#he knows from experience that it's a shitty thing to do n still feels horrible bc of how he treated his now-wife lol

[taegularities]

c&f jk: what if someday you have a beautiful daughter but she gets bullied by a boy same as what you did when you were young. How will you protect her?

Jungkook: "I know ____ would pick the soft approach and attempt to explain to the boy why his behaviour was not right. I think I would be harsher."

Jungkook: "I would snap at him, because these things do not always turn into a love story. I will never romanticise this. I would tell him to apologise and then to never look into Suhana's direction again. Then I would take her for a walk through the gardens and allow her to choose dinner."

Jungkook, eyes big: "Hm? Oh. Yes. Daughter will be Suhana… No doubt."

–

ask my characters! 🤍

[dstryvampres]

Lab Assistant

MINORS/AGELESS BLOG DNI !

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

Warnings: smut LOL, dub con, pnv, unprotected sex, use of fear toxin on some dude, he smacks your ass like once

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: this is my first time writing just pure smut, sorry if the set up is super long.

For the past week your heater had been broken, and despite multiple calls to your landlord which always ended up with the promise that he would come over to fix it eventually, you were still freezing. Though you could escape the biting cold throughout the day by taking up a second home at your university, you always had to eventually come back to your shitty studio apartment and suffer through the night. You’re excess time spent on campus was well spent, studying in the library, napping under stairwells or in-between shelves in the library, stirring around coffee you didn’t even like but knew you have to drink to stay in the cafe, or staring longingly at your psychology professor Dr. Crane. The lack of any privacy throughout your day had started to get annoying after the first three days, not helped by the fact that because you saw Dr Crane more than you usually do, leading to you feeling more high strung. Gotham was not treating you kindly.

“Excuse me,” a voice called out quite loudly above you, forcing you out of your final exam induced coma. You gritted your teeth, knowing that you were likely overstaying your visit to the campus library, especially since you had just finished your last exam of the season, who knows how many hours ago.

Looking up you were met with the face of your favourite professor, Dr Crane. Another horrible coincidence, it was embarrassing for someone so put together and professional to find you so vulnerable, especially someone who you had in mind when your hand was shoved down your pants most nights. 

“The library is closing soon, I would recommend getting your stuff and heading out,” Dr Crane says, his voice oddly empathetic. A jarring contrast to the usual mix of hostility and boredom his voice held during lectures. He sighs and takes off his glasses, pinching his eyebrows together, seeming conflicted over what he wants to say next, so instead you fill the space with your own voice.

“Of course, I’m so sorry sir. I seemed to lose track of time, and was too exhausted to walk home. Again, I am so sorry. I should have set a timer or just maybe not sleep in the library, that was so-“

“You have been spending a weird amount of time on campus for the past week,” Dr Crane interjects, giving you a once over. “Is everything okay at home?”

The question was so genuine it made your brain short circuit. Why would he even care about you?

“Not really,” you laughed, the two words coming out of your mouth before you had time to think. A habit only recently picked up due to sleepless nights.

A smile crept over your professor's face, one that didn’t seem to reach the rest of his face. You couldn’t tell if it was from the shock of your honesty or something more sinister. He sat down in front of you, scratching his nose, letting a silence stretch out. Just long enough for pricks of discomfort to stir.

“Well, I’m running a program here at the university over the winter break. Just need an assistant to help me over at Arkham for an experiment I’m conducting. The job would include housing closer to Arkham, since it’s a little out of the city, and it pays about a dollar over the minimum wage. If you’re interested,” he slides a business card over the table, smile now dropped, “just email me in the next 48 hours.”

Taking the card eagerly between your fingers, mumbling a small ‘thank you’ under your breath before pocketing it. When you look up he’s already halfway gone. Packing up your things as fast as you can, you leave the library and hop on the train back to your shitty apartment. An email is sent to Dr Crane that night, and the following day you are confirmed as his assistant for this experiment the next day.

𝜗𝜚

The space provided for your three week stay was slightly better than your studio apartment, mostly because it had heating, but also because you shared a wall with Dr Crane. Besides the housing, the internship also came with an average pay, some work experience, and enough credits to compensate for one class. Your first week there had mostly been mundane tasks, taking notes outside of interrogation rooms while Dr Crane interviewed patients, making coffee for the two of you, making patient profiles, and making sure no one took any of Dr Crane’s “special medicine” for the experiment. Despite the easy work and the decent benefits, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something more sinister that Dr Crane wasn’t telling you about the experiment. With a thesis based around the concept of fears, you had yet to notice any great dive into the topic beside a few one-off questions.

“Before we start this week,” Dr Crane starts, sitting down in the chair opposite to you, “I want to just warn you that this is when the experiment starts to become a little more intense.”

He holds a coffee mug in his hand, as he talks the liquid sloshes around the cup. It's all information you already know, you signed an NDA, he trusts you, do what he says, and that he needs you to stay out of the room no matter what. Last week you learned just how Dr Crane enjoys his coffee, no milk and one sugar, you can’t understand how he can drink it. One sugar can’t mask the bitter taste. He drinks it quickly though, remembering the taste makes you gag.

“Before we begin today, can you prepare the variable today in syringes? I will be introducing it into the experimental group today.”

He sets down the now empty mug, a loud thump echoes through the room, startling you. Dr Crane smiles at your reaction, it’s the same one he always gives you, the one that doesn’t reach the rest of his face. You ignore the stone that has formed inside your stomach, picking up your clipboard and pen.

“I’ll meet you in room 283B,” your professor puts a hand on the small of your back, leading you both out of his office. A shock is sent through your body at the contact, once out of the room you turn to look at him, but his hand is gone and he’s headed in the opposite direction as you.

Something else that you have noticed throughout this week is just how close Dr Crane is now. He’s more touchy than you would pinpoint him as. Which isn’t saying much, but the small lingering touches he lays on you, a hand on your shoulder, maybe on the small of your back, doesn’t seem to be too professional. One… two… three millilitres of solution per syringe. The questions he asks also seem to be a little weird, especially due to the matter of the study. A common thread being his prying into your fears, and a look of hunger when he asks the questions. Soft thud of the storage container hitting the ‘chemical waste’ bin. Though you can’t really complain, this past week has given you enough content for your late nights to satisfy you for your whole university career, Masters program included. Laying out each of the syringes in a row on the tray, and counting them out. Three syringes on the top tray, six needles on the lower tray. Rolling the tray out of the room and over to the elevator to head up to the second floor.

You softly knock on the door, waiting for Dr Crane to open up the door to the observer section. The door opens in a matter of seconds, only a crack for a couple more seconds, before it is completely opened. 

“Thank you,” Dr Crane says, looking down at the tray of syringes. He takes one in his gloved hand, holds it up to the light and nods, a stamp of approval given to your handiwork. “Remember: that if anything goes wrong, do not enter the room, just call security, and take as detailed notes as possible on the patient’s behaviour and the levels on the monitor.”

You nod, taking a look at the monitor set up beside the one-way glass, all vitals seem to be steady at the moment. The door to the room holding the patient opens up and shuts quickly, Dr Crane slipping in and greeting the patient, thanking him for his time. The patient seems to be a middle aged man, scars run across his arms, roughed up from whatever he did before his time in Arkham, he’s bald and seems to be displeased with his situation. Still, when Dr Crane comes to insert the syringe into his arm he stays still and takes it. The opaque liquid disappears as Dr Crane pushes down on the syringe, removing it once all the liquid has entered into the man’s system. A ‘thank you’ is expressed by Dr Crane before he exits the room, syringe in hand. Once the door is locked, Crane disposes of the syringe in the toxic waste bin in the observer’s room.

“The solution will take about five minutes to kick in,” he says, looking at you and it’s now that you realise just how excited he seems to be. 

The heart rate on the monitor starts to speed up, taking your attention away from Crane, and noting it down.

“Are you sure you estimated the time correctly?” You ask hesitantly, not wanting to offend your professor.

“I did. No worries. Injections can do this to people.”

The next five minutes pass by slowly, Dr Crane behind your chair, his breath tickling your ear. It’s almost impossible to focus like this, you just want to do something about the growing wet spot in your pants. Screaming immediately breaks through the tension you were feeling, you look at the patient. His eyes are wide, his pupils expanded, and his heart rate reaches around 140 bpm. Alarm sets into your own heart, you didn’t expect this big of a reaction from the patient. Dr Crane nudges your shoulder, reminding you to start writing your observations.

11:06: patient’s heart rate reaches 140 bpm

11:07: patient starts uncontrollably screaming at seemingly nothing

Your continued scribbling of notes doesn’t seem to discourage Dr Crane from talking.

“I didn’t know it would be this effective. I’ve been waiting years for this to be approved and this is better than I could’ve ever expected.”

Nausea settled from the mix of pleading for mercy and screaming from the patient, and Dr Crane’s glee from his reactions. Unsure how you could continue on with doing this almost every single day for the two weeks. Writing soon became sloppy due to your own lightheadedness and nausea, every moment you begged someone to make this stop. It was too much. It stretched on for over fifteen minutes before the patient finally came back from whatever drug induced hallucination he was forced into, yet he was still crying. Wanting to distance yourself so far from this experiment, you place the clipboard down.

“Wonderful isn’t it?” Dr Crane asked you, placing a hand on your shoulder. Whatever response you thought you could muster was stuck in your throat, so instead you nodded. “I call it my ‘fear toxin.’”

Once his hand left your shoulder, you immediately stood up, head spinning so much that you stumbled right into Dr Crane.

“Are you okay? Did the ‘fear toxin’ effects startle you?” He asks, putting his hands on your shoulder to stabilise you, his voice bridges between mocking and actually concerned.

“I just need to go to the bathroom,” You squeeze out, stumbling into the hallway and waving goodbye.

Stumbling around, unable to find the bathroom, you slide down the wall of an empty hallway. Sitting on the floor and curling up into the fetal position. Nausea slipping out of you slowly, eyes closed, just wanting to forget about the whole experience. What substance could even make a man react so horribly? Why would anyone make that in the first place? What purpose could a substance like that even serve? How will this even help-

“There you are,” a voice comes from above you, Dr Crane. You open one eye up, becoming flustered at your unprofessionalism, and enraged at the sight of your cruel professor.

He kneels to your height, offering you his soulless smile. “I’m sorry if that startled you, but I thought you would be better than them. I thought you could fully see my vision, look past the gruesome bits and understand what I’m trying to do here.”

His words both enrage you even further and make you feel even more embarrassed. He created a horrible substance, tested out on a man that, from what you know, didn’t deserve it, and essentially tortured him. On the other hand, this is a man who you have dreamed about and only want to please. For the past three years, you have sat in his class and dreamed about only him. For him to think that only you could understand his plans and dreams, is a flattery you could only dream of.

“Maybe I just didn’t prepare you well enough for this. Can I make it up to you?” Dr Crane asks, offering his hand to you. It takes a couple seconds, but you take it and he leads you upwards. 

His hand is oddly cold, his grip on your own hand is firm, but not harsh. His skin is smooth. It’s embarrassing that he has to lead you out of this room, has to coax you to continue.

“Let’s go to my office, hm?” Quirking an eyebrow, but not waiting for a response he led you down the hallway.

Everything seemed to blur together for you, the trip to the elevator, down the elevator, and into his office. He clicks the door shut, locking it, then turns to you. Stepping forward until he’s cornered you onto his desk.

“You think I don’t hear you at night. Calling my name. The walls in that place are very thin,” Dr Crane whispers into your ear, his hand slithering up your thigh.

A gasp escapes your lips, both at the hand now dangerously close to the warmth growing in your pants, and also because you didn’t think he would be able to hear your late night pleasure sessions. Soon he’s cupping your sex and you moan into his ear softly, earning a hum from him. Finger wander up from your sex to cup your chin, he brings you into a kiss. It’s bruising and hungry, he’s biting at your lower lip and you swear you can taste your own blood. His fingers make quick work unbuttoning your pants, sliding them down your legs until they drop to pool around your ankle.

“You're so wet already, how interesting,” He teases, tracing a finger over your clothed slit. Moaning in response you chase after his lips, but he pulls away. 

Your underwear is pushed over to the side, and his middle and ring finger breach your entrance. A loud ‘oh’ comes from your mouth, crane presses his lips to yours again to silence you. His fingers move slowly in and out of you, he catches each moan you let out with his mouth. His lips are soft, but the kiss is rough, his fingers speed up. They stretch you out so nicely it stings a little bit. It’s been so long since someone else has pleasured you, at all.

His fingers pulled out of your sex slowly, deliberately. A painstaking motion that left you close to pleasureless as he pulled out of your kiss. Quickly flipping you around and pressing you into his desk, the shock between his warm body behind you and the cold desk pressed against your front sent you spiralling. There was shuffling behind you, before you felt him lineup his cock with your cunt.

“Beg for it.” 

Your mouth opens and you spew out a string of ‘please’s and ‘need it’ that seem to satisfy him enough for him to push inside of you. He’s girthier than you expected, but not as long as you expected, which is fine for you. The stretch makes you ache and he won’t be bruising your cervix. Without giving you a moment to adjust he starts to move in and out of you.

“You have to be quiet, okay?” He says, before picking up his speed.

He sets up a consistent speed, hitting a spot inside of you that makes you grip the edge of the desk so intensely that your knuckles are turning white. The desk creaks as he moves in and out of your cunt, his breathing speeds up, one hand twists into your hair pulling your head back and you can’t tell if it’s to ground himself or as a reminder for you not to be too loud. Another hand comes to smack your ass, it's a swift hit, but it makes your knees buckle. 

“You're so much better than I thought you would be,” Dr Crane strains out between grunts.

He presses his front to your back, the hand in your hair softening its grip but not leaving. His breath tickles the back of your ear, the grunting coming from him makes you bite your lip to suppress your moans so hard there will be an indent left there tomorrow.

“Dr Crane, can I cum? Please, I’ve been so good, please let me cum,” you babble, the side of your face pressed into his desk making your words slur a little bit.

“Cum for me,” he says, moving the hand not tangled in your hair to your clit. Pressing small circles into your clit, he starts to speed up. 

Soon the pressure in your stomach releases and it goes black for a couple seconds. You feel Dr Crane’s hand press into your mouth to silence you as your legs buckle. Once you’re conscious again, he has already pulled out of you and you can hear him zip up his pants. You stand on your shaking legs and follow suit, trying to press your hair down into a more professional shape.

“I would recommend you get cleaned up,” Dr Crane says, giving you a smile, “Was that enough motivation to continue aiding me in my experiment?” “Uh- Yes,” you answer, not fully aware of what you were even saying, too embarrassed and lightheaded to even compute anything he was saying besides ‘getting cleaned up.’

“Perfect. After you get cleaned up, please meet me in room 256B. We can meet again here tomorrow during our lunch break if you continue to need the motivation provided,” He pats you on the shoulder, and leaves you in the room alone.

[griots-tales]

Having a shitty valentines day. Just left an abuser and am a now single lesbian. Honestly just wish Ramonda would be able to make my valentines day amazing with like a super romantic date and stuff

Well she could in an AU... I don't know you so I could get some stuff wrong, but I'll try <3

You wiped your tears for the last time today, leaving your office after an extended shift you took just to take your mind off them. The Wakandan Outreach Center was more silent now that the night had fallen. The front desk lady noticed your red eyes and kindly offered you a whole red velvet muffin.

"Don't worry, I've had enough..." She grinned and reassured you as you smiled in return and thanked her. It smelled great, so you stuffed it into your mouth as you walked out of the glass entrance.

But you regretted that almost instantly when you ran into her: Queen Ramonda stood casually on the sidewalk in regular clothes, but still looking regal as ever.

You choked on the cake as you tried to chew it down quickly, prompting her to come and slap your back, making you spit out the whole thing onto the asphalt. You blushed furiously in embarrassment, but Ramonda only chuckled softly.

"I'll get you another, dear... are you okay?"

"Y-Yeah..." You sighed "I just wasn't expecting you to... be here..."

"Do you have other plans this evening?"

"Wh- uh no! not at all, in fact-" You paused, wiping your chin. "I did, but I'm just- done with them. Today was horrible." You blurted it out. You didn't know why, but she always made you feels safe enough to do so.

She nodded in understanding. "Why don't you tell me about it, (Y/N)? And get some cake?"

As soon as you nodded, a shiny black Lexus appeared around the bend of the road and stopped in front of the entrance. You could see the perfectly curved silhouette of the driver's bald head.

You had known the Queen personally for about a month now, as you had been selected to oversee the personal logistics of her visits in your country. She was much more beautiful to look at up close, and an even more beautiful and strong person. The two of you grew close by either chance or fate, but either way, she was starting to become more than an acquaintance.

Whatever luxury you could have been used to in your life before this, it did not compare to what you saw in that car. But far more than the leather seats and the holographic displays, you savored the company of your long term crush, the Queen of Wakanda.

"Well, what happened?" She inquired, stepping out of the car at a famous local elite bakery. You picked a table as you started explaining to her how you had been abused by your partner and had just found the courage to leave them. You were much better off without them, but the breakup had certainly affected you and Valentine's Day, which was important to you, was ruined this year.

Your cake arrived by the time you finished your story.

"Oh, my.... Thank you, your high-"

Ramonda cut you a glance.

"I mean, Ramonda..." You smiled.

"To a better life ahead." She smiled back and raised a slice of red velvet cake from the platter like a drink.

"Cheers!" you giggled and dug into the sweet juicy depths of it. She noticed the Queen's eyes lingering a little on you before she dug in too.

"So yeah, " You concluded. "I wish people weren't such shit."

Ramonda nodded. "Partners can be disappointing sometimes, but you deserve better."

"You've had an experience?"

"Yes..." She raised her eyebrows as she reminisced. " While I appreciate him for changing his behavior for me and our kids... my husband did horrible things. When we got into a relationship, he cheated with what felt like every woman in Wakanda with me after he promised to never do it. And for years I let him hurt me. I thought he grew as a person later, but he was still abusive to his brother's side of the family and hid it from me because he was scared of me."

"How does someone feel like cheating on you?" you ask in genuine bewilderment.

Ramonda chuckled. " I don't know, but in some ways it helped me get over his death."

You smiled and nodded. "I'm sorry, though... that couldn't have been easy..."

She reached out and held your hand. "It wasn't. That's why I wanna make sure you're okay..."

You wrapped your fingers around hers. "But... why do you care so much? Not in a bad way, but I don't know many world leaders who take event managers to bakeries on like, Valentine's Day..."

You said the last two words very softly and avoided Ramonda's eyes. Her fingers were warm in yours as you could no longer deny it. Smooth ass Queen took you out on a date without you even realizing it.

"You're not just any event manager to me, (Y/N) Inhliziyo yami ishaya kancane mangizwa izwi lakho."

You had no idea what she just said despite learning Xhosa, because you couldn't even remember you own name...but it sounded like a honeycomb being parted.

In seconds she had you melting in your place, fiddling with the candy hearts that came with the cake. You shyly glanced at her through your lashes as she smirked at you. You noticed how she had put her hair in ringlets, just the way you had suggested when you had met her a few weeks earlier.

Your heart was beating faster and faster as she lifted the hand she was holding and softly kissed it on your knuckles.

"Happy Valentines...(Y/N)"

[megumishotgf]

bf!katsuki comforts you after a job loss ☄. *. ⋆

summary: you’ve been fired from your job recently and it’s thrown you into a slump. katsuki helps you get back on your feet.

warnings: mentions of mental health struggles

masterlist

you had told katsuki about you past struggles with mental health early on in the relationship. partly because it had felt like you had known him forever after the first few meetings, and also because you didn’t want him to freak out in case you suddenly suffered from another episode and he mistaken your distantness for disinterest in him. you knew it caused you to be particularly sensitive to certain events which would cause you to shut down completely.

for the longest time, it really felt like you were happy again. your relationship with katsuki was wonderful, you had a steady (albeit ruthless) job and income and you had even made some more incredible friends through your boyfriend. you were probably the happiest you had been in a very long time. until recently, when you were fired out of nowhere.

why was it so difficult to accept rejection? you were miserable at that workplace, yet you simply cannot get the heavy burden of guilt off your chest. it was the one thing that was ‘wrong’ with your life but somehow without it, you felt like a failure.

“stop moppin’ already. i can help you with rent until you find a better job, alright? anywhere but that shitty office. those fuckers.” katsuki says that same night, letting you rest your head in his lap. he caresses your scalp as you begin to cry.

katsuki hadn’t even heard half of the experiences you had at that job. you told him that the workload was exhausting and your boss was extremely dismissive and close-minded, and that was more than enough to get cartoonish smoke steaming out of his ears. you insisted you would continue with this job as it paid well and would provide you with valuable experience, so katsuki had never pressured you to quit. he knew how important your career was for you and he saw you as strong and resilient. in your eyes, you felt weak and quite simply, like a flop.

you didn’t want to depend on your boyfriend, especially since that’s what so many people insinuated when your relationship became public knowledge. while you were grateful katsuki was so caring, sometimes it made you feel shameful. you felt horrible for having these feelings. he loved to spoil you but you never felt worthy of the affection. thankfully, katsuki never really complained about your crying - he knows it’s just how you process emotions.

katsuki insisted you take a rest first to prioritise your mental and physical health. just a week or two. you were incredibly lucky to be able to have even a few days without needing to work. but eventually, two weeks turned into four and your confidence plummeted. you had grown tired of rejection emails and failed interviews quickly and your energy was depleted. you resorted to not leaving your bed at all throughout the day.

“y/n? what the damn hell have you being doing? you haven’t called in days!” katsuki says on the other side of the line when you finally pick up his call. “hey! what’s wrong, y/n?”

“hey, katsu,” you cringe at the shakiness and hoarseness in your voice. “i’m sorry. really. i’ve just… i’ve not been well for a few days. i haven’t left my bed for a while.”

“have you been eating?” his voice is softer this time. “nevermind. i’ll assign one of the interns to my patrol, alright? i’m coming over. don’t move.”

before you can protest, the other line goes silent. you scoff at his comment. you can barely move yourself to the bathroom in this dejected state.

you dread having katsuki see you like this. you have awful eye-bags, your hair is tangled and unwashed, you have been wearing the same ground zero shirt for days and there’s still smudged mascara left below your eyes from your last interview. it went terribly, by the way. almost as terrible as you currently feel. sure, he’s seen every side of you by now, but something made you feel extraordinarily exposed today.

the stress of having katsuki see you like this is immense, but somehow the desire to lay motionless in bed still wins you over. you remain cocooned in your covers until you hear katsuki open the door with his spare keys. he takes a minute or so - probably inspecting the mess of a kitchen you left. you haven’t washed the dishes in so long.

