, running from god knows what. I heard the stories of mutants being hunted and gone missing, and I didn’t intend to stick around long enough, that I wouldn’t at least make it to my 20th birthday.

However, my days of swindling folks of cash and food came to a halt, when I spotted a man with red-tinted glasses watching me. His invested gaze observed my every movement, so I grabbed all my shit, and the last bit of petty change I managed to get, and sprinted into a crowd.

Just as I thought I was in the clear, my face collided with a colossal, firm chest. I pressed the heels of my palms into it, and felt the cotton of his white shirt, and the rough, yet smooth texture of his worn-in, leather jacket.

Logan Howlett, or should I say, Mr. Howlett, my history Professor... After he and Scott captured me, they dragged me by the ankles to their school for the “gifted.” I cringed when they said where we were headed, but once I arrived and saw all the kids, like me, going about their lives, free, I knew everything would be more than okay.

And one thing I knew for sure, is that I wouldn’t mind attending Mr. Howlett’s class. Did I know jack-shit about history, yes. But I’ve always had a thing for the older guy, and from what I’ve heard, he’s more than enough in that department.

...

This morning, racing out of my room, I swore profusely at my tardiness... Just my luck. The one day that week I get to see and listen to Logan talk for an hour straight, my alarm malfunctions.

Multitasking between attempting to put on my hot-pink heels, wrapping my sparkly bag over my shoulder, and shutting my door, I missed the approaching figure behind me.

“It’s past 11 am, where do you think you’re headed?” I swivel on my toes, spinning to face Storm. “Class?”

“The only class you have left today kid, is at 2. You’ve managed to miss the rest already,” she scolds flatly.

“Noooo,” I fake astonishment and defeat, as I slowly back away from Storm's scrutinizing stare. She calls my name after I’ve taken at least two large steps backward. “Logan wants to see you,” she states, exasperated.

“Oh?” I straighten out, stopping my next step short. “Ok!” I exclaim, a little too perky. She huffs a faint smirk and walks off, and I take flight, zooming to Logan’s class, where he’s most likely dozed off.

Lo and behold, after knocking once and receiving no response, I open the door to see him snoring. With his legs fully extended, and feet resting on his desk, I bask in his lengthy physic. I giggle and then go towards him.

Mr. Howlett?” I say, clearing my throat loudly, he grunts in his sleep and I smile. “Mr. Howlett?” I say even sweeter. A second later, I swear he mumbles my name and my heart stutters, but he’s still sleeping. I move in closer to his ear. “Logan,” I announce rigidly, and my change in tone makes him flinch, legs falling off the table, eyes popping open.

He rasps my name, voice echoing through the classroom. I refused to move away from my position, wanting to seem unaffected by him, but I was anything but. With his lazy eyes roaming over my skin, my heart races wildly. He clears his throat, and rolls his eyes away after taking in my attire, as he usually does —gives me a once-over, and rolls his eyes back to his focus on his lecture.

“You missed class, that isn’t like you,” he notes, almost to himself.

“Yes and I’m sorry-“

“I hope it wasn’t because you were too busy picking that outfit.” Logan scoffs and my eyes widen. He’s always made snarky comments, and this wasn’t anything new, but every time he does, I can’t help the boiling feeling in my lungs, that makes me rise to defend myself. “No, maybe I just felt like sleeping in?” I declare. A short-lived chuckle escapes him. “And you’re just gonna admit to that?” He smirks as he faces me. “I don’t like kids skipping my class.”

“First off, I’m an adult, second, you don’t care when kids skip your class,” I retort, with a growing smile, beaming across my face. Though, his complimentary smile, drops as mine comes to full form. He’s never seemed fond of my smile, or maybe it’s just me.

“You don’t skip my class.” He states once again, and my head quirks in confusion. “Um, I’m sorry?” I compromise, “It won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” He remarks dangerously. My brows furrow.

“Okay, I don’t get why it matters so much to you Mr. Howlett.” I place my hands on my hips, gazing down at him in his chair like I'm reprimanding a child. Which he is not akin to.

He lifts from his chair, standing up. I gasp as he towers over me. “Watch your tone, or I’ll fail ya,” he counters, fighting a smirk, staying stoic. “What?” I yelp and his smirk breaks through. My jaw goes slack. “Mr. Howlett, that’s not funny!”

“What’s not funny, is you pretending like calling me 'Mr. Howlett,' doesn’t turn you on.”

I freeze in disbelief. Was this one of my daydreams? Am I really awake right now?

“You heard me, you damn highlighter,” he asserts. “Call me Logan for fucks sake, if you’re a damn adult.” His scratchy voice loses its humour, and I stay frozen to the spot. “Get outta here, would ya,” Logan orders as he leisurely retakes his seat, getting comfortable for his next nap.

Unable to drag myself away, my eyes refocus on the subject of my desires. “Why do I have such a thing for assholes.”

Before Logan can respond angrily, I sit on his lap, dropping my purse to the floor, and straddling his hips. I cup his perplexed face and crash our mouths together, moulding them into one. He grunts in surprise as if he didn’t expect me to retaliate, as if he didn’t expect that I would want him this way.

He half-heartedly pulls away between kisses, whispering my name in small protests, but he gets muffled by my lips and grinds on his lap. Quickly, his objections turn into fierce groans. He takes my hips into his hands, tightly gripping into my flesh as he pushes me back, onto his desk. I whimper as his crotch stays glued to my core, even as we move. One hand then moves from my hip to my neck, holding it, then slowly sliding to my jaw, grasping it in a hungry, pressing kiss. His tongue laps my mouth, completely dominating me, and I struggle to breathe.

Just as I’m about to pull away to comment on how desperate he seems, his other hand flips me over with ease. My stomach is now on top of his desk, his crotch, like iron against my ass, and his hands trace down from my shoulder blades, to my bum. With my head hung over the desk, I pant, practically drooling.

“You’re asking for detention pinky,” he mutters, and I respond by pushing back into his hard cock. “I'm a sucker for extra attention teach,” I mention, as sensually as I could muster. He chuckles lowly, and I shudder. The pressure of his dick doesn’t change, and his hands continue their unhurried venture of me. “You like attention?” Logan questions, his tone surprisingly soft. His tone makes me shiver and whimper, yet again.

“I like yours.”

“Just mine?” He questions darkly, telling me he doesn’t actually want any opposition. “Yes,” I whisper.

His voice drops an octave as he swears, rolling his hips into me once. I moan loudly. “Shhhh princess, you tryna alert the entire building?” He asks with amusement evident. I shake my head, no, and he laughs by my ear as he dips down. “Good, because I don’t like sharing your attention,” he says passively. “And I’d like to be the only ‘asshole,’ that gets to see what’s under these ridiculous clothes.”

“Hey!” I object meekly. I feel him smile as he leans away from my ear, and I turn my head over my shoulder to watch him peer down at where our bodies meet. “You probably want me to fuck you on this desk.” He speaks as though I’m not there to hear him. “Ya probably want to be taken here so that every time you’re sitting in my class, you can imagine me deep inside you.” He trails off as his hand pushes up my shirt, touching my lower back.

“But we can’t do that,” he sighs hoarsely.

“Why?” My reply is so quick that I grimace.

“Because, if we did, I’d be hard every time I’m in this fucking room, and that ain’t the smartest idea.” I moan at his crudeness and gasp when he pecks my naked spine, just below my bra clip. “Even your lingerie is pink huh?” He laughs smoothly. “Imagined it would be.” My legs rub together instinctively at his words.

“You imagined it?”

He pauses. “Hell yeah I did, though I tried to fight it,” he muses in between a groan. “It didn’t take me long to figure you wanted this too, princess,” he murmurs pleasantly.

After a long beat of silence and a little grinding, I speak up. “So now what? If you’re not going to make love to me here.”

He slowly pushes the hair over my face, behind my ear, tilting my head to face him just a bit. He then leans down and kisses me on the cheek.

“I’ll come to you,” is all Logan says as he reluctantly wrenches himself from me, after giving my ass cheek a mild slap. I yelp and nearly pout at the loss of touch. We hold eye contact as he backs away. “Get going, otherwise you’ll be late,” he comments airily. I nod and scurry out the room, with a grin plastered on my face.

...

After a long, vigorous rest of the day. I collapse into my plushy bed with a sigh.

“Took you long enough,” a dark voice rings, with a hint of familiar sass. I jolt up to see Logan leaning on my wardrobe. His tight shirt is further strained when his arms cross. “Been waiting to ‘make love' to ya all day,” he claims, with a mocking tone, repeating my "childish" words from earlier. My best guess is that he assumes I’m a virgin, from that sentence alone.

So, in an attempt to remedy my reputation, sitting up on my bed, with my arms bracing my figure, I slowly spread my bent legs. I bite my bottom lip, and his eyes shift down and blacken. “Get on with it then, Logan.” I roll my tongue as his name teasingly leaves my mouth. His head twitches in an almost feral manner, and I gulp.

“You’re asking for it,” is all he mumbles before pouncing on me. Our limbs tangle and I moan as his leg presses into my clothed clit. “Please,” I just about sob, to which he responds with an aggressive kiss and another crushing rub of his thigh. I moan louder, and he grunts, “You like that?” I push my hands into his hair, running my fingers through his thick locks. He lets out a coarse groan.

Loving how vocal he is, I decide to encourage him by groping his cock over his rugged jeans. “Fuck, baby,” he groans out when his mouth leaves mine. He then runs his tongue over my neck and collar, soon nibbling on my earlobe. His thigh continues to make work of me, and I match his pace. “You're so dirty,” he grins while his nose brushes my rosy cheek, and then he's kissing me. “I love it,” he professes with amusement, again, coaxing his tone.

Just as I begin undoing his belt, he flips me over on my stomach like before. Then, when I'm lying flat underneath him, he grabs my hips, to lift them towards his crotch as he kneels above. “I better see a pink thong,” he jokes as he strips me bare. He groans in satisfaction as I’m left in just my underwear for his viewing. “Unreal,” Logan practically purrs.

I wiggle my ass playfully, and he growls and smacks it harder than he did in his classroom. I squeal into my pillow, briskly going quiet when I hear his belt being ripped from the loops of his denim. Leaving my underwear in place, he runs his digits over the lace, making me whine, "Logan."

With his name on my tongue, it shortly turns into a cry as the lace covering my clit gets moved to the side, and two meaty fingers dive into me. "Shit, princess," he rasps. "How am I gonna fit?" He asks rhetorically, and I choke a sob, as he wastes no time building up an energetic pace, with his fingers.

He swiftly tears an orgasm from my trembling body, still holding my hips up with one hand. When his fingers leave, I hear his mouth clean them, and I swing my head to face him hastily, but he shoves my head back into my pillow. "So eager," he more or less snickers.

"Very," my smothered voice emits, barely audible.

I nearly shriek when his tip swipes my wet slit. Logan, without notice, suddenly pushes himself inside me, with an agonizing slowness, but I quietly persist. "Atta girl, that's it," he lazily groans out encouragements. My hands pathetically slide onto his thighs, unsure if I'm urging him for more, or begging for discretion.

At once, he shoves himself in all the way, and I let out an extensive sigh. His palm, which was just holding down my head, joins his other hand on my abandoned hip. He lets out various curses, along with my name, and begins to move, in and out. Soon enough, he's pounding into me at a savage rate, completely untamed. As well, it seems purposeful, how he simultaneously bends down to growl and moan in my ear, still thrusting.

He stirs another orgasm, still notably, not experiencing his own. "You look real pretty like this princess," he begins to ramble. "Gonna do this every fucking day." The rest of what he says gets lost in translation, as I grow overwhelmed and overstimulated.

Thoughtlessly, I try to crawl away while he still has my lower half hoisted up. Once Logan realizes what I'm up to, my pitiful effort has him laughing. "Where ya going?"

"Lo, it's too much-"

"Lo? Call me that again, it's cute," he hums.

"No more," I whimper, ignoring him.

"Just one more baby," Logan coos, while somehow increasing his pace, making me cum instantly, squirting a little. His moan rumbles in his chest, and he doesn't stop hammering into me. I grip my headboard, and one of his arms stretches alongside mine, to do the same.

When he cums, his grip snaps the wood, breaking a part of the headboard, making me shout in between sobs. He seems to not notice the damage, too busy finishing on my backside.

After a long minute, he slumps his large frame beside me. One of his arms stays drifting across my skin as his eyes intently coast over my features. "Maybe consider skipping my class more often," Logan expresses as his lips slightly tip upward. He presses his lips onto my shoulder. I smile, giggling, "Why?"

"Cause it doesn’t matter where I fuck you, there's nowhere I won't get hard looking at that pretty face," he smiles dreamily, "And you're impractical wardrobe.”

I giggle, "You have a way with words," I pause and smirk, "Mr. Howlett."

He rises onto his elbow with a devilish grin, "Now you're just begging for it princess."

Part two

[illbegottenfaith]

lucky - theo nott x reader

A tussle over a vial of Felix Felicis proves to be strangely enlightening

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

a/n - argh I had a bit of a rough time ending this fic also why do I kind of want a smutty pt 2 to this ahem ahem insufferable!theo when reader loses a bet with him ahem ahem

tropes/warnings - academic rivals, enemies to lovers (ish), cameo by Mattheo (??), fluff, physical touch, slight angst/yearning

word count - 1.6k

Two weeks. For two weeks you had spent every moment of your free time researching and experimenting to get the right recipe for the Draught of the Living Death down. You had seen the way Theodore Nott had perked up at the mention of the curious potion when Slughorn first mentioned the competition. You felt something stir inside you over the gleam in his eye, and that was when you decided that you absolutely had to win it. After all, who couldn't use a little extra luck every now and then? 

And win it you did. Strangely enough, Theo didn't seem to mind as much as he should have. After a superfluous promise to pass you the vial of Felix Felicis the following lesson, Slughorn dismissed the class. But you weren't satisfied, not when you'd realised a glimmer of an inkling of what Theo might be planning. He took off the moment Slughorn finished speaking, and you scrambled to swipe your things into your bag to catch up with him. As expected, you turned the corner and found the Potions storage room's door ajar.

"You know, I expected better of you, Nott."

Theo stilled, his back facing you, before surreptitiously pulling his hand out of his pocket. "You expected that I would be above stealing?"

"Of course not. But I thought you'd have enough dignity not to stoop this low." You clicked your tongue disapprovingly. "Didn't take you to be so sore a loser."

Surprisingly, your appeal to his pride was ineffective. He turned around and stared at you from under his beautiful overly long eyelashes, his lips twisting into a malicious smile.

"Loser? I'm afraid I'm unfamiliar with the term, Tesoro. You see, one, and only one, of us has today's highly coveted prize." His oily smirk widened. "So you'll forgive me if I don't quite feel like I've lost."

Your face flamed with indignation. "That Felix Felicis is mine and you know it."

Theo took on an expression of faux innocence, splaying his deceitfully empty hands. "I haven't the faintest clue what you're talking about."

You finally snapped. It was one thing to have his aggravating dreamy mug haunting your every waking and sleeping moment, and another to have him outright refuse to acknowledge that you had bested him. You hadn't slaved away the past two weeks perfecting your Draught of the Living Death just for him to nick it from the storeroom. No, you had won, fair and square, and it was time someone smacked that into that swollen head of his. 

You lunged at him, shoving a hand into his pocket, taking Theo by surprise. A second later, his hand closed around your wrist For pockets that did not appear excessively large, it was surprisingly difficult to rifle through its contents, especially with Theo's squirming. 

"You always do this," you bit out. "Since first year you've never been able to stand me getting ahead of you."

"Bold of you to assume you've ever gotten ahead of me, mia cara," Theo grunted through gritted teeth, wincing as you doubled your violent efforts.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, give it up already! I won, you lost. Now give me the vial."

"Finder's keepers."

So engrossed were you in your spirited if awkward wrestling that neither of you noticed someone had stopped by the storeroom.

"Uh," Mattheo started, half-conflicted about whether or not he ought to avert his gaze. "I can come back later."

"NO!" The two of you shouted, Theo trying to wrench your arm away, cursing furiously under his breath in Italian while you stubbornly scrabbled for the vial, hooking him in close by his belt loops. Eventually, after a sharp elbow jab to his rib, Theo's grip slackened enough for you to pull the vial out and shove it into your satchel. 

"Knock yourself out," you said breathlessly to a stunned Mattheo, with your uniform slightly askew and a tinge of pink colouring your face. You left briskly before Theo could recover and wandered to the staircase towards your next class, fixing your hair, still trembling from the adrenaline.

You hurried into the Great Hall for lunch once Charms ended, sliding into a seat next to two of your friends already eating.

"Hey, what did I miss?"

Ivy and Katie exchanged a cryptic look. "What didn't you miss?" responded Ivy innocently, tucking into her slice of Shepherd's pot pie nonchalantly. You frowned at Katie, who seemed to be pointedly avoiding your gaze.

"I don't get it. What happened?"

"Are you kidding? Everyone's talking about it."

"Talking about what?"

"You and Theo getting lucky in the Potions storage room."

You choked on your food, earning a few overly aggressive thumps on your back. "I am going to kill Mattheo."

You found him easily enough, pouring over some dull Ancient Runes assignment in the library. He didn't look up as you entered, fuming, but that was quickly remedied by a sharp smack to the back of his head.

"What else was I supposed to think, L/N? You had his hand down his pants, for Salazar's sake."

"In his pants, you idiot," you hissed. "In, as in his pockets. Didn't the scuffling and the fighting give it away?"

"I don't know," Mattheo said doubtfully, "it's a bit hazy how much actual fighting was going on. If I didn't know any better, and I don't, I'd say I was interrupting a little...something."

You glared at him. "He was trying to stop me from invading his pockets. There was nothing but fighting."

"Right," Mattheo said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because if there were one person stronger than a goddamn Quidditch player, it would be you. Because that's obviously more plausible than the idea that he might just like you feeling him up."

You faltered, and Mattheo took the chance to scoop up his books and leave. "I wasn't feeling him up," you muttered half-heartedly, but he was long gone. And it was true. At no point were your actions motivated by anything other than a righteous desire to reclaim what was yours. But you'd be lying if you said that your mind hadn't wandered, if only for a split second, to what it would be like to be in that exact position under very different circumstances. But it was only inevitable, with the pressing against the hard muscle underneath the coarse fabric and the illicit feeling of running your hands along the most intimate part of his trousers. You groaned, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes, trying to erase the memory.

You left the library soon after Mattheo, turning your thoughts around and around in your head.

"You let me have the Felix Felicis."

It wasn't a question as much as a statement of fact. Other than a glance towards you, Theo showed no sign of acknowledging you. He kept that irritatingly cool expression, gazing out at the setting sun and the idyllic sight of the Hogwarts grounds bathed in a soft, liquid golden glow. You joined him at the observation point, your gazes parallel to each other's.

"I don't understand. Why steal it in the first place, then?"

"Why do you even want it?"

You cast your mind around fruitlessly. "It's...it's luck in a bottle. Who wouldn't want it?"

"But it's more than that, isn't it?" Theo tilted his head, considering her with his unfairly piercing gaze. "You like getting ahead of me. You like that you have something I want." 

You tried to ignore the way your hair was sticking to the back of what you were sure was your very flushed neck. "So you agree? " you asked, in a voice that sounded braver than you felt. "I get ahead of you?"

A small, almost genuine-looking smile flitted across his face. "On occasion." He turned to face you fully now, his smile turning cocky. 

"Is that where you get off? Being the object of my undivided attention?"

"You wish." You stuck your chin out defiantly, forcing yourself to look him in the eye. "Is that where you get off? All those ironic Italian pet names?"

Theo hesitated, blinking, like that was the last thing he expected you to bring up. "Right," he muttered, "ironic."

"So I think it's only fair," you continued, oblivious to the flicker in his expression, "that we call it even. At least for today."

Theo shrugged. "If you say so, mi - L/N."

You nodded, a little taken aback by how easy that was. Now what were you supposed to do? Leave, probably. But for some reason, your feet stayed rooted to the ground. Something compels you to stand there and trace the outline of his face as the setting sun throws harsh yet delicious shadows over the contours of his face.

"Is there something else you wanted?" Theo probes gently, as if he's almost as curious as you.

So much, you want to say, and the crushing weight of the sudden realisation almost knocks the air out of your lungs. All you could think about was how much you never wanted to stop looking and looking and looking at his beautiful face. Where was all this want coming from, and what on Earth were you supposed to do with it?

"No," you say in a small voice. "Nothing at all."

Part 2

[gilmore-angel]

everything has changed | aaron hotchner x reader

swiftmas ♱ heyyy.... so this is super late😬. I am now on break so hopefully the future ones will be on time💋

summary ♱ working at a daycare has its perks, a big one being a certain single dad.

warnings ♱ awkward flirting, my lack of understanding how daycares are run, ooc aaron probably cause I haven't watched this show in forever

swiftmas ♱ navigation ♱ follow my library account @baysfics to see when I post!

loud. if you had to use one word to describe your job it would be loud. you of course loved your work, but being completely overwhelmed has become a normal thing.

the end of the day was always the hardest. trying to gather all of the kids items, putting shoes on, getting through checkout, and cleaning up afterwards.

one little boy in particular however made your job a bit easier. Jack Hotchner, an adorable three year old, was polite, well behaved, and sweet. his father, aaron hotchner, was serious but seemed nice.

all you new about him was he worked a lot, and rarely was the one to pick jack up. 90% of the time it was his aunt to come pick him up.

but today was different. when your coworker said jacks parent was here for pickup you help his little winter coat on and backpack and walked with him to the front desk for checkout.

there stood arron, dressed in his usual black suit. his jet black hair was shiny and put together like always. his blank almost cold expression shifted to a much happier one when he saw jack running towards him.

the little boy hugged his father's legs in greeting, receiving a hug in return. you smile as you walk up to aaron and pass him the drawing jack made in class today.

"jack wanted to make sure u gave this to you," aaron smiles softly and takes it, looking over the two little stick figures playing in the snow, representing them.

he glances back up at you, nodding once at you, "thank you. youre jacks main teacher, correct?"

his voice sounding so clear is surprising to you. the most you heard from him was a quiet goodmorning or bye. you would see him mutter words to jack, but they were only for jack to here. the fact he talked to you at all was completely out of the norm.

you feel your cheeks heat up, suddenly realizing now that you have to speak directly to him how handsome he really is.

you smile softly and nod, "yes, I am." you realize too late how awkward you sound.

he nods, reaching out his hand to shake yours, "jack talks about you a lot. you seem to be his favorite here."

your heart swells at that, knowing jack was your favorite too. your heart also skips a beat at the feeling of shaking his hand. his skin is rough, yet his touch is gentle.

"thats so sweet. he brings you up a ton too." your hand drops back to your side and you fiddle with your jeans, suddenly feeling very flustered, a butterfly party happening in your tummy.

he smiles, a bit brighter now. he picks up his son, who is growing more and more tired by the second. he glances away before meeting your eyes again. "I uh, I appreciate all you do for my son. I work a lot out of state so, knowing my son has a good place to go is uh, comforting."

your smile widens, and you chuckle softly, "it my pleasure. he's a great kid."

you both continue to hold eye contact, your breathing calming a bit. he has kind eyes. tired ones, yes, but kind. he finally breaks the little bit of silence by clearing his throat, glancing down.

"well uh, we should be heading out. thank you again." before you can speak again he walks out, son in his arms.

even after he has disappeared from your eye site, you continue to stand and tare at where he was. you almost feel giddy, like a teenager who just met their new crush. you snap out of your daze when you realize you still need to help with checkout. you quickly get back to it, but can't help but thinking that everything has changed.

[strawberryblue-blog]

neighbors in trouble part 2. —Gavi.

summary: After having meetings for a while, you realize that it is much more than sex. first part.

warnings: YES. +18. smut.

words count: +2.5k.

#SEXYNOTE: English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes. To the anonymous person who gave me the idea i love you 🩵

The starry night lit up when you poked your head out of the balcony smelling the fresh air rushing by.

"Hey" a hoarse voice greeted you, you turned your body as you heard your neighbor.

"Hi Gavi" you greeted leaning over the balcony railing, seeing the boy in his typical workout outfit.

"Rough day?" he asked doing the same as you.

You lifted your shoulders snorting. It had been quite a busy day, you had been working on a report and reading books for hours, but now you felt calm and relaxed as you arrived home.

"How about you?" you replied when you saw the tension in his name.

Gavi used to look more relaxed sometimes but today you were surprised to see him a bit tense when you went out on the balcony.

Especially because he didn't respond. He just stood there and looked at you with those eyes. He looked tired and stressed, the training had surely been heavy.

"I need you, baby" he admitted when you smiled at him as you felt your body vibrate.

His voice sounded caramel and it had an effect on you, something that was fucking exciting for you. So you moved close enough towards his balcony, as he was just a few inches away from yours until you saw him up close. Gavi reached out his hand and stroked your arm. He shook his head, beckoning you over.

With that you understood everything, you entered your apartment and he also entered yours, closing the balcony windows until you were inside your room. You ran to the door, crossing the short corridor that united you and at the moment you opened his door without security, you were cornered against it while Gavi kissed you fiercely.

You had missed your neighbor, you weren't going to deny it.

Now, Gavi's hands knew your body to perfection as they cupped your bare thighs, caressing them and your fingers anchored themselves in his locks of hair, tugging at it. You both gasped when your center rubbed against their crotch as Gavi took the time to kiss every nook and cranny of your skin, filling them with lust and longing to be felt.

"If you didn't show up tonight, I was going to come for you myself" he murmured unhinged with desire. A chuckle escaped your swollen lips.