“hey, idiot. i’m here.”

you don’t move even when he comes to sit besides you on the bed. he’s still wearing his hero gear, just with the gauntlets and neck brace probably thrown to the side somewhere back at the agency.

“y/n. can you talk to me?”

he finally sees some movement from you. you reluctantly sit up, still refusing to make eye contact with him. your eyes begin to fill with tears and your hands start to tremble.

“can you just hold me please?” you say hurriedly, holding back a cry.

as soon as katsuki pulls you into his arms, you let out an uncontrollable ugly sob. luckily, you’re so physically close, you can hear katsuki’s heartbeat. it’s a gentle and calming rhythm. he holds you gently for countless minutes until your loud sobs become small, occasional sniffles.

“don’t go!” you say as you feel katsuki begin to pull away from your embrace, tightening your arms around his midsection.

“i’m not going anywhere, baby. just let me see you.”

you reluctantly pull away from his embrace. katsuki’s hands cup your cheeks. you’d expect them to feel rough, but they feel soft and warm. he looks at you with that look in his eyes - you know the one. the one with so much love in his eyes. he always looks at you in such a loving way, even right now when your skin is blotchy from salty tears and you’ve probably got snot around your red nose.

“how can you look at me like that when i’m ugly crying like this?!”

“what the hell do you mean? you’re damn beautiful. you always are.”

it makes you smile. katsuki lights up a little once he sees you do so. “there’s nothing to be ashamed of, baby. jobs come and go. there’s a better one on the way already, alright?”

you nod, eyes wandering down to the wooden floor. katsuki takes the blanket bundled up besides you and places it over your shoulders. he can sense your reluctance to talk and he doesn’t want to pressure you into discussing this sensitive subject.

“we don’t have to talk. but i’m here if ya’ need me, alright? i’ll take care of you.”

you swallow back the awful lump in your throat. “i don’t want to need your money, katsu. i feel hopeless. i wouldn’t let you spend a penny on me if i could.”

he’s about to say something in protest but you give him a pleading look as if to say ‘just listen!’

“i know i need to start working again but the thought of going back to a place like that sounds exhausting. they were all so awful, katsuki. they would say so many horrible things about me and i would come home so many nights to just cry for hours. i never told you how bad it really was because i didn’t want you to get angry… see! you’re getting upset already!”

“i’m fine!” katsuki insists, even if his jaw is clenched and his hands are tightly balled into fists. he takes a moment to breathe deeply, calming himself. “i’m listening. i promise.”

“i’m just so lost. all my experience is within that field. and i’ve had enough of it. i feel like my life is over!” you cry out, covering your face with your hands.

“what the hell do you mean your life is over? your life has barely started!” katsuki takes your hands into his own, forcing you to look at him. he takes another deep breath. he knows anger won’t help your situation. “i’m sorry, baby. i know you feel terrible. but don’t ya’ see it? you can do whatever the hell you want now. we can get you into whatever field you dream of, alright? and i don’t give a damn what you say, you mean everything to me and if helping you financially means you have one less thing to worry about, then you can just take all my damn money now.”

“stop it, katsuki!” you say, but you can’t resist laughing at him.

“i’m serious. if it helps you, you can move in with me. you can do whatever you want. you can study or work, get an entry level job somewhere. but i refuse to let you see this as a dead end, okay?”

you nod in agreement, wiping away the last of your tears away. katsu takes your hands into his, bringing them up to his lips.

“and you don’t have to decide right now if you don’t want to, alright?”

“you’re so wonderful, katsuki.” you say, throwing you arms around him gratefully.

“yeah, yeah. whatever.”

“and i’d love to move in with you. if you really want to have me, that is.” you pull away suddenly, looking at him with wide, glossy eyes.

“of course i do! when the hell have i ever lied to you!!” katsuki insists. he’s been wanting to ask you for the longest time now, yet he has always wanted to respect your desire for independence. it’s one of the things he likes most about you. but of course, you’re just like him in a way and feel ashamed of asking for or accepting help.

“thank you, katsu! i promise i won’t turn your pristine apartment into a depression pit!” you throw your arms around his shoulders once again. katsuki has avoided mentioning the state of your bedroom but he would go crazy living in a place like this. he’ll take it upon himself to help you clean later.

“i know, baby. we’ll get ya’ back on your feet. you don’t have to worry about anything.”

oh to have a man like this. i need money

[problematicfactive]

Look what I got (there's no way I can image ID all of this, I'm sorry)

My name, as well as the name of the person I explained faitive to has been censored.

Here are direct receipts of what happened. It's still on the server so you can see for yourself

So that's the literal action of what got me banned

Here's what they said about me after I left. Inactive 4 now is the person who wrote the manipulative little vent that I dissected here

My pronouns don't have anything to do with the situation, they're just reaching for shit to make fun of me for now

I use my name and an icon of myself because those are the only things that ground me as a person. I dont enjoy or have any sort of connection to killing people, I dont lay in my bed and think about it and smile. But having a name and an apicture of myself makes me feel like a real person. It does make my smile. My bot makes me happy every time I see it.

"Kin hate" implyong they dont even know what the fuck thyre doing

By this servers definitions, nobody should be allowed to use a proxy bot. The point of a bot is to showcase yourself as who you are. You don't have to use your own face as a faceclaim or use your own name, but many chose to.

If you cannot use your bot to showcase yourself, there is no point in having it. And another person's triggers are not your responsibility. For the victims and their families, yes, but these people don't give a shit about the victims and their families, they aren't mentioned once. But if you're triggered over a picture of Disney actor Ross Lynch and a name that an estimated 1,150,000 people in the US ALONE have, that is your issue.

To say if your name or pfp makes someone uncomfortable you SHOULD have to change it is the most shitty entitled mess I've ever heard in my life bro.

We're auditioning for a character named Nathan. Nathan is a trigger word for oneof the hosts exes because he had a really really horrible experience with a guy with that name. I'm so, genuinely sorry it happened, but I am not going to demand the characters name be changed became it makes someone uncomfortable.

We have cynohobia. I'm not affected and actually really like dogs, but imagery of dogs make the whole really uncomfortable. We don't ask people to change their dog alter pfp, we just don't interact with them.

I'm also really interested in the "being interested in a story (is not equal to) needing to have an entire fictive/factive" what they're saying seems to be that its fine to enjoy the story of the person for the fun of it, but not fine to gain a factive of it, meaning they believe you can chose who you do and don't introject, which is interesting to me as this was a truamagenic only space. Especially because they "understand having fixated and spliting" because introjects only form from hyperfixations, not truama.

Their rules were not changed and so nowhere in their server does it say problematic factives are not allowed and you can see easily where they broke their own rules

(I dont have enough room to show a picture but it's a public server just join if you wanna see)

And, yk, unrelated, but since you wanna jab at my pronouns, these are your roles.

N knee Wayz I'm in that server on my alt now if you wanna join n chat (alts are against the rules but I think the rules are just for show)

"Our goal is to make each and every system feel welcomed"

I just got kicked from a server for existing lmao

"Our goal is to make each and every system feel welcomed"

Here's what went down :)

I joined and said "hey there" I proxied and engaged in the beginnings of a little conversation with someone

Someone else responds to my message and asks if I am a factive on insert person

I explain that im technically a faitive, explain to someone who was confused what a faitive is. I clarify my connection to source and don't get a response from the person who was asked.

My boyfriend has a bot on discord as well and I like for him the be able to use it so I clarify that there's another one of us and I need to know if that's not okay. After a little, someone responds "Yes, get help." And I'm BANNED

IN A SERVER FOR TRUAMAGENIC SYSTEMS ONLY LMFAO THIS IS THE TRUAMA RESPONCE

They did not have a rule against problematic factives and they did have a rule saying not to hate and judge people on their source. Here's what they said after I was banned

I censored my name, sorry.

"Our goal is to make each and every system feel welcomed"

[kekeplsloveme]

You're mine

Pairing: Eren x reader

Summary: In which the reader is Armin's little sister who gets corrupted by his best friend, Eren.

Warning: Modern!AU, NSFW, MINORS DNI, posessive Eren, one death threat but not towards the reader or anything , fuckboy!Eren, unprotected sex, dom!Eren (are you surprised?), sub!reader, dirty talk, the rest you can experience yourselves ;)

Word Count: 4k lets go

A/N: wrote this at 4 am, if you see any mistakes give me a break pls

     Things have been different ever since you moved in with your brother. You do miss your parents and how they wouldn't leave you alone sometimes and you did miss having those family conversations in the living room right after you had your dinner and a crappy show on TV was playing as background noise. It's the little things that count towards the best moments in life, even if it just includes talking about nothing and watching a show that you never cared about.

     The few couple of weeks have been difficult; Armin welcomed you with open arms when you mentioned that you got accepted into the same University as he did and when he offered you a room in his apartment, you were over the moon. You have a good relationship with your brother. He's always been there for you when you needed a shoulder to cry on, always there to defend you to other kids even if he wasn't the strongest one there and would often get into fights he could never win. You loved him more than anything and he loved you just as much. Moving across the country to go to University was the thing that broke your heart the most. The day he left felt like you lost your family and your bestfriend. Sure, your parents were nice, but they didn't compare to how much you and Armin cared about each other.

      A part of why you applied to the same University as him was because of your brother. You wanted to see him again and not just a few times a year. Spending two years away from him was horrible.

     One thing that took you by surprise when you moved in with him was just how many friends he managed to make over just two years. He was part of a huge group of friends that would often hang out in his apartment since some of them either still lived with their parents or had shitty roomates that would ruin the fun. Armin was fortunate enough to have a decent internship the summer before he went to school and stuck with it, so rent was never a problem for him.

     You tried to hang out with them as well, but it was just not the same thing. You felt like they saw you as Armin's little sister instead of as your own person, so you stopped trying to become their friend. Who would want to feel tolerated and not wanted there? You never wanted to make the others feel like they must be nice to you because they like your brother, so you stopped hanging out with them whatsoever. You avoided them when they were over and that way you wouldn't just feel tolarated.  You hated that word so much.

     Just like tonight. Some of his friends were over and you stayed inside your room the entire evening. As you were typing on your laptop, you felt your stomach growl, reminding you that you need food to function. You looked at the clock that pointed to be a bit after midnight. You make your way to the door and put your ear against it, giving yourself a few seconds to listen and see if there's someone in the living room, but when there was nothing but silence, you left your room. Not like you could have been able to tell, your room is on the other side of the apartment.

      As you turned the corner to go into the living room that you needed to pass in order to get to the kitchen, you heard someone's voice. You could tell it was one of your brother's friends, but couldn't tell exactly. He is talking to someone on the phone, that much you can tell, but you waited too long to eat, so you went into the kitchen anyway. You're sure it's not that important anyway.

     "I know, I can't wait-" you heard Eren's voice as you walked inside. The moment you stepped foot into the room, he stopped talking to whoever was on the phone and excused himself under the pretext that he'd call later. It felt awkward; how he looked you up and down, how his eyes were still on you, how he followed you with his gaze as you made your way to the fridge.

     Eren was the one friend that you just couldn't stand. There was something about him that made you feel insecure and like he was trying to dominate the air in every room he was in. He was much taller than you were and you couldn't help but notice the fact that he liked to work out by how his arms looked and how much he liked to show it to everyone. And, God, did he like to tease you. You didn't need to hear it from anyone, but you knew just what a fuckboy Eren was. You could just take one look at him and know, he just gave off the vibe that he fucks everything that moves and you being his friend's little sister, were the perfect target for his teasing. Him being over all the fucking time didn't help your situation either.

     "You're up late," he said to you, but all you did was open the fridge and pour yourself a glass of orange juice. Suddenly, you lost your appetite. "Don't ignore me, little siren," you heard his voice behind you, not close enough to touch you, but close enough to give off that same intimidating feeling.

     "Where's Armin?" you changed the subject. You turned around to face him, holding the glass of orange juice in your hand, but he took it from you before you could even have a sip.

      "What, you're scared you're alone with me?" he drank from the glass and poured the rest in the sink. What a dick. When you didn't answer him, he continued. "Afraid he's driving his little girlfriend Annie home," he leaned on the counter as he spoke to you. You couldn't help yourself from looking at his arms. He worked out today, it was obvious by how good-  by how his lower arms looked. The veins on his arms were the obvious sign.

      "Why did you not go with them, then?" you crossed your arms over your chest in an attempt to give off a confident feel, but you couldn't compare to him.

     "Relax, princess, he's on his way back," Eren got a few steps closer to you. Your back was against the wall next to the fridge, which you pressed even harder into it as he got closer and close to you. It was obvious he knew exactly what he was doing to you and he enjoyed every moment of it. "This necklace," he pointed out, gently grabbing the silver jewelry around your neck. "So pretty," he let go of it and brushed the side of your neck with his fingers and thumb on the other side.

     You couldn't help but feel butterflies in your stomach as he was teasing you like this, pushing the boundaries and pushing you at the same time. He finally pressed his hand into your neck, a gentle squeeze. Not hard enough to stop you from breathing, but hard enough to feel good. "Do you like my hand around your throat?" he whispered in your ear, pressing his chest on yours, pinning you against the wall with his hand and body. "You're so quiet, don't have anything to say to save yourself?"

     You gasped quietly, secretly, but not so subtly loving whatever Eren was doing with you right now. You avoided eye contact with him, you didn't want to see that stupid look on his face right now. He brushed yoru jaw with his thumb and moved his hand further up your face. "Look at me," he ordered you as he grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him, forcing you to go through the painful process of making eye contact with him as he was melting your brain. He's never went so far before, but you knew that with your reaction to all of this, he won't be stopping any time soon. "You're so pathetic," he whispered to you, a smirk forming on his face. "You just like to be talked down on, don't you?" He shook your head, puckering your lips by the way he was holding your face now. "Not a thought inside that head, other than getting fu-" Eren was interrupted by the sound of the front door being unlocked. That same smirk he had got even bigger. He let go of your face, but leaned down to whisper in your ear. "I thought you were like that, but fuck," he chuckled, "I had no idea Armin's little sister was such a submissive little slut." He put distance between you and himself, just as Armin turned the corner to come inside the kitchen.

     He took one look at you, one look at Eren and then another at you. "Is everything okay?" he asks us, but neither me or Eren answer, both for different reasons. "Because each time you two are in the same room, you rip each other's heads off so it's hard to believe you're getting along."

     "Nope, we're good," Eren steps in to answer. "Right, princess? Tell your brother we're fine." Even in front of your brother he can't help himself, but you can't lie and say that Eren talking to you like this doesn't turn you on at all.

     "Yeah, we're fine," you answer Armin, but you were looking at Eren. Eren smiled at you and turned to leave the Kitchen, grabbing your brother as well. At least he got you out of this embarrassing situation.

     The moment you get back to your room, you close your door and press your back on it, allowing yourself to fall to the ground. "What the fuck..." you whisper to yourself, disbelief washing over you, a wave of shame and embarrassment overcoming you as you play what happened between you and Eren on a loop in your head. It was hot, like really hot, and the way he talked to you... You were starting to understand why so many girls want to fuck him, he definitely knows what he's doing. But one thing he told you stands out in particular. How you're submissive. You've had boyfriends before, but none of them any dominant tendancies, so the idea of you being submissive never occurred to you. What was Eren going to do about this now? Is he still going to tease you or did things get worse?

***

     A couple of weeks went by since you saw Eren. Saying that you were doing your best to avoid him was an understatment, but you know that it didn't matter how much you wanted to avoid him at all costs, he is still your brother's friend and he'd still come hang out with him here. Just like today.

     Every few weeks they gather here at your brother's and throw a small party, just enough for them and not anyone else outside the group. It's more like a group hangout with music, alcohol and weed, rather than a party. Normally, you'd say hi to everyone when they got here just to be nice, grab a drink and go back to your room, but you didn't step foot outside your door at all. They've been here for a couple of hours already, and boredome did start to get the best of you. You still can't decide if you were bored because you were all alone in your room or because you wanted to see Eren again, but you tried not to think about that too much.

     As you opened your bedroom door to finally step out, you bumped right into Eren's chest who was about to open your door. You looked up at him, the smell of alcohol and weed fresh on him, it was intoxicating, but you wanted more. "Eren," you said almost as a whisper, feeling your breath get stuck in your chest. Now you know, you definitely were bored because of him.

     "Hey there, little siren," he answered you, placing his hands on your shoulders and moving you backwards, away from the door so he can step in. "You've been avoiding me." Eren pointed out and closed the door with his leg, briefly taking his hand off of you so he can lock the door. Seeing him do that made you feel nervous, but also sent butterflies in your stomach. "Tell me why."

     That same intimidating feeling got to you again. He was so demanding, but also it was so hot to be bossed around by him like this. When you hesitated to answer, he turned you around so your back was against the door. "When I talk to you, " he said as he wrapped his fingers around your throat again, but this time he wasn't as careful as last time. "You answer me," he continued, tightening his grip on your neck. The first time he did it felt like he was just testing the waters, seeing how far I let him play with me, but this time he's taking what he wants. It was hard to breathe, but you loved it. Loved the control he had over you and loved how he made you submit just by existing, how he didn't need to do anything to you to prove just how easily he can mess with your mind. "So answer me. Why were you avoiding me?"

     The look on his face was pure lust. You knew exactly why he came to your room and it was definitely not to just have a chat. "You noticed I was," you answered him, even if it wasn't the answer he was looking for.

     Eren chuckled and let go of your neck, moving his fingers inside your hair. He gripped a fistful of your hair at the base of you scalp, getting a good grip on it without making it hurt too much  for you. "Yeah, I fucking noticed," he answered you as he tilted your head to the side, leaving your neck fully exposed to him. He pressed his lip on it -  one small kiss here, another one there, until he was sucking on one spot right below your ear. You felt your knees go weak, the pleasure from just kissing your neck was overwhelming you, but your neck has always been your most sensitive spot.

     "Eren, stop," you make a pathetic attempt at pushing him off, but all he did was grab your wrist and slam it above your head, now his lips on a different spot on your neck. "Eren, please, don't leave any marks, Armin will know." You sucked a breath in, almost losing control over how he laughed against your skin.

     "You sound so good when you beg, princess," he said to you, brushing his thumb over the two hickeys he left on your neck. "I'll mark you if I want, got it?" He informed you, a smile making its way on his face. "You tried so hard to avoid me just to let me do whatever I want to you now, huh?" He let go of your hair and grabbed your other wrist, putting it against the first one. "You've been thinking about me."

     "Think about you?" you let out a little laugh, but Eren saw right through it. "Please, don't be so full of yourself," you continued, this false act of confidence not even coming across as half believable.

     "I've been thinking about you," he said as if it was the most normal thing in the world. His right hand started roaming on your body. "How obedient and what a good girl you were for me that night," he moved his hand to your lower back, pulling you in closer to his body. "It's so hard to find such a submissive slut, you know that?" he let go of your wrists and dragged you to your desk, pushing the books and notebooks from it on the ground. "On the desk, now."

     You followed his orders in a heartbeat, taking a seat on your desk in front of him. "Have you really been thinking about me?" you ask him in a shy and quiet tone. Your cheeks were blushing a bright pink colour and you could feel just how wet you were. Eren was driving you insane and you couldn't help but fall deeper in the hole he dug for you.

     Eren grabbed your thighs and pulled you in closer to him, your ass right on the edge of the desk as he took a seat on your chair, right in front of you. "Fuck, you were the only thing o my mind, little siren," he pulled of your shorts, but leaving your panties on for you. "The way you were looking at me when my hand was around your throat," he rubbed your inner thigh, spreading your legs in the process. "How good it will feel when I finally get my hands on you and ruin you," he looked up at you and smirked. "How sweet you must taste," Eren grabbed your panties and threw them on the ground. The next thing you know, his tongue was pressed flat against your clit and he was holding you in place by having a strong grip on your thighs.

     He was talented with his mouth in ways you couldn't even describe. His tongue was working magic on your clit and two of his fingers were rubbing all the right spots inside your pussy. "Ah- fuck, Eren," you moaned out and ran your fingers through his hair to hold onto for support. You  started grinding your hips into his mouth, feeling yourself reach your orgasm. It's been so long since you've done this with someone and with how much Eren's been teasing you and the weeks of torment are a recipe for not lasting long at all.

     "Eren, please, " you whines, your mind starting to become fuzzy with pleasure. "I'm so close, please let me cum," your fingers were holding onto his hair like it was the only thing that can keep you alive. "Ah, Eren," you couldn't help yourself from moaning his name, it was just rolling off your tongue and the only thing on your mind. "Ah, please, please, I'm gonna-"

      Your high was cut short before it even happened. The moment those words left your mouth, Eren detached himself from your pussy and got up from the chair. You felt dizzy, you were right there, right there  and he just took it all from you. Your eyes got full of tears, not because you were sad, but because of the sheer amount of pleasure that was ripped away from you, your body doesn't seem to comprehend what you just went through. "Eren..." you spoke out in a shaky voice.

     "As hot as it was hearing you moan my name, " Eren said to you as he wiped his mouth and chin on his t-shirt. "You're not cumming anywhere other than my cock, got it?" You nodded your head and accepted it. All you wanted right now was to please him and nothing else.

     Eren picked you up like you weighted nothing and threw you on your bed. He was so strong, you didn't need to move a muscle in order for him to get whatever he wanted.

     "If I ever see you with anyone else," he started speaking to you as he took his shirt off and threw it on the ground, "I'll kill him." Those words sent butterflies to your stomach. You've never had someone say that to you, but you also didn't know what Eren was capable of. The unknown factor of this whole thing made things so much hotter for you.

     "I'm not yours, Eren," you answered him, pushing that posessivness of his even further. "I'm not your girlfriend and you didn't even kiss me," You ran your hands on his arms, feeling his muscles under your touch.