"You really had a bad day" you teased grabbing him by the collar.

He narrowed his eyes nodding. "And I was really looking forward to seeing you" he squeezed your ass, making you gasp.

"To see me or fuck me?" you questioned amused.

"To fuck you i have to see you, right?" he laughed looking at you as he bit his lip.

What you guys had was hard to explain. Neighbors with benefits? Neighbors who helped each other? You didn't quite know but since what had happened that night, you hadn't been able to take your eyes (and other things) off your sensual neighbor.

You were kind of like friends who fucked and helped each other. It was nothing serious but something like a relationship where you didn't need labels and each one decided whether to continue or not. Kissing and touching was something you did often when you were together.

You were attracted to each other, yes. But only enough to fuck and then move on with their lives. You had been doing it for a few months since you first met and nothing had changed between you.

You both lived in the same building it was obvious that you passed each other and saw each other all the time but you acted like you didn't know each other or sometimes just said hello. Whatever you had only worked within the four walls and involved you both naked and full of pleasure.

Pablo trained every day, while you were 100% dedicated to your classes and exams. And although it's still very unclear how you got to this point, you both used to call each other when you needed to relieve stress. So just going out to the balcony or knocking on the door was enough to give Gavi permission to fuck you uncontrollably.

You still remembered how his lips had felt for the first time, the night you came to ask him for silence, two hours later you were making all the noise in the world while he fucked you like an animal. Just like now. On his bed, as your hands squeezed his muscular back and his hands spread your legs to settle between them.

"You're so fucking beautiful" he moaned against your breasts, sucking them vehemently.

A chuckle came out of your mouth as you heard it.

"I told you pretty words aren't your thing, Gavi" you teased amused. His face became more serious.

"Can't i say something nice to you for once?" the question took you by surprise.

Of course he could. But he never done it before, even though he tried the first time.

You nodded a little, biting your lip. He really thought you were beautiful? Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of his words. You moved closer to him and kissed his lips tenderly in an aggregate way feeling your belly stir.

His lips took your nipples again as he felt them so needy for pleasure, teasing you when you squealed at the pain he exerted when he bit it. A pleasurable pain that coursed through your whole body and anchored itself in your crotch.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, baby" he indicated taking off his pants and his underwear.

"That's more your thing" you smiled grabbing him by the back of the neck to slam your lips against his all at once.

It didn't take him long to move his hand down to your panties, touching you over them and then moving them to the side making sure you were ready to receive him and shit you were. A loud squeal came out of your mouth when Gavi entered you without warning, entering your body desperate to have you. His hand held you tight when his lips released you, still stunned by his action.

His hand took place on your hips, while the other one held against the mattress so as not to fall on top of you. Pleasure began to invade every corner of your bodies as Pablo continued to move inside you, in a hard, steady thrust that was driving you crazy.

It was hard to control the noises coming out of your mouth, as Gavi's cock made it almost impossible. You loved it so much, it filled you so much, it made you feel so good. Who knew you would start needing each other, asking for each other, enjoying each other after that time, something you would have never thought of doing. Something that started as a romp and ended in thousands of hot sessions of pleasure every now and then.

Now his hand left your mouth and was replaced by his lips, kissing you wildly to silence you moans. His lips were lovely and you felt it so intimate, so delicate.

It felt so good.

Every time Gavi fucked you it was fantastic. Even before you didn't care so much about sex but since that day you couldn't stop feeling wanted. Your relationship was weird and not as normal as any other, you knew Pablo would be there for you when you wanted to fuck but he would also be there if you needed a shoulder to cry on or someone to come out and clear your head when everything was bad. Because that's what he did when you were tired or needed a friend.

Although you'd always prefer to have him on top of you, fucking you like it was the last time you ever did it. Feeling the pleasure in every fiber of your bodies, feeding off each other, trusting and being free.

Gavi knew every part of your body and you knew about his, what you liked and what you hated, how he liked it and what you didn't. What you two had felt intimate and dirty at the same time, like fucking your apartment neighbor and then acting like complete strangers. You complemented each other so well when you were together and you didn't need anyone's permission or approval. Just each other's and you were doing a great job with that.

"Look at me, Y/n" he asked as your hips lifted to generate more friction. Orgasm was very close and Gavi knew it. "Look at me" he said again.

Your eyes focused on his and although it was hard to keep them open because of the amount of pleasure you were feeling, you were able to look at him as he wanted. Your hands held his chest and the penetrations were erratic, unbridled, desperate.

"Look at me making love to you" he whispered as his forehead rested against yours.

His words sent an electric current coursing down your back, sparks erupted from their bodies as his gaze remained glued to yours. The gleam in his eyes were like lanterns of light and you knew yours also looked like sparkles in the darkness.

He was making love to you. It wasn't just sex.

Maybe the first few times and for a few months but not today. Today it wasn't just sex. And you were loving it. You were enjoying it and you wanted me to make love to you.

He wanted to watch you as he made love to you, wanted to see how your body reciprocated his, how you took what he was giving you, how you felt what he felt. And shit, you felt it. You'd felt it from the first moment he showed up on the balcony today, you'd felt it two days ago when it was the last time you fucked, you'd felt it a few weeks ago.

You were his.

You loved his eyes. The black color that stood out of them when he laughed, how delicate his white skin looked when you were close to him, his strong arms taking you and holding you, his slender fingers when they touched your skin, his smile when he said goodbye to you after their encounter.

You loved everything about him.

How he would get overprotective when he saw you coming home with your friends, when he pretended to be sick so you would take care of him, when he called you at night to see if you were okay.

And now you were making love.

Maybe all this time you had been doing it but none of you wanted to admit it. Out of fear or denial but you were in love. You were stubborn and neither of you wanted to lose the fight, but you were right for each other.

Your hands ran up his chest gently, groped his neck and wrapped around his face as the pressure in your belly increased. You wanted to see him making you orgasm, you wanted him to see how he made you feel. Your legs trembled around your body and as you let yourself go, fire swept through your system. You screamed his name in a moan as your expressions went out of control, your vision blurred but through the clouds you could see how the orgasm was now hitting Gavi, grunting and penetrating you harder in the perfect place. His eyes lingered on yours as you felt his liquid spill inside you, hot and thick. His thrusts stopped as the spasms continued in you and Gavi's body fell over yours.

Her breaths were ragged and it was the only thing you could hear in the room, not a word. Her head rested on your chest as she tried to catch her breath and you froze. It was so much information to process, your mind was blank. You had just had the best orgasm of your life making love to Pablo Gavi.

Damn it. This was not what they had planned. And you were terrified.

"Are you okay?" he asked getting up a little to look at you. You nodded with a half smile.

"I... I don't know what to say" you said in a daze.

You really had so many things to say but you didn't know where to start.

"About what?" he said settling in next to you.

"About what just happened" you answered quickly turning to look at him.

"You made love to me" you mentioned without compunction.

"Yeah and what abour that?"

"I mean, we made love" you corrected.

"Do you want a statement or something?" he questioned with a laugh.

"What do you mean?" you hesitated. You were confused and had a hard time understanding his expressions.

Gavi sighed sitting up to see you face to face. Your stomach churned and your heart started beating as if you were running a marathon.

"Pablo..." you called out to him at his silence. His hands cupped your belly and pulled you close enough to him to make all your hair stand on end.

"I really like you" he admitted. "I want to be with you all day long, every minute I think about when I'll see you again, I wonder if you'll be excited to see me. I miss every second your body, your lips, everything about you" he kept saying and his words crashed in your chest. "I want to go out with you, for you to meet the guys, my parents, sister, I want to take you out to dinner, buy you things and then come back with you here"

Your heart started to jump in your chest, your cheeks were starting to burn and your desire to kiss him increased as you saw him there.

"Do you understand what I'm saying?" he whispered at your silence. "Y/n?" he insisted.

A small smile appeared on your lips and widened as you moved closer to him to embrace him. The embrace was so warm and magical that butterflies began to fly in your belly beneath his hands.

Yes you understood, because you had felt that way too. You saw each other every day and each time you became anxious for more, sometimes you even thought you were obsessing but it wasn't just that.

"I want this" you said with conviction. "I want you, Gavi" your body was surrounded by his as your back pressed against his chest.

"I think I'm in love with you" You whispered.

You could feel his heart beat in rhythm with yours and it made you smile with happiness. Cuddled naked on his bed where you had just made love.

Where it had all begun.

"I love you, Y/n" he said in your ear.

Hearing those words sent your system into an uproar, they sounded so cute coming out of his mouth and it felt so special. For the first time you felt like your world was being pulled into an unexplainable experience. Your feelings were true for him, always had been.

You were in love with Gavi. And you were going to try. Together.

[notroosterbradshaw]

slow dancing in a burning room - six

word count: 5.5k

warnings: nsfw 18+, smut, language, angst.

part of: The Boyfriend Experience universe

a/n: well, they're broken. it's unceremonious and it's real and they're hurting so deeply, coping in ways only they know... the wrong way. You're here to meet Bad Choice Bradley, I presume? I hope you enjoy it. thanks to those who read, reblogged and commented on previous chapters. you’re doing god’s work. I truly appreciate all the effort you make to show your support and if you like it… please comment and reblog it! x

five.two

“Rooster,” Annie smiled before him, Ava strapped to her chest in her baby carrier sleeping peacefully.

Bradley felt his poor, old heart sink because he’d done so well to now avoiding you and your family since everything blew the fuck up in your relationship. It was a small town and the more you tried to avoid someone, the more likely they were to cross your path. “Ann,” he gave a slight smile. “How you doin'?”

“Morning coffee brings me back to life after a rough night,” she reported. “Not on base today? Look at the beard,” you said, fondly as he realised Annie didn't have a clue. 

“No,” he bit back the sour taste in his mouth. Obviously you’d not told your family about his pending trial… and in a way, he guessed he was thankful. It probably brought a certain amount of embarrassment to you, if he thought about it truthfully, given Viper and the respect he still commanded at work and from the locals. You didn’t need his bullshit on your shoulders. "Few more weeks to myself. Just finished my run,” he said even though it appeared the most obvious thing in the world. Shorts, runners, Navy tank glued to him, sweating from top to toe from morning humidity.

He just wanted to get his coffee and head home to shower. He should have just forgone the fucking caffeine. He had a perfectly good coffee machine at home for Christ’s sake. He cursed the fact you introduced him to this coffee shop and he knew, eventually he’d see you here, but he’d been so smart. He knew your work schedule and now, he was always the first in line when he knew your first classes for the day were clocking over. He was no dummy - sure, he had his moments when his head was stuck up his ass, but caffeine was his drug of choice and after you’d secretly revealed to him the best in the town and he was addicted.  “Lucky. You just missed her…” Annie told him softly, nodding off in the direction towards work... his villa was in the opposite direction and taunting him and his poor choices.

He hummed, unreadable. “Did I?”  He was pleased with the relief that washed over him. It was such a non-committal response and he knew he owed Annie so much better. Annie wasn't the cause of his recurring cycle of problems. But shit, he was so good at making his problems... everyone’s.

“Loves her morning coffee,” Annie waved her reusable cup towards him, and gee, it was so awkward. Rooster nodded, pleased that he wasn’t the only uncomfortable one in this conversation. Even Annie, usually outgoing, funny Annie, seemed completely out of character with her current word vomit.

And though he was desperate to, he would not ask after you because he knew there was no way you could feel as awful as he did but he forced it out anyway. “How is she, Annie?” he tried to hide the sadness in his voice, but it was impossible. He was so desperate to catch even the slightest whisper about you - whether it was Annie, Phoenix or any other mutual acquaintances. The radio silence was quietly killing him.

After a beat, Annie replied warily, “A wreck. Not that she’d ever let us know. We’re not seeing hell a lot of her so that kind of speaks for itself, I guess. Or it's exactly what she wants, I don't know," she rambled because Bradley could see Annie didn't know what to do to help you, and that hurt him more. The frustration in the air was paramount. The people you were once closest to now the one furthest at arm's length and he knew that was because of him.

“Right,” he replied, forcing a lack of interest in his voice. He didn’t want to sound emotional that you were upset, but he certainly didn’t want to feel sad for you for the decision that you made. Bradley needed you to know that you were feeling the way you were feeling for what you decided to drag you both through. He wanted to work things out, he didn't want either of you to be hurting like this - “Sorry to hear that.” He shrugged, knowing how cold it sounded and the surprise on Annie's face telling the story. What the fuck else was he supposed to say?

All the texts he'd sent bounced, and he knew you'd blocked him - what was the use of calling? He considered sending flowers, champagne, fucking skywrite if it got your attention, but all his desperate ways for your attention would fall on deaf ears. And as desperate as he was to go to you, knock on your door and hold you until reason came back into that smart brain of yours, he knew for now, you simply needed your time. He just hoped it wasn't forever.

“So... how are you?” Annie asked, welcomingly changing the subject.

He shrugged, sipping his coffee. He didn't feel like admitting he was about to head home, shower and see his JAG. It just didn't feel like it could roll off his tongue properly without the rest of his life crashing around him. He’d been so good to protect his façade and damn, he lied so easily. It was his most hated personality trait and he wished he could stop it, but sometimes it was just easier. “PT,” he lied, but he knew fully well Annie didn’t care for his physical recovery - she had good intentions but he knew she wanted to pry into his convoluted, messed up brain, see if he was as tragically missing her sister, if he was as tormented as you were. 

Dissect and get into the deepest, darkest crevices. 

But Bradley would never tell. There were enough people trying to get in there as it was. And right now he wasn’t going to give anyone the benefit of that bullshit. That hurt stayed with him, no matter the cost. It motivated him, got him through the day to be better, stronger, harder and he wasn't letting his guard down for anyone, not Annie, not Phoenix, not Mav.

Not you. No one.

“That’s fantastic,” she said as Ava wriggled against her, waking. “I’m glad for you, Rooster,” Annie bobbed to settle the little one, whining and probably ready for her morning feed. "You need your head in the clouds."

If that ever happened again.

“She got big,” Rooster said, keenly changing the subject and turning his attention to Ava. He reached for her her little hand and Ava wrapped her chubby little palm against his pointer. Bradley knew even if kids weren't in his future, the future he had quietly hoped to share with you, this was a cute kid and it only reminded him of you when you were playing World’s Greatest Aunty and putting the idea in his head that maybe… yeah, he could get the family he always wanted with you. It was going to take more to desensitise himself, he realised. 

“They do that,” Annie said, with a gentle smile. “Way too quickly. I feel like she's minutes away from rolling, crawling, and then up and walking out to college."

And Rooster laughed, because there was Annie, the Annie he grew up with. They both needed that little break in the terse. "I hope not that fast," he gently pressed a kiss on Ava's knuckles and loosened his finger, free again.

"Well, I’d better get her home for some food and start our day. Good to see you, Rooster,” she gave him a small smile. “If you need anything, call me, okay? Don’t be a stranger.”

Bradley did the cordial thing and nodded. “Will do. See ya around, Annie," he said, not waiting for a dragged out goodbye and heading in the other direction. He had a house to start bringing back to life even if he had fallen apart in every other way.

It had been about month since you and Bradley… yeah. Since then. Things had been fairly busy for you, you’d stayed to yourself, regardless of nagging from your family, some other friends who wanted to claim your time now you were single again and, of course, Natasha. She was shipping out in a few days and wanted to have a drink but the last place you’d be caught dead at was The fucking Hard Deck. Reassuring everyone you were good, or okay, was next to useless. No one believed you anyway.  

You'd kept yourself busy. The apartment needed to be unpacked again, with no time like the present, a perfect time to purge and it felt so much better in your small part of the world that you’d rid yourself of those little things you simply didn’t need anymore. Clothes, kitchenwares, changed up the orientation of the bedroom, indulging and confusing yourself with feng shui and vastu shastra on household karma/good vibes among other things. 

But you really did feel lighter. You built a cute study nook for your business stuff. You and Bradley had planned to use one of the rooms in the Bradshaw place, giving you more time to work from home, instead of staying later after classes to do your never-ending small business accounting.

But that wasn’t the case now and you had all the time in the world.

“Fuck, Nat. Stop,” you muttered to yourself, scarfing down some leftovers for dinner. It was late and frankly, you had little to no interest in heading out, even if it was to a venue of your choice. You had to give Natasha credit: she was trying so hard to release you from your self-imposed imprisonment. You know what you were up for - 20 questions about how you were coping. You'd be lying to say you weren't worried about his impending trial and were curious to reach out. But it probably would just distract him and he didn’t need that. You were sure it was this week or next. 

Maybe you would get Grandpa to contact Bradley? 

But as far as you were concerned, Bradley seemed to be doing just fine. Like you’d agreed, you didn’t need each other anyway. Besides, he hadn't contacted you - and you hadn't let him after yep, taking the high road and blocking him. Maybe he needed this more than you did, you tried to reason with yourself. A guy like him didn't deserve to be tied down with someone who had the baggage you did. He deserved better. 

You tossed your fork on the plate, suddenly not hungry for the stir fry you were desperate for only minutes earlier although the need to get tiddly didn't sound terrible at all.

Enjoying his quiet drink, Rooster knew his time was running out as Phoenix sidled her way to him, a fair smile on her face. Unreadable, and God, he hated that. “Didn’t know you were coming out tonight,” she commented, as she put two beers on Payback’s tab, placing one before Bradley. 

She followed his gaze to the pretty woman across the bar, making pathetic doe eyes and suggestive overtones with her beer bottle and tongue. Natasha would never get used to it. And sadly, Rooster seemed pretty into it, for what she could gather. “Know her?” Phoenix asked as Rooster’s lip quirked and he stumbled to find an undefined answer.

Truth be told, yeah. Rooster did know her. Not super well, but well enough to remember how into him she seemed as she led him back to her place last week, the first person he’d fucked since… and, he supposed, it was fine. It was good, she was eager to please and she had zeroed in on him the minute he walked in last week and again tonight. Rooster didn’t generally put his boots under the same bed twice, but he lately wasn’t feeling particularly fussy. He did ask himself if there was a supposed grieving period for how long he should probably wait before getting into the game again but his brain (and Hangman) told him what he needed to hear.

Fuck her. 

“Oh, Rooster, no. You slept with her?” Natasha asked, the disappointment dripped from her voice and Bradley felt about three feet tall.

“Oh, fuck this,” he bemoaned. “She broke up with me, I have to be celibate too?” he asked. It seemed so rehearsed and he didn't lie but he knew the shit he was going to cop for spending time with any woman that wasn’t you. 

Natasha sighed. “No, I guess not.” 

“Believe it or not, I can fuck who and when I want, Phoenix,” he gruffly reminded her. "You don't get to dictate."

“No, you’re right,” she agreed. Who was she to argue? She was desperate for her friends to get over this little ‘blip’, but seeing you separately and the hurt you’d both caused each other, she began to wonder if this blip as she'd hopefully referred to is as was really the end of what could have been the best thing that happened to both of you. 

You were no longer a couple. Rooster had moved into his parents' old place alone and seemed to be enjoying taking to it with a sledgehammer. You were doing your usual MO when things went sour – you didn’t answer calls, and rarely responded to texts before anyway. You were working and looking at growing the business, so it was the best excuse in the books not to come to the bar, a surefire way of making sure she didn’t pump into Bradley.

“I can’t see him, Nat. He was the love of my life. And not being able to touch him, kiss him, laugh with him? It would just kill me,” you had told her sadly, week’s earlier when Natasha came over unannounced and sporting Thai food and rosé. 

“What is so fucking funny is that I keep hearing how badly she is doing, yet no one gives a flying fuck that maybe, just maybe, I’m going through it too," Bradley muttered, Natasha surprise crossing her face as he continued, "Nat, we were moving in together. But it’s over now,” he poured what was left of his beer down his throat, knowing that coming out tonight was not his wisest idea. Bad Choice Bradley was bubbling in his bloodstream and frankly, he didn't mind if he escaped. He was so sick of doing everything by the rules, but where had that gotten him? Absolutely no-fucking-where. Jobless and Loveless. “And for the record?” he hissed purposefully to Natasha. “I was in that fuckin’ relationship too. I didn't call time.” 

“Okay, okay,” she said softly. “I’m sorry. You’re right. You’re wholeheartedly allowed to feel that way. We just don’t see you… as down about it,” she used her words carefully.

“It was weeks ago,” he sniped.

“It wasn’t that long - ”

“Jesus, Phoenix. She was the fucking love of my life,” he hissed. "I wanted to work this out. She blocked my number, she wants nothing to do with me."

Natasha held her palm towards his chest but didn’t dare touch him, she could feel the heat, the anger reverberating off him. “Okay, I agree. I’m sorry, I know you’re hurting, buddy. And I’ve let you down.”

He frowned and paused. “What are you talking about?” 

“This isn’t just the breakup, Rooster,” Natasha said, adjusting her posture to stand with him and continuing before she could let up. “Everything has been a bit of a shitstorm. Your past is always following you around, you were part of a suicide mission that almost got you killed and now you’re waiting for trial and I should have been doing more to make sure you were okay with that."

And for the moment, Bradley was silenced and frown in reply.

"Are you still seeing the shrink?”

He huffed out a breath, replacing his beer eagerly with the one Natasha had slid towards him. He didn’t need this holier-than-thou bullshit where Natasha got to try and save him to be really honest. He just gazed back at her, now unreadable. 

“Isn’t it mandatory?” she pressed lightly. “You should really be talking to someone – ”

“I’m still going, I’m hating it. If I don’t get clearance from the shrink, I never get in my jet again regardless of how the trial plays itself out. Satisfied?” he rolled his eyes. “See ya later, Phoenix,” he said, leaving his her side and heading over to his new friend, who greeted him with a tender kiss on the side of his mouth, and while he wasn’t repulsed, you used to do that to him, and he didn’t like it half as much as he used to.

“Didn’t think you were going to come over and say hi, Rooster.”

“I’m here with friends,” he admitted, whom he’s just ditched to come over here and line up an easy lay for the night. 

“You wanna dance?”

He nodded, a small grin gracing his features that didn’t quite make it to his eyes. “Yeah, lemme hit the bathroom first really quick, okay?” 

“Sure,” she smiled as he grasped her forearm, gave the easy smoulder and disappeared. And she, with the name he couldn’t recall (but really wanted to), devotedly followed moments later. Messy, unplanned bar head wasn’t on his bingo card for the night, but he’d surely take it. He tried to be surprised when she cornered him into the stall and undid the few top buttons on her shirt, her breasts brushing against his chest as she groped his half-hard cock and played with the zip on his jeans before letting her soft, warm palm slide beneath his boxer briefs. His breathing immediately shallow because her hand was better than his hand and she sank to her knees and licked her lips, she didn't give an ounce of hesitation to take him deep.

He guessed he never really had to work hard to get what he wanted. 

And he couldn’t hate himself more for it, because he compared everything to you. The way your big, beautiful eyes would peer up at him, begging for reassurance you were pleasing him, giving everything he deserved and more, your delicate strands he’d mess his long fingers into… it wasn’t the same but he came deep in the back of her throat that she swallowed and tidied up devoutly and he kind of wanted to be sick. But as she did that thing with her tongue, he wanted to cum so badly, as she gripped his thighs to keep her balance, he regarded her, knowing this wasn’t a woman he could fall in love with. He would only ever love one woman and right now, she wanted nothing to do with him. 

He shook the notion from his head, concentrating on how silky her tongue caressed the head of his cock and remembered this didn’t happen all the time and to enjoy it as he thrust into her face, closing his eyes and imagining you again, getting him over the line as he knotted his fingers in her hair and fucked her face. Seeing you and those pretty sounds you’d make gagging on his cock, deep as you possibly could and what you couldn’t, pumping in your delicate palms. 

He grunted as he came in wild spurts down her throat until he was spent and watched as she tidied him up, sweetly placing his softening dick back in his boxers and pulling his jeans back into place, sweetly caressing his throbbing groin. 

With a quiet laugh, he helped her to her feet, cupping her chin a little rough. "You didn't need to do that, you know?"

"No," she agreed. "But you tasted so good time, I couldn't wait for more."

Bradley blushed, mostly ashamed. He certainly had nothing to be proud about. “I’ll be right out…” he said to her and she nodded and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her lipstick was improper, her hair was well and truly a mess. Just how he liked it… if it was you. And he knew she would run out to tell her friends exactly what had happened, darting out alone.

Rooster looked at himself in the mirror, taking in his reflection and rubbed his tired face. “Who the fuck are you, Bradshaw?” he accused himself. He took a deep breath, ran his hands under the cool water, washed his palms then splashed some water on his flushed face. “Jesus,” he muttered to himself before inhaling sharply and straightening up. 

“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck,” Natasha muttered to herself as Bob caught wind of her strife and looked up from his peanuts, concerned for his friend. "Fuckkk."

“What’s up, partner?” he asked, perplexed. She lifted her phone and the text you’d just sent. “Oh,” Bob said, adjusting his glasses, a trait he did constantly as he grew nervous. “That is… that is not good.” 

“No…” Natasha agreed, casting her gaze to find Rooster, but he was nowhere to be found. “Shit.” 

Rooster had spotted his new friend with her group and gave a slight nudge towards the exit when she caught his eye. Excitedly, she gave a wink back as her friends gave her teasing words of encouragement but Rooster didn’t care. He just needed to get out of there. 

The bar was stifling and he didn’t feel like Phoenix’s third degree on his life choices anymore. He wasn’t a dickhead – he was well aware he was making poor decisions. Bad Choice Bradley. But this wasn’t his first one lately, and it certainly wouldn’t be his last.