     "Is that how it works?" Before you could answer, Eren slammed his lips on yours, sealing the deal with a kiss just like you said. He was passionate and agressive, taking control of the kiss without hesitation and you letting him have control without fighting back.  "There," he said, grabbing your cheeks again and holding your face still. "You're fucking mine, little siren," he smirked, enjoying the sheer amount of lust in your eyes, all that lust only for him. "The moment you cum around my cock then I'll own you," you heard his belt buckling and his trousers hitting the floor.

     He grabbed his dick and rubbed it on your pussy, coating it in your juices and his silava. You could feel just how big he was with him rubbing himself on you. "Eren..." You said as you grabbed his arm.

     "I know baby," he reassured you, "I know I'm big, but you'll take it as a good girl, right?" He positioned his tip to your entrace, not pushing it in yet. "I'll make it fit, I'll make you scream for God," he pushed in the tip, getting the head in only. You were so wet and warm around him, you wrapped around his cock so good, it took a lot of effort not to cum inside of you in that moment.

     He started moving inside of you slowly, giving you a few minutes to get used to his size, but the moment that you started moaning instead of hissing and grunting in pain, there was no going back. He set up a fast and hard pace, knocking all your thoughts out of your head. You just felt so good, so warm, so wet, so tight. You wrapped around him like a glove, the pleasure was overwhelming both of you. The only things that could be heard in the room was the sound of the skin slapping against each other and both of you moaning, especially Eren. You never took him as the vocal one, but how would you be able to know any better? His moans sounded so sweet and  filled with pleasure. He was so loud, letting himself fall into all the pleasure he was feeling, allowing you to know just how good your body makes him feel, how he claimed you as his own and held to his words.

     "Eren," you moaned his name again, getting his attention to you.

     "Yeah, baby?" he answered you, picking up the pace he set earlier. His movements were erratic and desperate, he was chasing his high just as hard as you were chasing yours. When he noticed you couldn't form any sentence without mumbling and moaning, he knew exactly what you wanted to say. "You're gonna cum around my dick, baby?" he moved his left hand to your clit, rubbing it in order to help you go over the edge. "Let it go baby, i got you," he reassured you, whispering in your ear in between his moans and grunts of pleasure. "I got you," he repeated, feeling himself get to the edge.

     The next thing you know, your body felt like it was going to explode from the overwhelming amount of pleasure Eren gave you. The room was spinning and you felt as tears rolled down your cheeks. It all was so much, more than you've ever felt with any other partner you've ever had before. The moment you were done chasing your high, Eren did a few more thrusts before getting himself in as deep as he could as he also let go and chased his high. Your hands were on his cheeks, holding him as his  knees buckled, the pleasure overwhelming him as well.

     "So are we together now?"

     Eren looked at you and started laughing, pulling out from inside of you with a sharp breath. "Yes, princess. We are."

[qlossytbh]

Hello🤙🏻

So I saw that you were taking requests (at least I hope so🤞🏻) and I’d love it if you did something with JJ having a twin sister and reader being JJ’s girlfriend and just that dynamic. I know it’s not accurate at all, but I had this idea in my head for a while. Thank you😘😘

𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐔! 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 - 𝐣𝐣𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 mentions of weed, implication of sex, mentions of abuse and shitty fathers

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 0.6k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 yall this is my first time doing headcanon’s  pls be nice :,) i took this request in a little diff direction, i kinda talked a little more on how JJs twin sister would be/act. hope it still work!

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

- You didn't find out about her until about 5/6 months into dating JJ.

- You walked out of the shower and saw her sprawled across JJ's bed, which had led you to think the worst.

- JJ seemed hella nervous when you saw her, but when she saw you, she fell in love with you. She was so happy to finally meet you. She let out a loud gasp followed by a squeal and shot up to hug you. You just stood there confused af.  

- "So this is the girl you've been yapping about nonstop?"

- You were shocked to find out they were twins but immediately found them nearly identical. She had the same street-like essence that JJ had and she carried herself around very confidently but in an "idgaf about anything" type of way (?)

- All she seemed to wear were baggy low-waisted pants with baggy crop tops (no bra, like EVER). She usually wore lots of JJ's caps.

- She has a very sarcastic personality and she annoyed the hell out of JJ ALL THE TIME. she always teases him about being born 2 minutes earlier. She has a great sense of humor.

- "So, y/n? What made you date someone like my little brother? God knows not a lot of girls tend to stoop so low" "Were literally twins" "Doesn't make us equally as cool"

- I feel like the version of her I created in my head is either a bisexual or straight-up lesbian. She's had lots of experience with men but they were all either horrible or traumatizing, so she leans towards the other side.

- Speaking of, she'd flirt with you constantly saying things like "JJ better keep an eye out or I'll steal you from him in a heartbeat." or "JJ hit a jackpot with you sweetheart." It was all platonic and it was in good fun only. Shed never to that to his twin brother lmao.

- JJ would groan whenever he'd catch her flirting with you. You laugh as you'd wave bye to her while JJ dragged you away.

- After a while of knowing each other, you two became the best of friends. She was a very likable person and you enjoyed her chill personality.

- She'd purposely walk in while you two were making out to get things shed "forget in JJ's room", just to annoy him. You would either get flustered or find JJs annoyance hilarious. You would think his mood would be ruined but nothing stopped that man

- However, sometimes, she'd walk in without knowing while you two were making out or about to go farther and shed be like "morning officially ruined." as she'd cover her eyes dramatically and walk out of the room gagging. JJ would just toss his shirt at her to get her to leave quicker.

- She smokes a lot of weed, but somehow always scolds JJ when she sees him smoking it.

- She has a lot of hidden trauma, but she doesn't show it. Much like JJ. She hides her feelings even more than JJ, she had never and doesn't plan on opening up to anyone, but somehow your starting to convince her that talking about feelings is ok.

- She had always been the braver of the two when sticking up to their father. She never so much as blink when he had one of his fits and shed protect JJ behind her own body. He didnt scare her and for some reason he never had the balls to beat her up, just shove her or scream at her really loudly.

- She hates talking about her father, and will get extremely mad when someone mentions him.

- Very protective over those she loves. She defends everyone of the pogues from the kooks and wont be afraid to cause a fight.

- She very mischevios and sneaky, if shes ever caught shell put on the good girl act and get away with it. Shes hot and good at lying what else do you expect.

- She and JJ get into trouble together all the time.

- TONS of baby pics and toddler pics of them together that she doesn't care to take out but JJ gets so embarrassed.

- Totally teases JJ with how soft he's gone for you <3

[hockey-fics]

Should Have Seen it Sooner ~ Vince Dunn 

Summary: You make the decision to go visit your brother, Sammy, after graduating university. But that visit quickly becomes much more than you ever would have anticipated. 

Warnings: verbal arguments, language, smut (nothing overly detailed)

Word Count: `13.5k

A/N: Let’s all pretend that Vince isn’t about to be traded ahahaha...I’m sad. 

Your brother had always been your best friend. Even when you were kids and you refused to do so much as admit you liked him. He was the one who you would run to in the middle of the night when you were six and going through a phase of horrible nightmares. He would walk you back to your room, check under the bed and in the closet and lay with you till you fell asleep again. And when you were a little older and started having bad anxiety at school you would sit in the guidance counsellor’s office and refuse to talk to anyone but Sammy, who they would reluctantly pull out of class to come calm you down. When he had a bad loss in a hockey game he would come home and watch terrible reality tv with you, never wanting to talk about the game. He was the first person to make fun of you when you got a bad haircut but was also the first person to come to your defence when someone else made a comment about it. He picked you up drunk from many highschool parties, promising not to tell mom and dad. You helped him with girl issues, carefully constructing text messages to girls he liked, planning his dates for him and giving him pep talks before those dates. 

So when he moved to St. Louis and seemed to be settling in there for awhile you had to admit you were quite upset. Of course growing up with him in hockey you were used to long periods without him, stretches of time when he was on the road. But him moving so far wasn’t easy for you. Then you moved away for university and while it wasn’t any easier, the distraction of new people, new places, and new experiences was enough to make it more bearable. 

But once you graduated you were back to square one, realizing you were lost without your brother. So you took your degree and ran straight to St. Louis to spend whatever free time you had between graduating university and starting your life and career with Sammy. 

It had been two weeks since you got there, making yourself comfortable in Sammy and Vince’s spare bedroom. You had only briefly met Vince prior to the trip but you were quickly becoming acquainted with him, despite the fact that he spent most of his free time playing video games which you were not about to distract him from. 

“Why are you even going on a date?” Sammy asks, sprawled across the guest room bed with his phone in his hands as you stand on the other side of the room in front of the mirror over the dresser, curling your hair. “You’re don’t even live here.” 

Glancing at him through the mirror you let a strand of still hot hair fall over your shoulder. “Do you only ever go on dates if you’re imagining spending the rest of your life with the person?” 

Sammy looks over at you, his nose crinkling. “Gross.”

“What?” Your eyebrows are furrowed as you set your curling iron down, turning around to look at Sammy. 

“You’re just going on a date with this guy to get fuck-.”

“Stop,” you exclaim, eyes widening. The last thing you wanted was your older brother thinking about your sex life. “No, I’m just meeting people, going out, having fun. I’m not just trying to get…fucked,” you tell him, turning around to look back into the mirror and continue on with your hair. “If that was the case I wouldn’t be putting this much effort into my appearance when it’ll just get wrecked in-.”

“No,” Sammy exclaims, pushing himself up off your bed. “I don’t want to hear it.” Laughing you watch him walk out of your room, shaking his head. 

An hour later you’re in Sammy’s car after he convinced you to let him drive you to your date instead of taking an Uber. “Call me when you want me to pick you up,” Sammy tells you as you climb out of your car. 

“Okay, dad,” you joke, rolling your eyes as you say your goodbye to Sammy, closing the door. 

And call Sammy you did, only it was much earlier than you had expected. The date had gone terribly. It was only twenty minutes into the date, the drinks you had ordered not even at your table yet, when he suggested just leaving and going back to his place. And the suggestive comments didn’t stop, till ten minutes later and you were wondering if he was even going to let you leave at the end of the night without putting up a fight. So you excused yourself to the bathroom, pulling your phone out and dialling Sammy’s number. But he didn’t answer. So you called again, and he didn’t answer. Four more times and you were about to hang up and get an Uber when the dial tone cuts out. 

“He didn’t answer the first ten times, why would he answer now?” It’s Vince’s voice, annoyed but also distant and you’re pretty sure that means he’s in the middle of gaming. 

“Where’s Sammy?” 

“The shower,” Vince tells you, too preoccupied with what he was doing to even so much as question the six, back-to-back phone calls. 

“Can you tell him to come pick me up as soon as he’s out of the shower?” You ask, sniffling as you feel an overwhelming wash of panic come over you. This meant you would have to go back and sit with that man for even longer. “Or, could you just go like knock on the door? Tell him to hurry…please?”

“What’s wrong?” Vince asks, his tone shifting slightly. 

“I…he-he’s weird,” you mutter, anxiously running your fingers through your hair. “Creepy,” you add, making him aware that it wasn’t a matter of simply not clicking on a first date. 

“Text me the restaurant you’re at.”

“What? Sammy knows,” you tell him. 

“I’m coming to get you.”

You wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to. You hated burdening people, hated asking for help. But that was far outweighed by your anxiety about the man at the table on the other side of the restaurant. “Thank you, I’ll text it to you now,” you tell him, saying a quick goodbye before hanging up and texting the address to Vince. 

’on my way’ Vince sends back immediately. 

You spend another few minutes in the bathroom before heading out to the restaurant, slowly making your way to the table. “Hey, I just got a text from my friend. I have to leave,” you tell him, leaving a ten dollar bill on the table, more than enough to cover the drink you ordered but never even got a sip of. 

Outside you stand near the entrance of the restaurant, not wanting to stray too far from the brightly lit entrance. You’re surprised when you see Vince’s car pull up in front of you. Not because you didn’t think he would show up, but because you weren’t expecting him to be there that quickly. Hurrying to the passenger’s side door you hop into his car, silent as you stare out the front window, pulling your seatbelt across your body. 

“That bad?” Vince asks, putting his car back in drive and pulling away from the restaurant. 

“Yes,” is all you’re able to mutter leaning back in your seat, elbow on the window sill as you rest you head in your hand. 

“Too bad,” Vince comments, glancing over at you, “You look good tonight, sucks it was wasted on an asshole.”

Your cheeks get warm, palms sweaty, and you’re not sure why. All you can manage to do is glance over at Vince and mutter a simple, “thanks, I guess.”

The next thing you know you’re in a Dairy Queen drive through and Vince is looking over at you. “What do you want?”

“I didn’t…wait, what?” But Vince is pulling up to the speaker before you have any longer to question it so you tell him what you want and wait in silence till he pulls ahead. “I didn’t realize we were getting ice cream.”

“And we’re going to watch that shitty tv show you’re always trying to get Sammy to watch,” Vince tells you, clearly having already constructed a plan for how he was going to turn the night around for you. 

“Thank you, Vince,” you whisper and he glances over, eyes meeting yours before shrugging casually, as if it was no big deal. But it was. It was a big deal. He had already gone out of his way to pick you up, something he didn’t need to do. Now he was committing to trying to cheer you up. 

Before you know it you’re back at Sammy and Vince’s apartment and Sammy is lost beyond hope regarding the situation. “It’s okay,” you assured Sammy when he asked you about the six phone calls the second you walked through the front door. “Vince came to get me.”

“Why?” Sammy asks, glancing back and forth between the two of you. 

“Because you have terrible timing to go have a shower.” Tugging your jacket off you hang it up on the hook by the door. “I should have listened to you, dating is just a bad idea.”

“Well I didn’t exactly say that,” Sammy mutters, following after you and Vince as you head towards the living room. “What happened?”

“My date was a creep, I called your phone…a few times, and Vince answered after he got annoyed with listening to it ring.”

“I wasn’t annoyed,” Vince chimes in, flopping down onto the end of the couch. 

Rolling your eyes you glance over at Vince, shaking your head. “Don’t lie, I heard how annoyed you were.”

“I wasn’t annoyed,” Vince repeats, eyes locked on yours. 

“Fine,” you comment, but you were still convinced it was a lie and he was just trying not to sound like an asshole after finding out about the situation. “We’re going to watch Selling Sunset, want to join?”

Sammy furrows his eyebrows, glancing over at Vince. “You’re going to watch Selling Sunset?” He asks, directing his question at Vince. 

Walking over you sit down on the opposite end of the couch from Vince, pulling your legs and crossing them as you reach for the remote. 

“Yeah,” Vince replies, looking over at Sammy while grabbing the remote for you and handing it to you. 

Sammy stands in a stunned silence for a minute, staring at Vince in disbelief. He could barely ever convince Vince to let him pick a series and now here he was, willing to watch a reality tv show about Los Angeles real estate. “Okay,” Sammy finally mutters, settling into the love seat on the other side of the room, exchanging silent glances with you. Silent glances that asked, ‘what’s going on?’ But you couldn’t answer, verbally or silently, because you weren’t really sure where this behaviour was coming from with Vince. 

A few episodes later and you decide to put Vince and Sammy, who were trying their best to seem like they actually cared about what was on the screen, out of their misery. “I’m going to head to bed,” you tell them, handing the remote to Vince as you push yourself off the couch, stretching your arms over your head. “Thanks again, for everything tonight,” you tell Vince. 

“Anytime,” he replies, watching as you walk out of the living room and into the guest room down the hall. 

It’s not long before there’s a knock on your door and you look up from where you were laying on the bed scrolling through your phone. Sammy pushes the door open, taking two bounding steps before throwing himself onto your bed. “What happened tonight?” He asks, his tone a serious shift from his actions of throwing himself around like a ragdoll. 

Shrugging you lock your phone, setting it down and adjusting higher on your pillow so you could see your brother without fully committing to actually sitting up. “My date was just creepy…he kept trying to get me to leave with him like 5 minutes into the date.”

Sammy visibly tenses up when he hears this, shifting to sit up as he looks down at you. “So you called Vince?”

“I called you,” you exclaim, laughing as you reach other, grabbing a pillow and swinging it towards him. “But you seemed to think the date was going to last longer than half an hour.”

“I’m sorry,” Sammy tells you, and you can tell that he really means it. Normally you were sure he wouldn’t care about not being able to pick you up at the exact moment you wanted him to. He was your brother after all, he cared, but he wasn’t sweet about it. This was just a different type of situation, you knew it, he knew it, and thankfully, Vince had figured that out too. 

“It’s fine, I just won’t rely on you…ever again,” you joke. 

“That’ll last like twenty minutes,” Sammy replies, laying back down along the foot of your bed. “Till you find a spider in your room and refuse to come back in till I kill it for you.”

“Don’t put that in the universe, that’s so mean to wish that upon me.” 

You and Sammy continue talking till you’re about to drift off to sleep and he sneaks out of your room, like he did when you were six and had a nightmare. 

A couple days later Sammy and Vince had to go on a five day road trip and you considered going home, brought up the idea to Sammy. He pointed out the fact that you had a key to the apartment, you had gotten comfortable there, and it was only five days. So you agreed to stay, relatively easily at that. Because if you were being honest, you missed being around Sammy, and you were happier there than you had been in awhile. 

The morning they were leaving you were saying your goodbyes, hugging Sammy quickly. “Good luck, I’ll miss you. I promise I won’t throw any parties,” you joked. You were used to sad goodbyes with Sammy, after he would come home during the summer and you would have to say goodbye for months. This one felt so different though, knowing it was only a few days apart. It was comforting. 

When you pulled away you looked over at Vince, hesitating a second before throwing your arms around him too. “Good luck,” you told him, his arms tight around your waist. It was different than your hug with Sammy, of course it would be, but you weren’t prepared for just how different. You weren’t prepared for the the scent of his cologne, the way he held you tight to his body, the warmth radiating from him, would make your stomach fill with butterflies. “I’ll miss you as well,” you added, playing it off as a joke, but you knew it wasn’t really a joke. 

Vince had chuckled in response, your body absorbing the way his laughter rumbled through his body. “I’ll miss you too,” he whispered, sending a shiver down your spine with the quiet tone of his voice. He had pulled away, looking at you once more before the two of them headed out. 

You went about your normal routine while they were gone but the quietness of the apartment was starting to get to you around day three, leaving you longing for not just your brother but Vince as well, to be back. So when Sammy told you the time they would be back you went all out, going grocery shopping and picking up all of Sammy’s favourite foods and the few you remember Vince mentioning liking. And you were halfway through cooking dinner for everyone when they got back from their trip. 

“Hey,” you called from the kitchen, sautéing a pan full of vegetables, music playing loudly from the speaker on the counter a few feet away. “I’m making dinner, if you guys already ate I’m going to be sad.”

“We didn’t.” Shockingly it’s Vince who’s greets you first, walking up behind you and leaning over your shoulder to look into the pan. 

“How was the flight home?” You ask, turning your head to glance up at Vince. He’s closer than you expected and you can’t stop the smile that spreads on your face. You’re convinced it’s because you’re just glad to have people around again, and not because you had really started to like Vince. 

“Pretty good,” Vince tells you, stepping to the side to lean against the counter beside the stove. “How was your week alone in my house?”

Rolling your eyes you set the spatula down beside the stove, looking up at him. “Fantastic, your bed is so much more comfortable than the one in the guest room.”

“Oh, really?” Vince chuckles. “I’m willing to share.”

You’re caught off guard by Vince’s comment, unable to come up with a witty response before Sammy is in the room as well. “What are you making?” Sammy asks, walking over and giving you a quick hug before immediately plugging his phone into the nearest outlet and unlocking his phone, typing quickly. 

“Stir fry…who are you talking to?” You ask Sammy, your tone teasing. 

Sammy shakes his head but his little smile tells you that it’s not nothing. “Ooh,” you laugh, stepping away from the stove to try to look at Sammy’s phone. But he pulls it away quickly and the next thing you know you’re wrestling for Sammy’s phone like you’re both teenagers again. “Just tell me,” you laugh, hand grasping for his phone as he pushes your arm back with his free hand. 

“Her name is Anna,” Vince says. 

Pulling back from Sammy you glance over at Vince, shocked at his willingness to let you in on Sammy’s business. “Oh,” you hum, picking up the spatula again to stir the vegetables in the pan. “So, who’s Anna?” 

“A girl I’ve been talking to for a few weeks,” Sammy tells you easily. There was never really any need to keep it a secret, he was just playing the part of an annoying older brother in trying to keep it a secret. “We went on a date a couple days before we left.”

“You didn’t tell me you were going on a date?” 

“I actually didn’t think it would lead to anything,” Sammy confesses. 

“Like Y/N’s dating life,” Vince quips. 

You whip your head in Vince’s direction, gasping at his comment. “You’re an asshole,” you exclaim, laughing. “I’ll let you know, I could have a boyfriend if I wanted…I’m just not trying right now.”

“Seemed like you were trying,” Vince chuckles. 

“I swear to god, Vince,” you mutter, wielding the spatula you were holding with a joking threat. 

“Can one of you shut up so we don’t burn the house down, please,” Sammy chimes in and draws your attention back to the vegetables that were starting to stick to the pan. As you go back to finishing up dinner the boys continue on with their own conversations, discussing things that happened over the trip and the upcoming schedule for the week. 

After you all finish dinner you’re back in the kitchen to tidy up and do some dishes, but Vince is at your side at the sink quickly after. Nudging you to the side Vince grabs the wash cloth from your hand. “I got it,” he tells you. 

“I don’t mind,” you retort, not moving much further away from the beside the sink. “I’m sure you guys are tired.”

“I slept on the flight,” Vince informs you, running the cloth over a mixing bowl in the sink. 

Huffing you step away from him, “fine.” Walking to the cupboard you grab the box of tea you bought a few days prior, taking a mug down as well as you turn the kettle on. “Want some tea?”

Vince chuckles, an obvious enough answer, but he follows it up with “no, thanks,” anyway. “So did you go on anymore dates while we were gone?”

Rolling your eyes you hop up onto the counter while you wait for your tea to steep, watching Vince do the dishes. “No, nobody here was to rescue me if it went poorly.”

“So what did you actually do the whole time we were gone?”

Shrugging you bring the tea to your lips, taking a sip of the hot liquid. “Hung out with some friends a few times, explored the city, watched all your games.”

“Friends?” 

“Yes, Vince, I’m capable of making friends,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. 

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Vince chuckles, glancing over at you. “I just mean, like, you’re just here visiting and you’re still making friends? Where did you meet them anyway?”

“The gym,” you inform him, your voice quiet and deflated. You didn’t really like to think about that fact, about the reality that you would have to make some kind of move soon. You couldn’t live in this vacation-like reality forever. No matter how much you wanted to. 

After the dishes are done Vince heads to his computer to play video games and you head to the living room to watch some TV till Sammy was done unpacking and you could convince him to hang out with you and give you all the details about Anna. 

And two days later Sammy was beyond glad that he had given you all the details about Anna when he sent you a panicky text. The boys had the day off and Sammy had gone out to run a few errands while you were hanging out at the house with Vince. ‘I told Anna I would cook her dinner at my place.’

‘that’s dumb, you can’t cook’ you replied quickly, sitting on the couch and watching Vince play video games. You were trying to be more involved with that after he had started watching the occasional episode of Selling Sunset with you. 

‘that’s not the issue’ ‘I’ll figure that out’ ‘You and Vince can’t be there, it’ll be awkward’ 

Sighing you glance up from your phone screen to Vince. “Vince,” you call, standing up from the couch and making your way across the room. “We gotta go.”

“Where?” Vince mutters, not peeling his eyes off the screen in front of him.

“I don’t know,” you confess while sending Sammy a text to tell him you were on it, to give you twenty minutes and you’d be out. “Sammy is kicking us out.”

“What?” Vince asks, spinning in his chair once his game had ended. 

“He needs the apartment for a date, now hurry up, we’re going out for awhile.”

Vince groans and sets his controller down, reluctantly pulling himself off the chair. “I didn’t agree to this.”

“I agreed on your behalf.” Walking into your room you grab a jacket, your wallet, and keys before hurrying back towards the door where Vince was already pulling on his shoes. “Have anything you needed to get done?” You ask him once you had your shoes on and you were on your way out the door behind Vince. 

“I would have already been doing it.”

Rolling your eyes you reach forward and shove him playfully. “If you don’t stop being an asshole I’ll drop you off at the library for four hours.”

“It’s my car…and I’m driving.”

“No, please, let me drive,” you ask, shuffling quickly in front of him and spinning around so you were facing him. Sammy had given you permission to drive his car while he was out of town and you had loved exploring the city, not really knowing where you were going, just driving. 

“No, I’ve seen you drive.” Vince keeps his hand folded firmly over his car keys, gazing down at you.

“That was one time,” you defend.

“One time we almost died.” 

Rolling your eyes you cross your arms over your chest. “You’re so dramatic, it wasn’t that bad.”

Suddenly Vince has his hands on your arms and he’s spinning you around, pushing you towards the car. “Get in the car,” his voice is filled with urgency and you notice Sammy pulling up towards the apartment parking lot. 

Giggling at the whole situation you hop into his car, watching Sammy pull into his parking stall. Neither you or Vince had to bring up the idea of staying in the car and doing a little light-hearted spying, you were silently on board with the idea. You watch Sammy get out, trying to make it to the passenger’s side of the car to open Anna’s door but she’s already getting out and you watch as the awkwardly fumble around the door for a second. Both you and Vince glance over at each other at the same, bursting into laughter. 

“No, but they are cute together,” you comment through your giggles, watching as they laugh off the exchange, Sammy closing the door behind her. 

“He wouldn’t shut up about her over the trip.”

“That’s cute.” You watch as they head into the apartment building together before turning your attention back to Vince. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Vince turns his car on, putting it into drive and pulling out of the parking lot, no real destination in mind. 

“You must have someone you can’t shut up about…I mean, look at you,” you comment absentmindedly, not really thinking about how it would come across. 

“Are you calling me hot, Y/N?”

“Well,” you hum, laughing as your cheeks redden slightly. “I think it’s like, objective, you know. Anyone would say you’re hot.”

“So you don’t personally find me hot?”

“Oh my god,” you exclaim, shaking your head as Vince simply chuckles. He was really trying his hardest to keep you from getting out of that one easily. “Where are we going?”

“The library, I’m leaving you there,” Vince jokes. 

“Great, books are more entertaining than you anyway,” you quip.

“I was going to take you to get a coffee but maybe not now.”

“No,” you whine, laughing. Vince had clearly noticed when all three of you would get in the car to go anywhere the first time thing out of your mouth was ‘can we get a coffee’? “I take it back then.”

So a few minutes later you’re in the drive through at Starbucks and you don’t even need to tell Vince your order because he has it memorized, which you’re surprised by. He pays for your coffee even though you insist that you can buy it. Then you’re driving again and you end up parked in front of a shoe store. 

“I actually did have something I needed to get done,” Vince tells you, chuckling. 

“Oh, so you were just being rude for no good reason then,” you comment, hoping out of the car after him and walking towards the store with Vince. “Does this mean I get to help you pick shoes?”

“Uh,” Vince mutters, glancing down to your shoes. “No.”

“Take me to the library, you’re so mean,” you whine, playfully pushing his arm. 

Vince laughs, reaching over and grabbing your hand as you push him. “Come on,” he huffs jokingly, pulling you along into the store. And you suddenly can’t focus on anything but his hand, the way it so easily wrapped around yours, warm and secure. But it makes you nervous, the way it causes butterflies to fill your stomach, so you pull it away quickly. 

You’re in the shoe store much longer than you though, Vince taking an excessively long amount of time to make a decision. But you don’t mind because in all honesty, you simply liked being around Vince. Your next stop is for dinner and Vince picks the restaurant, still acting as an unofficial tour guide for you. 

By the time dinner is over you had expected to receive a text from Sammy, letting you know that it was fine to come home. But you get nothing, so you and Vince go get ice cream and drive to a lookout, listening to music and eating your dessert. Your conversation flows easily and you would happily have sat there for hours with Vince, talking and joking. But you get a text message from Sammy shortly after telling you he was taking Anna home. 

“We’re safe to go back,” you tell Vince, pulling your seatbelt back on. 

“Too bad,” Vince mutters. 

“What?”

Vince glances across the interior of the car at you, silent for a second as he tugs his seatbelt on. “It’s just been more fun than I thought this would be.”

“I don’t know how to take that,” you laugh. It was nice to hear he had been having a good time, but you didn’t know if you should be upset that he was anticipating it not being a very good time. 

Vince chuckles, not saying anything else about it as the two of you drive back to the apartment. You’re back before Sammy and you head for the living room, Vince following after you and not putting saying anything as you pick the movie for the night. 

‘going to get an uber now’ 

You had gone out with your new group of friends for the night, one drink turning to two and two turning to a count you had lost long ago. You had been texting Vince all night, though it wasn’t anything new. The two of you had fallen into a routine of texting almost anytime you were apart. He had picked up on your dwindling sobriety throughout the night, as almost anyone reading your messages could have. So when you told him you were getting an Uber he was quick to reply. 

‘I’ll come get you, where are you?’

So you sent him your address, you and your friends paying your bills before heading outside for everyone to wait for their rides. Shockingly it’s Vince who shows up first and your friends are quick to make comments about how none of their real boyfriends were that quick to get there. You brushed it all off, making excuses that he was just a good friend, that he was probably speeding anyway, that you didn’t live that far. Anything to not admit the fact that you and Vince might have a connection that was becoming more than just friendly. 

“Hi,” you greet, cheerful as you climb into Vince’s car. It was so unlike the first time he picked you up and Vince was grateful for that, not just because you were in a better mood but also because it meant you hadn’t been out on a date. 

“How was your night?” Vince laughs.

“Good,” you giggle, looking over at him as he drives back to the apartment. And you can’t help but think about how attractive he truly was, how he made your heart beat just a little faster. He was your brother’s best friend and you knew the feelings you were having towards him were complicated. “Yours?”

“Probably not as good as yours,” he jokes, taking note of the way you couldn’t stop smiling, primarily a result of the alcohol in your system. But there was also a part of you that was just happy to be around him. 

“So anyway, Michael has been staying late at work all the time and Lily is starting to get suspicious about it,” you ramble as you walk through the apartment door with Vince. It’s quiet in the apartment and you realize you hadn’t texted Sammy in awhile, wondering if he was in bed. “Sammy?” You call, stumbling slightly over the edge of the doormat. 

Vince wraps an arm around your waist, steadying you as he laughs. “He’s in bed,” Vince tells you. “What do you need?”

“Nothing,” you admit, clutching onto the arm Vince had wrapped around your waist. “Just wanted to say hi to him.”

Vince chuckles and nods. “I think you should go to bed too.” He gently guides you further into the apartment, reaching over to turn the deadbolt on the door while keeping one arm around you, as if you couldn’t stand on your own. 

“Hey, Vince,” you whisper although you didn’t need to get his attention. 

“Yes, Y/N?” He steps closer now, looking down at you in the silent apartment, waiting to hear what your drunk mind was coming up with. 

“Thank you, for everything, for letting me stay here this long. I promise I’ll leave soon. I know you didn’t sign up to have two roommates.”

Vince smiles softly, shrugging. “Don’t worry about it. I like having you here. I don’t, you know, want you to leave if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Oh,” you whisper, processing the idea that you weren’t annoying Vince with your extended stay. “I mean it though, thank you.”

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Vince says, changing the subject as he guides you through the apartment to the guest bedroom. He hovers near the doorway, clearly wanting to make sure you were settled in bed before leaving you.

You knew he was there, you knew you should ask him to look away if he wanted to stay till you were in bed, but you don’t. Instead you simply pull your shirt up over your head, exposing a lacy black bra you had worn for no real reason except that it made you feel confident. Shimmying your jeans down your legs you toss them aside carelessly. You don’t even look over at Vince as you reach behind you to unhook that bra, missing the way he stood there, stunned and frozen with his eyes on you. You let your bra fall to the ground, your body angled away from Vince as you grab a t-shirt from the dresser. 

“Y/N?” Sammy’s voice calls through the apartment. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, clutching the shirt to your bare chest. Your wide eyes look over at Vince who comically steps back and forth between the wide-open bedroom door, clearly not knowing what the correct move was. “Just close it.” And Vince does exactly that, from the inside. “Vince,” you groan.

“You told me to,” he defends, his hand still resting on the doorknob. 

“From outside,” you tell him. “Now this just looks…weird.”

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Sammy calls through the closed bedroom door. 

“Yeah,” you call back, spinning around to leave your back facing Vince as you pull your t-shirt on, grateful for the size and length of it. “Just getting ready for bed.”

“Okay, just wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

Home. Your eyes flick over to Vince, trying to see if he caught onto the same, subtle insinuation. But he still just looked panicky as he stands beside the closed door. “Yeah, I’m just going to bed now.”

“Can I come in and say goodnight?”

Your heart begins to race as stare at Vince in silence for a second. “Yeah.”

You couldn’t say no, he would immediately know that something was wrong. Sammy pushes the door open a second later and Vince looks to you in panic. “How was-,” Sammy begins to ask when he spots Vince, looking back and forth between the two of you. “What’s going on?” 

You weren’t sure why you felt so guilty. You hadn’t done anything with Vince, it wasn’t a lie to say that nothing was happening, that he was just making sure you got to bed safely. Maybe the reason you felt so guilty was because that wasn’t all you wanted to happen. “Vince picked me up, was just making sure I got to bed safely.” 

Sammy nods slowly, not seeming convinced. “Well I got it from here,” he mutters to Vince, nodding towards the still open door. Vince glances back at you one more time before leaving, the silence in the room painful. “What’s going on?” Sammy repeats once it’s just you and him.

“Nothing,” you exclaim, flopping down onto your bed and climbing under the covers, hoping to make it obvious that you didn’t have anything else to say. 

“You two are getting really close,” Sammy points out. “Are you sure it’s nothing?”

“Yes,” you huff, dramatically yanking your blankets higher up around your shoulders. “Go back to bed.”

“Don’t have to be so moody,” Sammy grumbles, turning off your light and closing the door behind him as he leaves your room. Once he’s gone you lay awake for most of the night, your mind racing with thoughts of Vince. Thoughts you knew you shouldn’t be feeling towards him but the more you tried to think of anything other than him the more vivid the thoughts became till your mind eventually silenced itself completely and you drifted to sleep.

“I’m spending the night at Anna’s place,” Sammy told you a few days later as he was grabbing his keys off the counter and heading for the door. 

Giggling you glance up from the book you were reading, shooting him a knowing look. 

“Don’t be weird,” he comments, chuckling. 

“What do you mean? I didn’t say anything,” you joke, feigning innocence. 

“I don’t know where Vince is, he left while you were at the gym, don’t know when he’ll be back,” Sammy informs. 

“Have fun tonight,” you call as he walks out the front door. 

A few hours later you’ve migrated to the kitchen, finishing up baking some cookies while you were trying to figure out how you wanted to spend the rest of the evening. 

“Hey.”

Jumping you whirl around to face the direction of that the sudden voice comes from. Bringing your hand to your chest over your racing heart you laugh in relief when you see it’s just Vince. “You scared me, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Sorry,” Vince chuckles, reaching over and taking one of the cookies off the cooling rack on the counter. “Where’s Sammy?”

“He’s at Anna’s place for the night,” you explain, leaning against the counter. “Are they good? It’s a new recipe.”

“Yeah, really good. So we’re alone tonight?” Vince asks, elbows on the counter as he leans against it, eyes focused on you. 

“Can’t believe he left us without supervision,” you joke, pulling the last tray of cookies out of the oven before turning it off. 

“What do you want to do?” 

“Movie night?”

“Sure,” Vince agrees, shrugging as he pushes himself off the counter. “Let’s go pick up dinner first.”

After a quick trip to the grocery store and your favourite sushi restaurant you’re back at the apartment, pouring yourself a glass of wine while Vince was already opening up the boxes of sushi. “Want some?” You ask Vince, gesturing to the wine. 

“Uh,” he hums before shaking his head. “I’ll pass on that,” he chuckles, walking to the fridge and grabbing a beer for himself. 

“Should have figured,” you giggle, putting the white wine back into the fridge.

In the living room you two settle onto the couch to have dinner and pick the first movie of the night. Halfway through the second movie you’ve lost your focus on the plot, eyes on your phone as you curl into the corner of the couch, scrolling through your instagram feed.

“What is more interesting than this movie?” Vince questions, gesturing to the tv and the movie he had picked that was playing on it. 

Glancing up you roll your eyes playfully. “Almost anything.” Scooting down the couch you settle in beside Vince, letting him see your phone screen. 

And within seconds the movie is long forgotten as he chuckles at a meme you scroll by. The transition from Instagram to TikTok is quick and so is the movement from you sitting beside Vince to you being tucked under his arm and leaning into his side. You’re both giggling at the short videos and the time slips by quickly, the credits on the tv rolling and reminding you of the fact that you had planned a movie night. “Do I get to pick the next one?” 

Vince reluctantly hands you the remote, wrapping his arm around you as you rest your head against his shoulder. His body is warm and his embrace is comforting and you know you shouldn’t want to stay like this with him forever, but you do.

The next movie is more interesting but you find it just as hard to focus on with the way you were wrapped up in Vince’s arms. You’re not even sure what compels you to look up at Vince, he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t moved. But he notices and turns his attention to you a second later. “What?” He asks, voice low and rough in a way that makes your breath catch in your throat. 

“Nothing,” you whisper, barely able to make any sound come from your mouth as your cheeks get hot. And you want to say the flushing is from the wine but it only started when Vince’s eyes landed on your and you know he wouldn’t believe your lie. 

“Are you sure?”

You swallow hard, shifting slightly towards him. “I don’t know.”

Vince’s lips curl into a soft smile, eyes lingering on your lips as he reaches forward to brush a piece of your hair out of your face. “Then just show me what you’re thinking.”

It’s an invitation and you know he’s saying it because he already knows exactly what you’re thinking. But it’s risky and you both know that, too scared to make the move when the potential of it ending poorly is so high. But you can’t hold back any longer. So you lean forward, just enough for him to get the message and he takes over, hand around the back of your head as he leans over and kisses you. 

And he kisses you like he’s making every second worth it if things do end poorly. When you pull back your mind is racing a million miles an hour but your body is begging to do it again. You wait a second, hoping Vince would say something. But he doesn’t, and you don’t either, and you can’t think of anything better to do than lean back in and press your lips back against his. This time it’s heated in a way that you had never felt before and you’re climbing into his lap, hips grinding down on him. You weren’t aware of just how badly you needed him to touch you until that very minute when his lips brushed against yours. 

“Are you going to actually share your bed with me tonight?” You whisper against his lips when you finally pull back. 

“I would’ve shared my bed with you any night you wanted.” Vince grasps your hips, gently pushing you away from him and helping you onto your feet before standing up with you. “Are you sure?”

Smiling you lean up, kissing him quickly again. “Yes, of course.”

Vince wraps his large hand around yours, slowly walking you through the apartment. As if he didn’t want to seem too eager, careful and tentative around the whole situation. 

But once you’re in his room, on his bed, Vince is far less careful and tentative. And the night ends with you feeling barely able to move, body having ridden through more highs in one go than you had ever felt. 

As soon as you’re done Vince goes back to being careful, considerate as the two of you shower together and he lets you pick out a t-shirt before curling up under the covers of his bed. 

“Should we have done that?” You finally whisper after laying next to Vince with your head on his chest in silence for what felt like ages. 

“I’m not sure,” Vince admits with an obvious reluctance, running his hand along your bare arm. 

“Sammy was already suspicious of us.”

“I figured,” Vince tells you, sighing. “After the night I picked you up?”

“Yeah…I told him it was nothing…I mean, like, I know it was nothing, but-.”

“It wasn’t,” Vince interrupts, pulling you a little closer and pressing his lips to your forehead. “This isn’t nothing to me, Y/N. If I just wanted a quick fuck I definitely wouldn’t pick my best friend and roommate’s sister, no matter how hot you are.”

“Oh,” is all you can say, caught off guard. “Well then, what does it mean?”

Vince is quiet for too long after you ask, the only way you could tell he was still awake in the dark room was his hand still running up and down your arm. “I have feelings for you, but other than that…I don’t know,” Vince finally mutters. 

“I think we need to give it some time, not tell Sammy this happened yet.”

“Just go back to the way things were?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. 

Vince moves his hands to your waist, pulling you on top of him. 

“Vince,” you exclaim, hands clambering for support till they find his bare shoulders, holding you up as you look down at his silhouette below you. 

“I don’t know if I can do that,” Vince chuckles, his thumbs running along your upper thighs, large hands now wrapped around the backs of them. 

“I think you can,” you assure him, leaning down to press your lips to his. But the fact that you could feel him getting hard again makes you a little wary about whether he really could. “Maybe,” you whisper, moving your hips back as you reach down, wrapping around his length. 

“Fuck,” he groans, head tipping back on the pillow. And the last thing you had expected when you crawled into Vince’s bed after the first few rounds was to be doing it again. But you were making up for lost time. It’s slower this time, both of your tired bodies just searching for another release. And you find it, easier than normal, on top of Vince still in his t-shirt, panties simply pushed to the side. 

When you finish Vince is quick to help you get cleaned up again, letting you remain collapsed on his bed. You can’t stop your heart from fluttering with excitement with him, at how considerate and caring he was. And when he finally settles back down you curl back into his side. “We need to agree on something.”

“Alright,” Vince mutters apprehensively. 

“We can’t hook up when Sammy is here, it’s too risky.”

“Fine,” Vince finally agrees after a couple minutes of contemplation. The two of you drift to sleep very shortly after. 

Your eyes flutter open to a gentle shaking of your shoulder. “Hey, babe, you have to wake up,” Vince says, voice quiet. “Sammy and I have practice in a couple hours, he’s going to be home soon.”

Groaning you roll away from him, head buried in his pillow. “It’s too early.”

“I know,” Vince chuckles sitting on the edge of the bed and running his hand along your arm. “You’re the one who doesn’t want your brother to find out.”

“Don’t act like you want him to know you railed his sister the first time he left us alone,” you mumble, still half asleep. 

“When you put it that way,” Vince chuckles, head whipping towards the bedroom door when he hears the sound of the front door closing. 

“Shit,” you whisper, suddenly fully awake as you sit up completely straight. 

“Just stay here, I’ll tell him you haven’t come out of you room yet this morning,” Vince suggests. 

Nodding you run your hands through your messy hair, anxiety creeping up on you. If you were going to tell Sammy anything at this point you would rather just admit that you and Vince had feelings for each other, not that you spent the night in his bed. 

“Don’t worry, it’s believable. It’s not like you don’t normally sleep in till one in the afternoon.”

Scoffing you roll your eyes, flopping back onto Vince’s bad. “Whatever,” you grumble. “Text me when you two are gone,” you mutter, glad your phone had been in your pocket when you made your way to Vince’s room the night before. 

And when you finally get a text from Vince saying they were gone you pull yourself out of bed, making it behind you before wandering out of the bedroom. The apartment is so quiet and you make yourself some coffee, still just in Vince’s t-shirt. Something about it feels so right, so comfortable. After making a coffee you settle down on one of the barstools at the counter in the kitchen, opening your laptop and navigating to Indeed and before you’re even fully processing what you’re doing you’ve sent out a handful of resumes to jobs in St. Louis. 

After you finish applying to jobs you move on to getting ready for the day. When Sammy and Vince finally get home you feel the weight of so many secrets on your chest. Of not telling Sammy about you and Vince, of not telling Sammy and Vince about applying for jobs in St. Louis. 

“How was your night?” You ask Sammy as he walks into the kitchen, looking up over the top of your laptop. 

“Good,” Sammy replies, grabbing himself a snack from the fridge. “How was yours?”

“Good,” you reply simply, looking back down at your computer.

“Up late?” Looking back up you stare at Sammy for a second, feeling like he was trying to catch you in a lie. “I mean, you were still in bed when I left this morning.”

Nodding you pick up your mug, shrugging. “TikTok is pretty addicting,” you comment, brushing it off as you take a sip of your coffee. “I’m going grocery shopping, do you have anything in particular that you need?”

“Just the regular stuff we keep in the house,” Sammy shrugs, not wanting to have to actually think about it. 

Rolling your eyes you close your laptop and slide off the stool you were sitting on. “Really helpful, can I borrow your car?”

Sammy groans loudly. “What if I wanted to go out?”

“Well do you?”

“I’ll just take you,” Vince chimes in, walking into the room. 

Glancing over your eyes linger on Vince’s for a second, wanting so badly to be able to say something or hug him, something…anything. “Thanks,” you finally mutter, realizing you needed to say something and not just stand there and stare at him. 