Darting through the throng of officers and civilians, he made a beeline for the door, thrusting it open, and he’d be lying to say in his frustration, there was some heat and malice behind it.

“Jesus, goddammit,” the voice hissed on the other side, the heavy door hitting a patron on the other side trying to enter. Rooster tried to catch them, almost knocking them to the ground in the process and he couldn't believe his dumb luck that it was you who were on the other side as he tried to phantom his escape. You skipped backwards quickly as Rooster yanked the door back, trying to stop its force. His face paled when he realised just who it was he’d almost knocked off their feet.

He whispered your name, and you’d swear you had seen a ghost. “Shit, I’m so fuckin' sorry," he said, the recognition all over his face as he took you in, scared and studying you.

"Shit," you muttered. Bradley could hear the pain in your voice, whether it was through injury or just disgruntled, he couldn't be sure. “Hey,” you said nervously. This was not how you wanted to see him for the first time since you’d broken up. 

“I was just leaving,” he explained, reminding you the door had walloped you in the elbow and you rubbed it in recollection, a gentle thrum from its impact. He looked back over his shoulder. “Shit, I’m so sorry,” he said again. He so badly wanted to reach out and kiss your injury better. The injury he caused, and he loathed himself for it. “How bad I get you?” he asked softly, taking a step closer. 

Before he got closer, you closed in on yourself and covered the sting in your elbow with a step or two. “It’s fine, Brad – Rooster. It’s no worries,” you reassured him, flippantly. Your body language told him everything he needed to know. He was flatlining. 

He nodded slowly, saddened at how you recoiled from him. "You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm sure."

“Okay. Sorry, huh?” 

“It’s fine really,” you said as a pretty young thing wandered out. She joined Bradley on his hip and you didn’t miss how her hand curved into his elbow and how his face changed, the guilt masking his handsome features. She looked back at you both expectedly. 

“Ready to go, Rooster?” she asked as he paused, gauging your response. He knew his timing was about as bad as it could be. 

And yep, it looked exactly as it looked. 

“Yeah. I’ll be just a minute,” he said, the embarrassment etched all over his skin as he ripped out your heart and toyed with it in his beautiful hands before you. His ears reddened and he licked his lips as she wandered away, calling back over her shoulder when she’d reached his Bronco. Well, she knew his car, maybe this wasn’t as new as it looked. 

Yep, it looked exactly as it looked. 

You’d thank Natasha personally for the warning in a moment - she probably wouldn't like it though. “Friend of yours?” you figured trying to balance your tone. Who were you to get upset at him? To Bradley Bradshaw, you were no one and that was what hurt the most.

“Something like that,” he admitted quietly. 

Maybe you didn’t need that drink Nat promised. You needed Penny to drown you in the top shelf. “Nat’s waiting for me,” you explained to him. “Have a good night, Rooster,” you told him as he reluctantly pulled the door open for you to scurry under his strong, golden arm and get lost in the Friday night throng. He watched after you until he lost you.

Rooster ran his clammy palm over his face, he felt ill as he stepped away from the door. He wanted to be sick, he knew exactly how pathetic he looked. Why the fuck didn’t Natasha tell him you were coming? He would have hauled ass ages ago and without incident. He pulled his phone out and threw a brutal one-liner at her about giving him a head’s up next time and made his way to his car, where his friend/date/hook up/whoever was waiting with a bright grin. 

“Thought you were gonna ditch me,” she laughed lightly, he could hear the uncertainty in her voice. 

“Look, I’m really sorry, but I’m not feeling too well right now, and I have a real early start tomorrow morning. Think we could take a rain check?” he asked, keeping a safe distance from her. She raised an eyebrow.

“You sure? Five minutes ago, you seemed really fucking into that blowjob in the bathroom,” she hissed at hime. And it was fine head, her lipstick was still smudged on his cock, he would always be appreciative of anyone giving him their best. But again, it wasn’t your pretty lips, nose desperately trying to nuzzle the soft hair at his happy trail, staring up at him like he possessed all the stars in the sky. God, he was truly beginning to hate himself and he missed your mouth, however smart it was, wrapped around his cock, giving him an earful... kissing him.

He shook his head dismally. “Look, I can’t do this, okay? M’sorry,” he unlocked the car, hopped into the driver’s seat and keyed the ignition, peeling out of the carpark to the allotment of insults and birds being hurled his way. It would be some time before he decided to venture back to The Hard Deck, which was probably best.

And deservingly so, he reminded himself. He'd take a few weeks off from the bar, he’d been through this before. Never go back to the scene of the crime, especially after one-night stands. He knew better, but it all seemed so easy tonight until you were before him and ruined everything. 

He pulled into a car park, the ocean bustling before him and he sat for a moment, his palms latched onto the steering wheel, his knuckles white as the adrenaline of the night coursed through his veins. Taught and teetering, he stared out to the ocean, needing answers to all the questions in his messed up brain.

God, you looked so beautiful. You had done something different to your hair, not a lot, just subtle, but he noticed it, the scent of his favourite perfume, it was so ridiculously expensive but it was the only real fancy thing you afforded yourself even if you used it sparingly, that drifted off you and enveloped him. He remembered it on his pillows, it lasted for the week until the sheets were changed. 

But your eyes… They told the story. Seeing each other was a shock to the system, but you just looked so upset when… fuck, whatever her name was made her presence known. Getting his phone from his pocket, he sighed and found your last texts to each other. 

It was all so sweet. 

You: I love you, big boy. Hurry home to me xxx

Bradley: Love you too. Lemme finish up and I’ll be right there x 

He ignored the subsequent texts he tried to send that all bounced back. Now it all seemed like another world and another time.

“So, yeah, that was fun,” you told Natasha as she gave Penny the signal to keep lining the shots up. 

“You okay, darlin’ heart?” Penny asked sadly. Not that she wanted to pry, but Live had asked her to keep an eye on you if and when she could and she didn’t know if your mother was really wanting to see how brokenhearted you were.

“I’m awful,” you confided, voice strong but powerful because if you didn’t talk about this, you’d sink into another one of those solitary states where you wallowed in the misery of your broken heart, you were going to explode. “I have ruined the best thing that has happened to me then I get to see him take a one-night stand home.”

In no world would Natasha tell you this wasn’t their first hook-up and tossed back one of the lined up shots to avoid putting her foot in her mouth. “He’s slipped back into old habits,” Natasha shuddered as the tequila burned. She wasn’t defending him, but it was what it was as Penny made some polite excuses to continue working. “He a fucking moron, all dudes are the same. Easy pussy, get their dicks wet. They should all be lobotomised," she raised her shot and you, Natasha and Penny whipped the shots back.

But Rooster Bradshaw owed you absolutely nothing. And he proved he knew it too.

“He talked to me like a stranger. He’s never spoken to me like that in thirty years.”

“What do you mean?”

“Has he said he’s missed me or anything?” you asked, sadly and as Natasha prepared to answer, you dismally added, “I’ve ruined everything because I was scared about all the wrong things. Nat, I’ve messed this up and I don’t know what to do to fix it.”

She nodded but she heard what she heard. “…do you want to fix it?”

“I can’t function without him. I am just bumbling along, missing him while he is recovering alone. He's about to stand trial... he needs support,” and you know fully well that Natasha, Penny, Mav and others had Bradley's back but you also knew there were only a few people he'd truly let help him. “Will you still be here for the trial?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be here… I’m a witness. It’s the day after tomorrow.”

“Can you tell me how it goes?”

She nodded. “Of course.” 

“I can’t believe I gave all this up.”

She nodded. “I hate seeing you hurting like this.” Both of you, she wanted to add.

“Does he talk about me?” you asked quietly.

Phoenix sighed, she didn’t want to get into this. Anything he’d ever told her was done so in confidentiality. And while you were her great friend, he was too. Rooster didn't have many confidants. "I - "

“Natasha. Does Bradley want to fix us?” you raised your eyes, and Natasha saw the tears that threatened to spill. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted. Only hours before he was talking about his latest conquest. She saw that woman follow him into the bathrooms but she had no idea where her friend stood, even if she knew you two were so much better together. She could tell you how angry about it he was. But there was no way that was going to help the situation even if she was desperate to say or do anything that could possibly help.

You shrugged and took another shot. “Whatever, he’s clearly moved on and I will just have to accept that. Another round?" you asked, a casual frown gracing your features and Natasha nodded.

"One more," she loaded the bar up and couldn’t imagine being in her plane tomorrow if this was how the night was going to go. 

masterlist.

Big thanks as always to @gretagerwigsmuse for helping me get this fic over this line x

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

[ghostfacesvalentine]

Dealing with it - Ghostface x Fem!Reader HC

Pairing: Stu Macher x Fem!Reader / Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of a toxic relationship, manipulation, mentions of love-bombing, killing, cheating etc.

Type: Blerps

Request: Can I request Stu Macher and Billy Loomis (separate!) headcanons for them falling in love with a girl that’s in a toxic relationship with someone else? Would they play the “should to cry on” role while waiting for the perfect moment to swoop in and steal her? Or would they say fuck it and put on that ghostface costume to permanently get rid of the dude?👀

Word Count: N/A

Prompt: Billy and Stu fall in love with reader that’s in a toxic relationship! May not be accurate to the t but I love to have my own take on characters!

Notes: I was a little bit iffy about this topic, toxic relationships are the worst, please speak to someone if you’re in one.

Stu Macher:

-Honestly he’d pick up on it much faster than expected. Stu would absolutely keep his cool though. Even if he walked in on you both arguing, he’d probably yell that there was a party at his place or something to change the subject.

-He’d let you rant about your s/o when you and him are alone. Most of the time it’s when you’re both skipping class or in a bullshit class together. You’d be spilling your guts before you could realize and though Stu’s fiddling with his pencil seemingly zoning in and out, he ate up every word you expressed.

-This little devil would do the most to keep you two apart and don’t be surprised if he became one of the biggest reasons you and your s/o would argue. Stu would have a way to weasel into your day and sometimes you’d find yourself overpromising to him... Then having to cancel dates and plans with you s/o or having to reschedule because you and Stu were in a group project that counted for 20% of your grade.

-Like I said, he’s much smarter than he leads on, so when his methods begin to really make your relationship crumble, he’d lovebomb you. Sneaking over to your house “just to make sure you’re okay.” Gift you little things you mentioned, like posters or CD’s you wanted at the store earlier after going with him. Of course he couldn’t overwhelm you yet, then maybe you’d catch on.

-Stu would absolutely not be shy about touching you, grabbing you abruptly and squeezing you into a big hug when he sees you and no one’s around. He knows you might not be getting much affection from your s/o, not any that you wanted anyway. This is something else he might use towards his advantage. Along with compliments you may not hear from your s/o often. “Wow y/n, you curled your hair today? It looks beautiful.” 

-You’d find yourself craving more and more from Stu and the little breadcrumbs he left you. Then when he has you right where he wants you, he’d pull you into a kiss. He’d pull away first and apologize profusely. 

- After waging your response, he’d admit how he feels about you, honestly probably pulling something out of his ass to keep you on cloud 9 about him. In all honesty it probably doesn’t take much at this point.

-If you talk about how you still love your s/o and that you’re just going through a rough patch, yeah no doubt he’s putting that ghostface mask and dealing with it himself. If you weren’t going to get rid of them, he absolutely will make the decision for you.

Billy Loomis:

-Ok, IN MY OPINION, Billy would be more straightforward. He’d listen to your rants, taking interest when he’d overhear you and your s/o arguing over the phone.

-I honestly think he has something intriguing about his eyes, especially when he doesn’t look away and kind of doesn’t break his gaze away from you, it kind of becomes hypnotizing? Then before you know it you’re spilling all the beans. Then he just becomes sort of like your girlfriend about it? He’s telling you that your s/o is doing this all wrong, but he still has that kind of sympathetic doe eyed look that makes you melt.

-Billy would absolutely sneak over to see if you’re okay after you tell him you had a big fight. Even if you didn’t want him to go over, next thing you know he’s tapping on your window. You almost have a heart attack because no one has ever done this, then when you realize it’s Billy, you tell him to go away and that you want to be alone. 

-This only makes him tap on the window louder, so eventually you give in. You have to admit his persistence is charming, your s/o would never, would they?

-To Billy this is the perfect moment to kind of lay it onto you, telling you that you’re so great and that you really don’t need to be with someone like the person that you’re with. “I’ve definitely made my mistakes y/n but I know that mistreating you wouldn’t be one.”

-I would picture Billy, after giving you his whole spiel, he’d kind of try to caress your face to pull you into a kiss, but would kind of pull his hand back for “dramatic effect”. It would all depend on how you’d react about it. If you pull away, he’d apologize and just kind of pull a “I’m sorry, this is way out of line, I’ll get out of your way.” aND LEAVE, then ignore you for like a week ?? or avoid you until it’s literally eating at him. Then it only takes him seeing you make up with your s/o to have HIM throw on the ghostface mask and just really unleash on the poor guy. 

-It would be on the news for months.

-However, if you don’t pull away and if anything you look a little sad that he doesn’t go for it, he just kind of stands there then tries again. He does that thing with his eyes where he looks so deeply into you, you feel like you can’t move and you just let him kiss you.

-Next thing you know, you guys are just making out, and jeez. It’s just getting out of control, but eventually, he’s just kind of standing in front of you, hand under your jaw, while the other one is behind the small part of your back, eyelids heavy and pupils dilated to hell. Breathing into each other in opposite rhythms as you bring up your s/o. 

-”Don’t worry baby, I got a solution for that.” Then he just kinda, you know, grabs your face again pulling you to his and taking all the breath from you again.

Bonus points if both were trying to keep you to themselves, they’d still sneak into your room and quietly fight each other about who gets to get rid of your s/o because your parents/or siblings are in the other room.

[steddieas-shegoes]

UPDATE

Hi everyone! Just wanted to give a little update because I haven’t been posting as regularly the last few days. I’m fine! 

Had a rough day Wednesday that bled a bit into Thursday, so I didn’t feel super inspired and was really focused on Liam’s tryouts and just being super anxious about that.

BUT HE MADE THE TEAM!!!! And I did post a fundraiser thing here if you are able to help even by just sharing, that would mean the world to me. The excitement of him making the team dulled QUICK when I saw it was $3200 just to play, not even counting equipment ahahahaha.

But I am staying positive and keeping up the excitement for Liam because this is major for him. His coach from when he first started learn to play might be his coach for the travel team and she reached out to me this morning and said that her and the two guys who oversee hockey operations were really impressed with Liam’s development and that he’s always giving everything he’s got out there and after I cried about that for 15 minutes, I decided to just suck it up and make the fundraiser even though I hate, loathe, despise asking for help of any kind, especially money.

And if anyone has any ideas for making some extra money that’s not visual art related (my stick people are fantastic, but that is the extent to which I can draw), I am all ears. 

BUT ALL THAT BEING SAID!!! I am working on chapter 10 for call me sunshine and I think, though I cannot promise, it will be posted tomorrow. I hoped to have it posted today, but I do have actual work that calls me despite how much I wish it would forget my number. 

I have started on a few more requests as well, but again, kept getting distracted with anxiety and life and work. The good news is that when I finish those, there will be 3 or 4 posted really quickly. 

My summer classes don’t start until the 16th, so I SHOULD be able to get through a good portion of the requests by then. I have about 40 in my inbox, which is sooooo many and I am sooooo excited. So if you’ve sent one, I have seen it, read it, and gotten excited about it, I promise. I would have already reached out if I couldn’t get to it or didn’t feel comfortable with it, so just keep up the patience! I am still taking them through May 7th (Sunday). I try to do it first come first serve, but I do occasionally skip one and come back to it if the inspiration isn’t quite hitting. You aren’t limited to just one either, ask @zerokrox-blog how many of theirs are sitting in my inbox or have already been written (it’s probably double digits). I have been loving your ideas and the creativity you trust me with. 

And this is just a friendly reminder that if you ever see a prompt that was sent to me and YOU want to write it, DO IT. I am not a hoarder of ideas. These ideas aren’t even mine to begin with. If someone wants to see it, they deserve to see it in many ways and many interpretations. And the same goes for expanding or writing your own version of something that I write! If I had the time to make everything I write into a 100k fic I would, but I don’t, so if someone else wants to, then please just tag me in it so I can read it!

Thank you guys for all of your kind words and encouragement, especially lately ❤️

[tolbachik]

Hii! Yeah, I know how you feel. I always get so drowsy in the Winter months :/ Also, tysm for your kind words in regards to my SATs! I feel like I did well on the reading and writing sections, but I’m a bit iffy on the math section. Math has never been my strong suit lol

I’m glad to hear that you’re almost out of the thick of it in terms of holiday preparations. I’m in a similar place, where it’s mostly just gift wrapping left. Luckily I don’t have to worry about baking until it gets closer to the date.

Other than SATs and holiday preparations, I’ve mostly just been doing Latin tutoring at my school. We have a couple tests and competitions coming up in the next two months, but luckily after that it’ll mostly slow down :] How about you? What have you been up to as of late? :D

Choosing my favorite DEVO songs was difficult, but I think I’d have to go with Shrivel-Up, Cold War, and Gates of Steel! I’ll definitely check out Oh No! It's DEVO! next :D

My favorite Talking Heads songs would probably have to be Moon Rocks, Crossedeyed and Painless, New Feeling, and This Must Be the Place! My favorite 80’s King Crim songs are Frame by Frame, Neurotica, and Man With An Open Heart, but I love the entirety of Discipline.

I started listening to Neurovision while writing this, and so far I really love the songs A/B, Plus de distance, and Soul Waves! I’ll definitely check out Wonderful World and Birds and Bees next :] I never knew that the Mael brothers worked with Telex! I always love to hear about how bands connect with each other. A couple months ago I tried to make a chart showing the connections between different 70’s/80’s musicians, but I gave up because of just how many different connections there were lol

Also, outside of music, what else are you into? It could be anything: books, movies, hobbies, interests :D

I hope you have a great day, and good luck with the rest of your holiday preparations! :]

- 🎲

Hello again! I hope you had a good day today!

Yeah, it can be hard! I’m not sure where you live, but where I live the sun’s already low in the sky by like 1PM, setting like only a few hours later. I love the cold of winter, but the lack of sun definitely is rough!

I’m glad you feel you did well on those sections! I get that about math, though. The way it’s taught in schools is so hard to get through sometimes, they rush through concepts way too quickly! If you did poorly on that section, don’t beat yourself up too much; a lot of people struggle with it! Myself included lol

Oh wow, that’s so neat!! I hope that’s been going well for you, that sounds like a lot of fun! I used to take Latin classes too when I was younger, actually! I don’t remember much, sadly, but it was definitely a lot of fun. What level would you say you’re at? If you’re tutoring, sounds pretty high! It sounds like you’re pretty busy, so I hope you find some time to relax soon. You deserve it!

As for me, not much these past few days, honestly. I’ve been a bit under the weather, but I’ll get through it! I think the most exciting thing in the past few weeks that I’ve done was use my telescope for the first time in ages, which was pretty exciting! It’s not very big and I’m still getting used to it, but it was really nice being able to see some of the planets and a few deep space objects with my own eyes. It’s been a bit cloudy on top of me being sick, so I haven’t been able to go out for awhile, but I’m looking forward to the next time that I can! Apart from that, I also wrote a bit more in a novel I’m writing, but I’ll cover that later since this is getting a bit long 👍

Ooh, those are all great! I nearly forgot about Shrivel Up, that one is definitely one of their more Serious songs I think lol. It is hard picking though, isn’t it? I had to go through all the songs I had saved in order to remember which ones I liked the most lol

I’ll have to listen to those songs, then! I haven’t given much love to Talking Heads, unfortunately. I like David Byrne and the band, I just never really did a deep dive into their work 😭 For you, I’ll give it a go when I can then! I’d really like to, their style is very interesting! Same for King Crimson, honestly. I liked some of Giles, Giles, and Fripp’s stuff, but never went beyond them!

Aww, I’m so glad you like it! I’m not sure if it’s on YouTube anymore, but they had an extended release awhile ago with a bunch of b-sides and English versions of songs, including Plus de Distance. Those are great songs, I’m glad you enjoyed them! I hope you enjoy those albums as well, then! They’re definitely a bit different than Neurovision, but still pretty good. At first I only cared about Neurovision, but when I saw they did a remaster of all their work, I decided to give everything a listen again. I’m glad I did, I barely listen to Neurovision now compared to the other two!

Aw man, I’m glad I’m not alone! I remember when I was really into this one band called New Musik I started doing something like that too. Their front went on to become a producer, so it was neat to see who all he went on to work with! I wonder if anyone’s ever put together a web of that sort of stuff?

Aside from music, I like to write, research for said writing, cook, and if I get the energy, do art too! I don’t share my writing or art very often, though. I have an art blog, but I never really post on it since I just don’t have the time or energy, y’know? It’s at @tolbachik-art, if you’re interested! I’m still very much so am still a beginner, that’s for sure lol

You as well, I hope you have a great day tomorrow! Take care, and take it easy!

[xleeleeboox]

make my morning a little better

gareth emerson x reader 

Warnings: gn!reader. mentions of dressing up, makeup, hairstyle. Gareth being a little insecure, a kiss :) that’s it, not proofread though lmk if i made mistakes, all fluff 

Word count; 1k 

Summary: gareth has been feeling a little insecure starting his day, but then he sees you and you come make it better, taking a step further in your relationship today

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

      Gareth had been having a really hard time with his self esteem today. His hair was not sitting right, which didn’t frame his face correctly making it look unusual to him. So he wore a hat, he does not like wearing hats because of the way it makes him look, exposing his face like that. It made him feel worse. He planned an outfit for today to wear to school, but when he put it on, it didn’t look at all. 

      On top of all of that, he definitely forgot to do his homework for his most difficult class. He overslept that morning, didn’t eat breakfast, and when he went to bring a coffee to school, he spilled some on his shirt. So all of these little things kept adding up to each other that morning, and it was getting to Gareth for no reason at all. 

      Until he saw you walking into school after he had been there only maybe 15 minutes. He could tell that you were having a good morning, hair done, makeup done, cute outfit picked out and fitting you perfectly. You are walking confidently with your friends, tossing away a food wrapper in the garbage can, giggling at your friends and their silliness. Until you saw Gareth, meeting his eyes and excitedly skipping up to him. 

      “Good moooorniiing!” You said happily in a sing-song voice, looking up at him with your eyes sparkling. Gareth could feel your positive energy seeping into him as his mood gets a little better upon laying his eyes on you. 

       “Good morning.” He mumbled a little shyly, pretending to focus on a book or something in front of him. You and Gareth hadn’t necessarily been dating, but you also weren’t looking at anyone else in the way you did Gareth. It’s like you two were in that “talking” stage. Nobody said anything to bring it on, you two had just become a little more flirty and it was like an unspoken thing that everyone knew that you two were definitely in love with the other, even if it wasn’t clear to either of you. 

      “What’s wrong Garebear?” You teased him a little bit with a pout on your lips. You cared about him, and about his feelings, but you also wanted to lighten the mood. You knew that he secretly liked being called Garebear, as embarrassing as it was. It made him feel like he really had your attention. Which he did. 

      “Nothing, just a bit of a rough morning s’all.” He said quietly, making it clear that while you had the energy to do this today, he did not. So you didn’t argue. But you wanted him to feel better. 

      “I know I told you that I was going to sit with my friends at lunch today, but I changed my mind because I want to sit with you instead.” You told him, hands latching onto his arm, reminding him that you did indeed tell him yesterday that all your friends are going to dress up today and sit together. Only half of them dressed up like you, but it’s okay, you didn’t mind dressing up alone. You did it for yourself, for fun, and that one one of the many things that Gareth likes about you. 

      “Okay.” He looked into your eyes with a genuine smile, but he did seem a little run down this morning. You and Gareth hadn’t been particularly affectionate together, but you do happen to know that he does like affection. Figuring it might make him feel better, you give him a hug, clinging on to him. He squeezes you back like a bear hug, holding you for a few seconds. Gareth pulls back while looking at your face taking in how cute you look today, eyes sparkling once again. His heart kind of skips a beat when he realizes how close your faces really are, at school. 

      Your hands slide down from around the back of his neck, moving down to where his shoulders meet his chest. Meanwhile Gareth has his hands gently resting on your sides, you look into his eyes, at his lips, and his eyes again. His heart skips another beat and he feels the butterflies in his stomach, face flooding with a white hot nervous blush. He gets one more look at your lips before you start reaching up, Gareth’s mind flashing with ‘oh my god, are they gonna kiss me?” 

      Before Gareth could think of anything else, he felt your lips softly push against his. He instinctively closed his eyes and leaned in a little bit, making it more comfortable. The bell rings obnoxiously in the background and the chatter of people gets a little louder as they start moving to their classes. You gently pull away from the kiss at the same time, and that little ‘smack’ sound at the end of the kiss made more butterflies appear in his stomach, solidifying that you two indeed just had your first kiss on his worst morning in the middle of the school cafeteria where everyone hung out before school started. 

      You started getting up from your seat, slinging your backpack over your shoulder with a pink smile on your face. Gareth is left sitting at the table, quickly gathering his things and shoving it into his bag to make it to his next class. 

      Later in the day was lunch, actually it was three classes later, he saw you bouncing your way into the cafeteria while hugging your books to your chest, still having rosy cheeks. You come right over to his table, skipping Dustin and Eddie’s offer to sit next to them, to take a spot next to Gareth almost like a loyal puppy. 