“Want to go now?”

“Yeah, sure,” you agree, gathering your things and pulling on a hoodie on your way out the door. Once you’re outside you glance behind you and up at Vince. “So, since when are you so interested in grocery shopping?”

“Since it means being with you…away from your brother,” Vince chuckles, hands on your waist, tugging you to stop and pulling you into him. Leaning down he presses his lips to yours, your head tipped back and to the side, fingers clutching at his arm. 

“You’re not being very secretive,” you giggle, pulling back and looking around the front parking lot of the apartment building. 

“Fine, I’ll wait till we’re in the car.”

Rolling your eyes you get into the passenger’s side of Vince’s car. “We’re going to get groceries…that’s it.”

You drive to the closest grocery story and head inside with Vince, pushing the cart down almost every aisle, the two of you talking and making jokes the whole time. It’s such a mundane task, grocery shopping, but somehow doing it with Vince makes it enjoyable and fun. 

Back at the apartment you lug an armload of groceries inside, seeing Sammy sitting on the couch, xbox controller in this hands. “Thanks for the help,” you call to him sarcastically. 

Sammy chuckles, barely glancing in your direction. “You’ve got Vince.”

Your heart beats a little faster at that comment, dropping the bags onto the counter and looking over at Vince. You know that he didn’t miss the comment either by the smirk on his face, the way he walks over and wraps his arms around your waist. “See, he’s already accepted it,” Vince whispers jokingly. 

“Shut up,” you giggle, rolling your eyes as you playfully push him away and turn around to begin putting groceries away. Vince continues to make subtle moves, sliding his hand along your lower back as he walks by to put a box of crackers into the cupboard, stepping up behind you to take the can of chickpeas that you were struggling to put onto the top shelf out of your hand and doing it for you. It takes you two forever to finally put everything away and once you do it’s time to start making dinner. “Are you going to help me or just be in my way?” You tease. 

“I know you like having me around.”

Shaking your head you look down at the recipe on your phone, unable to argue against that. You really didn’t want Vince to leave, even if he was really just getting in your way. Because you liked Vince, a lot more than you should.

A few days later you received a call from one of the businesses you applied to asking you to come in for an interview, to which you easily agreed. It was during another four day span of Vince and Sammy being gone so you were able to get ready and go for your interview without any questions. There was something about admitting to the fact that you were trying to find a job in St. Louis that scared you. Perhaps it was simply because it was a little crazy. You would need to find a job willing to arrange a visa for you, you would need to find your own apartment, and quite frankly, you probably just hadn’t thought it through enough. But you didn’t want to leave either, you were having a good time here with your brother and Vince, although you were trying to convince yourself that Vince had nothing to do with the decision. 

The interview went well and the next morning you got a call with a job offer. You accepted it quickly, not just because it meant you could stay in St. Louis but because it was also a job you were more than interested in.

Sammy and Vince get home later that afternoon and you pull Sammy into the living room. “I have some news.”

“Okay?” Sammy mutters, eyebrows furrowed, hands folded nervously over his knees as he sits on the edge of the couch. 

“I got a job.”

“Oh, congratulations,” Sammy says, the news processing in his head as you watch his body language sink a little. “Does this mean you’re going back home?”

Shaking your head you fidget with a piece of thread on your hoodie sleeve. You weren’t sure why you were nervous to tell him that you had found a job there. “It’s here.”

Sammy has his arms around you quickly, pulling you to your feet and into a tight hug. “You’re staying here?”

Laughing you pull back from him, staring up at him in shock. You hadn’t expected him to be that excited about it. “Yes…I mean, I’ll obviously get my own place and car and everything but I’m going to be in the city.”

“What’s going on?” Vince asks, walking into the living room. 

“I got a job here,” you tell him, voice quiet and apprehensive. You were a little worried that Vince wouldn’t be happy, that maybe he had only been into you because he figured you would be leaving, that it was a short term thing.

“Here? Like, you’re staying in St. Louis…for good?”

Nodding slowly you glance down at the ground, taking a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“Congratulations,” he tells you, walking over and pulling you into a hug.

“Thanks,” you mumble, pulling back to look up at Vince, trying to read his expression. Unfortunately you come up with nothing, sighing as you step away from him. 

It’s not till much later that night when you even get the chance to talk to him more, Sammy barely leaving your side as he excitedly looked through apartment listings with you, even though he assured you that there was no rush for you to move out. 

Once everyone had gone to bed you sneak out of your room and down the hallway to Vince’s bedroom, pushing it open slightly. “Vince?” You whisper, trying your hardest not to wake Sammy up in the process. 

“Hey, babe,” Vince says softly, making your heart flutter so easily. “Are you going to come in?”

Slipping through the door you shut it softly behind you, fumbling through the dark bedroom to Vince’s bed. “Hey,” you mumble, climbing onto the empty side of the bed and sitting with you legs crossed, watching Vince sit up and lean against the headboard. 

“What’s wrong?”

How he knew so quickly that you were worried about something was beyond your comprehension. Normally you weren’t easy to read but Vince saw right through it. “I just…if you thought this was something different because I was going to be leaving, I totally get that. We can go back to just being friends…or not, if you don’t want. We don’t have to tell Sammy, I can move into my own apartment and we can pretend this didn’t happen, it’s fine,” you ramble. 

“Y/N,” Vince says quietly, reaching over and placing his hands around your waist, guiding you closer as you slide onto your knees. “I like you…I have feelings for you. I don’t want to pretend this didn’t happen.”

“I just thought, I don’t know. Your reaction earlier wasn’t what I expected.”

Vince pulls you over his lap, hands running along your thighs. “Because you don’t want Sammy to know about us and I didn’t want him to be suspicious if I seemed too happy about it.”

“Oh,” you whisper, sliding your hands along his bare chest, resting them on his shoulders. 

Vince chuckles, pulling you closer and leaning up. “I didn’t want to be the one to suggest it, but I was hoping you would look for a job here,” Vince admits before pressing his lips to yours. And you kiss him back eagerly, arms around Vince’s shoulders. 

Grinding your hips down into Vince you feel him already getting hard. And you needed him, more than you had ever felt you needed someone in your life. 

“Our agreement,” Vince mutters against your lips. 

You can feel his breath on your lips, can feel how hard he was below you, can feel every little shift of his fingers along your skin. “Vince, please,” you whimper. 

“Fuck, you can’t say it like that and expect me not to cave,” Vince groans, hands on the hem of your t-shirt, yanking it up over your head swiftly. And it comes off easily, your lack of a bra leaving it easy for Vince to immediately bring his lips to your chest. 

Tipping your head back you close your eyes, every single kiss, flick of his tongue over your nipples sends waves of anticipation through your body. “Vince,” you moan, rocking your hips back and forth against him, desperate for some kind of contact. 

Reaching down Vince slides your pyjama shorts down your legs as you move from one leg to the other, helping him take them off. His hand slips between your bodies, fingers up along your folds towards your clit. He eases his way towards it, circling around your clit till your nails are digging into his back and your body is writhing in desperation. When he finally gets to your clit the wash of pleasure is enough to bring a quiet cry of relief from your lips. 

“Fuck, I love hearing you, but I need you to be quiet,” Vince mutters in your ear as he brushes gentle circles over your clit. “Can you do that for me, baby girl?”

All you can manage to do is nod and hum out a muffled “mhm.” 

“Good girl,” Vince mutters, replacing his fingers on your clit with his thumb, fingers travelling down towards your entrance, one finger sliding inside of you. You’re trying your hardest to stay quiet, head dropping down to Vince’s shoulder as you bite down on your bottom lip. “Fuck,” you whisper a few minutes later, a few muffled moans slipping from your lips as you reach your high. 

Coming down from it you stay on Vince’s lap, pulling your head away from his shoulder to look into Vince’s eyes. Remaining where you were you reach down, hand guiding Vince towards your entrance, a heavy breath leaving your lips as you sink down onto him. Vince groans, hands on your hips as he shifts further down the bed. It’s unbelievably quiet in the room as the two of you find a rhythm, both of you fighting with every ounce of your self-control to remain quiet. You stay on top of Vince the entire time, both of you too scared to be too loud to switch positions. But it doesn’t take you long to reach your second wave of pleasure, your body already sensitive from the first. And it’s only a couple seconds after that Vince reaches his, groaning quietly as his grip on your hips tightens. When you climb off of him and collapse on the bed beside him Vince hops up, grabbing a towel for you and returning quickly to start the cleanup process. 

After using the washroom you return to Vince’s bed, curling up at his side, head on his chest. “I shouldn’t sleep in here.”

Vince sighs, running his hand along your back. “We’re going to have to tell him.���

“Do we really, Romeo?” You joke, tugging the blankets up higher on your body despite the fact that you had just told Vince you weren’t spending the night. 

There’s a few minutes of silence, Vince’s hand pausing on your back as if all his energy was being funnelled to his brain. “What?”

“Romeo and Juliet,” you tell him. 

“You think I’m going to get your Shakespeare references?” 

“At least you knew it was Shakespeare.”

Vince chuckles and shakes his head, “I’m not that stupid.”

“Well…,” you giggle, tipping your head back to look at Vince. 

“Oh, really?” He laughs, grabbing your wrist and flipping you around onto your back. He hovers over top of you, pinning your wrists down. “That was kinda rude.”

“Too bad I’m actually into this,” you whisper, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you bite gently on your bottom lip. 

Vince groans quietly, rolling off of you and flopping back onto his back. “Why is everything you do so hot?”

“Kinda glad you think that way, seems like it gives me an upper hand.”

“Looking like that you definitely have the upper hand, for sure,” Vince chuckles, wrapping his arm around your waist as he pulls you into him. And the two of you continue talking, the whole time you were fully intending to make your way back to your own bed. 

But you don’t ever make it out of Vince’s room that night. 

“Get your lazy ass up.” You’re startled away by a voice yelling through Vince’s door, fist knocking a minute later. “We’re going to be late for practice again, enculé.”

“Oh, shit,” you mutter under your breath, grasping at the blankets on Vince’s bed yanking them up over your bare torso as you sit up. “Vince,” you whisper, shaking his somehow still sleeping form. 

“Hmm?” He hums, rolling over to face you. “What’s wrong?” 

But before you have the chance to say anything Vince’s door flies open and your eyes meet with Sammy’s. You watch him visibly try to process what was going on in front of him, eyes wide and fists clenched. 

“Sammy,” you begin, watching him step back, shaking his head in disbelief. “Sammy, wait, I…it’s not what it looks like.”

“Really?” Sammy counters, obviously knowing that it was exactly what it looked like. But he’s already on his way back out of the bedroom and you make a move to stand up but Vince grabs your arm before you have the chance. 

“Give him a second to process,” Vince suggests, glancing down at the way you were clutching his blankets to your naked body. “And maybe put some real clothes on.”

Nodding you crawl out of Vince’s bed, pulling on the pyjama’s you were wearing when you showed up in his room the night before. Vince gets up a minute later, pulling on a pair of jeans a hoodie, glancing at his phone. “We are going to be late,” he mutters, his back to you as he gathers his keys and wallet, jamming them into his pockets. 

“Vince, I’m scared.”

Vince turns around quickly, eyes on you. You had your arms wrapped tight around your body, eyes teary. “Hey,” Vince says gently, walking over and pulling you into a gentle hug, resting his chin on top of your head. “It’s okay, everything is going to be fine.”

“Did you see him? He looked so upset…he’s going to be mad, Vince. I can’t, I can’t handle him being mad at me.” 

You didn’t even realize you were crying till Vince pulls back, reaching up and wiping away the tears from your cheeks. “He won’t be mad at you, he’ll be mad at me. I’m the one who started this.”

You’re caught off guard by this, laughing softly. “That’s a lie.”

“It’s not.”

“I kissed you on the couch,” you remind him, your hands wrapped around his forearms as you stare up into his eyes. 

“I came home early and skipped going for drinks with the guys that night because Sammy told me he was going out for the night. I was hoping for what happened that night.”

You’re caught off guard by his confession, speechless and frozen in place. 

Glancing over you see Sammy step into the doorway, slowly pulling away from Vince “We have to go.” 

“Yeah,” Vince mutters, reaching over and grabbing your hand, squeezing it as he steps out of the bedroom with Sammy. 

You watch them walk away in silence, not leaving Vince’ bedroom till you hear the front door close. Slowly making your way out of the bedroom you try to busy yourself with tidying the apartment to keep yourself thinking too much about the situation. 

“Y/N,” Sammy’s voice calls later in the day, walking into the living room where you were sitting on your laptop, scrolling through apartment listings. 

“Hey,” you say quietly, looking up at him. Reaching forward you slowly close your laptop, setting it down on the coffee table in front of you. “How was practice?” 

“Fine,” he says, sitting down on the love seat beside the couch you were on. Sammy watches you glance in direction of the hallway. “He went to Jordan’s place.”

“Oh,” you whisper, feeling your heart sink a little. 

“It wasn’t his idea,” Sammy tells you, noticing how disappointed you seemed. “I wanted to talk to you alone.”

“Oh,” you repeat, not knowing what to say. Your brother had always known the details of your relationships, telling him all about your crushes, dates, when boyfriends would upset you. This had been the first time you kept something like that a secret from him, and now you were regretting it. Perhaps if you had told him earlier, when you first started to develop feelings for Vince things would have been different. But now it seemed like you two knew there was something wrong with what you were doing, needing to keep it a secret. 

The silence in the room is heavy, and it feels painful as you fidget in your seat. Sammy staring at you for a few minutes before finally saying anything. “Why?”

Staring down at the ground you try to come up with an answer to his question. “I like him,” you whisper, shrugging.

“Why him? Did you not even think about what’ll happen when things end between you two?”

“That’s really optimistic,” you mumble, eyes focused on your fingers as you pick a few pieces of lint off of your jeans. 

“Well what?” Sammy asks, voice raising in frustration. “You going to marry him?”

Finally looking up at Sammy you roll your eyes, sighing loudly. 

“God, now I see why mom got so mad every time you rolled your eyes,” Sammy mutters. “Why the hell are you even rolling your eyes?”

“Because I’m not even thinking about marriage…with Vince or anyone else. That’s crazy,” you reply, your voice getting louder and louder with each word. 

“So you’re going to break up with him, or he’s going to break up with you and then my friendship with him is going to be fucked,” Sammy snaps. “You really didn’t consider that? That you’re ruining my friendship with Vince…and for what?”

“Stop yelling at me,” you yell back, hoping up from the couch and staring down at him, tears welling up in your eyes. “I’m sorry, Sammy. I don’t know what to say, I like him.” Sniffling you reach up, wiping away tears from underneath your eyes. 

“I’m not okay with it.”

Wrapping your arms tight around your body you try to compose yourself, try to stop the tears from continuously flooding your eyes. You hated that you cried during conflict, hated that when it was conflict with Sammy that reaction was always heightened. “What do you want me to do then?”

Sammy glares up at you, shaking his head. “You already fucked it up, it’s too late for you to do anything.”

It feels like someone just punched you in the stomach, physical pain radiating through your body in response to his words. But you can’t think of a single defence for yourself. “Fuck you,” is all you manage to croak out before turning around and hurrying in the direction of the front door. 

“Where are you going?” Sammy calls, following after you. 

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly, yanking on a jacket you had hanging up on a hook beside the door. “Does it really matter? I mean, I’m such a fuck up anyway.”

“I didn’t say that,” Sammy exclaims, watching you pull on a pair of shoes. “Can you just stop? We’re not kids anymore, you can’t just fucking run away.”

“No, we’re not,” you snap, standing up straight again. “So why are you treating me like one?”

“Because it’s my goddamn life you’re messing with.”

“You don’t have to be such an asshole,” you whisper, tears now streaming down your face with no chance of you being able to contain them. “I’m sorry I developed feelings for your friend, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about, I’m sorry I acted on it…I’m sorry I came here, I don’t know what you want me to say.” You’re reaching for the doorknob a moment later, yanking the door open. 

“Don’t say that, stop, Y/N, where the fuck are you even going to go?” Sammy asks, reaching for your arm which you pull away from him before he has the chance to grab you. “You can’t just wander around alone crying."

“Well it’s not like this apartment is feeling overly hospitable right now,” you tell him, wiping the tears off  your cheeks. “I never would have thought you would be such an asshole over me falling for a guy. I’m sorry he’s your friend, I wasn’t trying to make that happen. In fact, I was trying not to. But you don’t really care, do you? Because the situation isn’t perfect for you so why should you even try to accept it?”

With that you leave the apartment. You take an Uber to one of your new friend’s houses, thankful that she had replied before your Uber even got there that she was free and wanted to hang out. After a brief explanation of what was going on you settle down on her couch, her puppy curled up in your lap as you two talk, able to get your mind off of the situation with Sammy and Vince, even if only for a short period of time. 

You two order take out and lay on the couch, sending each other dumb tiktoks for the majority of the night. 

‘Are you okay?’ It’s a text from Vince and you switch from the tiktok app to your messages. 

‘Yeah, I’m fine. I’m at my friend’s place. You’re home now?’

“Vince texted, I think he just got home,” you tell your friend, sitting up on her couch with a sigh. 

“Did he say anything about the situation?” She asks, turning her head to look over at you. 

Shaking your head you look down at your screen, watching the three dots inside a text bubble, waiting to get the text he was typing. ‘Yes, when are you coming back?’

‘I don’t know. I guess soon, I just don’t know what to do.’ 

‘About what?’

‘Sammy’ ‘Us’ 

‘Can I come pick you up?’

And twenty minutes later you’re leaving your friend’s house, promising to keep her updated on the situation. 

“Hey,” you greet as you get into Vince’s car, glancing over at him while pulling on your seatbelt. 

“Hey.” Vince reaches over, placing his hand on your thigh, squeezing gently. “How did it go with Sammy?” 

“Not great,” you admit, placing your hand on top of Vince’s, sliding your fingers between his and folding your hand over his. “Did you guys talk?” 

“A bit.” Vince says, pulling out of the parking lot of the apartment. “What did he say to you?”

“That I’m messing up his life,” you mumble, your eyes filling with tears. “Basically I fucked up and whatever the fallout from this is it’s all my fault.” 

Vince’s hand clenches around the steering wheel as he drives with no particular destination in mind. Of course Sammy was one of his best friends and that wasn’t about to change over one fight. But friends didn’t always agree on everything, didn’t always get along. And by the way Vince’s jaw was clenched, eyes glaring through the windshield in front of him, it was clear that was the case. “That’s such bullshit. You know that’s not true...right?” 

“What if it’s not?” you croak. “Are we being selfish? Your friendship with Sammy, jeopardizing that when this ends?”

“It doesn’t have to end poorly and ruin anything,” Vince points out. “It doesn’t have to end,” he adds. 

“Vince,” you whisper, glancing down at your hands folded together. How perfect they fit, how comfortable you were with him. “That’s crazy to say right now.”

“I know,” he admits, squeezing your hand. “So it might not last forever, but no matter what happens we’ve already started...whatever this is, so why does it matter when it ends?”

You can’t really argue with that point. Your options are end it now or give it time, see how things play out. “But…Sammy,” you whisper. 

“Give him time.” 

The two of you drive around aimlessly for a little while longer till he pulls into the parking lot of the apartment building, glancing over at you. “You okay? 

Nodding you pull your hand from his, resting it on the console as you lean across it and Vince is quick to react, bringing his hand to the side of you face to cup your cheek. His lips are gentle but eager, moving with intent but not pushing too far. And for a moment it feels like everything else has faded away, worries and stress blurring till they’re no longer visible anymore. “How do we do this?” You whisper, pulling back from Vince. 

“Do what?” He asks, sitting back in his seat, body angled towards you. 

“Deal with being in there, together, with Sammy.”

Vince is quiet for a moment, tapping at his steering wheel. “We’ll just figure it out when we’re in there, see what he’s like.”

Nodding slowly you open the car door, slipping out and walking towards the apartment with Vince. With every step closer you feel a growing anxiety, each and every possibility running through your mind. Would Sammy still be mad? Would he try to pick up the argument right where it ended? Would it be worse if he just decided to ignore it? Would you all need to sit down and have a conversation like an awkward family meeting nobody wants to be a part of? 

When you step into the apartment after Vince you hear the sound of the TV from the living room. Slowly making your way into the living room you notice Sammy with an Xbox controller in his hand, eyes trained on the TV. “Hey,” you greet, sitting down on the couch and alternating between watching the game he was playing and glancing at Sammy. 

“Hey,” Sammy mutters, finishing up his game before tossing the controller down onto the coffee table and sitting up to turn and face you. “Did running away solve everything?”

Shaking your head you pull your legs up to your chest on the couch. “Should I have stayed here and let you yell at me about fucking up your life instead?”

“I didn’t say you were fucking up my life.”

“Maybe not in those exact words,” you retort. “But you may as well have.”

Sammy sighs and leans forward, his elbows on his knees, running his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he grumbles, looking over at you. “I just…fuck, I hate it so much. Like why him?” His tone is different now, lighter, easier than the last conversation. 

“I mean…look at him,” you say, trying your best to to lighten the mood even more. 

Sammy chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. “I guess I really should have seen it sooner,” he comments, staring down at the ground. 

“What do you mean?” 

Sammy looks up from the ground, eyes meeting yours. “You’re exactly his type and he’s been spending way more time just hanging around here since you got here. I’m such an idiot for not thinking this would happen. I pretty much set it up.”

You wait a few seconds in silence, processing that information. You had really just assumed Vince spent that much time at his apartment normally. You figured they were on the road a lot, when they were back in St. Louis he would just want to relax at home playing video games and watching TV. You never would have thought that you played a role In keeping him there. And you definitely wouldn’t have assumed you were exactly his type either. “So you can’t really be mad then…you said it, you set it up.”

Sammy laughs, sitting up straighter and shaking his head. “I didn’t say that either…But I’m not mad, I don’t like it…maybe that’ll change, I don’t know. But I’m not mad at you. You know I can’t stay mad at you.”

You smile softly, standing up and walking over to the couch he was on, dropping down beside him and throwing your arms around him dramatically. “Good, because I can’t handle you being mad at me,” you tell him. Pulling back you let your arms drop from around him. “So, will you come look at apartments with me tomorrow so that Vince and I can-.”