      Gareth realizing he actually loves you, grabs your hand and kiss your cheek as you scoot your chair closer to him and trying to hide the blush on your cheeks. The same blush was evident on Gareth’s cheeks as well, but he was happy he could be more confident with his feelings for you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~``

[whorkn33]

I’m So Gross (Won’t Stop Me, Tho)

genre: fluff + smut words: 8,548 warnings: non-despair AU, masturbation, maid dresses, a complete lack of knowledge on how OnlyFans works, oral sex, blow jobs, reader is kind of a simp, slightly possessive reader summary: You never thought of Komaeda as the type to have an OnlyFans, and yet here you are.

read it on ao3, where the formatting isn’t complete shit

☆~☆

The sound of your footsteps is muffled by the carpet under your shoes. Every step feels like dragging yourself out of bed with a hangover, your head pounding and your limbs heavy as lead. Classes had kicked your ass lately, along with work, and you were ready to fall over at this point.

The last thing you needed to do today was head over to Komaeda’s place and give him the notes from your marine biology course. He’d texted you that morning saying he was feeling too sick to leave the house, and with an important test coming up, going without the notes would leave him helpless. You agreed, although reluctantly, and copied your notes onto a separate sheet of paper, now clutched tightly in your hands as you knock on his door and try not to fall asleep standing up.

Komaeda, from what you could tell, was nice and considerate, but pretty timid. He never went to the professor when he was confused about a question. He was lucky you were perceptive enough to figure out when he was confused and give him a hand. After a while of helping him, he slowly opened up to you, and from there you were fast friends. He was good company, even just sitting with him in silence while you read or played on your phone was comfortable.

However, you knew that his timidness stemmed from his self-loathing. He really seemed to dislike everything about himself for some reason, pointing out perceived flaws that didn’t exist to you at all sometimes. He made himself small to avoid being a burden, and it made you feel for him. There was a point in your life where you felt like that, and you needed someone to step in when you needed help. Maybe it’s selfish, but part of you wants to be that for him. The one who teaches him it’s okay to ask for help.

So that’s why, even when you’re so tired you can hardly keep your eyes open, you’re waiting outside his apartment this late at night with a stack of notes detailing how a whale shark’s digestive system works.

The door to Komaeda’s apartment creaks open and he greets you with a smile. He’s wrapped in a blanket, holding it closed under his chin, hiding under the fabric. All that sticks out is his face and a couple tufts of white hair. He reminds you a bit of a caterpillar, all cozied up under there. You offer a tired smile. “Hey. Here’s the notes you asked for. Sorry you aren’t feeling well.” You extend the stack to him, trying to ignore how jealous you are of his blanket wrap.

His eyes light up as his hand slithers out of his cocoon. “Ah, thank you so much! I really do owe you for this.” You glance down at his hand as he takes the papers, glancing them over. You hum softly. “When did you paint your nails?”

“Huh?” He glances at his hand, nails painted red, before pulling his arm back into his burrito wrap. “Ah, one of the kids I babysit did it for me yesterday. If I take it off, she will definitely notice when I watch her again, and I’ll never be forgiven, haha.”

You raise a brow. “You babysit?”

“Yeah, I used to be part of this program for kids who had a rough home life.” You can see him shift slightly under his swaddle. “Sometimes, when a kid needs watching and they don’t have anyone else, they call me. The kids are nice enough, even though they’re pretty rowdy sometimes.”

“Makes sense.” You shrug, biting back a yawn. “Try to get better soon, alright? I’m gonna go home and crash, I’m exhausted.” He nods as he retreats back into his apartment and closes the door, and you turn to head home.

Less than an hour later, you were crawling into bed, dragging the sheets over your exhausted body and closing your eyes, ready to finally crash for the night.

Another hour later and several attempts at contorting yourself into a comfortable position, you’re ready to start screaming. It’s not like you weren’t tired, but for some reason your brain just wouldn’t shut off. You were still thinking about the anatomy of a whale shark at almost midnight and every cell in your body hated it.

Groaning in frustration, you decide to rub one out to try and get your mind off sharks. You’re tired of thinking about sea animals, it’s time to be horny. If it doesn’t work, you can always take some melatonin. You unplug your phone and start searching for something to put on - even if you don’t like the porn, maybe making fun of it will distract you long enough to get some sleep.

Opening Twitter, you log into your NSFW account and start scrolling. You haven’t followed many accounts yet, usually because you’re too embarrassed to give them the notification, but one account you follow has been retweeting some of their follower’s OnlyFans while they’re on hiatus. You click the pictures on the first one you see.

He’s thin, with pale skin, veins visible just beneath the surface. His face is cropped out in all the pictures, which makes sense. In the first, he went for a pastel, feminine vibe. Pink and white striped thigh highs, a bikini top that left only the color of his nipples to the imagination. His crotch was censored - gotta protect the goods, I guess. In the second, there’s a leash hanging from his neck, clutched in his hands as he holds it out to the camera. He’s sitting cross-legged in nothing but a pair of black and white checkered boxers.

It would be hard to deny how hot this guy is, so you click on the link to his page, noticing he’s live as it loads up. How convenient! Working your hand into your underwear, you tap the live and give it a second to load. The title is ‘Refusing to cum until I hit 100 followers’ or something like that. You didn’t really read it, more focused on nutting and then getting some sleep.

When it loads, the room is filled with soft lighting, fairy lights overhead bathing him in a gentle yellow glow. He’s wearing a maid dress, and while it’s a bit of a cliche, you can’t say he doesn’t look good in it. The black thigh highs really tie it together, you think.

He’s laying back, head still out of frame, skirt lifted and legs spread. There’s what you assume to be a vibrator in his ass, a bottle of lube nearby. His cock is at full attention, tip red and leaky. He’s gripping the bedsheets for dear life, so tightly you can see his fists shaking as his chest heaves out breathy moans and curse words. His cock twitches, and it’s then you realize he’s wearing a cock ring. It looks like silicone, if you had to guess. It’s pink, complimenting his pale skin, and firmly placed at the base of his cock.

The chat’s going crazy over it - you’re not sure who has the balls to enter chat during a porn livestream, but it’s more people than you expected. Some people seem to be feeling for him, telling him that it’s been going on for too long and he should call it a night, while others seem to be egging him on. You wonder if he actually reads chat as another message pops up.

Kisskiss69: you’re at 99, only one more and you can finish bb

The way people give him nicknames like he’s their boyfriend feels a bit weird to you, but hey, you aren’t here to kinkshame. His back arches as he lets out a long, loud, desperate-sounding whine that hits you right in your lower belly. You aren’t sure exactly when your hand started moving, but you aren’t complaining. He’s making some very pretty noises and every one of them is sending waves of warmth to your crotch, tightening that coil that lets you know you’re getting close already.

Another whine, and along with the heat you get a pang of guilt. You have no way of knowing how long he’s been at it, but you can guess it’s been a while based on what chat has been saying. Deciding to give him mercy, you tap the follow button, and a moment later a chime rings out on stream. He takes a moment to notice, or maybe just process what happened, but then his chest shakes with laughter, and your heart stops as he speaks. “Thank you, thank you so much to my 100th follower! I hope you enjoy such a talentless performance!”

That voice… there’s no way, right?

He removes one hand from the sheets, removing the cock ring and pumping his erection with his fist at lightning speed. He’s panting hard, glistening with sweat, his noises rising in pitch as his legs shake. Your own hand speeds up unconsciously, and a moment later your orgasm startles you, crashing into you like a tidal wave and making your hair stand on end. Letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, you watch as cum spurts out over his legs and skirt, and you realize something.

His nails are painted red.

Before he can say or do anything else, you close the app, plug in your phone and quickly roll over, facing away from it, like it was at fault for what you just did. You definitely feel less relaxed than before. At least you used some auto-generated username, so there’s no way he’d figure out it was you. 

But that wasn’t the issue. No, you’d just jerked off to your friend. Sure, he put it online for people to see, but this felt like a serious line to cross. Even if you didn’t know it was him, how could you objectify him like that? You feel disgusting.

One long night of restless sleep later, your alarm goes off and you drag yourself out of bed. Getting dressed, grabbing some coffee and your bag, you head out the door to get the day over with.

Your morning is normal, classes, talking with friends and exchanging notes for upcoming tests. It’s so on-par with your typical daily activities, you almost forget last night. That is, until you get to marine biology at around 3 PM. 

Komaeda’s there, in his usual seat, and suddenly your heart races. You typically weren’t ashamed of masturbating, but this was different. Komaeda was your friend, and you felt like you had somehow betrayed his trust. He didn’t send you the link, he had no clue that you would see.

You plop next to him, doing your best to act casual as you pull out your notebook. He smiles his usual smile, his messy white hair pulled back out of his eyes in a loose ponytail. “Ah, thank you again for giving me those notes last night. I know you have a busy schedule on Tuesdays.”

He was doing that on a Tuesday night?

“Uh, yeah, no problem.” You mutter, flipping to a fresh page and clicking your pen. Your face is warm, and you pray he won’t notice. You clear your throat. “Feeling better today?”

“A bit, yes. Better enough to come to class, though I am a bit shaky…” He chuckles softly. “I appreciate your concern, but please, try not to worry for me. I’ll be just fine.” 

You nod. “Of course. Let me know if you need anything.” 

A moment passes and the two of you sit in silence - class hasn’t started just yet. Maybe the professor is late? He would’ve let you know if class was canceled, so you’re confident it’s not that. You hope he comes in soon. You desperately need a distraction from the guilt eating away at you. You don’t want Komaeda to feel like you’re pushing him away, but you also don’t want to tip him off about what you saw. It wasn’t your fault, right? You didn’t know it was him, so why be ashamed?

“Pardon, but are you feeling alright?” He asks, gently pressing his wrist to your forehead. “You feel a bit warm, and your face is red. I hope you didn’t catch anything…” His brow twitches, eyes narrowed as he seems to focus on your face. You swallow thickly, turning your head away. “Oh, I’m fine, don’t worry.” You answer a little too quickly. “I was really stressed yesterday, so maybe it’s catching up with me?” You laugh nervously as finally, the professor enters the room. 

Komaeda seems to reluctantly drop the subject, turning his attention to the whiteboard as class begins.

The class goes by normally, and gradually, you calm down. It’s not like you look at Komaeda any differently after seeing that side of him, but… it’s just so unexpected. To you, he’s always seemed shy and reserved, keeping most of his thoughts to himself. When he does speak his mind, it always seems to be something negative about himself. He just seems to lack the confidence needed for things like that.

… Then again, didn’t he call himself trash near the end? It was something negative about himself, saying it was… right, ‘a talentless performance.’ So maybe it does tie back to his less than spectacular self image? Maybe he enjoys the positive attention? The money certainly couldn’t be a drawback, but as far as you knew, he was fairly well-off. You’d overheard people saying he was completely loaded, so he certainly didn’t depend on making porn to support himself.

Whatever his reasons, he’s your friend, and you don't want him to feel embarrassed or ashamed around you because you’ve seen him like that. You aren’t quite sure how he would react if he found out, so despite some part of your conscience still feeling guilty about it, you ultimately decide to keep it to yourself. Especially the part where you came to the sight of him jerking off. You’ll take that one to the grave.

After class, you and Komaeda part ways, and a few hours later you’re back home, crawling into bed once again. You still feel guilty, but it’s not nearly as bad as it was last night. You fall asleep pretty early and you’re out the rest of the night.

The next morning, when you check your phone, you notice a notification from OnlyFans that Komaeda posted something new last night. You honestly forgot that you had followed him. You stare at the notification for a long moment, thumb hovering over it, ready to tap or swipe it away. Biting your lip and cursing at yourself, you tap the notification and feel your face heat up as the pictures load in.

It’s a celebration post for reaching 100 followers, and in the photo, he’s wearing the maid dress like he was the other night. Are these screenshots from before you found the stream? His face is cropped out, as always. His hands are holding his knees up to his chest, putting everything under his skirt on full display. You swallow hard, reading the text to distract yourself, only to find out he’s going live again that night. You close the app and hurry to get dressed to start your day. 

3 PM rolls around, and again, you sit next to Komaeda, much less flustered than yesterday. You shoot him a smile as you take out your things. He returns it. “Good afternoon. Feeling better?”

Confused, you pause for a moment before shooting him a look. “What?”

“Yesterday,” He rests his chin on his palm, using his elbow to support his head with his usual, nonchalant smile. “You said you were stressed and it was making you feel unwell. Has that been resolved?”

Shit. You forgot that was the excuse you gave him. “Oh- uh, I’m… a bit better, yeah.” You nod, pursing your lips. “But I should be the one asking you how you’re feeling. Shakiness gone?”

“Ah, yes, thank you.” He clicks his pen, clearing his throat. “I made sure to take it easy yesterday.”

“I’m glad.” You lower your voice to an almost-whisper as the professor enters the room, and the two of you fall silent. 

After the lecture is over, Komaeda gently touches your forearm as you stand up, signaling for you to stay a moment. He gathers his things, throwing them haphazardly into his bag, before smiling up at you. “Would you like to grab lunch with me? I mean, since you’re stressed and all.”

You chuckle softly, raising an eyebrow. “Lunch? It’s 4 PM.”

“And have you eaten lunch today?”

You open your mouth, then close it again. Damn, you’re caught. “Listen, I have a busy schedule, okay?” He just laughs as he stands up, gently tugging you by the arm towards the door. “Come on, I know a place I think you’ll like.”

The restaurant is a short walk from campus, thankfully. It’s a quiet little cafe, its name a word in French you wouldn’t be able to pronounce correctly if there was a gun to your head. Why do they have so many vowels?

You and Komaeda sit at a small table in the corner, your back against the wall while his back is to most of the restaurant. You sigh softly. “Thanks, Komaeda. I really appreciate you worrying about me. With all these tests coming up, I’ve kinda been forgetting to do some self care stuff, y’know?”

Leaning his chin on his hand, he chuckles. “Yeah, I get it. No worries - that’s what friends are for, right?” He shrugs. “Besides, I have to repay you somehow for getting me those notes.”

You wave a hand around dismissively. “Eh, it wasn’t that big of a deal, I promise. I just copied my own notes. Did most of it on the bus. Sorry if the handwriting is sloppy.”

“No, no, it’s lovely. Thank you.” He smiles a different smile than usual - this one reaches his eyes, makes them twinkle a bit in a way you haven’t seen before. His nose scrunches up like a bunny’s would, and you swear you see the faintest hint of a blush on his cheekbones. For a moment, you’re captivated by that smile. It feels much warmer, more genuine than the polite ones he gave you during class.

You’re taken from your thoughts when a waitress approaches you, little notepad in hand to take your order. You get a sandwich and some fries, and watch as Komaeda’s smile fades back into his usual one while he orders the same thing you got. Your heart hurts a little. You like that smile. You want it back.

“So,” He starts as the waitress walks off. “Anything interesting going on with you?”

You think for a moment, puffing out on cheek and drumming your fingers on the table. “Well, I’ve been pretty swamped with school lately, upcoming tests and all. I haven’t really had time to do much else. What about you?”

“Ah, I’m not too worried about the tests.” He shrugs, folding his hands on the table. “I’m actually a pretty good test-taker, and when I don’t know a question, my guesses tend to be right. I suppose not everyone is as lucky as I am, though.”

“Yeah, I kinda suck at taking tests. I hate them with a burning passion.” You laugh softly to yourself. “I always clam up and forget everything on the spot. Once, in high school, I took a blanket with me to the standardized testing room and just slept through them all. I didn’t even wanna try anymore.”

“Really?” His brow furrows. “Forgive me, but that seems a little… excessive. Why not just stay home at that point?”

“Eh, my parents never would’ve let me.” You dismissively wave your hand again. “They were always pushing me to be the greatest in everything. Didn’t matter what. I think they were trying to encourage me, but… they kinda sucked at it. I started and stopped a lot of hobbies growing up because they sucked all the fun out of them. I still have my old choir medals from elementary school.”

“You sang?” He chuckles. “Sorry, you just… don’t seem like the type. Not confident enough for it, I guess.”

Look who’s talking.

“Yeah, I did. Even made it to a state competition once, but…” You sigh softly, grimacing at the memory. “I cracked under the pressure. Forgot a line. I powered through, but didn’t make it to nationals. My whole family had come out to watch me perform, and I choked on the last song. I was so ashamed and anxious I was sick to my stomach the whole car ride home.”

“I’m… sorry to hear that.” He frowns as the waitress approaches with your food. You make sure to smile and thank her, looking back to Komaeda as she walks away. “It was a long time ago. I’m over it now.” You bite into a french fry as you blink the memory away.

“Haven’t I heard you mention siblings before?” He asks, sipping his drink. “Did they treat them the same way?”

“Oh, my siblings are all much older than me.” You shake your head. “By the time I came along, the two older ones were already moving out. One’s an alcoholic, one’s a drug addict, and the last… they just didn’t get a fair shot.” You pop another fry into your mouth, staring out the window thoughtfully. “So our parents tried really hard with me. Did everything they could to make this one come out right. To make their last kid actually amount to something.”

“And that reflected in the amount of pressure they put on you for even the tiniest things…” He nods slowly as it seems to click in his head. You nod back, short and curt. “Yeah. I loved singing, but they pushed me to pursue it as a career so I stopped. I loved art, but they signed me up for painting classes when I wanted to draw anime girls in cute, frilly skirts. It was about their idea of what I should be, not what I actually wanted for myself.”

“I see… I think I understand.” His frown only deepens, his bottom lip sticking out slightly like he’s pouting. It’s cute. You pointedly look away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to drag the mood down. You brought me here to liven me up, didn’t you?” You pull your lips back into a smile, shifting slightly in your seat as a pang of guilt shoots through you. Komaeda shakes his head. “No, it’s alright. I appreciate you opening up to me. I just wish I knew how to help.” He chuckles softly. “I wish I could give you some new hobby they haven’t already spoiled for you.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ve been away from them for a while now. I’ve found things I enjoy.” You sip your drink as his face seems to relax a bit. “Really? Do you mind if I ask what?”

“Well, I enjoy writing.” You lower your class, cupping your hands around it and staring into the liquid. “I’ve been writing short stories since I was 11. I had the good sense to hide it from them, so they never got the chance to completely ruin it for me.”

“Can I ask what you wrote?” His head tilts, loose strands of hair falling into his face. You nod. “Depends on the time period. When I was young, mostly fanfiction and stuff for stories I liked. Then in high school, I got really into writing short horror stories and posting them online. Along with some fanfiction on the side. And now, it just depends on the mood, what I’m feeling that particular day.” You shrug. “I’m glad I kept it from them. They’ve never read any of my stuff, and they never will. This is mine. I plan to keep it that way.”

He nods, a soft smile gracing his face. “I understand. I’m glad you have something. Shows how strong you are, to still find joy in creativity after it’s been taken advantage of.”

“It’s not that big a deal.” You shake your head. “Tons of kids had it worse than I did. I’m sure my siblings would say I had it easy compared to them.” You pop another fry into your mouth. His frown returns. “Don’t say that. Just because others had it worse doesn’t mean you didn’t struggle at all. You should acknowledge your achievements.”

You laugh softly. “Says you, the king of casual self-deprecation.” He tilts his head to the side, brow knitting together in what you realize is genuine confusion. “Huh?” You sigh softly.

“Look, I’m no psych major, but you’d have to be deaf or stupid to not hear all the nasty things you say about yourself. You’re always saying that you’re worthless, trash, talentless...” You shrug. “I dunno. You don’t have to tell me anything, obviously, but maybe consider taking your own advice. People don’t typically develop such a bad self-image out of nowhere. If I should acknowledge my achievements, then you should recognize that you’re actually worth something, y’know?”

You realize you’ve been staring at the table this whole time and finally raise your eyes to his face. His eyes are wide, lips parted, staring at you in silence. You can’t read his expression. A pit forms in your stomach, and you’re about to frantically retract your statement when he smiles again, and his nose crinkles. Before you realize it, you’re smiling, too.

“Thank you,” He says. “I’m not worthy of such kind words.”

He’s exhausting.

After lunch, you finish your day and end up at home, flopping into bed as usual. The blankets are warm, your pillow is soft, and you’re ready for dreamtime.

Then your phone buzzes, and you pick it up lightning quick. 

It’s a notification from Komaeda’s OnlyFans. He’s live again. You’d almost forgotten about the post he made this morning saying he was going to do that. You tap the notification before you can talk yourself out of it and immediately feel your face heating up. Why did you click it? Did you want to see him naked or something? This is wrong, if he wanted you to see him naked he would’ve-

The stream loads. He’s wearing a black crop top and gray sweatpants, a tiny strip of his midsection all that’s exposed for now. Keeping it simple tonight? The soft glow of the fairy lights makes him look nearly angelic as he lays back, keeping his face out of frame. 

He lays there a moment, breathing deeply and fidgeting with the waistband of his sweats, probably waiting for more people to join before he starts whatever he has planned. Slowly, the chat starts going.

Kisskiss69: another live? you’re spoiling us recently babe

Mythicluvr: You’re so cute, I’d love to marry you

Sinkfukr420: princess is back for more~ ;)

For some reason, they’re really pissing you off by talking to him like that. They don’t know him, why call him pet names and shit? You clench your jaw. They have no right, they’re strangers just looking to get their rocks off to anything they can get their hands on. It was a little annoying when you thought he was a stranger, but now it’s a lot more than that. You take a deep breath to avoid causing a scene in chat. You don’t wanna be that guy.

Seeming to decide enough people have joined, Komaeda starts palming himself through his pants, letting out a sigh as he spreads his legs a bit. He’s not being very loud yet, but he’s only just gotten started. Still, the small gasps and hums you can make out send fire to your crotch. People say the ones who make this kind of content must be sluts or something, but with how ridiculously horny you already are, you get the feeling they’re projecting.

You lay on your back, tugging your bottoms off and tossing them to the floor. You can grab them in the morning when you get up. For now, you focus your attention on Komaeda as he pulls his pants down his legs, his cock springing up against his belly. It’s not as red as it was last night, but you don’t know how long he was at it. He wraps his fist around the base and drags it up, the foreskin stretching and covering the head before he drags it back down. A soft moan escapes him and he squirms a bit, dragging his shirt up with his other hand, giving you a view of his bare stomach and chest.

Mythicluvr: You make such cute noises. Can we get dinner some time?”

Kisskiss69: god even when you’re not all dolled up you’re so hot

Irritated, you tap the ‘hide chat’ button. They shouldn’t talk to him like that. They don’t even know him. They don’t know that he’s kind and shy, and a good listener and ridiculously smart. They have no clue who he is. They’ve never seen his face. They’ve never seen his smile.

Your hand speeds up, and as if he somehow read your mind, so does Komaeda’s. He’s getting progressively louder, the hand that isn’t pumping his cock circling his nipple and then pinching it hard. His voice catches in his throat as he cries out, slick sounds coming through your phone’s speaker along with his voice. The spring in your lower belly bends again, muscles tensing, and you drop your phone to grip the sheets, squeezing your eyes shut and focusing on him. Imagining planting kisses on his cheeks, his neck, his hips. Just as you’re about to snap, you hear it.

It’s a quick, breathy, muttered sound, but you recognize it instantly. It would be easy for anyone else to completely ignore it as blissed-out babbling. But not you.

That was your name.

You cum hard, gasping as white hot waves of pleasure roll through you, every hair on your body standing on end. As you start to come down, relaxing into your pillow, he reaches a high note you haven’t heard from him before. Picking up your phone again, you see cum splattered across his stomach, his chest heaving. He lets out a content little sigh as he reaches off camera and grabs a tissue to clean the cum off his body.

You want to lick it off.

You close the app and plug your phone in, staring at the ceiling as the guilt sets in. Last time, you had no idea it was him, but now you had no excuse. 

In the morning, you go through the usual motions a bit slower than normal. How could you? Komaeda was your friend. He would be disgusted with you if he knew what you had done. He would probably never talk to you again. 

Exhausted, you pick up an energy drink on your way to marine biology. The vending machine rattles and two cans fall out. Huh. Must be your lucky day.

Placing the extra can in your bag, you walk into the classroom later than usual. Komaeda is already there, and he smiles when he sees you. Your stomach churns with guilt - and much to your disgust, a warm pool of arousal settles there as well. Your face is warm as you sit down next to him, taking out your notebooks and getting ready for class.

“Good afternoon,” He greets as you click your pen. “Feeling alright? You look flushed.”

“Hm? Oh, uh, it’s nothing.” You shake your head. “I feel fine, really.” You sip at the energy drink, and he raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Because normally, you’re more of a coffee person.”

You look down at the can. It’s true that you prefer coffee over this. You didn’t think he noticed that. “I just… didn’t sleep well last night. Decided to grab one to get through the day.” You shrug, reaching into your bag and pulling out the extra one, setting it down in front of him. “You like these, right? Here, the machine gave me an extra one. You can have it.”

“Ah, that’s very kind of you, but you don’t-” He starts, but you shush him as the professor walks into the room. You’re pleased when he cracks it open a few minutes into the lesson, taking a small drink.

After class, he watches as you pack your things. “Would you like to come over to my place tonight?” He asks, his voice nonchalant and syrupy sweet. Shrugging softly, yo zip your bag up. “Sure. What time?”

“Any time after 6, I’ll be home then.” He replies as he stands, gathering his things. “Just drop by when you have the time.”

Giving him a short nod, you part ways, heading to your next class. Your face burns as you realize you just agreed to hang out alone with Komaeda after what you did last night. How could you be so selfish? If he knew what you had done, he would never want to look at you again. You’re taking advantage of the fact he doesn’t know for your own personal gain, and it disgusts you even further.

You’d have to come clean. To ease your own mind, to give yourself a chance to apologize. Even if he hated you afterwards, it was better than living with this guilt.