“Stop,” Sammy interrupts, pushing you away playfully. “I don’t want to hear it, you’re so gross,” he says, both of you laughing as you lean back in response to Sammy pushing you. 

Out of the corner of your eye you see Vince walk into the room hesitantly and you give him a reassuring smile. “Sammy admitted he actually set us up.”

“I did not,” Sammy exclaims, laughing. “I said I pretty much did…not on purpose though.”

“Close enough…I’m going to make dinner. I don’t know how you two are going to survive when I get my own apartment,” you laugh, standing up and walking over towards Vince, grabbing his hand and pulling him with you towards the kitchen. 

“You can come over and cook us dinner,” Sammy calls as you leave the living room. 

Shaking your head you make it to the kitchen, only there for a second before Vince is pulling you into him, leaning down and kissing you gently. “I knew it would be okay,” Vince mumbles against your lips. 

Bringing one hand to the back of his neck you press your body closer to his, confident that Sammy would be avoiding the kitchen now that you and Vince were in there alone. “No you didn’t,” you giggle. “You just said that because I was panicking.”

“Kind of,” Vince admits. 

“Well I’m glad it worked out,” you whisper, sliding your hands to his shoulders. “Because if we never got around to you pinning me down like you did last night I’d be really disappointed,” you joke, looking up at Vince through your eyelashes with a mischievous smile. 

Vince groans, shaking his head. “So that’s all I am to you?” Vince asks, playing along. 

“Of course,” you joke. Pulling out of his grasp you begin to prepare dinner, but the absence of touch doesn’t last long, Vince stepping behind you and placing his hands on your hips. “Someone is a little needy.”

“I’m hurt after your last comment,” he laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist, watching you chop up some vegetables.

Pausing you turn your head to the side, looking up at Vince. “Fine, I like you for more than just sex,” you tell him.

“So when are you letting me take you on another date…a real one.”

“Anytime,” you tell him, glancing over at him as he stands beside you, leaning against the counter. You can’t help but get caught up in staring at him for a little too long. A few months ago you never would have imagined your trip to St. Louis would even last this long, let alone end with you moving there and falling for a boy. And of course you weren’t sure how it would end, but for the time being you were happy with the new adventure you were embarking on. 

[luvdsc]

mark lee sucks at technology.

tap the heart if you have a big, fat, embarrassing crush on your best friend!

pairing :: lee mark x reader genre :: fluff / best friend + social influencer au word count :: 5,883 words warnings :: none playlist :: dumb stuff (lany) ⋆ feeling (coin) ⋆ so far so good (gabrielle aplin) ⋆ electric love (børns) ⋆ love by mistake (bad suns) author’s note :: i was debating if i should post it on his bday instead, but i decided to drop it earlier, so uh, happy (approx. one week early) bday to mister absolutely fully capable (except when it comes to tech stuff) !!!! thank you for blessing us with your god tier raps ♡ ↳ part of the not clickbait series.

In your required upper division business course aptly titled “Essential Marketing Strategies,” you had learned about a concept called personal brands. A personal brand is explained as the first impression a person wishes to perceive based on their own experiences, qualifications, and achievements. Your professor had told you and your classmates to pick three words to define your own brand. For instance, you chose to label yourself as charismatic, fun, and creative.

Your best friend’s brand would be awkward, endearing, and technologically challenged. 

Okay, so that is definitely more than three words, but who’s counting? You might as well tack on “Y/N’s big fat crush” at this rate because everyone and their mother knows that you carry a torch—or more accurately, a blazing wildfire that can easily be spotted from Pluto—for your best friend.

Well, to be more precise, you should probably say everyone, except Mark, knows. And that’s not for lack of trying either. You completely dropped the art of delicate subtlety months ago already. Maybe you should add “hopelessly oblivious” instead.

The rolling end credits to the sixth Harry Potter film are playing on the screen in front of you, signaling the nearing end of your magical movie marathon. You’re seated on the worn down couch in Mark and Donghyuck’s shared apartment, watching the former make his drink with the fancy, gently used Keurig newly settled on the scratched countertop. Johnny dropped it off a few days ago because he had splurged on a better coffee machine (“It even makes Instagram worthy whipped frappuccinos!”) and didn’t want his old, but still perfectly functioning caffeine provider going to waste.

“What’s wrong with this thing?” Mark slaps the side of the machine, and it starts to emit a low whirring noise. “Oh, that’s good, right? That sound is good, you think?”

His question is immediately answered by the sad squirt of hot water speckled with coffee grinds falling into his mug for a few seconds before the machine shuts off.

“What the hell?” he mutters angrily, carding his hand through his hair in frustration, and you finally decide to take pity on your best friend. Getting up from the comfy spot you know you sadly won’t be able to recreate perfectly again later, you stride over to where your best friend stands and flip open the top of the Keurig.

“Hyuck didn’t take out his used coffee pod,” you say, pulling out the incriminating evidence of your best friend’s roommate and disposing it in the trash can next to the refrigerator. “Where’s the espresso one you’re gonna use? Why didn’t you put that in?”

His jaw slackens, and he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze and mumbling, “I thought I’d just open it later and pour it into my hot water.”

“Mark,” you start, placing your hands on his shoulders firmly and staring into his eyes with a serious look on your face. “Please know that I’m saying this in the most loving way possible, but you are an absolute idiot.”

You release your grip on his shoulders and grab the espresso pod dangling from his fingertips before slotting it into the Keurig. You remove the mug he placed underneath the spout and wash out the accidental coffee water before placing it back in its original position and pressing the start button on the machine. With a sigh, you lean against the side of the counter, glancing at your friend who looks like a child being scolded for stealing from the cookie jar.

“If you pour the pod into your mug, are you just going to chug all the loose coffee grinds, too?”

“... I didn’t think that far ahead.” His lips start to unintentionally form a tiny pout, and your eyes (and your heart, too) soften.

You’re very relieved that Donghyuck is off filming with your friend because he definitely would be making fun of your heart eyes that frequently make an appearance around a certain Mark Lee. Which you always deny. Because you certainly do not have a gigantic crush on your technologically inept best friend.

You glance over at him again and have to physically fight yourself to resist the urge to kiss his cute pout away. Okay, so maybe you harbor a very respectable, medium sized crush. But it's no big deal. It’s completely under control. Unless you’re counting the fact that your best friend is still unaware, and you’re running out of ideas to try and see if he likes you back before you actually shoot your shot. Then it’s very much not under control because you’re losing sleep over it and you don’t know what to do to be any more obvious without stating the, well, obvious.

“Well, now you know. If you forget, you can FaceTime me and I’ll give you instructions on how it works.” You pat his shoulder reassuringly before pausing. “Wait, you do know how to FaceTime, right?”

“Yes!” he exclaims, sulking even more before confessing in a quieter, defeated tone, “Hyuck showed me last month.”

Mark grabs his finished drink and follows behind you, settling back onto the couch next to you. The streaming service already has Deathly Hallows Part 1 in the queue and ready to go, and your best friend is ready to click play until he notices your attention being focused on the smaller screen in your hands. He wonders if you’re about to post another one of your popular cooking videos on that app that shares a name with the most iconic song of the 2000s (hint: the name of the song’s singer is made up of four letters and a dollar sign).

“Are you uploading one of your videos?” he implores before taking a sip of his drink with a satisfied smile. Somehow, it always tastes better when you make it, and he can’t figure out why for the life of him. When he went to Johnny’s place, his older friend uses the exact same pod and water ratio for his espresso, and yet, it’s never as good as yours.

“Nah, I’m ordering my grocery delivery before I forget. Do you want anything?” You select the option to load your usual grocery items into your cart before debating on whether or not you should splurge on buying several packages of those seasonal Pillsbury sugar cookies that only come in stock during certain holidays. It seems like such an insult to the entire premise of your Tiktok account based on baking and cooking, but you’re an absolute sucker for those soft pastries.

“Yeah, can you get me a Shin Ramyun ten pack? Hyuck ate the last one two days ago and didn’t tell me.”

“You sure you don’t want ten boxes again?” You decide to get those Pillsbury sugary delights, happily adding three boxes to your cart. Everybody has a weakness, and yours just so happens to be a premade one way ticket to diabetes. You’re here for a good, delicious time, not a long time.

“No! That was an accident!” He objects, flailing his hands around, before falling back against the couch cushions in defeat. “But Hyuck does all the online grocery shopping now.”

“Thank god. You guys finally have quality toilet paper again.”

The past month of bathroom occurrences was plagued with scratchy tissue that felt more like goddamn sandpaper from the horrible depths of hell. To be honest, you probably would have rather used actual sandpaper, given the choice. You even made sure not to drink too much water any time you came over, but today, you decided to splurge on a venti passion fruit iced tea with sweetener from that very popular franchise sporting a mermaid logo and fiscally cosmic name. To your pleasant surprise, your trip to the toilet this time was wonderfully padded with Charmin Ultra Soft, not that absolutely awful off brand one with the gross texture of a dried pinecone from inferno.

“Hey, that toilet paper was a good steal! It was a three for one deal,” Mark protests, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Wow, I wonder why it was priced so low.” You deadpan, and Mark blanches, recalling all those restroom incidents that were rather rough. Literally.

“Anyway, do you think my viewers wanna see me make chocolate crinkle cookies or mochi doughnuts?” You bring up the two recipes you managed to perfect and add your own spin to on your phone, eyes scanning the ingredient lists.

“Both. And tell me when you’re making them, so I can come over and eat them.” He gives you a wide grin, and you let out a snort at that. His smile only grows as he says happily, “I love your job.”

“You only love it because you can freeload off of me,” you jest, but nevertheless begin to start to add all the ingredients for both recipes to your shopping cart. You always film cooking videos on Tuesdays, edit on Wednesdays, keep Thursdays free for last minute touch ups and emergencies, and post one every week on Fridays with other various random videos uploaded whenever in between. With that in mind, you schedule your upcoming grocery delivery for Monday.

“Hey, you need me. I’m the best taste tester.” He puffs up his chest proudly before hastily tacking on a more genuine reason. “And because I’d starve without you. I can’t live off of instant ramen and frozen chicken nuggets forever. Gordon Ramsay already confirmed my shitty cooking skills. I need you to survive.”

“Oh my god, when I uploaded those pics of your scrambled eggs on Twitter, I lost like a hundred followers in less than a minute.” You confirm the delivery and place your phone on the coffee table, picking up the opened bag of Cheeto puffs before settling back in your seat. “My cooking credibility was completely shot. I had to explain to my fans that I didn’t make those.”

“Yeah, but now everyone calls me Eggy Boi online!” he whines, and you laugh. You have to admit, it’s quite a funny play on the whole “edgy boi” terminology. You wonder if Mark will find it amusing if he discovers his roommate is the culprit behind his new online persona (He probably won’t, and you reckon Donghyuck enjoys living in a safe space where he doesn’t have to sleep with one eye open, so you stay quiet about it. You’ll use it as leverage some other time).

“Okay, Eggy Boi, come by on Tuesday because I’ll be baking in the afternoon,” you say casually, grabbing the remote control from your best friend and pressing play. 

You very narrowly avoid a green gummy bear to the face. It lands somewhere behind the couch, lost forever to the dust bunnies and other snacks that missed its target. You know for a fact that it’ll stay there until the boys decide to move to a new apartment. Mark grumbles at the miss, biting off the head of a red cherry flavored gummy bear perhaps a little harder than necessary.

“I hate you. But I’m still coming over next week because I want a doughnut.”

“No cookie?”

“... and a cookie. Maybe two.”

Wednesday comes faster than you expected, and you’re currently holed up in your apartment’s second bedroom—which you had transformed into a snazzy office space—completing the edits to your second video on mochi doughnuts. You already finished polishing the one about the cookies earlier, thank goodness. If you had to stare at your computer screen for another three hours, you would rather eat those pastries Mark tried to make two months ago, but had mistaken salt for sugar. Adding a cup of salt to any baked good is an extremely effective way to make anyone who tasted your best friend’s brownies experience a trip to the beach. Because they essentially just swallowed a mouthful of sand and ocean water. Because it’s salty as heck. Just like Mark was when you told him.

Speaking of your best friend, he’s currently puttering around in your kitchen doing god knows what. He knows better than to try another recipe and possibly blow up your number one moneymaker—your prized oven—in the process. Your heart nearly drops when your ears pick up the faint chopping sounds of a knife against your wooden cutting board. Is he going to try to temper chocolate again? He nearly burned through your entire stock of dark, milk, and white chocolate last time.

After much contemplation and deciding that you deserve a good procrastination break and a fully intact kitchen, you’re about to go out and see what he’s up to when Mark timidly appears in your doorway, clutching onto a white bowl of watermelon cubes with a fork tucked neatly in it. He shuffles in, dropping the snack on your desk before turning to walk out without a word, not wanting to disturb your work mode. 

Your heart warms up at the sight, and you speak up, a small smile slipping into your face. “What’s this for?”

“Knowing you, you probably haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” He pauses in the doorway and adds on sheepishly, “And I can't cook anything, so this is what you get.”

Your heart swells tenfold, and your smile widens even more as you spear a piece of fruit with the fork and quickly pop it into your mouth. “Thanks, Marky.”

His cheeks flush with a pretty shade of carmine, and he fails to suppress the little giddy smile that appears on his face at your nickname for him. He walks out of your office, reddened cheeks still rising up higher than ever. “Y-Yeah, of course. No problem.”

By the time you finish adding the final few touches to your edited video, the bowl of watermelon has been picked clean. You save your video and transfer both of your completed projects to your phone, making a mental note to schedule their uploads and add them to your account’s posting queue later. Shoving your phone in the pocket of your sweats after ensuring the successful transfer of your videos, you pick up the empty dish and walk out towards the kitchen, the silver fork clinking against the side of the bowl with every step.

As you wash the dish and utensil, Mark wanders over from his spot on the couch, leaning forward and casually placing his chin on your shoulder. Almost instantaneously, you feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you briefly fantasize about your best friend wrapping his arms around your waist and how domestic and sweet the two of you would look, like one of those cheesy couples the two of you always made fun of.

“What’s up?” you ask, making a conscious effort to hold your voice steady and not waver over the fact that Mark is basically draped over you. After you place the dish on the drying rack, you turn around to face your best friend, sorely miscalculating the distance as mere inches separate your face from his now.

“I—” Puberty decides to make an ugly appearance in the form of an ill timed voice crack, and he internally curses as he takes a step back, willing the incoming blush to go away. Letting out a small cough, he tries again, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“I, um, Jisung sent me some kind of dance video. He said it’s a challenge? I kinda don’t know what to do with it? Like do I make a new dance, record myself, and send it back? Actually, isn't it easier to just do a dance battle face to face?”

“Can I see the video?” You already have a good idea on what the video will be, but you want to confirm it. Mark fumbles with his phone, pulling up the video in his text messages. He angles the phone towards you for you to see, and you grab his hand, bringing the device a little closer to you for a better look and clicking play.

“Oh, it’s a Tiktok challenge! He’s doing the Say So dance!” you exclaim, recognizing the song almost immediately as your eyes follow the fluid dance moves, completely enthralled. “So a challenge isn’t going up against someone, like a battle. It’s just some kind of trend or concept that you try to copy yourself. You’re supposed to learn the same dance and record yourself for this one. I can show you some other challenges and help you practice and record this one tomorrow if you wanna drop by after work!”

“O-Oh, okay, sounds good.” Mark stumbles over his words, attempting to focus on what you’re saying and the dance Jisung is doing, but all he can think about is the way your body is pressed against his side, hand comfortably wrapped around his. He freezes up as the tips of his ears grow redder and redder with every passing second, and his face sports a similar color. He silently prays for the telltale crimson to go away by the time the dance is over.

When the video ends, you once again realize the close proximity between you and your best friend. Your face burns at this revelation, and you awkwardly take a step back. Clearing your throat, you hastily release Mark’s hand (He inaudibly lets out the breath he’s been holding in this entire time, yet he also already misses the way your hand felt grasping his).

“Uh, anyway, I’m gonna make a latte. Do you want a drink, too?” You walk towards the other side of your kitchen with Mark trailing behind you. You take out a floral, peachy colored mug from your cupboards before pausing and looking at your best friend. “Wait, do you remember how to use a Keurig?”

“Yes!” He says, slightly exasperated as he picks out his own cup from your cabinet. He always uses the same one—a cerulean blue mug with squiggles all over it—and all of your friends and guests know not to use it because it’s unofficially officially Mark’s mug (And perhaps, you did indeed buy it from that overpriced kitschy tableware shop down the street two years ago with your best friend in mind).

“Really?” You select the latte option and press start after you had already positioned the mug beneath the spout and inserted a green tea matcha pod. He finally relents, shoulders sagging and a defeated expression on his face.

“... No.”

You chuckle, taking the mug from him and carefully putting it on the counter. You grab the espresso pod you know he likes from the drawer below and place it next to the cup. “It’s okay, I’ll teach you again.”

Mark tries. He really does. He tries very hard to concentrate on memorizing the simple process, but he keeps getting distracted. His eyes are focused on the correct button to push before they start to trail up to your fingertips. And then, they go from your hand to your arm, then up to the elegant curve of your neck, and finally, to the way your lashes frame your pretty eyes and how the tip of your tongue sticks out slightly as you concentrate until all he can focus on is you, you, you.

Suddenly, in what feels like a blink of an eye, you’re done and handing him his finished drink, complete with a perfectly whipped milk foam on top. You ask him if he knows how to make it now, and all he can do is lie and nod with a barely convincing smile.

After all, how can Mark tell his best friend that the reason he never remembers is because you’re the biggest distraction?

Mark should be here in five minutes, according to his most recent text message. And in the text message below that, your friend had sent you a challenge. More specifically, it’s the one she completed with Donghyuck a few weeks ago. When you said you wanted bold suggestions on how to figure out if your best friend feels the same way about you as you do about him, you didn’t want one this bold. 

Yet, the video link to your friend’s “today I kissed my best friend” challenge along with a winky face from her is staring mockingly at you. While you aren’t one to back down from a challenge, the mere thought of kissing your best friend causes vast colonies of butterflies to erupt in your stomach and your ears to feel as if they have caught on fire. You’re already tongue tied with your head in the clouds, and he isn’t even here yet. How utterly fantastic.

However, your mother definitely did not raise a quitter, so you spring into action when you hear the faint jingling of a key being inserted into your apartment’s door (You had given Mark a copy of your key almost immediately after you had moved in). You move the pretty indoor fern given to you by Jaemin as a housewarming gift last year closer to the edge of your towering bookcase, leaning your phone against it. You quickly position the device to capture a good view of the couch area in your living room and press the record button, arranging a few of the leaves to hide as much of your phone as you possibly can without obstructing the lens.

You run full speed to your bedroom, letting out a sigh of relief when you’re safely inside and hear Mark finally unlocking the door successfully and shuffling in. When he calls out to you, you try to even out your breathing, walking out of your room with your tripod and laptop in hand.

“Hey,” you greet him in the most casual tone you can muster. You place the tripod down and sit before opening your laptop and setting it on the coffee table. “I thought we could watch a few challenges for fun before trying the Say So one. Have you watched Jisung’s videos before?”

“Um, well, no, not really,” he confesses sheepishly, taking a seat next to you on the couch, leg pressing against yours. He squints at the YouTube video you pulled up earlier before he had arrived, reading the title before clicking the space button to start it. “Savage Tiktok dance compilation part two?”

“Wait, hold up.” You pause the video and then turn to face him with an incredulous expression on your face. “You’ve never watched any of Jisung’s dance Tiktoks?”

“No… I don’t even have an account.” His cheeks are dusted with the lightest shade of pink as he quietly admits, “I watch all of yours though.”

Your eyes widen at his confession, face heating up as you stammer out, “O-Oh, well, I can help you make an account later to upload your video.”

“Sounds good.” There’s a few seconds of silence as you mull over his previous words before he speaks up again awkwardly, “Should I, uh, play the video?”

“Oh! Yes, right! Of course, hit play,” you laugh nervously, twisting and playing with the hair tie around your wrist. He starts the video again, and the two of you watch the compilation, slowly relaxing once more as you tap your fingers to the rhythm of the song and he bobs his head to the beat.

“Do I have to change outfits like that?” he questions a few minutes later, eyes growing round as he sees the girl on the screen switch between four different outfits throughout the dance. His closet basically consists of the same five black shirts that he stole from Jaehyun. Even if he did do an outfit swap, there would literally be no difference at all.

“You don’t have to,” you assure him, clicking the enter key to play the next video that’s recommended: another Tiktok dance challenge compilation. “All you have to do is copy the dance.”

Mark nods, taking a glance at the laptop screen before his hand shoots out and he pauses the video, leaning forward to take a closer look at the little recommended video title banner at the top. “Wait! What’s that one?”

He clicks on it, the new video now loading up. The two of you wait patiently for it to begin, waiting for the spinning disc to stop. But it doesn’t. In fact, the whole chrome page goes blank and then, the little pixelated Google Chrome dinosaur pops up on your monitor, announcing that you have no internet connection. Furrowing your eyebrows, you try to reload the page before trying to re-establish your laptop connection to your wifi. Unfortunately, you cannot find your appropriately named “drop it like it’s hotspot” wifi anywhere to connect to.

And that’s when it hits you. Your landlord had sent out a notice to the entire apartment complex last week about the electricity being powered down today from 4 to 6 p.m. for a maintenance check, and a quick glance at the digital clock on your laptop shows that it’s a little past four.

You groan, closing your laptop and flopping back against the couch cushions dramatically. Mark cocks his head, slightly confused, before he pokes you in the arm. “What’s wrong?”

“I completely forgot about the scheduled electricity shutdown for the entire building. We won’t have any wifi for the next two hours.” You pout, your bottom lip jutting out in the slightest, and Mark doesn’t think it’s fair that you get to be this cute and have this much of an effect on his racing heart rate.

“That’s okay, we can… play some board games?” he suggests offhandedly, pushing away the embarrassing thought and nudging your leg with his, and you smile before a sudden idea occurs to you. 

“Or we can still do some Tiktok challenges! What was the challenge you clicked on?” You quickly sit upright, turning to face your best friend, eyes sparkling in excitement. “I memorized a few of the dance ones already! Was it Renegade? I can teach you that one. Jisung showed me how to do it.”