You end up at his door around 7:30 PM. You stand outside, staring, trying to convince yourself to knock. You had to. He deserved to know. Holding your breath, you knocked twice. Was that enough? Did he hear it? Did you knock hard enough?

The door opens and Komaeda’s standing there in his pajamas - the same ones he was wearing yesterday during the live,or at least a similar pair. He smiles. “Ah, you’re here. Come in, come in.” He steps back, allowing you room to step inside.

His apartment is small, but cozy. It’s very clean, you notice, like everything’s been dusted recently. He gestures to the couch. “Please, sit down. I’ll go get you something to drink.”

You sit as he wanders off into the kitchen, the distant clinking of dishes the only sound. This room smells like him. It makes sense, considering he lives here. Oh god, you’re being creepy now, thinking about how he smells and shit. You have to put a stop to this. 

He comes back, two mugs in tow. “It’s chamomile tea.” He says as he hands one to you, sitting down at the other end of the couch with his leg folded underneath him. You blow on the liquid gently before taking a small sip. It’s good. You smile at him. “Thank you. But… I wanted to talk to you about something, actually.” You hold the mug tightly in your hands as he raises an eyebrow. “Really? By all means, go ahead.”

“I… um…” You shift slightly in your seat. “I’m… not sure how to say this, but… I found your OnlyFans the other day, and I did some… things I don’t think you would be happy about.” Your face is burning, but you swallow the lump in your throat and press forward, staring into your mug like it’s the one solid thing in the room. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, and I understand if you don’t want to speak to me anymore.”

A moment passes, and the silence weighs on you, getting heavier by the second. You’re ready for him to raise his voice, call you scum, kick you out of his apartment and never speak to you again.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he tilts his head, chuckling softly. “Why on Earth would I not want to see you anymore?”

“Because… because I looked at you… doing those things, without permission.” You swallow hard, refusing to make eye contact. You might explode if you look at him. “Y-you… you must think I’m some kind of pervert, trash you should throw away on the sidewalk. You shouldn’t even waste your time with me, seriously, hell I should probably just go before you-”

He cuts you off by gently placing a hand on your leg, snapping you out of your flustered rambling. He’s closer. When did he scoot closer? Slowly raising your eyes to his face, you find that smile from the restaurant, the one where his nose crinkles, and you melt. He’s laughing. Laughing at you.

“Is that what’s been going through your head this whole time?” He asks, still chuckling. “Angel, I posted those things online because I wanted people to see them. Just my luck that someone I know would happen across them. But, as long as we’re being honest… I already knew you had happened across them.”

Your brain short circuits. “You… huh? How?”

“Well, at first, it was just a hunch…” He swirls his mug around nonchalantly, the steam spiraling up into his face. “... but then, at lunch, you slipped up. Repeated a word I only used while performing. Honestly, I was more surprised that you were continuing to interact with me, after seeing that.”

“Why would I stop talking to you over this?” The mug of warm tea shakes in your hands. “I just didn’t want to make things awkward between us. I was worried that if you knew, you would hate me for looking at you that way.”

“In… what way?” He asks, raising his mug to his lips and taking a long, slow sip, never breaking eye contact. You swallow hard, looking away. “U-um… well, you know.”

“I don’t think I do.” What you might call a smirk plays at his lips, never fully forming but ever present. “Please, enlighten me. How exactly did you look at me?”

You lift your eyes to his face nervously, feeling warmth bloom on your cheeks. Unsure of what to say, you let your mouth drop open, but no sound comes out. You can feel his eyes on you, observing your every move, every tiny muscle movement in your body as you tap your fingers along the mug, thinking, trying to come up with a response. All that comes to mind is the image of him in the maid dress, vibrator in his ass while he jerked himself off, hands and legs twitching as he got closer and closer to cumming. You swallow thickly.

Setting his mug down, he scoots closer, rising to one knee to hover over you. Instinctively, you lean backwards, and before you know it you’re on your back and he’s stuck out a hand to support himself. His mess of white hair falls into his face and he looks down at you almost smugly, shifting his weight a bit. You can hear every breath escape him, and now that he’s closer you can see the slight pink tint on his cheeks. His eyes flick over your face, taking in your expression. “Forgive me for being so forward, but were you thinking something like this?”

Mouth hanging open, you nod without realizing, staring up at him with wide eyes, still clutching the mug of tea over your chest, though now it’s at an odd angle to avoid spilling it all over yourself and his couch. He gingerly takes it from you, setting it down on the coffee table. You’re grateful, because your wrists were starting to hurt from the awkward position, but now your hands are empty and you aren’t sure what to do with them. You know what you want to do with them, the thought making you blush harder.

His head tilts slightly to one side, his hair bouncing around his shoulders with no regard for the laws of physics. “What’s wrong? Is this… not okay?” He starts moving like he’s about to sit up, and you panic. “N-no! No,” You sputter frantically, reaching up and wrapping your arms around his waist. “I-I just… wasn’t sure how to react. I never thought that I… that we would… y’know.”

“Ah. I see.” He swallows hard, and you notice he’s breathing just a tiny bit harder. You realize your hands are still on his waist. Hesitantly, you move them downwards to grab his hips instead, and he gasps softly, lips parting, eyebrows raising. You hear his breath hitch in his throat, something like anticipation swelling in your chest. You don’t know what to do. You aren’t used to taking the lead, but it looks like he isn’t, either.

Squeezing his hips in your hands, you tug him closer, until he’s flush against you. A soft sound somewhere between a whimper and a moan rises from his throat as he lowers his top half, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He grinds against you and you sigh into his hair, shifting your hips and legs so you can slot together easier. His hips press against yours and you can feel his erection starting to form, prodding you through the fabric of his pajama pants. Komaeda groans into your ear, a shudder rolling through you.

“I… I wanna…” You mumble into his cloud of hair, making his hips stutter and pause in their movements. He turns his head, panting into your neck as he looks up at you with half-lidded eyes. His hot breath against your skin makes all the hairs on your arm stand on end. Biting your lip and taking a deep breath, you avoid eye contact. “I wanna… use my mouth.”

“Oh? To do what?” He chuckles softly, and you huff. “Come on! You know what I mean.” 

“Alright, alright.” He relents, pulling himself off of you and sitting back on the coach. “Though I have to say, this is surprisingly forward, coming from you.”

Sliding off the couch and settling on your knees, ensuring your hair won’t get in the way, you keep your eyes on the carpet. “I’m not sure what you mean.” Shuffling forward and settling between his knees, his legs spread. His erection is causing a bulge to form in his pajama pants, leaving little to the imagination.

“You’re in my house, on your knees, about to suck me off.” Komaeda states so matter-of-factly that you choke on your own spit, voice raising an octave. “K-Komaeda!”

“I think we’re on a first name basis, at this point.” He shifts slightly, glancing away for a moment. “Unless… you don’t want that, of course.”

Eyes blowing wide, you shake your head. “N-no! No, I would love that, actually. Nagito…” It feels strange, using his first name after calling him by his last name for so long, but you could get used to it. Speaking of things that feel strange in your mouth, you hook your fingers in the waistband of his pajama pants, giving them a slight tug. “Lift, Nagito.”

He swallows, “Right.” and lifts his hips so you can tug the fabric down to his ankles, staring at the slit in his boxers. You can catch a glimpse of skin through it, along with a few stray curly white pubic hairs. It’s not like you haven’t seen it, but it’s different now. Now, you’re going to touch him, and he’s going to touch you, and you’ll finally get to taste him… The thought sends waves of heat to your groin as you tug his boxers down, his cock springing out. He lets out a puff of air, watching you closely.

Hesitantly, you wrap your hand around the base and stroke upwards, a soft whimper leaving him. You lean forward, the tip brushing against your lips, the musky smell of sweat and hormones making your mouth water. You stick out your tongue and drag it along the tip, circling the head before taking it into your mouth, letting one hand rest at the base while the other holds onto his hip. He moans softly, one hand coming up to push his fingers through your hair. The other shakily comes up to cover his mouth as he stares down at you, watching as you start to bob your head. “H-haah… you’re so… i-it feels- ah-” He twitches in your mouth and you squeeze his hip in response, dragging a whimper out of him, muffled by his hand. 

You start going lower, taking more of him into your mouth, curious how far you can go before you gag. The skin is smooth and salty, a strange taste that you don’t necessarily mind. His legs twitch at your sides as you slowly take more and more of him in, testing your own limits. His pants and gasps interlaced with his moaning make your sex throb - these noises are entirely different from the ones he made on stream. More breathy, softer, more real. You remove your hand from the base of his cock and swiftly unbutton your pants, making enough room for you to slide your hand into your underwear and start rubbing yourself. You moan against him and his back arches, legs shaking.

The higher pitch to his noises and the tightening grip on your hair clues you in that he might be close, so you pull back a bit, slowing your movements and watching him start to relax again. Swallowing thickly, he lowers his hand, gripping the fabric of his shirt in a tight fist. “Y-you’re very good at this, you know…” He mumbles, eyelids fluttering as he struggles to not let his eyes roll back. “I-I- have you done this before?”

You hum a soft ‘nuh-uh’ sound into him, and he shudders. “R-really? I-it definitely doesn’t feel- ah!” You cut him off by pushing your head down as far as you can take it, the tip brushing the back of your throat as you suppress a gag. His back arches and he pulls your hair, tilting your head slightly to the side - weirdly enough, being at an angle makes it slightly easier to take this much of him in. He cries out, hips bucking, tossing his head back. “F-fuck! Shit, don’t- don’t stop, please!”

You obey, rubbing yourself faster as you work your tongue around him and he squirms under you, hips bucking, each tug of your hair sending every hair on your body standing on end. You moan against him and he whimpers, legs tensing as he calls your name. “I-I never thought…” He starts breathlessly, cut off by a broken moan before continuing. “Never thought you’d be doing this… and enjoying it… oh, oh fuck, I’m gonna…” His hand tightens in your hair and you whine, speeding up. He yanks you downwards hard, until your nose is buried in his curly white pubic hairs. A muffled noise escapes and that spring in your lower belly tightens, threatening to snap at any moment.

He squirms, his thighs closing on either side of your head and squeezing as he cums down your throat, his back arching as a high-pitched cry leaves him. The pressure on your ears and the burst of hot liquid in your mouth is what sends you over the edge and you groan against him, hand and jaw both cramping, but you can overlook the pain and focus on his blissed-out face, the whimpers leaving him as he watches you struggle to swallow around him. When you think he’s done, you pull off him, drool and cum dribbling down your chin as you cough and splutter, trying to catch your breath. He pants, staring at you for a moment, mesmerized. 

“Oh! Uhm.” He blinks himself out of his post-nut haze, grabbing a box of tissues and tugging a few out. “Here, let me-” He reaches out, wiping off your chin as you work to swallow what remains in your mouth. Once he deems you clean enough, he pulls away, and you let your mouth drop open to breathe heavily, staring up at him. He swallows, blush darkening slightly as he wipes up a bit of what got on him.

You tug your hand out of your pants, cringing at the cold wetness coating your fingers. “Uh, could you hand me one of those?” You ask, still slightly out of breath. He hands the box over so you can wipe off your hand, before tugging the waist of your pants and underwear away, looking down and cringing again. “Ah. It would appear that I have… made a bit of a mess.” You laugh awkwardly, and he chuckles in response. “Would you like to borrow something to wear for the night?”

“Yeah, if that’s alright.”

“Of course it is.” He stands, and you notice his legs are wobbling a bit. A flicker of pride shoots through your chest as he tugs his pants and boxers back up. “My room’s just over here.”

You follow him into his bedroom, which is just as clean and cozy as the living room was. There’s a succulent on his nightstand. He digs through his drawers until he finds a t-shirt and some boxers that seem like they’ll fit you, turning around and handing them over. He smiles softly as you take them from him. “You can sleep in here, if you’d like. I’m happy to take the couch.”

You blink in surprise. “What? Dude, I’m not kicking you to the couch in your own apartment. That’d be like, super douchey.”

He rubs the back of his neck, averting his gaze. “Ah, I just thought since the couch is less comfortable…”

“Why don’t we just sleep together? Unless… you don’t want to?” You try not to let the disappointment seep into your voice, but you do a piss poor job at it. His eyes blow wide open and he stiffens, sputtering for a moment. “N-no! No, that would be…” He struggles to find the words, clearly flustered. “Th-that would be lovely. I just thought you wouldn’t want to be that close to me.”

“I had your dick and cum in my mouth not five minutes ago.” You deadpan. He swallows hard. “Ah. Fair, I suppose.”

You go into his bathroom and change, tossing your clothes into his laundry basket. When you return to his bedroom, he’s already lying down, so you crawl in next to him, letting him pull the blanket over the both of you. You lay on your side, facing him, staring at his smiling face. His nose crinkles and he laughs softly. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

“Ko- Nagito… does this mean you’re my boyfriend now?” You ask, glancing away in slight embarrassment. He hums softly in thought. “Well, do you want me to be your boyfriend?”

“Do you wanna be my boyfriend?” You ask, tugging the blanket tighter around your body. You mentally prepare yourself for rejection, for him to tell you that this was just a one-time thing and he didn’t want to keep seeing you. But that doesn’t happen. Instead, he wraps his arms around you, tugging you closer. “Hm. I think so, yes.” He mutters softly, nuzzling the top of your head.

You smile, leaning into him. “Cool.”

He reaches over you and turns off his bedside lamp, plunging both of you into darkness. You snuggle up to him, letting your eyes drift shut. For the first time in a while, your mind isn’t on how busy your schedule will be tomorrow.

[primofate]

Genshin [Volleyball Team AU - Inspired by Haikyuu!] What it’s like to be their manager Headcanons

Note: I think a lot of people misunderstand the role of the manager XD It’s not that the whole team is dating you. It’s that the whole team treats you like their family/sister. So you’d better bet that all of them are gunna be hella protective of you XD

Scenario: What do you do for the team and what do they do for you? :D

Warnings: not proofread, fluffy, might have some swear words, platonic relationships

Characters: Zhongli, Diluc, Kaeya, Albedo, Tartaglia, Kazuha, Xiao, Tohma, reader as the team manager

Other works in the Volleyball Team AU Series: Click Here

Genshin Volleyball Team manager

It’s just fuckin’ chaos

On your first day you’re already bombarded with questions by Tartaglia and Kaeya

“So which class are you?” “What’s your height?” “Are you single?”

Captain Zhongli just cannot be bothered to reign them in anymore.

So Vice Captain Diluc does it and grabs their collars. “You idiots, you’re scaring her off!”

Possibly Kazuha and Tohma are the ones you really try to rely on, on your first few weeks.

So how do you gain the trust of your team? Let’s start with each player shall we?

#1 Zhongli (Captain/Wing Spiker/Ace)

Zhongli is just handsome and mature. He’s strict and needs to be the pillar of the team. 

You’re intimidated by him the first few weeks and he just seems...a little far. He’s always so focused that you can’t seem to catch a moment to just chat with him.

There’s a day where you notice that his form is a little off, you suspect that he hurt his wrist a little. 

You fidget uncomfortably in the gym as they practice, but finally turn to the coach “U-Umm... The captain is... I mean! I’m not sure, but... I think he needs to take a rest,”

The coach calls for someone to substitute Zhongli and suddenly asks you to check on him.

“Huh?! Me?!” the coach pushes you towards him, and Zhongli is just looking at you quizzically, you can practically see the question mark on his face.

“C-Captain, d-do you need some bandages on your wrist?”

Zhongli is taken aback, but silently puts his right wrist out for you to wrap.

Only when you’re done tending to it does he look you in the eye and ask.

“How did you know?”

“...Because I always watch, and all I can do is watch. If I can’t even spot that out then I’m not a very good manager am I?”

Zhongli has a newfound respect for you. He thought you were just a meek and shy thing sitting around and passing them balls but he feels his heart swell that someone like you is seriously watching over them.

#2 Diluc (Vice Captain/Wing Spiker/Defense Specialist)

Diluc is probably the second hardest to get along with or break the ice with.

But he gradually warms up to you when he notices that he’s always the first one you pass a towel and water bottle to.

You’re not doing that on purpose, it’s just him who always comes up first.

After a few days he deliberately goes to you faster cause he always wants to be the one to receive a water bottle and towel from you first. Secretly a puppy.

The moment he realized that you were reliable was when you stayed behind to help him practice when everyone else went home already. 

You didn’t let up in your constant praise of “nice receive”, “great spike!” and “that’s so cool!” 

He thinks he saw stars in your eyes at some point.

“Hey, Diluc, it’s getting late, let’s leave some energy for tomorrow, yeah?” he could tell from your mannerisms that you were tired too, but you tried not to let it show on your face and still cleaned up with him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then!” you wave but you’re stopped by a quick. “No,” from him. You tilt your head in wonder and he just looks at you as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“It’s late, I’ll walk you home,”

#3 Kaeya (Middle Blocker)

You don’t have to impress this guy, anyone of the female gender impresses him.

lol jk

safe to say it’s not difficult to befriend Kaeya, just bring him a cheering squad and some food.

all jokes aside the way to this guy’s heart is through his stomach.

He’s not a particularly hungry person but there’s this one time he forgot to bring lunch. He was running late, or something of that sort, honestly not something new for him.

He ALSO didn’t bring money so he couldn’t eat food from the cafeteria.

Ask his friends for money you say? Tartaglia would go, “Haha no way!” Albedo would go, “Let this be a lesson for you,” his brother would go “Serves you right,”

By club time he’s famished and dramatic. “Guys, go on without me, this is as far as I go,” as he sprawls on the gym floor.

You ask if he’s okay and he doesn’t answer so Diluc is the one that answers for him. “He forgot his lunch, as always,”

You make a sound of understanding and the next thing you know you’re taking out a lunch box and Kaeya has lifted his head up, sensing food.

“I packed onigiri for everyone today, actually... In case someone was hungry. It’s not much but--”

Kaeya comes alive from the dead and clutches your hands to his chest. “Manager you really are an angel,”

Diluc jump kicks him away from you.

#4 Albedo (Setter)

You also don’t know how to approach this guy

He always looks mad or stoic or something. Like he’s always thinking about something.

He low key actually is always thinking about play strategies and how to set the ball better for his teammates.

You really do think he works so hard while the game is going on, so you decide to help him out a little bit.

You watch a few more of their games and somehow come up with a list of what kinds of sets are better for each different spiker in the team.

There’s surprise in his eyes when you pass the document to him and modestly exclaim “...but, it might not be accurate, since I’m not that experienced,”

He still nods and says “...It’s the thought that counts,” 

When he does read your report and try the techniques out he notices that it does hold some merit in it

Is amazed like how Zhongli is amazed. He thought you were just there to hand them bottles and cheer for them but he had never been so wrong as to what a manager’s role is.

Will trust you enough to ask you about his set performance.  

Will sometimes slam Kaeya with an insult. “Kaeya, your spike sense is horrid, Y/N can read the moves better than you,”

#5 Tartaglia (Middle Blocker/Wing Spiker)

It’s not that he has a hard time trusting people but let’s just say he has the tendency to make you feel like he likes you but then he actually does that to everyone.

For example: He’ll throw compliments like “Oh that’s amazing Y/N!” but then back in the classroom you’ll hear him say “Oh that’s amazing!” to, like, every other person. 

That kinda disappoints you cause then the comment doesn’t really hold that much meaning to it if he keeps on saying it to others too.

He encounters a crisis mid year because this guy is just... he struggles with his grades. 

Captain Zhongli has told him he can’t play volleyball if he fails even one subject.

This boy is panicking and has semi-accepted this is the end of his volleyball career.

So you offer to study with him and he’s legit stoked.

Intensive and strict study sessions commence. Note taking, pop quizzes, surprise questions and even sudden random calls from you wherein you ask him a question and he has to answer within 5 seconds.

You’ve pulled all the study techniques you know here, this man better pass everything.

Welp, he still fails History....but since he worked so hard Captain Zhongli excuses it.

He’s so happy that he can’t hold back the stupidly wide smile on his face. He turns to you and for the very very first time in months, he bows and THANKS you.

You realize that he’s never thanked you before. Not even when you pass him water bottles or towels. 

You consider it a win, getting rare and sincere appreciation from him.

#6 Kazuha (Decoy/Middle Blocker/Wing Spiker)

One of the easiest to get along with but at the same time, he’s so mature that you feel like you’re not even in the same age range as him.

Definitely someone you can count on though, so you ask him many questions on the first week.

Still, it’s one of those things where you can kind of talk to him but there’s still a wall between you two.

One day while walking around in school there were these boys who were commenting about his height, and questioning his abilities as a volleyball team member.

You didn’t really think much about it when you speak up, “But he’s a really good middle blocker and spiker,” 

Those boys look at you weirdly and you realize that you’ve unconsciously spoken up. So you hurriedly walk away.

Little did you know that Kazuha was in some secret corner and heard the whole thing.

Just like that, the next day, it seems as if the wall between you two was gone, and you’re able to talk freely.

That, and he seemed to like asking you to help him practice his spikes and throw balls for him now.

#7 Xiao (Libero)

is deceivingly easy to get along with. Just has a rough exterior but is actually a softie if you squint.

You know this because there are subtle things he does. 

He doesn’t speak to you much but then he would be the one picking up the balls with you, or sometimes there’s magically a new set of clean towels on the bench that you don’t remember taking out from the storage room.

This guy is passionate for the game, so he really beats himself up when he isn’t able to receive a ball during actual games.

You worry about his mentality sometimes. I mean, it’s a team game, it’s not like he alone can save the whole game

So you talk to him about it the other day

“You’re already a really good libero Xiao, I mean... I’m not saying you should stop practicing but you don’t have to feel so bad...” you pause because this doesn’t feel like the message you want to convey

“Sorry, what I mean is... You CAN feel bad, but share the burden with your team, you know?”

He knows what you’re saying and contemplates it for a while. He knows that his team has his back, but sometimes just needs reminder about it.

He looks at you and asks, “...Can I share the burden with you too?”

You blink “Huh?”

“You said I can share the burden with my team, but can I share it with you too?”

There is a blush on his cheeks at this point.

“Oh, yea! Of course! I don’t play but I’m still part of the team you know!”

Ever since then, during games, if he feels a little frustrated he’d glance at you on the bench and you’d give him a thumbs up for a job well done.

#8 Tohma (Pinch Server/Middle Blocker)

You’re like bffs the moment you see each other

lol jk

You’re still awkward with him the first few days cause that’s just how first meetings are.

But he is very easy to talk to and always makes you feel at ease

Will always be the one to ask how you are if you need any help or if class was okay in general

Seems like the type of person to care more about others than himself

So he’s surprised when you come into the gym and you beat him to asking his usual questions.

“Tohma, how are you today? Did you have a proper lunch?”

“Tohma, are you getting tired? Want some water?”

“Tohma, how was class today?”

All the other members of the team turn to look at the two of you, thinking ‘Why does Tohma get extra attention?’ 

Tohma certainly doesn’t get extra attention you just TALK to him more. The other members deadass are also getting cared for by you, just in different ways.

This boy has some insecurities though, when it comes to playing the game. He hasn’t been in it for long so he’s the least experienced and that gets to him sometimes.

“Oh, really? But you play really well! I couldn’t tell that you’re new” 

His serves are really amazing though.

“Also! You always score points for us with the serves. Sometimes, your serves are my favourite part of the game!”

Has practiced extra hard so as not to let you down.

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[lasciviouspoison]

love of my life

so…. we’re back again to indulge in some eren fluff <3 this is straight fluff!!!!! (tw: grief/talk loss of a loved one, tw: being a chubby/fat woman in society. what comes along with that. college!au, eren x chubby!reader!!!!!! eren x black!reader!! (no explicit skin color used so all my girlies can relate <3) reader is a girl, but i feel as though my gn!readers would enjoy as well. pet names such as “sweetheart” and “pretty girl” are used very sparingly.

it started in the university library, with you glancing around, looking for a certain book. although you had plenty of other assignments you could’ve been working on, it was time for you to indulge in something of your own enjoyment. however, the book you’d been looking for (and read many times over) wasn’t in its usual spot.

normally, your friend armin would’ve been working the library, so you would’ve had no problem asking him for assistance. the two of you had met in your English class and bonded over your love for books and even cinema.

however, there was someone new here today.

standing behind the service counter, eren jeager stood at approximately 6’1 with his long hair tied back into a bun. a few difficult strands took residence on his forehead, with some even curling just a bit. his eyes were a beautiful jade green, and his lips an extremely kissable pink.

it made you a bit nervous to walk up to the new boy at the counter, simply because you were so used to armin and the enjoyable conversations you would have about the books you would check out. awkward conversations were such a hassle and you didn’t really feel like making a fool out of yourself by saying something embarrassing in front of this beautiful stranger.

and yet, he felt the same way about you.

although eren dressed in his leather jacket and black chinos and appeared to be a shitty kind of guy, he was nothing of the sort. sure eren was rough around the edges and had a vocabulary mainly made up of swear words and sexual references, but it didn’t mean that he wasn’t also a sweet and gentle guy.

and upon seeing you walk up to the service counter, it was like his life flashed before his eyes. he could tell you exactly what you had on that day, down to the color of your leg warmers. a seemingly off white, maybe even a cream color if viewed in yellow lighting. they covered a bit of the black loafers you had on that day. he still remembers how thankful he was when one of the golden buckles broke after you turned a little too hard on your heel.

your hair was up in a clip, a green one in the shape of a heart that you could only see when you turned your head to the side. two strands of your curly hair placed in front of your face to frame it.

your neck was adorned in a small silver necklace. dainty and pretty, just like you. clear glasses tucked into your shirt collar reminding him of his own that took up space in his right pocket. he felt the urge to grab them and put them on, just so you could see that the two of you had at least one thing in common.

god he was acting like a fucking spaz.

but he couldn’t help it, you looked beautiful in your sage green cardigan, he made a mental note of your favoritism towards the color green, that was only buttoned by your chest to give you a looser layer of clothing. your white shirt was cropped and tight on your body, matching well with the tight black mini skirt you wore. both materials fitting like a second skin on your chubby body.

he swore that when he got back to the apartment, he would kiss armin for asking him to cover his shift today.

finally, you had made it to the service counter and decided to just ask. he worked here, so he had to at least have an idea of where said book was.