“Um,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. His eyes dart everywhere, except you, as he lets out a feigned cough. “It wasn’t a dance one. It was about, uh, going up to your boyfriend… and um, hugging him... when he’s playing video games.”

“Oh.” You answer lamely, not knowing what to say. You unsuccessfully try to push away the image of you attempting that challenge with your best friend. “Those are really cute.”

“Really?” He says doubtfully, wrinkling his eyebrows and fiddling with the frayed sleeve of his sweater. “Wouldn’t the dude get mad?”

You don’t know what suddenly possessed you to do this (you’ll have to ask Renjun and his paranormal loving ass later), but you thank whatever demon did for that split second because you find yourself gently grabbing Mark’s arm and slipping your head underneath it. You swing one leg over his lap and settle down until you’re securely sitting in his lap, bent legs on either side of his hips, hands curled around the soft fabric of his sweater on both sides and resting on top of your thighs. His arms instinctively go around your waist, wrapping around you securely.

You tilt your head to the side slightly, studying the flustered boy in front of you with a teasing, albeit a little anxious, smile on your lips. “Are you feeling mad?”

Splotches of red litter his cheeks and decorate the tips of his ears, but your best friend furiously shakes his head at your question, bashfully ducking his head afterwards and muttering a soft “No.”

You swallow hard, heart pounding erratically in your chest as you timidly ask, “Would you be mad if I do this?”

Mark looks up at that, confusion written all over his face. His arms start to loosen around your figure, hands now resting on your waist. “If you do what?”

You take a deep breath. “This.”

You lean in and gently press your lips against his. Mark freezes in shock, and you quickly retreat soon after, gnawing at the inside of your cheek as you wait anxiously for his reaction. Your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest and be buried six feet under.

A tiny noise of surprise belatedly escapes from him and crimson spreads across his cheeks like wildfire. His doe eyes are wide and sparkling, staring at you in bewilderment. Your best friend lets out a small laugh of disbelief before a full blown smile breaks out across his face. He gazes at you adoringly, breathing out softly, “I’m not mad at that.”

You perk up at that, draping your arms around his neck as you lean forward, beaming. “Really? You’re not?”

“Definitely not.”

This time, Mark meets you halfway, his lips slotting against yours perfectly and making you feel tingles up and down your spine. Your eyes are closed, and you are so hyper aware of the way his hands grip your hips, how he tugs you closer, and how his lips chase after yours. The number of butterflies from earlier multiply in your stomach, and you have ascended past cloud nine by now.

When the two of you break apart, your eyes flutter open, and you nudge your nose against his affectionately. The brightest grin blooms on his face once again, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his little giggles and hiding the awfully vibrant cerise that rapidly blossoms on his face.

“Is this a good time to tell you congrats for completing your first challenge?” you say, resting your cheek against the crown of his head. You pull away when he lifts his head up, surprised.

“I wasn’t playing video games though,” he says slowly, processing your words and thinking back to the challenge that started this all.

“It was a different challenge. It’s the one that Hyuck did a few weeks ago,” you confess, and realization dawns on him, his face lighting up for a split second before a look of horror takes over.

“Oh, no. Is that why you had your phone recording on the bookshelf?” Mark asks, dread beginning to cloud his mind.

“Yes…” you say slowly, a little perplexed. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Oh my god, I ruined your video,” he moans, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder. “I saw your phone when I walked in and thought you were filming earlier and forgot to turn it off, so I turned it off for you.”

When the words finally register in your mind, you can’t stop the laughter from bubbling out of your throat, and he raises his head up to look at you with wide doe eyes at the pretty sound. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

You can’t stop laughing at the situation, and he looks at you worriedly, gnawing on his bottom lip slightly. You force yourself to calm down, a soft chuckle leaving your lips before you beam at him, leaning in and placing the softest kiss on the tip of his nose. “It’s okay, Mark. I’m not mad. That video wasn’t important anyway.”

“But still,” he whines before letting out a groan and slapping his hand against his forehead when the realization sinks in even further. “I’m such an idiot.”

“But you’re my idiot now, right?” you say teasingly, albeit a little shyly as well, as you reach over to tug his hand away from his face and lace your fingers with his.

“I mean, I kinda thought I was always your idiot,” Mark laughs softly and a little embarrassedly, eyes averted and cheeks turning pinker than ever. The largest grin spreads across your face at that, and you turn away slightly to hide it. You didn’t think your best friend can possibly be any more endearing, but he manages to prove you wrong every time.

“Well, then now you can add ‘Y/N’s boyfriend’ to your resume,” you say, and he fails to suppress the pleased smile appearing on his face at your remark, his rosy cheeks rising even taller than skyscrapers.

“So, uh, what sort of job description does that have?” He gazes at your intertwined hands in wonder, still completely giddy at the reality of you being his best friend and something more.

“Sharing hoodies, giving me attention, kissing, holding my hand, going on dates, you know, the basics,” you answer, squeezing his hand tenderly, and his doe eyes instantly light up. Mark feels a little bolder than before, and it shows when he grins widely and says:

“Can we do number three again?”

“Yes, we can, Eggy Boi.”

He wrinkles his nose at the name, disgruntled and unimpressed, as he crosses his arms over his chest, sulking. You let out a laugh before leaning in and crashing your lips against his. He immediately relents at that, enthusiastically responding and hugging you closer to him, and you can’t help but smile into the kiss as you feel his own smile appear as well.

At that moment, you decide that you want to change Mark’s personal brand. Because his should be “absolutely wonderful, positively amazing, a cute kisser, your boyfriend, and your bestest friend.” And yes, that is most definitely more than the allotted three words, but again, who’s really counting?

Certainly not you when you’re too preoccupied with kissing your best friend. Correction: best friend and new boyfriend.

One new notification: donutkillmyvibe uploaded a new video!

moominjun commented:

so you’re saying the reason why we didn’t get the highly anticipated best friend challenge video is because @ marklyrawr turned the camera off?

donutkillmyvibe replied: yes 😔 I’m sorry to disappoint everyone 🤧

nanaislove replied: omg no bby it’s ok 🥺🥺💞💓💓💝💗 you didn’t have to make an apology video for that 🥺💗💓💘💖

goofys.chuckle replied: yeah it’s mark’s fault. he’s the disappointment here 🥴

morklyrawr replied: hahahahaha stfu hyuck

tytrack commented:

mark is going through puberty. I apologize

dobunny replied: @.@

goofys.chuckle commented:

are we getting whip(ped)lash pt 2 by eggy boi?

morklyrawr replied: YOU’RE THE ONE WHO STARTED THAT NAME?????

goofys.chuckle replied: uh gotta blast 🚀

showmethemonet replied: @ goofys.chuckle does this mean you’re staying over again?

goofys.chuckle replied: @ showmethemonet yes if you want your super cute, mega talented, very handsome boyfriend to still be alive 🥺

showmethemonet replied: @ goofys.chuckle oh my god I didn’t know I was dating bts jin???

moominjun replied: LMFAOOOOO

goofys.chuckle replied: heart 💔 been broke 📉 so many times ⏰ i don’t know 🤔 what to believe 💯 mama 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 said 🗣 it’s my fault 😢 it’s my fault 🤦🏻‍♂️i wear my heart ❤️ on my sleeve 💪 i think it’s best 👍🏻 I put my heart ❤️ on ice 🧊

jenojam commented:

why am I not surprised……

itsmebetch replied: just mark thingz 🍉

suhprisemf commented:

mark your head looks flat af

jungjaeprince replied: 😂😂😂

10vely replied: @ jungjaeprince be quiet don’t cry

letswonwon commented:

whoop whoop

junguwu commented:

OMG CONGRATS ON YOUR RELATIONSHIP SWEETIE 😍😍

takoyaki_prince commented:

MARK!!!!! you look handsome !! 😘

jisungpwark commented:

rip to @ donutkillmyvibe ’s future videos that mark will ruin. press f in the chat to pay respects 🙏🏻

bigheadking replied: F ✊🏻😔

peachyangel replied: f 🥺🥺

yoitslucas replied: F 🤪🤪🤪 but glad you’re happy, man ❤️

donutkillmyvibe replied: F 💔

morklyrawr replied: @ donutkillmyvibe wtf babe????

officialgordonramsay commented:

didn’t i tell you to get back on tinder ?

apado_god commented:

nice 😎👍🏻

[sugarmaplewings-fics]

Touch Starved

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Warnings: Cursing, sfw fwb dynamic (lmao it’s secret hugging)

A/N:

*heavy breathing* I finally finished it!! I’ve had this request sitting in my inbox for literal months and I’m so sorry, anon, that you had to wait so long 😫. I hope you like what I came up with!

Also I ended up using she/her pronouns a bit towards the end, so if you’d like me to edit it so it has they/them I can repost it! Just let me know :)

-Sugar

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═══════ ∘♡༉∘ ═══════

● Bakugou's never been much for physical affection

● Or, at least, so he'd convinced himself

● Even around his family, he found himself shrinking back from hugs

● And anytime one of his friends would try to put an arm around him or pat him on the back, he'd flinch and tense up (Kirishima and Kaminari had a few special privileges, but even they were on thin fucking ice)

● A part of him craved that touch, wished it could last longer

● But his ego always got in the way

● From a young age, he'd viewed acts like this as showing weakness and vulnerability. It's no surprise that by the time he arrives at UA, the longing is a mostly ignorable dull throb

● Until he got to know you

● You were one of the most sickeningly sweet people Bakugou had ever seen, and he despised you

● You were just as bad as that Shitty Hair, if not worse; always grinning and trying to include everyone, even him

● He hated how his eyes seemed to have a mind of their own around you, never letting you leave their gaze when you were around him. He hated how your laugh made his cheeks heat up and his heart pound in his chest. And most of all, he hated when the tips of your fingers would brush against his arm, or when you tried to lean on his shoulder. You truly were the most intolerable of beings

● And it seems like you're even worse today

● Class was about to start and you were talking with Ashido, Kirishima, and Kaminari

● He honestly wasn't even paying attention to the conversation, that is, until he heard his name mentioned

● His red eyes flicked to you, since it had been your voice he'd heard say his name

● You had definitely been trying to get his attention. Now your gaze was directed at him

● "I've never seen you hug anyone, Bakugou," you said, your head tilted slightly as you addressed him

● "The hell does that have to do with anything?" he grumbled, already getting annoyed at the topic of conversation

● "Well, I read the other day that hugs can make you happier! And you always seem so grumpy all the time, so I was wondering if you just needed more hugs."

● You seemed oblivious to the way your classmates were staring at you. Even Bakugou couldn't bring himself to speak, merely glaring at you with a confused, almost offended expression

● Panicking at his lack of response, you bent down and threw your arms around his shoulders. You thought you heard a gasp from one or two of your classmates behind you

● Bakugou seemed to have no reaction other than mild shock. He just froze there, neither pushing you off nor reciprocating

● The whole thing was over within a few seconds, but it felt as though it had actually lasted much, much longer. Seconds after you pulled away, the bell rang for class to start, and everyone had to go back to their seats

● There was an abnormal silence in the class after that. It was as if nearly every student was thinking, Holy crap, (L/N) just hugged Bakugou freaking Katsuki

● Bakugou was weirdly silent too. It seemed as if he hadn't had any reaction at all

● Sike—it was pure chaos inside his head

● He's just been pounded with a whole slew of new feelings and emotions—give the boy a break (and a minute to process)

● He can scarcely pay attention during class (which he can afford to do, it's not like he doesn't already know most of this stuff)

● Katsuki can't tell if he hated it or not

● His immediate instinct is to reject it and say it was awful . . . but he can't deny that there's a teeny tiny part of his brain that wants you to do it again

● No one can ever know this, of course. He has a reputation to maintain, after all

● But in the safety of his own mind, he replays it over and over, trying to remember every detail of how your arms had felt around him for that brief moment

● Boy was hooked on you even more than he had been before

● But it's not like anyone can tell. Bakugou's good at that. No one would ever be able to tell he had any feelings towards the incident at all, negative or positive

● Even after his friends bombard him with questions after class, he gruffly brushes them all off. He acts so uninterestingly about it, they don't even bother asking him about it again

● Bakugou hopes that this will all blow over within the next few days. He'd surely stop thinking about you all the time, right? Maybe somehow, if he ignored these thoughts, his eyes wouldn't trail after you on their own accord, and his mind wouldn't jump at every opportunity to think about you

● For weeks, he told himself this, and time passed to nearly two months. He avoided you at all costs, refusing to speak to you or even make eye contact

● You felt horrible, blaming it on the dumb mistake you'd made to hug him that morning. No matter how hard you tried to approach him to apologize, he'd turn you away, and soon enough, you'd given up

● Until one night, he couldn't take it anymore

● He had just been fantasizing about that moment again, and tentatively wondering how it would feel to put his arms around you while he was out in the dorm hallway

● Even through the haze of his thoughts, he was quick to notice your head of hair about to turn into the hallway to your room

● You. Bubbly, bright, overly touchy and friendly you. Fuck you.

● You were always hugging everyone, right? You didn't really mean anything by it, right? It was no big deal when you hugged other people. So, maybe if he were to just ask . . .

● "Oi."

● You froze in your tracks. You'd caught sight of him in the hall, but you knew better than to try to attract his attention. He was dead set on avoiding you, and you'd pretty much accepted that by now

● Turning, you met his fiery red eyes for the first time in weeks. "Yeah?"

● There was something . . . apprehensive in his expression. You weren't sure if you'd ever seen anything like it on his face before

● "Get over here, I want to ask you something." He shoved his hands in his pockets, shifting his glare to the carpet below him

● Uncertain of what might be going on, you cautiously made your way to him

● "What is it?" you asked, a little annoyed with how he'd been treating you lately

● "I, um, well—remember that thing you did a while ago?"

● You blinked at him, slowly. "I do a lot of things. You need to be more specific."

● You'd never seen him look so flustered. It was almost . . . cute

● "You—um, you hugged me. Remember?"

● Of course you remembered. That was what had made him hate you in the first place, right?

● You sighed and crossed your arms. "Look, I'm sorry I did that. I know it made you uncomfortable and I'm sorry it affected you so much. Really, I was just goofing around, and I'm sorry it got out of hand."

● He blinked at you. You were apologizing? Oh, maybe it did make sense, now that he thought about it. He had been being an ass to you

● "Is that what you wanted?" you asked. "I tried to apologize a long time ago but you wouldn't even look at me—"

● "Could you do it again?" he cut you off

● ". . . apologize?"

● "What?! No!" Bakugou's face reddened and he scanned the surroundings for a potential audience. He dropped his voice to a scarcely audible mumble. "I . . . —dammit, I want you to hug me again."

● You blinked at him, this time in surprise. You had, in fact, heard him, but you could barely believe it. You only knew that you'd understood him correctly by his posture, and how uncharacteristically flustered he was

● "You want another hug?"

● He scowled. "Don't make me say it twice."

● "So you liked it the first time?"

● "I never said that!"

● "Uh-huh."

● Even with your annoyed teasing, you felt as if you might be able to understand a little. Everything seemed to make more sense to you, and you were beginning to catch onto the bigger picture. He'd been embarrassed that he liked it, and that was why he'd been avoiding you

● "So do you want a hug now or—?"

● "Not where anyone could see!" Bakugou's eyes nervously darted around again. "We could . . . go in my room or something." His voice had dropped back to a mumble

● You snorted and rolled your eyes. "Secret hugs, huh? I didn't know I was in such high demand."

● "Shut up, dumbass. Just follow me."

● You do that, letting him lead you into his room. After he shuts the door behind you, you stand there awkwardly for a second

● "So . . . you just wanted a hug?"

● He shrugged. "Yeah."

● You closed the distance between you and took him into your arms

● He stiffened a little at the contact, heart pounding away in his chest. It was even better than he had remembered, and now he noticed even more things; like the way your chest felt pressed against his body, and how your hair smelled like shampoo, and—

● "Relax, idiot," you whispered beside his ear. Bakugou tried to let out some of the tension in his shoulders and even tried looping his own arms around you

● You snickered internally, until a thought struck you

● When you finally pulled away, you looked at him inquisitively. "When was the last time you hugged someone?" you asked. "Other than me."

● He frowned, still a little flustered. Then he shrugged. "I don't know. It's probably been a few years."

● You couldn't help but feel your heart pang a little bit for the boy. You knew how he felt about interacting with people. You'd seen how adverse he'd seemed towards physical interaction, even among his friends

●Touch starved, you thought. It was an awful thing to experience. Bakugou probably wasn't even aware of what he was missing

● You sighed. "We can do this again if you want," you offered, wondering if the proposition would set him off to ignore you again. "I won't tell anyone."

● "Better not," he muttered under his breath

● "Do you want me to come back or not?" you asked

● He shrugged. "S'whatever. Do whatever."

● You frowned right back at him. "Yes. Or no?"

● "Yes! Yes, come over here and hug me or whatever shit! Just—just leave now."

● You rolled your eyes at him, turning and twisting the doorknob. "Just ask when you're ready," you said before walking out of his room again

● Bakugou stared at the door for a long time after you'd left

● His chest felt like it had little explosions going off in it, and he couldn't help but feel ridiculously giddy

● What was he doing? But it had felt . . . amazing. And you'd offered to do it again, whenever he asked . . . .

● . . . You proved to stand by your word

● Sure enough, he'd catch you alone every few days and sneak off to his room for a quick hug. In return, he'd help you go over your notes for class

● Before long, you couldn't help but feel closer to Bakugou. Even with his harsh nature, you noticed how he could really be. Coupled with the moments of vulnerability he'd let you in on while you hugged in secret, your liking for the boy only grew

● And it did seem to have some effect on his mood. He wasn't so easily set off, and he yelled a bit less. Your fellow classmates didn't bring up the change, but they had certainly noticed it

● Even though no one was allowed to know about your shared moments together, Kirishima would often join you for a study session

● During those days, you'd wait until he left before going in to give Bakugou his hug

● Until the inevitable happened

● It was just you and Bakugou in his room. You'd gotten all your stuff packed up for the night and you were giving him one last hug

● He'd gotten better at it over the past couple of weeks, and he'd learned to relax more into your hold

● Of course, that was right when Kirishima came back in

● "Sorry, dude, I left my—" He froze at the sight before him

● Bakugou jumped back from you, trying to look as though it wasn't obvious what he'd just been doing

● "Sorry, guys!" he said, hovering in the doorway for a moment as he debated whether or not to grab whatever he'd forgotten before dashing back out. Ultimately he decided to go emptyhanded, slamming the door shut as he whisked back into his room

● You looked at Bakugou, trying to gauge how he'd taken this turn of events. He looked angry and flustered (a look on him you were starting to get used to), but he definitely could have looked more outraged

● You patted his back. "Are you okay?"

● The blond seemed speechless for once, unable to take his eyes off the door

● "It's just Kirishima," you assured him. "He'd get it. He's understanding."

● Bakugou wasn't so sure

● A few minutes after you left, there was another knock at Bakugou's door

● "What the hell do you want?"

● Kirishima poked his head in, making sure the coast was clear. "I just wanted my notebook back."

● Bakugou picked it up from his desk and launched it at Kirishima's head, which he barely managed to catch

● "Thanks, man." Even with his originally sought after item, the redhead proceeded to step into his friend's room. "So what's going on with you and (L/N)?"

● There it was, the question Bakugou knew was coming

● "Nothing." At least it wasn't a complete lie

● "No, you two were doing something," Kirishima smirked. "Are you dating in secret or something?"

● "What?! No! It's not like that! And besides, it's none of your fucking business."

● Kirishima shrugged. "That's fair. But if you're not dating, why was she hugging you?"

● Bakugou tched. "She hugs everyone, you know her."

● "Yeah, but you were hugging her back."

● "She just gives really nice hugs!"

● Kirishima pouted. "You never hug me."

● "That's because it's different!"

● "So does that mean you like her or something?"

● Bakugou froze for just a split second too long. "No."

● Kirishima gave him a look. "She might like you back. Just ask her out on a date."

● "I already said it wasn't like that—"

● Bakugou's friend shrugged. "Well, if it was . . . couldn't hurt to try."

● Once Kirishima was successfully kicked from Bakugou's room, he took a moment to think. Could he actually . . . like you? Maybe that would explain some of the things that he'd been feeling lately

● But what about you? Could you like him back?

● Bakugou rolled his shoulders. Of course you'd like him, what part of him wasn't perfect? But still . . . .

● One night a few days later, you were alone with Bakugou again in his room, doing homework together

● You couldn't help but notice that his vibe seemed off, and it looked like he was having trouble concentrating

● "Are you alright?" you finally asked him

● "Yeah," he snapped

● "You seem stressed," you commented.

● "I'm not fucking stressed," he said, refusing to meet your eyes as he glared at his notebook in front of him

● "Okay, then," you muttered, rolling your eyes to yourself and attempting to go back to your own notes

● You watched Bakugou fidget from the corner of your eye, but decided not to pay it any mind anymore. It wasn't long before you noticed that he hadn't turned a page in his book for the past several minutes

● Bakugou was, of course, internally raging

● Why couldn't he ask you a simple question? Did he even know what kind of question he wanted to ask, though?

●Go out on a date with me— too forward, it didn't sound right to him in his head

●For some reason, I think I might like you— no again, that wasn't right either

● His mind rolled over various phrasings, trying to figure out how to put his feelings to words. How was he supposed to do that?

● How could he iterate this weird burning mess he felt clawing in his chest every time he looked at you and touched you? How could he say that he wanted more than what you were doing? How was he supposed to get the reaction out of you that he wanted?

●Be fearless, he told himself. He'd faced worse than this before. He'd been through situations where his life had literally been on the line. How come you, of all people, made him feel more frightened than ever before? Why did he care about your opinion of him so goddamn much??

● He had to start somewhere. Maybe once he got going it would be easier

● "Oi," he said, straining to keep his voice steady and nonchalant as you looked up at his averted eyes

● "Yeah?"

● "I was . . . I was wondering if maybe you wanted to . . . study somewhere else sometime."

● You blinked at him. "Like . . . where?"

● He shrugged, just a bit too jerkily. "I don't know. There's this café a few blocks from campus."

● You squinted at him. "What's wrong with staying here?"

● He scowled, his eyes finally darting up to meet yours before dipping back down again. "I just wondered if we could maybe—do something together. Something a little different."