“hi” you said with a smile, and eren knew he was a goner.

“hey, is there anything that i can help you with?” he said back with a smile of his own.

okay, so maybe this wouldn’t be as awkward as you thought.

“so i’m looking for a book, but i can’t seem to find it at all. i’ve looked at the poetry section twice, and i still can’t manage to see it. i was wondering if you happened to know where it was?”

not only were you hyper aware of your surroundings at the time because of eren, but you also realized just how much you were talking. all you had to do was ask for help finding a book, this hot guy didn’t need your whole life story.

“of course i can help you find it. i’ll have to check the system to see if we have it first just to make sure we aren’t wasting our time. what’s the title sweetheart” he spoke back, mentally smacking himself for the same reasons you were. eren might’ve been a flirt, but a pretty girl like you made it hard to throw together even a decent line.

you clasped your hands together over the counter and spoke again, “it’s Dirty Pretty Things by Michael Faudet”.

there’s no way, there’s just no way you knew about his favorite poet. this had to have been a set up or something, cause there was just no fucking way.

“are you fucking serious?!” he spoke a bit too loudly and you reeled back confused. did you say something wrong?

he pulled you back gently by your hands and gave a light laugh before speaking again. “i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to scare you, but i’ve worked in here for a whole semester and nobody has ever mentioned him. he’s my favorite poet, so hearing you ask for his book was just a surprise s’all”.

at this moment, eren had become aware that he was lightly stoking your hand the entire time, and pulled back immediately after. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to touch-“

“no! it’s okay!! i do the same thing to other people all the time. trust me, i would’ve pulled away by now if i had felt uncomfortable”.

it was interesting to see this tough looking guy fan girl over a poet. it was something that brought a sense of familiarity to you, so you didn’t mind the little touch he gave you. it was actually quite nice.

by this time, eren’s cheeks had begun to show the slightest hint of pink. embarrassed by his own actions and your confession of comfortability around himself. instead of replying, he began to search up the book, afraid to make an ass of himself yet again.

“okay, so we do have the book, but for some reason it seems to be in the short story section instead of the poetry section, which is odd. i can walk you over there if you’d like.” he made a mental note to bring this up to armin since he was the last one to register the book back into the system.

you shook your head yes, and eren hopped over the counter, ring clad hands making a clank noise after being smacked against the hard wood.

the two of you walked side by side in a comfortable silence, and eren could smell your lavender perfume. he swore that it smelled just like the one his mother wore back when he was a small child and it made his heart clench. he didn’t know what it was about this moment that made him want to reach out and hold your hand, but he just did. he could see the small ring that sat on your pointer finger, light pink diamond in the center of the silver band. another reminder of his late mother, who always said that a dash of pink was needed in every outfit. he could feel his eyes get heavy, but he ignored the feeling, attempting to stay grounded in your presence.

it made him wonder what your life was like and if you had gone through anything similar. if you had cried over the loss of a loved one, if you had even cried at all. of course he knew that you have most likely cried at some point in your life, but he still wanted to know. he wanted to know if your insides were just as soft as your outside appeared. if the sage that adorned your beautiful skin was a reflection of the earthy soul that laid inside you.

he just had to know.

the two of you finally made it to the short story section, and your eyes finally hit the spine of the poetry book you had been searching for all day. lightly running to grab the book, you snatched it from the shelf and turned on your heel to look back at eren. your turn was followed by a semi loud snap, and you looked down to see that the gold buckle on your shoe had broken, disconnecting from one of its leather straps. although it wouldn’t truly harm the shoe in anyway, it was not a good feeling to know that you broke your shoe in front of a guy like eren.

“oh shit.” you said after noticing your shoe. you looked back up to see eren looking down as well, seeing your now broken shoe.

without thinking, he kneeled down and took a closer look at the broken buckle. grabbing both pieces, he could see that the buckle wasn’t fully broken and could be fixed with the help of a little sewing and leather glue.

he looked back up at you and spoke, “i can fix this if you want.”

your eyes widened a bit, “really?! a-are you sure?” god, did you really have to keep embarrassing yourself right now?

he laughed a bit at your stutter and stood back to his full height. now noticing that the top of your head hit perfectly in the space between his collarbones. had he hugged you, he could comfortably place his chin atop your head.

“of course i can pretty girl. just grab your book and follow me”, now there’s the flirt that eren knew himself to be.

it was your turn to feel your body heat up at his words and actions and wordlessly follow him. it wasn’t everyday that you got to feel doted on, so you wanted to bask in the moment before it was taken away.

the two of you got back to the service counter, and eren held open the little door that led behind the counter for you, opting out of jumping over the top this time.

he then led you back to a cozy little room that was behind the counter. it was littered with books and soft lighting from outside instead of heavy fluorescents. there was a small table and chair that was placed right in front of a window that had a sewing machine connected to it. eren had walked over to a corner of the room, and came back with what appeared to be leather glue and a magnifying glass.

eren walked back in front of you a kneeled down towards your shoe again. you stood there looking up, thinking he was inspecting the shoe once again, before you felt a light tap on your thigh.

“you gonna lift your foot up so i can take your shoe off, or do i gotta?” he said with a smirk.

“uh no, i’ll do it.” being alone with him in this little room was not doing anything good for your imagination.

he slowly slid the shoe off your foot and stood up again. he sat down at the table and began to take the buckle fully off of the shoe while you stood there awkwardly. he looked over and noticed your apprehension to follow, so he waved his hand over and gestured for you to sit on the table.

“are you sure it’s safe for me to sit on the table?”

he tilted his head to the side and it was now that you noticed his glasses that looked identical to yours. “yeah…? why wouldn’t it be?”

you rubbed your hands together and thought about how you would say this. it’s nerve wracking enough having a watch this hot guy fix your shoe, but to walk over and sit on the table he’s working on and having his hands be so close to your bare legs didn’t seem to calm you down at all.

“umm…. i mean, the table just doesn’t look sturdy enough and there also isn’t enough space for you to work and for me to sit. is there like another chair or something because i really don’t wanna get in your way, and i just-“

“hey hey hey….. calm down… whaddya mean the table doesn’t look sturdy enough? like your gonna break it from sitting on it?”

you froze. of course the aspect of him being hot was making you nervous, but you couldn’t ignore the elephant in the room anymore. you knew you were a bigger girl, and it made certain social situations unnerving to you. watching your skinny friends sit on others, tables, and just anything they could was a luxury that you could never seem to grasp. you loved your body and what you looked like, but the lingering fear of being the biggest person in the room never seemed to go away. hence why you always thought that guys like eren wouldn’t look your way, much less offer to fix your shoe.

“i mean yeah… i’m not particularly light and there’s a whole sewing machine on it. the table could break and i would feel really bad-“

and then, you were in the air.

eren hated hearing about girls’s insecurities, especially ones concerning their weight. no, this wasn’t in an inconsiderate and douche bag kind of way, but in a more “your absolutely perfect” kind of way. so what if you were a bigger girl, and so what if your body looked different from the next girl’s. what mattered to eren was you, and only you. and this went for every girl he messed with.

he carried you over and set you down on the table. the two of you facing each other, both of your jaws tight and eyes set. his from a twinge of anger, and yours from embarrassment.

“who cares about your weight? you sit when you need to sit no matter what’s left to sit on. if i thought you were going to ‘take up too much space’ i would’ve worked standing and let you have the chair” he said, making quotations around “take up too much space”.

he didn’t give you a chance to speak as he sat down and went back to working on your shoe. the two of you sat in silence with the occasional whir or the sewing machine.

he thought he had went too far. touching and holding you without asking. it made him feel icky, not wanting to make you uncomfortable when all he wanted to do was prove to you that you had nothing to worry about. although he admits he could’ve went about it a different way, eren was more of an action person rather than words. it’s why he kept touching you, trying to let you know that he wanted to get to know you and to hold onto you.

“thanks” you spoke softly.

eren’s head snapped up upon hearing your voice. although he wasn’t done with your shoe, so what could you be thanking him for?

“this is probably one of the most interesting first encounters i’ve had with someone i first met. and not because i’m a clutz or because of the touching, but because you seem like you genuinely meant what you said about my weight. a lot of people sugar coat it and say ‘well you’re still beautiful’. like, no shit i’m still pretty, but at the end of the day, i’m fat and that’s not something u can ignore. so i don’t know, thanks for not ignoring it i guess”

he went back to working and you thought you had screwed everything up. so you sat in silence until you heard the chair slide out from under the table and him stand back in front of you.

“people have always equated being bigger to being ugly. i’ve never understood why it happens, but it does. my mom taught me that women are beautiful, that people are beautiful regardless of weight, shape, and everything else that follows suit. i don’t even know your name, yet i can tell you that you’re a gorgeous girl, and i didn’t fix your shoe or pick you up just to show that i’m a nice guy. i did it because i wanted to. i did it because i want to keep smelling your lavender perfume and seeing the way that green pops off of your skin. i did it in hopes of getting your number so i can take you out sometime after this because i don’t know how i could let a girl like you slip out of my fingers just because of something as minuscule as your weight.”

you looked into those pretty green eyes and smiled. in your 19 years of living, nobody had ever really spoke to you like him, especially upon first meeting you. this was the type of thing that happens in books and movies. not in real life. this was the type of thing you fantasized about at three am while you watched the nighttime breeze blow the trees around. something straight out of your imagination.

“yn my name is yn, and i would love to give you my number.” you said with a smile.

eren gave a toothy grin and pulled his phone out of his pocket. he went straight to the contact app and the two of you swapped phones.

“no fucking way, you’re eren??!!” you said with surprise.

“uhh… yeah??? did i do something wrong??”

you shook your head no and smiled hard. “i’m also friends with armin! he and i were talking the other day about guys. he was talking about how he wanted to introduce me to someone that he thought i would click with. his best friend eren”.

there was a small sparkle in eren’s eye as he immediately understood why his friend oh so desperately needed him to cover his shift today. armin surely was one sneaky fucker and eren had to give him that.

after sliding your shoe back on, eren finally checked out your book, and the two of you texted as you made your way back to your dorm. the two of you met up later that night and talked until your throats hurt from laughing and cheeks were sore from smiling.

and now 5 years later, eren lays next to you in your king sized bed, his arms wrapped around your body, enveloping you in him and his body heat. his legs wrap around your own like another blanket while his hair sprawls over his pillow in a mess of curly brown hair. something that came about after finally showing him how to correctly take care of the hair he once thought was “bone straight, but a little frizzy”.

eren who always wakes up before you just to untangle his limbs from yours and watch you sleep like the princess you are. eren who opens the blinds just a bit to see how the sun hits your gorgeous face. eren who buys you every green thing he sees because you and green are synonymous in his mind. eren who makes sure you eat three times a day no matter where the two of you are. eren who cleans after you cook. eren who always makes sure to bake you your favorite muffins every once in a while when you’re feeling a little down. ;)

the same eren who acknowledges all of you, every nook and cranny that gives him something new to discover. every mole, freckle, stretch mark, and scar that just becomes another place for him to kiss. every roll, every pound you gain, lose, or maintain that just becomes another place for him to caress and love all over again each and everyday.

the eren jeager who holds you in his hands, wraps his fingers around your body, and pulls you into him just to remind you of how perfect you are and always will be.

[thedisassociation]

make us a special place (Robin x Nancy)

a/n: I haven't written in a long time, but then someone said childhood au and here we are.

Big thanks to @dimplesridley and @redwineandnicotine for listening to me yell about these two for months on end.

summary: Nancy has a terrible day (until she doesn't)

AO3 link

(word count: 2,134)

Nancy has a terrible day, by far the worst she’s had all year. Sure, it’s only September, but fifth grade is off to a rough start. Everything that could go wrong does go wrong. She just knows that she failed that math test (she didn't but she doesn't know that yet – all she knows is how uncertain she felt about her answers). Somehow, she ended up with Mike's lunch instead of her own, and the sandwich was all wrong and there were no cookies. And worse – it means Mike got her cookies. The teacher had yelled at the whole class and punished all of them for something that one single boy did, which was totally unfair. And worst of all, Robin was absent for a doctor's appointment pretty much all day, giving Nancy a wave as she was called out of class in the morning. It left Nancy alone for most of the day, sitting by herself at lunch, partner-less for reading hour, walking home with no one to keep her company. When Nancy gets home, her dad is there, unexpectedly, and he is utterly himself – aloof and disinterested. Nancy immediately goes up to her room, drops her backpack, and flops onto the floor dramatically.

Robin has her own frustrating day, and she’s looking forward to seeing Nancy and getting away from her mom. When Robin finally manages to escape to the Wheeler house, she doesn't even ring the doorbell. She just comes right in (Karen had given her permission to, practically encouraged it, even). But before she makes it to the stairs, Karen waves her into the kitchen.

"Nancy had a rough day," Karen starts, and she fills Robin's arms with snacks and a couple of sodas. "You girls try to have some fun, and I'll call you down later for dinner, okay?"

Robin nods and Karen ruffles Robin's hair affectionately.  Robin pulls a face and ducks away like she hates it, but they both know she doesn’t.

When Robin gets up to Nancy's room, struggling to open the door with her arms full of junk food, Nancy is still on the floor by the bed, an arm slung over her face, covering her eyes.

"Mom," Nancy groans, "I said I don't want anything."

Robin dumps their haul on the bed. "Good thing I'm not your mom then," she laughs. "Because I brought so much stuff. Your mom even gave us cookies, Nance. Cookies. Before dinner."

Nancy pouts, lifts her arm up just a little bit to peek at Robin, who was staring down at her, one foot tapping against Nancy's. Robin drops to the ground after a moment, slides up next to Nancy and lays down with her. The floor is hard and Robin wiggles a little bit, one arm bumping Nancy's side, and it kind of tickles.

"How was the doctor?" Nancy asks.

Robin shrugs. "It was fine. Really boring. We had to sit in the waiting room forever." Robin knows the answer but she asks anyway: "how 'bout you? How was your day?"

Nancy groans. "Today was the worst day," she announces.

Robin tries to look over at her, but she's met with the sight of one bony elbow covering up her best friend's face. "Wanna talk about it?" she offers.

Nancy shakes her head and the motion makes her arm come dangerously close to smacking Robin in the face. "No," and she's still feeling so dramatic after her stressful day. "I'm just gonna lay here like this forever," she declares.

Robin hums, taps her fingers against her stomach, fidgets a bit before sitting up abruptly and crawling towards the closet. She starts digging around and just as Nancy is about to look to see what she's doing, a blanket lands right on her face, followed by a pillow.

"Oof," and Nancy finally shows her face, pushing the blanket and pillow off. Robin is already tossing more blankets and pillows out on the floor, every single spare one she can find tucked into Nancy's closet.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

Robin, satisfied she's retrieved all the blankets and pillows in the closet, stands up. "Making a blanket fort," she says like it should be obvious. "The floor is hard. If we're gonna be laying on it forever, it's gotta be more comfortable."

This is one of those little moments where Nancy feels her heart swell up when she looks up at her best friend, and she has to swallow the lump in her throat for the affection and warmth that flood through her. Robin never even asks, never protests, never presses Nancy; Robin just accepts that if Nancy wants to lay on this floor forever, that's what they are going to do.

There are two desk chairs in Nancy’s room, one of them a folding chair supplied by Mr. Wheeler, who was tired of Robin struggling to drag their dining room chairs up and down the stairs. Robin is already in the process of moving their chairs when Nancy starts to sit up. Robin stops her. "Whoa, no way, Wheeler. You're already in your spot, you're glued there forever," she says, affecting a dramatic voice that makes Nancy smile a little bit. Which just spurs Robin on. "Trapped by a very bad day. Alas, you must stay." Robin gives her a grin. "I got this, princess," she says, a little quieter but no less earnest, voice determined.

Nancy's cheeks turn pink and she lays back again.

Robin makes quick work of her fort. She drapes blankets over their chairs, which she sets a little ways from the bed, leaving enough space between the bed and the chairs for both her and Nancy, who stays put, just as she'd been told. Robin ends up having to tie some of the blankets together, big knots in the corners, to reach the bed. She piles all the biggest books she can find on top of the blankets to keep them on the bed. When she's satisfied, she drapes a thinner blanket over top, covering up the open spaces made by the knotted blankets. 

This leaves Nancy hidden away from the world, surrounded on all sides by soft pinks and blues. (Because Robin has chosen some of Nancy's favorites for the inner layer and for the inside.) She hears shuffling outside and then Robin pops her head in, smiling. 

Robin crawls in, bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sun coming through the soft cream of the sheet facing the window. She has all their snacks in her hands and she drops them by the little entrance, ducks back out quickly to grab their drinks and add them to their pile of Karen-provided goodies.

Robin sits on her knees, ducks a little bit to keep from hitting the top of the fort she's put together in record time. She's holding a pillow, one of the big soft ones that she knows Nancy likes to sink down into. "So, you might have to move a little bit for this part," she bites her lip.

Nancy can't hold back her grin anymore, and she sits up fully.

Robin places the pillow in her hands carefully on the ground, right where Nancy's head had been, and then she grabs another pillow and drops it next to Nancy's. She places the other pillows around the outside of the fort, covering up some of the spots where the blankets didn't quite reach to the floor.

Nancy just sits there and watches her, still smiling despite herself. She shifts, leans back against the bed, tucking a pillow behind her. 

Robin starts working on the remaining blankets next. She lays one out where Nancy had been, tucking the end under the pillow. Nancy is still sitting up from her initial spot, so when Robin tries to smooth out the blanket, it only gets halfway before it meets Nancy's knees.

Robin is determined though, and she gives Nancy a big grin before she starts poking the blanket, trying to tuck it under Nancy's leg. 

Nancy can't stop from laughing before she moves, fixing the blanket herself until she's sitting on it.

Robin puts a blanket down for herself, pushes a couple off to either side.

"Your royal, I dunno, blanket," Robin laughs.

Nancy launches herself at Robin, throws her arms around Robin's shoulders suddenly. Robin tilts back, but steadies herself, returning Nancy's hug, arms wrapped around Nancy's waist.

Robin holds her there. She's never quite sure how long hugs are supposed to go on, so she almost always waits until the other person pulls away before she does. (The other person hugging her is almost always Nancy, and she's in no hurry to pull away from her anyway.)

But not only does Nancy not let go, she drags them both down to the blanket-covered floor until they're both laying down again.

They're facing each other, heads close together despite being on different pillows. Nancy's arm is still draped over Robin's shoulder, so Robin takes this as a cue that she can leave her own arm thrown over Nancy's middle. And she's glad for that, because it all feels right to her. Their legs are pressed together and Nancy's fingers are dancing across her shoulder. And there's nowhere else she'd rather be.

Nancy looks up at her from beneath her lashes, almost shyly. "Thank you, Robin," she whispers, like she's afraid to disturb the comfortable quiet between them.

"Any time," Robin whispers back with a soft smile. There's a warmth blossoming in her chest, spreading through her, filling up her insides until she thinks she's going to stop breathing. A feeling she doesn't know how to name, but one that feels better than any other has, more natural, like air or sunlight or warm summer rain. She grabs it and holds on tightly and hopes it will never end.

They lay there for a moment, and Robin's fingers drum lightly against Nancy's side.

"Hey, Nance?" she keeps her voice quiet to match the moment.

"Hmm?"

"They're homemade cookies," Robin whispers conspiratorially. "Your mom's homemade cookies," she adds, and her fingers squeeze Nancy, tighten for a second. "She gave us cookies before dinner, and I'm afraid if we don't eat 'em soon, she's gonna realize and take them away."

Nancy swats her shoulder, pushing her back a little, but she's still smiling. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

Robin sits up, finding the plate of cookies where she left them, and she brings it up between them. As she does this, Nancy grabs a blanket and tosses it over both their legs.

And that's where Karen finds them a little later when she comes to the door of Nancy's bedroom. All she can see are Robin's feet sticking out from beneath a blanket, but she can hear them giggling inside the little fort they've made. They don't hear her slip inside, so she quietly leaves. Downstairs, she puts together two plates of food. She gives Nancy an extra bread roll, covered in garlic butter and parmesan, just the way she likes, and she makes sure that the foods on Robin's plate don't touch. To Michael's jealous protests, Karen heads back to Nancy's room. She'll let them eat in the bedroom just this once (it will end up not being just this once.) 

And it's worth it for the bright smiles on their faces when Karen announces her presence, crouching down and knocking on one of the desk chairs to get their attention. They're all cozy when she peeks in, all wrapped up in each other beneath a blanket. Robin is holding a book, had been reading aloud to Nancy, offering her own running commentary as she did so, just to keep making Nancy laugh.

"I brought dinner up," Karen tells them. Nancy gasps and Robin's eyes widen. "Don't make me regret it," she adds, passing them each a plate. A warning not to make a mess, but she's smiling as she says it.

She pulls the door closed behind her, leans back against it for a moment. 

She hears Robin's voice inside. "Nancy, I love your mom. But I think someone must have replaced her with an alien or something."

"She's not an alien, Rob." She can picture Nancy's eye roll, can hear the laughter in her voice.

"I dunno. Cookies before dinner. And now dinner is in your room! I never thought I'd see the day."

"We've eaten in my bedroom."

"But not dinner, Nance. Not a whole meal! Nope, something's up in the Wheeler house."

Karen doesn't hear Nancy's quiet response but she does hear the laughter that follows, Robin's first and then Nancy's right after. They're happy, and Karen will let them have this, wants them to have this just a little while longer, as long as they can.

[sluttywonwoo]

study buddies || k.mg x reader

Pairing: frat!mingyu x fem reader 

Summary: studying for midterms with the guy you’re hooking up with goes exactly how you’d expect

Warnings: swearing, light smut (18+)

Word Count: 1.6k

a/n: reworked this old blurb originally posted on my tom holland fic account ( @wazzupmrstark ) for my gf’s birthday :)) happy birthday @hotgirlmingyu

Masterlist

You woke up to banging on your apartment door. Groaning, you rolled over to check your phone and saw that it was six am. You pushed yourself up and out of bed and padded into the kitchen to answer the door. You were surprised the relentless knocking hadn’t woken up your roommate, but she was a pretty heavy sleeper.

You yanked the door open to see Mingyu with a handful of textbooks. You squinted at him in confusion, wondering if you were seeing things. Mingyu had never been to your place before, you didn’t even know he knew where you lived.

His appearance startled you a bit. His hair was messy where it was usually slicked back or styled and he was wearing gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him in anything other than khakis and a douchey printed shirt.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, rubbing your eyes.

He frowned. “You said we should study for midterms together.”

You thought back to the last time you’d seen Mingyu. You couldn’t remember saying anything like that.

“Was I drunk?”

“Probably.”

“So why are you here?”

“To study. You agreed that we could help each other out.”

“Mingyu, I don’t even remember agreeing to that.”

“Well I’m already here,” he said and pushed past you into your apartment.

“Seriously? It’s Saturday.”

“Yeah, and midterms are next week.”

“Couldn’t you have waited until the sun was up?” you grumbled, mostly to yourself and shut the door behind him.

“We’ve got a lot of material to cover.”

You cursed under your breath as you watched him set up at your kitchen table, knowing you should probably study even though you desperately wanted to go back to bed.

You and Mingyu had met at a party at his fraternity and woke up the next morning tangled in the sheets of his bed. To say it was awkward would have been an understatement. You didn’t think you’d ever see him again, but to your horror, you saw him in your stats lecture on Monday and your mythology class on Thursday. This was a pretty big university. Why did the same asshole have to be in two of your classes?

As much as it annoyed you, you couldn’t stop thinking about Mingyu, and apparently, he was having a similar dilemma because every time you went out he seemed to be there, and every time you hooked up.

That was the extent of your relationship, though. You didn’t even speak to each other in class or at parties. The only time you talked was behind closed doors when one or both of you was naked. Even then you kept your guard up because you refused to let yourself fall for a frat boy with commitment issues who never wanted to be seen with the same girl twice. A boy who wouldn’t even talk to you in public.

But you couldn’t ignore the way your heart fluttered when he said your name as he was about to cum, or the way his lips felt against yours. He could be a total dick, but you’d also seen a softer side of him that he didn’t show many people. You forced yourself to forget about that side. It was easier that way.

“Okay, what are we starting with?” you asked with a sigh.

“We have the stats exam first, we should work on that.”

You made a face. Statistics was the harder out of the two for you. In fact, it was the hardest class you were taking this semester.

“I can’t believe I’m doing math before seven am.”

“You won’t be complaining when you ace the midterm,” he quipped, already working on a practice worksheet.

You watched him solve problems like he was checking items off a list. You knew he was good at statistics, but you didn’t know he was that good. Figures, a guy like him was good at pretty much everything. Everything except mythology apparently, because once you’d switched to that he was flustered and frustrated. You would quiz him on myths only for him to get every single question wrong.

“Mingyu, did you even read any of these?” you asked, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Yes, y/n, I read every one. How do you think I passed all the reading quizzes?”

“Cheating?” it slipped out before you could stop it and Mingyu gave you a hard glare. You held up your hands defensively. “Just a joke.”

“I don’t think it was.” He licked his lips. “But for what it’s worth I read them all. I just can’t keep them straight.”

You sighed. You felt bad, but you were getting frustrated too. And not just because Mingyu wasn’t grasping the myths. This was the longest you’d ever spent together (at least while you were awake) and you hadn’t even had sex. He just smelled so nice and looked so cute when he was concentrating that you couldn’t help feeling a little impatient. You had been at it for hours, you thought you would’ve done it at least once by now. But Mingyu was more serious about studying than you thought. It was kind of admirable and kind of annoying.

“Okay well reread through the Egyptian myths and I’ll quiz you again.”

“Alright.”

He pulled out his reading packet and flipped to the section you took out your phone and scrolled through social media mindlessly as he read, but it quickly got boring. You wished Mingyu would take a break so he could rail you. He was still reading intently, but you figured a little distraction couldn’t hurt.

You started by taking your hair down from your bun and shaking it out so that it fell around your shoulders. You knew your shampoo drove Mingyu crazy and hoped it would have an effect on him today. He shifted his seat, but didn’t look up from the packet. Next, you leaned over and rested your head on his shoulder. You’d never done something so domestic like this with Mingyu, but it seemed to work because he cleared his throat and adjusted his sweatpants.

“You know you could be working on math.”

You shrugged. “We already did stats for hours today. I think I’ll jump off a bridge if I look at one more differential equation.”

He fell silent and tried focusing back onto the reading, but you moved your hand to his thigh and kept it there as you continued to through twitter, not even reading what was on your screen.

“Stop that,” Mingyu muttered, making you jump a little.

“Why?”

“Fuck, because you’re distracting me. You look too hot right now.”

“I’m wearing pajamas.”

“I really don’t care. You still look hot and I’m trying not to fuck you senseless right now.”

“Well what’s stopping you?” you asked lowly and nipped at his ear.

“Need to finish this,” he replied through gritted teeth.

“I can’t convince you to take a break?” You moved the hand on his leg up so that you were cupping him over his pants.

He shook his head. “After.”

You leaned over and kissed his neck, then his jaw, and felt him get hard under your hand. “If I have to stop what I’m doing you won’t be able to walk for the next week.”

“That sounds like more of a motivator than a deterrent,” you admitted. “I’ll suck you off,” you offered and hooked your thumb in the waistband of his sweats, trying to bribe him.

“If you let me finish I’ll eat you out,” he countered.

You straightened up. It sounded like a pretty good deal.

“Fine.”

A few minutes passed in silence and you were waiting patiently, typing up a rough draft of an essay you had due for another class when Mingyu groaned.

“What?” you asked, wondering if he needed help.

“Can you please stop that?”

“Stop what? I’m literally doing nothing.” You were genuinely confused now.

“Just- I don’t know you’re making it so hard to concentrate.”

“Am I making it hard?” You smirked.

“Very funny.”

“Would it help if I put a paper bag over my head?”

“Probably.”

“Come on, keep reading about Osiris.”

“I don’t want to read about Osiris anymore, he’s a dick.”

“The faster you finish the faster you can get off.”

“I thought you didn’t want to wait,” Mingyu pointed out, trying to deflect.

“I think I recall something about you going down on me if I let you finish reading.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, but didn’t turn back to the book. Instead, he continued to gaze at you with those big brown eyes. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“What?” You felt your cheeks get warm.

“I just really want to kiss you right now.”

You smiled and raised your chin, challenging him. “Then do it.”

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. You closed your eyes and kissed him back, savoring the moment.

When you pulled away, Mingyu’s eyes were dark with want and you could see that he was now fully hard in his sweatpants.

“How about I eat you out now anyway?” He suggested, leaning forward to kiss your neck.

You moaned and brought your hands to his hair.

“You trying to bribe me?”

“Is it working?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Mingyu stood and picked you up from your chair. You wrapped your legs around his waist again. He pulled on your bottom lip with his teeth and smirked.

“Promise you’ll finish studying after?” you asked.

He considered it. “Does what we’re about to do count as studying mythology? Because it’s going to be legendary.”

You scrunched up your face in distaste. “No, I take it back. Put me down.”

Mingyu grinned. “Hey! You know no ones gives it to you as good as I do.”

“That confident are you?”

His grin turned into a smirk. “Is that a challenge?”

lmk what you think i always appreciated feedback!!

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[maatryoshkaa]

between the lines | lee minho

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒!𝐀𝐔

✑ Late fines, shared lockers, and a missing love letter:

In which a frantic search for an overdue library book leads to you finding other things that are...long overdue.

✑ PAIRING: student librarian!minho x bookworm!reader

✑ GENRE: retro!high school au, slow burn, slice-of-life romance, slight enemies-to-lovers shenanigans

✑ WORD COUNT: 9.7k

✖︎ TAGS/WARNINGS: fem!reader, mild language, bullying themes, skz are all around the same age. mc is insecure and a bit of a valentine's day grinch. minho is whipped but too hardheaded to admit it. also, an embarrassing amount of classic literature/pablo neruda references.

Ah, Valentine’s Day.

Call it the most romantic day of the year if you will, but in the treacherous hallways of Levanter High, it meant a minefield of hormonal couples, crushed chocolate boxes, and supermarket rose bouquets. Clutching your backpack with a grimace, you narrowly dodged a pigtailed cheerleader as she leapt into her jock boyfriend’s waiting arms. Turning into another hallway, you plugged your ears to block out a senior boy’s cold rejection of a freshman’s nervous love confession.

You finally caught sight of your locker and breathed a sigh of relief. Levanter High’s lockers were split in half lengthwise—one top row, and one bottom row. You dropped to a crouch to wrench yours open—you’d lost your lock a couple of weeks ago—trying to block out the early morning commotion as you rummaged for your English books.

“Hey, watch ou—”

The locker above yours opened with a screech, and you looked up just in time to see a pink avalanche of cards and chocolates raining down on your head in a painful, deafening crash. The student who had called out the warning was frozen with a comical look of shock on her face. You swore the entire hallway fell silent, blood rushing to your cheeks as you slowly raised your gaze at the person who had opened the locker.

Lee Hana—head cheerleader of Levanter’s pep squad, and in your humble opinion, the spawn of Satan herself.

“Ohmigosh,” she exclaimed, raising one hand to her mouth in mock horror, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there.”

The crowd around you was beginning to snicker and point, and you felt your face growing redder by the minute. “What are you doing here?” You asked tersely, motioning towards the locker above yours. “That’s not even your locker.”

Hana smiled and held up a small, glittery package. Oh. You didn’t have to look closer to know that the envelope was a love letter, elaborately tied to a box of expensive chocolates—the kind your parents would probably have to work overtime to afford. “My Valentine—for your locker buddy,” Hana replied matter-of-factly, then added, “Not that you would understand, hm? Since you’ve never received one yourself, and all.”

A smattering of laughs erupted from the crowd that was building around you. Biting back a retort, you looked down at all the other Valentine’s trinkets that had spilled around you. Of course—you should have gotten used to it by now. After all, your locker was right underneath the one that belonged to the student librarian, school heartthrob, and the absolute bane of your existence, Lee—

“Minho!” Hana exclaimed, and you looked up to see him shuffling through the crowd, his eyes briefly falling on yours. You immediately turned away as the pretty cheerleader skipped up to him, and shoved your books into your bag. Slamming your locker shut—twice, because Levanter’s damned lockers always jammed before shutting properly—you snatched up as many of Minho’s fallen Valentine’s Day trinkets as you could before shoving them back into the now-emptied top locker. The metal door was still swinging wide open. You’d overheard Minho complaining to the boy who always did the announcements—Han Jihyun? Han Jisung?—about how he kept losing his own lock. Both of you seemed to have a habit of misplacing things (not that you liked to admit to that similarity).

Out of the corner of your eye, Minho was still watching you over Hana’s shoulder, his lips tilted in a half-smile. Your gut twisted unpleasantly. Four years and counting—that was how long you’d ended up with a locker right under Minho’s.

“You’re so lucky!” Lia—your best friend—had gushed, while you had scoffed in utter disbelief.

“Oh, sure. Just my rotten luck.”

“Come on, y/n. Are you still hung up about that love letter from freshman year?”

Yes, you had thought sourly. “No way,” you had snapped, and Lia had giggled, unconvinced.

It wasn’t like you’d always had a personal vendetta against Minho. In fact, in ninth grade, you’d been head over heels for him, just like the rest of the student body—to the point where you’d even slipped a small love letter into his locker on Valentine’s Day, too. It had been one of those gaudy 99-cent corner-store cards, and you'd saved up your pocket money just to buy a matching pack of candy hearts. Then you’d spent the day with butterflies in your stomach, anxiously waiting nearby his locker to see his reaction.

But when he hadn’t shown up, you'd shrugged and begun heading home—and that was when you had caught sight of Minho, throwing all the love letters he’d received straight into the Dumpsters in the back parking lot.

Talk about a reality check.

As if that hadn't been traumatizing enough, you’d been forced to face him nearly every morning for the following three years. To make matters worse, being Minho’s involuntary locker mate also meant that all the girls—and guys, for that matter—saw you as little more than a stepping stone to him, always asking you to relay party invitations or trying to curry favour with you to get to him.

“We’re not close,” you’d insist to his persistent admirers every time, but it didn’t help. Minho, on the other hand, you thought bitterly, seemed to think he was too good for anyone—he didn’t even respond much to Hana’s advances, and she was drop-dead gorgeous. There was no way he’d even look twice at you—you’d been firsthand witness to that. You finally gave up trying to clean up the fallen Valentines, and stood up with a sigh. Throwing him a death glare, you pushed past the crowd just as the bell rang and students began scurrying away.

What did it matter if Lee Hana was trying to get with Minho? If anything, they were a match made in heaven. Or hell. With a decided huff, you plopped yourself down at your desk just as your English teacher began class.

“We’re starting the poetry unit today! Remember, you’ll be writing a love poem of your own for the final project—so I suggest you all get started on reading!” You teacher had winked and clapped her hands excitedly while a collective groan had swept through your class. A few couples had nudged each other meaningfully, already promising to write their poems about each other, and you’d thrown up a little in your mouth.

Romance was a bit of a touchy subject for you— now, you didn’t hate the notion of love, per se, you’d just always been somewhat...wary of it. After watching your friends fall in and out of disastrous relationships and fleeting feelings from the sidelines too many times to count, your own defense mechanisms had skyrocketed, and now you found yourself trying not to roll your eyes at every piece of romantic writing you read. Still, this inexperience only made you more determined to get a head start on the topic— and so, once the last bell had rung, you made a beeline for the school library. You would tackle love the only way you knew how to—by hitting the books. Pushing open the door, you overheard Hana and her friends muttering in disappointment and immediately recoiled.

“You said he’d be in here!”

“Well, I thought I saw him! Let’s wait for a bit.”

You peeked over the librarian’s desk, and sure enough, it was vacant— save for a tray of half-shelved books and stamping cards. Maybe Minho left early today, you thought, shrugging. That’s a relief. Then you shook your head quickly. What’s it to me whether he’s here or not? You tried to ignore Hana’s disdainful glance at you, heading straight towards your favourite nook at the back of the library instead: a cozy alcove tucked behind the last row of shelves. With a deep sigh, you pulled out the first book of poetry your teacher had assigned—Shakespeare’s Complete Sonnets—and sank into the bean bag chair.

‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May…’

A couple lines in, and the Englishman’s words were already making your head spin. You grimaced, massaging your temples. ‘A summer’s day?’ Seriously? You could swear you’d seen something less cheesy on a dollar store card. After a couple of pages, you could already feel your treacherous eyelids beginning to droop, fighting to stay awake as you tried to make sense of Shakespeare’s verses. But thy eternal summer...shall not fade...nor lose...possession…

“The library’s closing.”

You jolted awake, hands fumbling blindly before you could even force your eyes open. The library came into focus first—the lights had been dimmed, the flickering EXIT sign from the empty hallway casting a warm glow through the panelled window across the room. A dull headache still throbbed in your temples.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes groggily. You had to practically peel your cheek away from the Shakespeare book, fingers gingerly feeling the dent the cover had left in your cheek. “I-I’m so sorry, I must have—lost track of time studying.”

A familiar chuckle sent your heart plummeting to your stomach. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

When your eyes finally adjusted, your expression automatically soured into a glare.

“Now that’s more like it.” Smirking, Minho crossed his arms, leaning back on a bookshelf. He glanced down at the book in your lap—the book that you clearly hadn’t been studying. “Didn’t know you were one for Shakespeare.”

“I—” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not. His writing gives me a headache. It’s like it’s all in another language or something.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Old English. Why are you reading it, then?”

“We’re doing poetry in class—and our final project is to write an actual love poem, based on the poets we’ll study. Shakespeare was just first on the reading list, so…” you felt yourself trailing off, flustered. Why were you even bothering to explain this to Minho, who probably couldn’t care less? “Nevermind.”

You felt his piercing gaze on you as you shoved your books into your bag, glancing outside at the nearly emptied parking lot. If you squinted, you could spot a couple—Seo Changbin, judging by the male’s iconic leather jacket, and his lover—making out under the bleachers. You shook your head incredulously. Valentine’s Day. Love poems. Hormonal couples galore. It was like the universe was playing a long, cruel joke on you: Ha-ha, look who’s spending Valentine’s Day studying in the library alone.

Well, alone except for a student librarian with whom you had a mortifying history. Not much better. Eager to leave, you got to your feet, only to see Minho flipping through a smaller book he’d pulled off the shelf next to him. “If you want some real inspiration,” he began slowly, pushing up his glasses, “I’d suggest you start closer to our time period.”

You looked down at the book he was holding up, brow furrowing as you read the title out loud. “Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. Pablo Neruda.”

“The best Chilean poet of the 20th century,” he nodded. “‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving but this.’”

It took you a second to realise Minho was quoting a poem, and you were suddenly grateful that the dimly lit library hid the flush of red that had betrayed your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you mumbled, “That actually sounds...kind of pretty.”

He didn’t look up, but you thought you saw the corners of his mouth shoot up ever so slightly. Maybe the shadows were playing tricks on you? Flipping through the book, Minho fished out a pad of sticky notes from his back pocket and marked a few pages. “Here. ‘The Song of Despair’...‘Tonight I Can Write’...‘Here I Love You.’ Those are good.” Clamping the book shut, he held it out towards you.

You almost thanked him, but the words faltered on your tongue as you took it from him suspiciously. “What’s with the sudden helpful attitude?”

He shrugged. “It’s my job.” You raised an incredulous eyebrow, and he smirked. “Consider it my apology for this morning, then.”

That left you at a real loss for words, and for the first time, you struggled to find a retort. “That’s...considerate of you, apologising on behalf of your girlfriend and all.”

“Hana’s not my girlfriend.”

You breathed a small laugh. “Soon-to-be, then. Don’t break her heart.”

Minho scoffed, bringing the book to the front desk and scrawling your name on the sign-out card. He stamped the dates, then held it out at you before glancing out the window. Dusk had fallen, the empty football field lit only by rows of flickering lampposts. “You can get home safe?”

“Screw off, Lee Minho.” You eyed him warily, shoving the book into your bag before practically running to the double doors. The strange atmosphere that had suddenly built up in the library felt terrifyingly foreign to you, and your first instinct was to be rid of it as soon as possible. In the hallway, you spotted a janitor dumping a bin into a trash bag. A familiar avalanche of pink envelopes and gifts caught your eye, and you felt a wave of humiliation. Just the memory of Minho throwing yours out—after reading it and having a good laugh, no doubt—made you want to ram your head into the lockers all over again. You’ve got no chance with him, y/n, you thought blearily. Right when you’d thought you’d finally come to terms with Minho’s brutal (albeit unintentional) rejection, here he was again: crashing back into your life like some...cat-eyed, pointy-nosed meteor.

“Oh, y/n! One more thing.”

You’d already had one foot out the front door when Minho called your name again, making you jerk your head back in surprise. Minho had his bag slung over one shoulder, a pile of books in his arms as he waved to get your attention. His smile looked almost...genuine in the warm shadows, his round glasses softening his usually sharp gaze. Despite yourself, you felt your heart skip a beat.

Then Minho made a wiping motion over his face and grinned. “You’ve got drool on your chin.”

Your face reddened, and you slammed the library door shut, earning a glare from the janitor down the hall. Smacking the heel of your palm against your forehead repeatedly, you stormed out of the school muttering curses under your breath. Typical Lee Minho.

To your surprise, you practically devoured the poems in less than a week, taken aback at how much you genuinely enjoyed them. It was the first time you didn’t find yourself cringing at romance—and sure enough, in a couple days’ time, you found yourself reluctantly standing back in front of the double doors of the school library once again.

Carefully, you craned your head to peep into the panelled window, scanning the room for Minho. As per usual, a gaggle of girls were huddled on the other side, blocking your view.

“Looking for someone?”

Flinching, you nearly tripped on Hana’s long legs as she came up beside you. Before you could respond, she fixed you with a withering look. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Little Miss Perfect.”

“I—sorry?”

The cheerleader rolled her eyes, sneering. “Don’t act all innocent with me, you sneaky b—”

Sighing, you pushed open the doors before she could finish. Hana followed you into the library, still sputtering angrily. Her hand snatched your arm, French manicure digging painfully into your cardigan.

“The Valentines,” she hissed, and it finally clicked.

She’s talking about the love letters, you realized. The ones Minho throws out every year.

Gut twisting, you looked up to see all the other girls crossing their arms and looking back at you expectantly. “None of you...got a response?” You asked incredulously, already knowing the answer. This happened every year: Expectant admirers showered Minho’s locker with gifts, Minho wouldn’t even glance at them— and then, for some reason, you were left to take the blame. A twinge of annoyance shot through your chest.

“You stole them from his locker, didn’t you?” Hana continued accusingly, pupils shaking. “You sneaky, jealous bitch— of course you did.”

He threw them all out, you wanted to scream back at her, but the words wouldn’t budge from your tongue. Somehow, saying them out loud felt like tearing off the stitches of an old wound; a painful reminder of your personal humiliating memory. And—though you hated to admit it—a small part of you still didn’t have the heart to throw Minho under the bus just yet, even after all that he’d done.

Feeling defeated, you sighed and turned towards her. “Why would I want to do that?”

Hana scoffed, tossing her chocolate curls over one shoulder. “Oh, please. We all know you’ve had a massive one-sided crush on him since ninth grade.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks, the other girls’ snickers at your reaction drowning out any of your protests. “That’s not—”

“Not true? Then—is it mutual?” Hana sneered mockingly. “Don’t make me laugh. He wouldn’t be caught dead with the likes of y—”

“Can I help you with anything?”

The small crowd fell silent as Minho appeared from one of the aisles, eyebrows raised slightly in his usual nonchalant manner. A chill of panic rushed down your spine, palms growing clammy with cold sweat. H-how much did he overhear? In your peripheral, Hana was practically batting her eyelashes at him, but Minho’s mild eyes were focused on yours expectantly.

“I—uh. Well,” you stammered eloquently, your entire body suddenly paralyzed. Hana’s cherry red lips were twisted in a smug smirk, clearly waiting for you to embarrass yourself. “The book,” you blurted, immediately rummaging for the poetry book in your bag and holding it out to him.

Minho took it from you, fingertips grazing yours slightly. They were surprisingly warm. “How’d you find it?”

“R-really good, actually.” Then, you hesitantly added, “I...like the way Neruda uses imagery—he’s precise without being plain, and artful without deviating too much into purple prose. I think I liked Tonight I Can Write the most— y’know, ‘Tonight I can write the saddest lines...’” You swallowed, then instantly began regretting having ever spoken. Great job, y/n, now you sound like a full-blown nerd.

But Minho nodded, his eyes gleaming. “‘I loved her, and sometimes, she loved me, too.’”

“That’s the second verse,” you muttered automatically, and his lips twitched.

“It’s one of my favourite lines.”

The other girls had begun to awkwardly shuffle out of the library, their absence easing your racing heart. With just a few mildly spoken words, you noted, Minho had managed to make you feel as though you had blocked out the rest of the world. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Hana glaring daggers at you, and the small smile dropped from your face.

“Do you need something?” Minho asked her blankly, his gaze trailing down to Hana’s hand, which was still painfully latched onto your arm. With a roll of her eyes, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the library.

As soon as she was gone, you breathed an audible sigh of relief. Minho was peeling the sticky notes off from the poetry book you’d returned, eyes still watching you intently. Giving him the side-eye, you deadpanned, “She’s pretty, you know. Maybe you should go talk to her sometime.”

There was a small smile on Minho’s lips. “Does she like Chilean poetry?”

You could only give a short—slightly too shaky for your liking—laugh in response, ruffling your own hair as you tried to calm your frazzled nerves. Don’t forget, y/n. One, that he’s out of your league. Two, how this was all his fault to begin with.

“Is that all you came here for?” Minho’s voice broke into your thoughts again, making you jump. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He finds this—me—amusing.

“Well…” you looked down at your feet, then grudgingly nodded at the poetry book you’d just returned. “Do you...have any other recommendations?”

Minho’s face broke into a shit-eating grin, and you bit back a groan. before your pride got the better of you and you changed your mind, he was already heading towards the back of the library, sliding books out as you struggled to keep with his pace. “First of all, Dickinson. Hit-or-miss, but you never know. Then there’s Sylvia Plath, some Emily Brontë…”

Before you knew it, you’d been whisked into a world of verse and metaphor, flying between numerous time periods and continents as you and Minho perused the shelves. Just like the time when you had accidentally fallen asleep in the library, the library seemed to grow cozier, quieter, more peaceful during moments like these, as if the entire world was holding still as you lost yourself in pages upon pages of books. Soon, you found yourself heading to the library nearly every day after school. Despite yourself, you found yourself looking forward to that sunset hour, the fleeting period where most students had left, and the entire library would glow warm as though it were blushing under the swathes of golden light. And in these same fleeting moments, you found your gaze lingering more and more on Minho—the way he would push his silver glasses on, furrowing his brow in concentration whenever he searched for a book, or run his long fingers over their worn spines whenever he was lost in thought—

“Like what you see?” With a flinch, you realised Minho had begun walking back towards you, a crooked smirk on his lips as he set a new pile of books down at the desk you were sat at.

“No!” You snapped, too quickly. “Just—spaced out for a bit. Too concentrated on the project.”

The smirk hadn’t budged from Minho’s face, and you resisted the urge to throw a copy of Emily Dickinson’s Selected Poems at his long, pointy nose. “Mm. You seem to be coming here a lot more often.”

“That’s because the due date is coming up.”

“No. I mean, you seem to be talking to me a lot more.”

You rolled your eyes, snatching a book from the top of his pile as you muttered, “Screw you, Lee Minho.”

His eyebrows shot up in wicked mischief. “You’re more than welcome to try.”

With a cry of exasperation—and surprise at having been heard—you hoisted your book bag onto the table, building a makeshift wall between the two of you.

You didn’t catch the way Minho’s laughter slowly faded as he rested his head on one hand thoughtfully, quietly watching you read. Your lips were pursed in concentration as you muttered your notes under your breath. Cute, he couldn’t help thinking.

Minho had always been good at memorizing things, but he couldn’t remember exactly when you’d begun disliking him so much. You had always intrigued him—what with the way your locker always seemed to be overflowing with books, or how you used to lend him your copy when he forgot his, back in ninth grade. That Valentine’s Day, four years ago, your name had been the only one he’d hoped to find as he rifled through the cards he’d received. But he’d come up empty, and so he’d thrown them all out. And for some reason, you’d been cold to him ever since.

Minho had assumed that you were probably annoyed with all the letters that would fall out of his locker and onto you, and so every year he tried his best to get rid of the Valentines as soon as possible. Nevertheless, you only seemed to be getting more and more annoyed with him.

And now here you were, right in front of him, four years later, and he still couldn’t bring himself to ask you why. Confrontation had never been his strong suit—his words always seemed to come out too blunt, too cold, too soon, and so he’d always avoided bringing it up with you again. Minho sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Written words—that is, books—had always been so much easier than people.

He did, however, remember when he’d started falling for you.

Tenth grade, literature studies. He’d begun arguing against your thesis during one of your presentations, and the two of you had ended up bickering the entire class—pulling out quotes from nearly every chapter of Pride and Prejudice before the class president had to intervene, and your teacher had sent you both to detention.

You had glared at him once, and he’d fallen head over heels.

These violent delights have violent ends, he’d mused in his head back then—Romeo and Juliet—and with the murderous stare Minho sometimes caught you fixing him with, he was willing to bet that you were wishing a violent end on him, too.

He couldn’t pen a love letter to save his life, either— and so, he resorted to pettily glaring at any admirer that approached your locker like Gandalf—you shall not pass—until they backed off. Minho didn’t think you would appreciate him revealing that, either. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous his actions seemed—and like a poorly written plot twist, you had ended up stumbling back into his life again. Never in his life, however, did Minho think that Pablo Neruda would become his wingman. Glancing down at his portrait on the back cover of the book, Minho could almost imagine the Chilean poet pointing his pen threateningly: “Don’t screw this up.”

“Hey, Minho?” He snapped out of his thoughts to see you waving your hand at him from the other side of your book bag. “You were right. I don’t get any of Dickinson’s poems.”

Your words took a moment to register, Minho caught off-guard by the soft golden hour light illuminating your pretty features. You waved your hand in his face again, and he blinked, breath caught in his throat. Almost tripping over his tongue, he finally quipped, “How on earth are you passing AP English?”

You glowered and smacked his shoulder, the near-silent library ringing with Minho’s laughter once again.

With a week left to the deadline, you were planted at your desk in your room, the wastebasket littered with crumpled up half-sheets of notebook paper. To your dismay, none of the words seemed to be coming out the way you wanted them to. Gnawing the back of your pencil in frustration, you dumped the contents of your book bag onto the desk, and spotted your latest library book—100 Love Sonnets, by Pablo Neruda. Inexplicably, out of all the poets Minho had introduced to you, you always found yourself coming back to him.

Flipping through the well-thumbed pages, your fingers stopped at one titled Sonnet XVII. “I love you without knowing how,” your eyes scanned the verse curiously, “or when, or from where. I love you simply…”

It was the poem Minho had quoted that evening in the library, you realized, heart skipping a beat. “...without problems or pride / I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving / but this, in which there is no I or you / so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand / so intimate that when I fall asleep, your eyes close.”

With a sigh, you buried your head in your arms, lying face-down onto the desk. Maybe the reason why you instinctively disliked reading love poems so much was because of the sheer sincerity of them all. You envied their ability to put feelings into words—with unabashed, unapologetic ardour, and be celebrated for it, to boot. Eyes scanning the verses again, your mind wandered to the way Minho’s eyes had lit up as he’d explained the lines to you, his brow furrowed in focus.

At Levanter High, you had grown used to being pushed around and out of the spotlight. It was either the popular girls and their backhanded compliments, or the boys who spoke to you condescendingly just to a) get you to do their homework, or b) get in your pants. But Minho had always taken you seriously, albeit while driving you half-insane with his infuriating remarks. And as much as you hated to admit it, that same fiery look in his eyes whenever he got worked up—so different from his usual reserved facade in front of the teachers and swooning students—had always made your heart skip a beat. In tenth grade—back when he seemed to pick a fight with you nearly every English class until Bang Chan had to hold the two of you back from killing each other—you’d thought you’d successfully quashed your feelings for the mild-voiced, hazel-eyed librarian. Yet every time he spoke, he left you feeling vulnerable, disarmed, and you were back—though you refused to admit it—to square one.

“‘I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul,’” you whispered, fingers tracing the words on the paper. Feeling a sudden surge—of confidence, or simply exasperation, you weren’t sure—you seized the pen and began scribbling on a new piece of paper. For years, you’d been afraid to face your feelings, terrified of the humiliation if Hana—or anyone at school—found out. But if getting them all out in one cheesy, hot mess of a love letter could give you some closure, you thought tensely, you were more than happy to oblige. You would write it all out under the guise of a love poem, and then it would never have to see the light of day again.

Words began coming to your head like a floodgate had been thrown wide open, and you began scrawling onto the page. “‘I love you as the plant that never blooms, but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers,’” you quoted thoughtfully as you drafted your own poem. In a way, it felt cathartic—you could get all your feelings out, pass it off as an assignment, and never think about the forbidden fruit again. For all you knew, it was a win-win situation. The pen kept wobbling, ink spilling out haphazardly and skipping, but you relaxed slightly. Maybe this assignment wasn’t too bad, after all.

Head filled to the brim with poetry, you set the pen down and dozed off.

“You’re not coming to the football game?” Lia flashed puppy eyes at you, and you smacked her hand playfully, swiping a french fry from her plate.

“Lia, since when have I ever gone to one?” The two of you had dropped by the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe for a quick pick-me-up during lunch hour, but one smile from the cute waiter—Yang Jeongin, if you remembered his name correctly—had dazzled Lia into ordering an extra burger combo, complete with a plate of fries. “Sports and crowds—not my thing. And I have an English project due the next day.”

She pouted. “Oh, come on! Knowing you, you’ve probably already finished it by now.”

You grinned, thinking back to your love poem and fighting the urge to cringe. You’d read it the morning after, and it had taken every fibre in your being to hold yourself back from ripping it to shreds. Piercing, catlike eyes, you’d written in one line. Silver spectacles. Long fingers on dusty pages. Shuddering, you’d stuffed it into the Neruda book before banishing them both to your locker and going about your day. Love poems are supposed to be cheesy, y/n, suck it up. It’ll only be this one time. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone other than your teacher would ever read it.

When you dropped by the library after school, you spotted Hana’s familiar figure by one of the cubicles. As she tossed her hair over her shoulder with a laugh muted by the plexiglass windows, you saw that she was talking to a grinning Minho.

“Are you sure you’re not coming to the game on Thursday?” Hana was whining as you pushed open the doors to the library. She patted his arms playfully. “You could be on the football team if you wanted to, you know! Why don’t you try?”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not that quick on my feet.”

“Well, tell you what. They’re having a party at Hyunjin’s place right after—his parents are out of town. If you don’t feel like coming to the game, at least join us at the afterparty to loosen up a little—have a little fun.” She blew him a kiss and stood, throwing her purse over her shoulder and spotting you. You instinctively froze, bracing yourself for whatever slew of insults she had for you today, but all Hana did was beam and wave at you.

As she passed you by the door, she threw you a knowing wink. “Have fun on your little study date!”

Her words made your ears grow hot again, but to your surprise, there was no trace of venom in her voice — only a lighthearted teasing, as if she had been your friend all along. Hana really did look sweet when she smiled genuinely, and you could see why she had so many people easily wrapped around her finger. Maybe people do change. Or she’s just in a good mood. Before you could shrug and turn away, you sensed Minho’s presence behind you and yelped.

He held his hands up in mock surrender, and you could swear he was suppressing a laugh. “Here to work on your project again?”

Hana’s strange exchange with you on her way out had left your mind reeling, and you scrambled to form coherent sentences. “No, I, um—I actually finished it last night. I just…” Thought I’d just drop by to say hi. But your pride turned the words to mush before they had even formed, and you ended up trailing off awkwardly.

“Really?” There was a flash of disappointment in his face, then Minho’s gaze landed on the book-borrowing register on the front desk. “Right—your book is due today. Did you want to return it?”

Your eyes widened, silently cursing at your own forgetfulness. “Um—yes,” you lied, pretending to search in your bag before giving an awkward laugh. “Yep. I think it’s in my locker—let me go get it.”

After jogging to the other side of the school, you flung open the bottom locker, making another mental note to replace your missing lock. Still catching your breath, your hand sifted through the notes and textbooks before coming up empty. Where is it? You could swear you remembered putting it there, unless—

Breath catching in your throat, you shut the locker with a mortified bang. The English classroom. You practically sprinted down the hallways, earning another dirty look from the janitor as you raced past. Bang Chan looked up in alarm when you nearly crashed into the English classroom door. The entire room was empty, save for the class president, who looked like he was helping to file the teacher’s papers.

“Where’s the fire?” He asked jokingly as your eyes frantically raked the room.

“Have you—seen a book, by any chance? 100 Love Sonnets. Pablo Neruda.”

Chan frowned. “We shelve all the books after class, and if it’s one we don’t recognize, we keep it until the students come back in the morning.” He shrugged. “I don’t remember seeing anything.”

Your heart sank, and you saw the corners of Chan’s mouth lift bemusedly.

“What’s the hurry, anyway? I thought you hated love po—”

With a groan of frustration, you left the baffled class president staring after you as you turned on your heel and back into the hallway. Your mind was racing, panic making your ears buzz. The love letter’s in there. Where the hell did I put it? You sprinted to the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe next, but only got an apologetic shrug from Jeongin even after you’d scoured every nook and cranny of the diner. The sun was already beginning to set as you trudged, defeated, back to the school. Spotting the library’s dim windows in the distance, you wrestled with your options — if it weren’t for that cursed love letter, you could’ve probably just told Minho you’d misplaced it. But now the book—along with everything you’d never dared to tell anyone, crammed onto a sheet of notebook paper—could be anywhere, and there was no way in hell you were going to stop looking until you found it. Heart heavy with dread, you did a full 180 and began walking home.

It was no use. You’d practically pulled an all-nighter tearing your room apart searching for the book— and then, the better part of the following day running around town. But no matter where you looked—the record shop, Blockbuster’s, or even the laundromat—you came up empty.

It’s like it’s disappeared entirely, you thought as the lunch ladies piled your tray with a few sad-looking burritos. The cafeteria was buzzing with teenagers jittery with caffeine and sugar, and you had to duck as a boy chucked an apple at another across the room. You passed the cheerleaders’ table, trying to avoid eye contact, but their giggly conversation carried over the chaotic commotion.

“Did you see how cute Hyunjin looked today on the field?”

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend? Maybe Hana can talk to him for us—if he doesn’t fall for her first.” The blonde cheerleader that had spoken nudged the older girl insistently.

“Me?” There was a smile in Hana’s voice. You could feel her eyes on you as she mused, “Oh, I don’t know, Hyunjin’s not my type. I much prefer boys with—how should I put it—catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long fingers perfect for turning dusty pages…” She clasped her hands together in mock adoration, and her friends erupted in giggles.

“What the hell was that? Sounds like a cheesy love poem.”

You had frozen stiff as soon as she had uttered the words, stunned eyes finding Hana’s only a couple feet away. She gave you a winning smile—the same one you’d deemed friendly just a couple days ago—and winked.

“Give me my book back.”

You pulled her aside after the last bell had rung, voice shaking. Hana only tilted her head innocently, eyes round as a puppy’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Before you could spit a biting retort back at her, the taller cheerleader tapped her chin thoughtfully with one bejewelled nail. “But I might think harder if...I got a little something in return.”

You grit your teeth. “What do you want?”

“Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party as my date,” Hana beamed, “and tell the office you want to change your locker.”

“You’re crazy,” you blurted, and her face immediately darkened. Dropping her voice, she leaned in closer, until her voice was right beside your ear.

“Oh, I can be even crazier. What would happen if I made copies of this little letter on Monday, hm? Or published it in the school paper for everyone to read? I’m sure Han Jisung would love that—”

Your eyes trailed down to the slip of paper she’d pulled out of her purse, the sight of your own familiar handwriting making panic surge through your veins like ice. Snatching it from her hand, you quickly began tearing it apart before noticing the calm smirk on Hana’s face.

“Photocopy, silly,” she giggled in a sing-song voice as you peered more closely at the shredded pieces, hands shaking. “Oh, all right, don’t cry. If you want the original so badly…” she leaned in again, cruel smile on her lips. “Then you might want to look in the library.”

Eyes widening, you immediately pushed her away and bolted for the stairs. “Don’t forget the deal! Thursday night,” Hana called after you, and you broke into a run.

Most of the classrooms were already empty, their dark windows reflecting your own face back at you as you hurtled past them. Your heart pounded in your chest as the library finally came into view at the end of the hallway, but you nearly came to a screeching halt when you saw that the lights had been turned off. Had Minho gone home early? Chewing your lip anxiously, you peered past the plexiglass. Aisles empty, books all shelved neatly, chairs stacked. The library was quiet as a tomb. Desperately, you tried the knob—and to your surprise, the door creaked open. Maybe he forgot to lock it. You had nothing to lose. Holding your breath, you slipped in.

Even the faint click of the door closing again sounded deafening. You rifled through the front desk first, dropping to a crouch as you inspected the carts and borrowing-bin. To your dismay, they were all empty—they must have all been re-shelved already. Heart sinking, you began tip-toeing through the shelves, fingers trembling as they ran over the laminated Dewey Decimal labels. Please, please, please…

You reached the poetry section at the back of the library, eyes squinting to try and read the spines of the books under shrouds of shadows. Poets— Nash. Naidu. Nemerov…

“Neruda,” you gasped, eyes falling on the book you had practically gone through hell searching for. 100 Love Sonnets. Almost sobbing in sheer relief, you reached out to grab it—just as another hand shot out from beside you. Your yelp of surprise broke the still, dim quiet, and you didn’t have to look up to know who the warm, pale fingers belonged to.

“Care to explain what you’re doing here?”

Spectacles glinting under the twilight, one hand in his pocket, nonchalant as ever, was the boy that had gotten you into this mess. Lee Minho.

As you stared back at him, mouth slightly agape, you felt as though your entire world was balancing precariously over a yawning abyss— as if one wrong move would send everything you’d spent the last two months—no, the last four years—repatching. You swallowed hard. His hand had landed a split-second later than yours, holding both you and the book in place, and you tried to ignore the feeling of his warm fingers on your chilled skin. Forcefully, you yanked the book from the shelves and out of his grasp. “The—book. I-I realised I still needed it for the project. It’s due this Friday, you know.”

He raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. “Today’s only Wednesday. Why not come back tomorrow morning?”

Shit. “I, um, promised Lia I’d go with her to the game tomorrow,” you fibbed, flipping through the book quickly, ready to grab any stray piece of paper that flew out. Nothing. “So I—need to finish the assignment today. Could you renew it for me?” Trying to plaster on an unbothered smile, you flipped through the book again. Still nothing. Had Hana lied to you?

In your peripheral, you saw Minho slowly shift his weight, crossing his arms as he mused, “Well, I’m not too sure about that. We’re getting...careful about letting students borrow books for too long. People tend to leave some...strange things in them.”

Your eyes snapped up, fingers freezing on the fluttering pages. “What—then did you—see anything? S-strange, I mean.”

A flicker of amusement passed through Minho’s eyes, and then it was gone. He cleared his throat, humming thoughtfully. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”

The strange intensity of his gaze seemed to corner you into the shadows, and you swore your heart was pounding so hard it seemed to echo through the room. “Nothing,” you stammered, throwing your hands up in exasperation, “I mean, I just—accidentally left—” Kill me now. You shook your head rapidly. “N-nevermind. I’m heading home.”

“Y/N—”

“Oh, one more thing.” You turned, remembering Hana’s sly words to you back in the stairwell. “You’re invited to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, after the game on Thursday.” Then, hoping you sounded more convincing than you felt, “Hana’s really counting on you to be her date.”

Minho chuckled. “You know I go to parties as often as you do.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice in his words, only that same, airy indifference Minho always carried himself with. “Please? Hana—I mean, it would make her really happy if you went.”

“Would you be happy?”

The strange question caught you off guard, making you look up again. Minho was no longer smiling. His hand was still resting lightly over the missing space the book had left on the shelf, and his expression looked strangely lost under the twilit sky.

“Would it make you happy if I went?” He repeated, and you felt your mouth go dry.

Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, and I won’t publish your little love letter for everyone to see on Monday. You nodded firmly, laughing in an attempt to ease the strange atmosphere that had settled over the two of you once again. “Y-yeah. Ecstatic.”

You turned on your heel, breath leaving your lips in a shaky sigh. If the poem wasn’t in the book, where on earth could it be? Option one: It had fallen out somewhere along the way, and hadn’t fallen into anyone’s hands. The best case scenario. Option two: Hana had been playing with you again, and she had had the original all along. Option three…

“By the way, Hana told me not to give this to you.”

You whirled around in surprise, and your eyes landed on a horribly familiar piece of notebook paper dangling from Minho’s fingers. Option three, damn it all. Mortified, you snatched it from his hand, crumpling it into your fist as he laughed lightly.

“It’s a very good poem.”

“Shut up, Lee Minho,” you wailed, wishing the ground would just swallow you up and bury you six feet under for all of eternity. “It’s a cheesy, cliché wreck.”

He hummed in amusement. “What were you writing about?”

Paralyzed, your eyes flickered towards the window before sputtering, “The—sunset. Figurative approach, you know? Emily Dickinson-inspired—”

“Mm. Then what was that quote about—” He tilted his head in thought, fingers snapping. “Catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long—” He stopped when you plugged your ears instinctively, eyes glowering at him in disbelief. If looks could kill, Minho was sure he’d now have died more times than the characters in a Shakespearean tragedy. “—was that about the sunset, too?”

“Of course,” you snapped, your voice a tad too pitchy for your liking. Damn Lee Minho and his knack for memorizing things. “Haven’t you ever heard of extended metaphors? Rest assured, Lee Minho—I will never, ever, ever—have feelings for you.” You crumpled the sheet of poetry into a ball as you spoke with a note of finality, jamming it into your back pocket for good riddance.

Minho looked unfazed, the light curve of a knowing smile playing on his lips. After a moment, he took a step towards you, making you stumble back in alarm. “‘You can cut all the flowers,” he mused, glancing down at the crumpled love letter, “‘but you cannot stop spring from coming.’”

“Wh-wha—”

“Neruda quote. Tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable, and I’ll stop,” he murmured, eyes growing serious for a moment before his lips twitched with mirth, “but something tells me I deserve to hear more about that sunset from your poem.”

Gulping, you felt hot tears brimming in your eyes, and suddenly wished you were anywhere but here. This confrontation had been your worst nightmare, what you had always wanted to avoid. Your pride’ll be the end of you, y/n, you remembered Lia remarking when you’d sworn up and down that your feelings for Lee Minho were a thing of the past. And it was true—your pride had always gotten the better of you. You were a hypocrite, and a terrible one at that—always telling yourself you had gotten over that stupid, ninth-grade heartbreak, before unravelling into a nervous mess whenever Minho so much as threw a glance at you. And now, you could feel everything you’d feebly repressed for the last four years caving in. Crashing down on you like an avalanche of cheap supermarket chocolates.

“It was about you. You, alright?” You hissed, voice coming out more wounded, rather than venomous like you’d intended. “There. Are you happy now?” You were glad the shadows hid the humiliated tears beginning to roll down your cheeks, and wiped at your eyes furiously. Damn it all. So much for not crying.

“Then why didn’t you—”

“Say anything?” You breathed a short laugh. “Because I didn’t want to see you just throw it out again, okay?”

The silence that met your words was deafening, and when you finally mustered the courage to lift your gaze you saw that Minho’s look of disbelief mirrored your own.

“'Again?'”

Damn Lee Minho and his two-faced ass. Had he already forgotten? “In ninth grade. I left you a—stupid love letter in your locker, with all your other Valentines. Then I s-saw you throwing them all out, behind the school.”

“But I read every name on the cards,” Minho insisted, running a hand through his tousled hair. I left you—a stupid love letter in your locker. Your words sent his head spinning, and he felt his flustered cheeks heat up as he mumbled, “I’ve never—seen yours on any of them.”

Now it was your turn to blink in confusion. Minho’s brow furrowed in vague recollection. “But I did see Hana pulling an envelope out from my locker that day. She said that—she’d heard someone had been sending chain mail on Valentine’s Day, so she was helping the principal clean them up from people’s lockers.”

Hana? Your mind flashed to the missing locks, and the cheerleader that always seemed to be hanging around your locker, and suddenly everything dawned on you. “What did the envelope look like?”

“A corner store card. With—”

“Candy hearts. Right.” You muttered, watching Minho nod slowly. Your anger faltered slightly, feeling a slight shame wash over you, but you weren’t willing to give up just yet. “That still doesn’t explain why you dump out all the gifts you get every year.”

He sighed. “Look. Why would I keep love letters from people I don’t like? That’s just...narcissistic. And I don’t...like chocolate, either,” he added as an afterthought, and you couldn’t help exhaling a short laugh at his ridiculously blunt sentence. Another silence fell between the two of you, the angry tension in the air replaced with an almost childish awkwardness.

“I really did like the poem,” Minho spoke tentatively after what felt like an eternity, and you buried your head in your hands.

“Shut up, Lee Minho, oh my g—”

“And I wouldn’t have thrown it out.” The soft edge to his voice made you stop, peeking out of your fingers to look at him questioningly.

“Why not?” You asked, swallowing hard. “You said keeping letters from someone you don’t like would be narcissistic.”

He was barely a foot away, and the sheer proximity of his face from yours made your stomach flop—with irritation or butterflies, you weren’t sure you wanted to find out. Nonetheless, a tiny voice at the back of your head told you that you were heading towards the latter.

“You know, for someone who reads so many books, you sure are dense,” Minho murmured, shaking his head.

“Wh—”

“I throw out all my Valentines every year because I never see your name on them, alright?” His expression was as careless as ever—that cool, calm facade he wore like a suit of armour—but you didn’t miss the slight tremor in his voice, the flicker of apprehension in his eyes. Lee Minho, you realized with a jolt, was nervous. “I...only ever wanted to receive one from you.”

Your eyes widened, hands lowering from your face in shock. The book tumbled from under your arm to the ground. “But—Hana always told me about how much you hated me.”

“Hmm.” He dropped down to pick it up before fixing his piercing eyes on yours. “Funny. She’s been telling me the same about you. How you’re a two-faced, back-stabbing...such-and-such,” he smiled at the indignant look on your face before his face grew serious. “You’ve always let people walk all over you, and you never retaliate. It’s both admirable and frustrating to watch.”

“I’m not good at confrontation,” you mumbled, still shifting your weight from one leg to the other nervously. “Every time I think I’ve finally got the guts to try and say something back, I...I get all terrified that the words’ll jumble up and I-I’ll start to cry like an idiot again—”

“You’re not an idiot,” he interrupted sternly, “You’re probably more clever—and genuine—than everyone in our grade combined. Your thesis was brilliant.”

You snorted incredulously. “Then why did you keep attacking it every class?”

“It was the only time I could get you to talk to me.”

“Weirdo,” you muttered, but you couldn’t find it in you to make the word sound insulting anymore. Minho chuckled, hand grazing yours as he handed the book back to you. You didn’t move your hand away, and neither did he.

“It is weird. I must be out of my mind. Whenever you look at me, it’s like the whole world stops, and suddenly every cheesy line of poetry I’ve ever read just seems to make sense.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you were more than certain Minho could hear it. The way he was looking at you was nearly overwhelming, stomach fluttering with a feeling so strange and foreign it terrified you. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought that you would be here, in this delicate, unreal moment, and you felt all your insecurities threatening to swallow you up again. Out of everyone in the school, he likes you? A voice snickered at the back of your mind. Don’t kid yourself.

Shrinking away, you mumbled, “Y-you—don’t have to say stuff like that, you know. I mean, i-if you feel bad because of the letter and everything, you don’t have to pretend you lik—”

There was a flash of an exasperated smile on Minho’s lips. Before you could finish, his hand reached to pull your chin towards him again, and suddenly his mouth was pressed flush to yours. You froze, lips parting in surprise, but the kiss was light—barely even a brush of soft skin, and bringing with it the faint scent of vanilla and old books. Minho pulled away almost as quickly as he’d pulled you in, stammering, “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

That seemed to send what was left of your hesitation crumbling into dust. You grabbed the collar of his dress shirt to pull him back in, and the library fell silent again.

Minho kissed the way he talked—soft but firm, and always leaving you struggling to catch your breath. Each touch had the growing intensity of something long overdue, starting out careful—as though you were treading over the newly shattered, four-year-old misunderstandings of one another—before your hands instinctively tangled in his hair and Minho pulled you in impossibly closer. You could feel his heartbeat pressed against yours, the crumpled poem and Neruda’s sonnets long forgotten on the carpeted ground.

The click of the library door opening sent the two of you flying apart, Minho hitting his head on the shelf with a comical thud. The kiss left you dazed and out of breath, and Minho’s face was flushed as both of you whipped around to see a livid Hana at the front of the library. Mouth opening and closing in silent fury, she shot you a death glare before storming out the door, leaving both you and Minho blinking after her.

Several moments passed, the whiplash of the unexpected interruption having sent both of your heads reeling. Then, the two of you broke into stunned laughter, slowly sliding down to the carpet as you doubled over in giggles.

When you finally stopped laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, Minho’s gaze was fixed fondly on your face. You poked his cheek. “You’re blushing, asshole.”

He didn’t respond, eyes falling to your lips again, and you felt your own face flush. “W-what?”

Minho grinned. “And you have drool on your chin again.”

“Hey, Minho! Minho, you won’t believe this!”

That enthusiastic voice belonged to none other than Han Jisung—voice of Levanter High’s morning announcements, and notorious school gossip. He hurtled down the bustling hall towards you and Minho, hunching over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Shit, ‘sung—did you kill somebody?”

The dark-haired boy shook his head rapidly. “Did you see the school newspaper?”

Your mouth went dry, Hana’s lingering threats still ringing clear in your ears. Jisung continued excitedly, “Two people submitted anonymous love poems over the weekend—at the same time! Can you believe it? I’m supposed to cover it on the announcements in a bit!”

Two? You peered at Minho, who hadn’t looked at you, and glimpsed a knowing glint in his eyes. “W-who submitted them?”

“Well, Lee Hana was handing out copies of the first one to everyone first thing this morning. But when I showed her the other one, she refused to tell me who the first belonged to.” He pouted.

Minho looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. “Do you have a copy of the paper, ‘sung?”

The dark-haired boy grinned. “Yeah, ‘course! You guys can have mine. See ya!”

As Jisung disappeared into the crowd of students, you turned back to Minho. He had been in the middle of putting a new lock on your locker, and was now setting the combination on his own. “They’re matching,” he’d pointed out when you’d gone into town together to buy them, and you’d groaned.

“Gro-oss.” The old, PDA-hating you would have probably thrown them away on the spot, but now the sight made you smile like a dork. If you can’t beat em, join ‘em.

You looked down to read the papers Jisung had deposited into your hands. Sure enough, on the left column, you spotted a photocopy of your own love letter. But on the right, there was a completely new one—and you had a sneaking suspicion you knew who the anonymous writer was.

“You know, Minho,” you deadpanned, “I don’t think either of us are cut out to be poets.”

“I stayed up all night writing that love letter, you know!” Minho exclaimed indignantly, and you just shook your head laughing. “But you’re right. I could feel Neruda turning in his grave.”

“You’re going to be the end of me, Lee Minho.”

His face broke into a mischievous grin at that, pinning you playfully to the lockers and stealing another kiss as you yelped in surprise.

“Can it be a happy ending?”