● A hint of realization dawned on you, causing a smile to alight on your lips and your eyebrow to quirk up. "Different like—a date? Are you asking me out on a date with you?"

● He shrugged again in the same manner, still scowling as he muttered, "Only if you want it to be."

● You considered for a moment. He was a decent enough guy. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you might say you'd developed a bit of a crush on him, actually. You'd never paid too much attention to it before, but now that he was asking . . . it couldn't hurt to try

● "Of course I'll go out with you," you said, breaking into an easy smile that Bakugou still wasn't certain if he adored or hated

● He immediately relaxed, a small smile of his own appearing on his face at your agreement

● He was glad it was you. You were the only person he felt comfortable being vulnerable around. He could already tell that he was growing to like you more and more with each passing day, and he could only hope that you felt the same

● You put up with him, and you were strong in your own way, and by goodness, he was beginning to fall for you so hard

● And maybe, if you agreed for him to be your boyfriend, you'd let him cuddle with you. It wouldn't be awkward, because that's what couples did. You'd be his and he'd be yours, and he wouldn't have to bottle up these annoying feelings anymore

● But that would be decided at some later time

● Even so, he couldn't wait for that day to come

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Taglist: @basicaegyo​ @fourteenow @iiminibattlehero​ @katsugay​ @nabo39​ @pyrofanatic​​ @sendhelpimstupid​ @xoxopam4​​

[realcube]

jealous || kei tsukishima x reader

summary ♡ songfic! kageyama cheats on you and since tsukishima has had to suppress his crush on you for so long, he doesn’t know how to act

song ♡ jealous by eyedress

tw ♡ angst, cheating, cussing, fem! reader, violence 

part two ♡ crybaby ( 1 / 2 )

‘you could have anyone you want, why would you want to be with me?’

➼

Tsukishima thought, watching as you finished telling him the story behind your broken nail, waving him goodbye before skipping over to the side of your boyfriend who just exited the changing rooms, probably to go tell him the exact same story. 

Although your little stories annoyed the living hell out of him, it pained him to think that you’d share them with some cunt like Kageyama who probably didn’t give two shits. 

It might’ve seemed like he was annoyed by your stories too but in reality, your natural charm was enough to keep him hooked on every word you uttered. And that charm was probably the reason you were liked and known by almost everyone in the school - and due to your appearance, it was no surprise that most guys at the school had their eyes set on you. 

So this whole time Tsukishima was aware that there would be competition if he was going to ask you out. 

➼

 ‘you know, i’m nothing special. be with whoever you want.’ 

➼

Tobio Kageyama. Number nine, Karasuno’s first line-up setter - Tsukishima’s teammate. Of course, Tsukishima felt quite bad that he resented Kageyama so much - all over a girl - but in his defence, that girl was (Y/N) and it’s not like Kageyama was humble about it either. In fact, he’d make it a point to talk about all the things he did with (Y/N) whenever he thought Tsukishima was in earshot.

Also, you can’t blame Tsukishima for thinking that you were too good for Kageyama.. because you are. The only reason you two were together was because all the girls started shipping you two together after a video of him as your partner for a rather titillating salsa routine started floating around the school. 

The people saying that y’all would make a cute couple gave Kageyama the confidence to ask you out and of course you said yes; why wouldn’t you? Kageyama was the embodiment of everything girls loved: tall, atheletic, passionate (for volleyball), a himbo, cold and emotionally unavailable. 

While Tsukishima was almost identical; he was 4 out of those 6 things that girls loved - he wasn’t a himbo, fortunately. Neither was he emotionally unavailable. You even said yourself one time - before you formally met Kageyama - that you just thought he was a flavourless version of Tsukishima.

➼

‘i don’t care. i don’t care.’

➼

Perhaps it was just his ego speaking but Tsukishima was almost certain that if he were to have asked you out before Kageyama, you would’ve said yes. 

So, why didn’t he?

Well, he planned on asking you to be his girlfriend the same day that Kageyama did - Valentine’s Day - but at the last minute, he chickened out and the letter he had spent 3 hours making for you ended up in the trash. As for the chocolates he bought, he gave them to Yamaguchi. Curse his crippling insecurities! 

To be fair, the only reason Kageyama had the confidence or any interest in you whatsoever was due to all the girls perpetuating the idea that y’all would be a cute couple.

Tsukishima sighed as he recalled the first time you ever interacted with Kageyama. You had a dance project which involved creating your own salsa routine and either filming yourself doing it or performing it in front of the class - you asked Tsukishima if he’d assist you by being your dance partner and obviously he said no. Your next best bet was Hinata, so you explained your situation to him and as you know; where ever there is Hinata, there is Kageyama. So he overheard your dilemma and apparently he took dance classes all throughout middle school so he offered to help. Although you had never talked to Kageyama before that day, you still accepted his offer due to the tricky situation you were in.

It frustrated Tsukishima so much at the thought that if he had just swallowed his pride and danced with you, he wouldn’t be feeling a striking pain in his chest at the sight of you intimately kissing Kageyama while he stood there like a statue.

Once he realised what he was doing, he immediately averted his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips as he tried to convince himself that he was neutral about what he just witnessed. 

He didn’t care that you were dating someone who didn’t even care about you. He didn’t care about the fact he would’ve treated you ten times better than Kageyama ever could. He didn’t care about how close you were to Kageyama. He was simply unable to give a single fuck about the fact he still loved you. 

➼

‘i don’t wanna know. don’t tell me about your problems if you’re not trying to solve them.’

➼

“And then I told him to fuck off and my mum got all mad and she was like ‘don’t swear at a 6 year-old!’ but then I was like, ‘Mum, he literally-” 

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, you’ve been rambling to him about your shitty experiences babysitting for a good few minutes now but he was simply unable to pay attention. Not when every time he thought of you, his mind instantly focussed on the bruise you had on your neck which he had merely caught a glimpse of this morning, but that was enough to make him feel sick to his stomach. “Do you ever stop talking? Why not tell these stories to someone who cares? Where’s Kageyama?”

You pouted, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning back in your chair - by now, you were used to him being a bitch to you but recently, he’s been acting especially rude, even Yamaguchi was taken back at how uncalled for his remark was.  “Did I do something wrong? Why are you so mean all of a sudden?”

Something about your disappointed tone made Tsukishima’s heart sink, although he wasn’t sure why that was considering he undoubtedly didn’t care about how you felt - you could start crying for all he cared. 

“You’re just way more annoying than you used to be.” That was the first excuse Tsukishima could come up with but if he was being completely honest, he didn’t even notice his change in behaviour. “It’s probably all that time hanging out shittyama.”

“Tsukki!” Yamaguchi snapped, hunching forward over his table to flick his blonde friend on the back of his neck. “I agree with (Y/N), you’ve been kinda crass lately.”

You nodded at Yamaguchi’s statement, “Emphasis on the ass.” 

It took every bone in Tsukishima’s body to resist snickering at your stupid comment and keep a straight face, “Can you blame me? (Y/N) is the one who never stops complaining like geez, get a grip - nobody cares.”

➼

‘don’t ask me for my help. fix it yourself.’

➼

Honestly, Tsukishima wasn’t surprised when you ended up calling him at 1am, crying about how Kageyama cheated on you.

I mean, it was clear that he was only with you for sexual relief as he didn’t show the slightest bit of romantic interest in anyone - and you were too blinded by puppy love to notice that his perception didn’t widen beyond volleyball. 

In a way, Tsukishima felt quite bad for you as this was your first relationship and anybody would be heartbroken if they were cheated on but somehow he had managed to gaslight himself into believing that he truly didn’t give a fuck about how you felt. That’s why the call definitely didn’t go as well as he hoped. 

“Kei..” You spoke in a low voice in hopes that he wouldn’t realise that you were crying straight away but your faint sobs were a dead giveaway. “Are you busy?”

Tsukishima grumbled, sitting up on his bed and sliding his glasses up his nose, not having taken them off as just before you called him he was scrolling through Reddit anyway. “Eh? What is so important that you had to call me at 3 in the morning?”

“Kageyama cheated on me!” You wailed into your phone, struggling to keep it together even when you weren’t with Tsukishima face-to-face. “S-Sorry I called you. I just, um, I just needed to tell someone and the first person I thought of was you.” That wasn’t a complete lie. I mean, you did try calling Yamaguchi before you resorted to calling Tsukishima because Yamaguchi would undeniably be more compassionate in this situation. However, if it wasn’t for Tsukishima’s recent attitude problems, you probably would’ve called him first,

Upon hearing you say that, his heart fluttered - this should’ve been the first giveaway that he still liked you - but he chose to ignore it, sticking to the idea that you annoyed him and he definitely did not want to kiss your forehead, cuddle you under his sheets and reassure you that you’re out of Kageyama’s league anyway.

“Sorry, (Y/N).” Tsukishima spoke softly. This change of tone giving you the slightest bit of hope that you had finally managed to get through to him and maybe he was going to stop being so insolent and go back to being his old self - the Tsukishima that people actually liked. 

“Kei..” You mused, feeling your cheeks heat up at how nice and soothing his tired voice sounded. “I thi--”

“But that doesn’t sound like my problem. Good luck in dealing with it yourself, though.” 

With that last comment, he hung up, leaving you more upset than you were to begin with. 

➼

‘she tried to call me yesterday but i didn’t pick up because i don’t got time.’

➼

Tension was high at practice. Word had gotten out that Kageyama cheated on (L/N) and of course everyone’s opinion on him did a full 180 - nobody wants to train with a dirty cheater. 

This news should’ve been the highlight of Tsukishima’s month because not only is (Y/N) back on the market, Kageyama is getting the treatment he deserved for being so horrible to him and (Y/N). 

However, Tsukishima was far from pleased with everyone’s behaviour towards Kageyama because now they were all expecting confrontation and since Tsukishima was the one who already had beef with Kageyama, the team thought it would be best if it was him who approached the setter about the recent event. 

A horrible idea, in Tsukishima’s opinion. It wasn’t even the fact that he didn’t want to go any where near that milkboy but mostly because he didn’t even know what he’d say to the guy. What do you say in that situation? ‘Hey, man. We’d really appreciate it if you stopped being such a whore. It’s really killing the vibe.’

But lo and behold, here he was, standing across from Kageyama in the empty changing room. Desperately wracking through his brain to find the most appropriate thing to say, which was hard as Kageyama’s stare seemed to burn holes through Tsukishima’s glasses. Also, his mind was already pretty occupied by all the thoughts of how badly he wanted to beat the milkboy to the ground in (Y/N)’s honour. 

“What do you want, Tiredshima?” Kageyama inquired, scrunching up his empty milk box and casually throwing it aside, aiming for the bin but it ended up landing a few inches away from it.

Tsukishima tried to resist laughing at the milkboy’s failed attempt to look cool, “It’s-” Tsukishima wheezed slightly as a little bit of that laughter escaped before he took a moment to properly compose himself, “It’s about (Y/N)-”

At the mere mention of your name, the milkboy dipped. 

“Uh, where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Tsukishima spat, hastily reaching out to grab Kageyama’s wrist, yanking him back as soon as Tsukishima got a good grip on him. Resulting in the usually agile setter losing his balance and falling back, right onto his ass. 

“Don’t touch me!” Kageyama roared, rapidly scrambling to his feet, clenching his fist and snarling at Tsukishima who wore an astounded expression. “Do you have it out for me or something? What does (Y/N) have to do with anything?”

It was shocking how well Kageyama managed to paint the situation to make it seem like he was the innocent one when he was the one who broke a poor school girl’s heart after she showed him nothing but love - but Tsukishima wasn’t one to talk since he probably just added salt to her wound, like he always does, and he’d been thinking about it all night.

“Sorry, your highness, but maybe if you hopped off your throne for a moment and came down to reality to join the rest of us, you’d realise that the world doesn’t revolve around you. Do you know how much your shitty actions affected (Y/N)? She called me crying last night and..yeah.” His voice slowly drifted off as he remembered the events that occurred yesterday, you had called him in a vulnerable state and he simply told you to get to fuck.

Kageyama scoffed, brushing off the dust that clung to his clothes from when he was pulled to the ground, “Eh? Maybe you should practise what you preach.” Kageyama growled, baring his teeth - the little nickname Tsukishima had for him seriously made his blood boil. “She’d come to me on the verge of tears because you called her annoying and she thought you didn’t want to be her friend anymore.”

Tsukishima felt his heart tear apart at the thought of himself causing you so much emotional distress but you were half right, he didn’t want to be your friend - the wanted to be your boyfriend. If it wasn’t for a certain setter who’s name starts with ‘K’ and ends with ‘ageyama’, none of this would’ve happened and you’d happily be snuggled up in his arms while he played with your hair but no, Kageyama just had to get his dirty little setter hands on anything good.

“I mean,” Kageyama muttered, having clearly calmed down from five seconds ago, “She was kinda annoying, so I get why you’d say that. That’s why I did what I did, it wasn’t meant to spite her or hurt her feelings. You get what I mean, right?”

The ignorance; it made Tsukishima indescribably mad. (Y/N) wasn’t annoying - although Tsukishima might’ve heavily insinuated it, in the past - and the audacity Kageyama had to say that she was. Also, who in their right mind thinks that cheating is a rational reaction to irritation? 

Tsukishima wouldn’t consider himself a violent person but it was as though the bones in his body acted on their own when he delivered a full-force punch straight onto Kageyama’s cheek. And he didn’t regret it for a moment either - even when the milkboy starting pummelling him into the ground - as he figured that someone had to teach the dick a lesson, why not himself?

➼

‘i don’t have time. i don’t have time. i don’t have time. i don’t have time.’

➼

“Kei..hello? I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now but Yamaguchi told me that you were here and..I just wanted you to know that I, uh, am really sorry and I hope you get well soon.”

[hangovercurse]

If You Ever Leave Me Again

After a conversation with his new girlfriend, Colson realizes he never truly lost feelings for you.

Request: “Can you make an Mgk imagine where he leaves the reader for Megan? But then him and Megan both realize they don't work? So, Megan tries to help him get back with the reader.”

Colson Baker X Reader

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: I don’t have a ton of experience writing Megan so I’m sorry if anything is out of character

Word Count: 2467

masterlist

Standing in the crowded club was the last thing you wanted to be doing at the moment. Your friend had convinced you to go out, “you can’t keep moping around. You’ve gotta get out again.” So, you let her pull you off your couch, dress you up, and drag you to the nearest club.

There were worse ways to be spending your night, sure, but you weren’t into the shitty music, the smell of beer and vomit, or the sweat drenched bodies of the men around you. And you certainly were not into watching your ex-boyfriend make out with his new girlfriend.

You hadn’t noticed them when you first walked in, too preoccupied by the drinks being shoved down your throat by your friends. But when you saw the blond hair you so adored, you couldn’t look away.

His voice rang clearly through your head as you remembered the last conversation you’d had with him. It was late one evening, his voice muffled over the phone as you tried to hide the tears from your voice. You’d known something was going on, he’d gotten distant lately, but you weren’t expecting this.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. But I really think I’m in love with her.”

He swore that nothing had happened between them yet, but he couldn’t keep things up with you knowing how he felt about her.

But you’d known the minute he left that you would never get him back. She was Megan fucking Fox for god’s sake. She was gorgeous and kind and talented and everything you felt that you weren’t. There was no competition, she had already won.

It felt like fate was trying to rub their happiness in your face. The first night you go out in the few weeks since your breakup, since you’d gotten your heart absolutely shattered, and he’s at the same club with her.

You were in the process of convincing yourself to look away from the pair when his head turned ever so slightly, bright blue eyes meeting yours. He looked caught at first, guilty of a crime that hadn’t been committed. But then he relaxed, sending you a smile.

You tried to return it but couldn’t muster anything more than a small lift of the corners of your mouth. You looked away, eyes scanning the crowd for someone you knew, anyone else. When you turned back to look in his direction, you caught the pair in a deep, heated kiss. The sight made your stomach drop, tears forming in your eyes. You pushed your way through the crowd, making your way to the exit. You had seen enough.

 A few months later, Colson and Megan were arguing constantly. They’d been angry at each other more than they’d been happy for the past while. Colson couldn’t quite figure out what had triggered it, but suddenly everything started to feel wrong with Megan. When he wrote songs, he found himself writing about his memories of you.

Megan could put the pieces together easily; Colson hadn’t been the same since that night in the club. He was trying, she’d give him that, but she knew he still harbored feelings for you, even if he wouldn’t admit it. She heard the songs he was writing but the romantic memories weren’t hers; they were of you. But she still held out hope that he’d get over it.

But after overhearing one of his songs while he was playing the demo for Rook over the phone, she knew she’d never truly be his. The song was beautiful, describing a relationship that was pure gold, one that outmatched any other relationship. As much as she wanted the song to be for her, she couldn’t convince herself.

“I think you need to break up with me.” She told him one day after he’d gotten back from the studio.  She sat on the edge of his bed as he walked into the room from the bathroom.

He gave her a look of confusion, leaning on the doorway. “What are you talking about?”

She looked down, letting out a sigh. “We’ve been trying to pretend that this is working for months now, but it’s getting old.” Colson moved closer to her, kneeling down in front of her and reaching to hold her hands, which she moved away. “You can’t love me when you still love her.”

Colson looked shocked; he was genuinely confused as to what she was talking about. “Still love who? Y/N? We’ve been done for months now. I don’t-“ He cut himself off, truthfully not able to say that he didn’t love you out loud.

Megan looked up at him, a sad smile on her face. “You do. Even if you don’t realize it, I can see it. You still love her, and I don’t think you can stop.”

Colson grew frustrated, wondering where this was coming from, “Megan. I want you.” His voice was firm.

She shook her head, “Wanting someone and loving someone aren’t the same thing.”

Colson scoffed, standing up and running a hand through his hair. “Then I love you. Okay? Not her. I told you, me and Y/N are done, its over.”

Megan laughed sadly, still seated on the bed. Colson noticed the bag sitting behind her, filled with the things she’d started keeping at his house. “You don’t love me. Maybe you want to, but it’s not something you can force. And it’s okay. Truthfully, I don’t think we’re as right for each other as we thought we were.”

The man looked at her sadly, “I don’t still love her. I can’t still love her.”

“Colson, it’s okay. I’m not upset and I can’t hold this against you.” She reached out instinctively to rub his arm but pulled it away swiftly before her skin made contact. “But I know you still love her. I can hear her in your songs, in the way you act.”

“I don’t write songs about her, Megan. I write songs about you.”

The woman chuckled, “no, you don’t. Not really.” She paused, taking a deep breath, “we haven’t been the same, Colson. Not for a while. Not since you saw her at the club that night.”

Colson moved closer to her, trying once again to grasp her hands but to no avail. “I can’t love her. I love you. I have to love you.” He paused, eyebrows furrowing, “because if I love her than I’ll just be alone.”

Megan tilted her head, “if you really love her, you should get her back. And if she really loves you, she’ll take you back.” Colson shook his head, sitting down on the bed beside her.

“Please don’t leave me.” He begged her, staring into her eyes.

She smiled softly up at him, “go get her back. You’ll thank me later.” She grabbed her bag and stood up, making her way towards the bedroom door.

“She won’t take me back.” He called to her, sadness in his voice and a tinge of guilt.

“Make her.” Megan called, before leaving the house forever.

 Later that same day, you got a knock on your front door. You were in the midst of cooking dinner, ingredients lining your counters as you prepared to create the perfect tacos. When you reached the door your eyebrows furrowed, finding Megan on the other side. You hadn’t spoken to her much, at the few events where you had run into Colson. Truthfully, you had no idea how she’d gotten your address or why she’d shown up at your door.

Nevertheless, you put on the best smile you could muster, “Megan, hi! What’s up?” You opened the door and motioned for her to come inside, never one to be inhospitable.

She stepped inside a bit awkwardly, taking a deep breath. “I was hoping we could talk about Colson.” Your heart stopped in your chest. You and he had only just gotten back into the routine of being distant friends, and you hoped she didn’t think you were trying to steal him back.

You nodded, walking further into your house, and leading her into the living room. She continued, following your lead as you took a seat on the couch. “I realize this seems strange coming from me, but I think he’s still in love with you.”

Her words rang in your ears, mind going blank. “He-he can’t. He doesn’t still- He’s with you.” You spoke, your voice faltering with every word.

She shook her head, “he wanted to be with me, but he never really stopped loving you. I don’t think he even knew it until I told him.”

You rolled her words around in your head, trying to find a response. “You know I would never… pursue him,” you struggled with the words in your mouth, “not while he’s with you.”

She let out a small laugh, “don’t worry about that. I ended things between us. He’s all yours now.”

You stuttered a reply, “I don’t- he doesn’t.” You took a breath, “he left me. For  you. He doesn’t want me; he’ll never want me if he can have you.”

“And he’ll never be in love with me as long as he’s in love with you.” She responded, eye catching your own in a strong, affirmative gaze.

“Why aren’t you angry? If I found out the guy I was with was in love with another women- well, when I found out the guy I was with was in love with another woman- I was furious and depressed. I barely left my apartment for weeks. But you’re here, trying to fix our broken relationship?”

She smiled, hand reaching out to lay on top of your own. “I thought Colson and I were made for each other, but I was wrong. We both were. And I feel horrible about the way he ended things with you, because I was the reason he did it. So, if I can fix this, it would make me feel a lot better.”

You sighed, sending her a smile. “Thank you.” You spoke softly, almost whispering.

She nodded, standing up to leave. “You’re welcome. Just promise me one thing.” You hummed in response, “make sure he’s happy.”

“I will.” You replied, watching as the woman you’d despised for the past 4 months walked out of your door.

 You’d never gotten back to your tacos, instead sitting on your couch for the next hour, flipping your phone in your hands and trying to decide whether you should text him or not.

Your decision was made for you when a text sent vibrations through your phone. His name read out on your screen with the message Are you home?

You responded hastily, your heart beating faster at the realization of what might happen. Yes.

I’m coming over.

There were a few possible outcomes of tonight. One, he comes over and confesses he’s still in love with you, or two, he comes over and screams at you for making Megan leave him. You prepared yourself for either situation, trying to keep from shaking in anticipation, both excitement and nerves.

He didn’t even knock when he arrived, walking through your door and straight into your living room where you sat. The moment his eyes found you, the air left his lungs. He’d spent the last few hours trying to sort through everything Megan had said, and he’d come upon one realization; that she was right.

“I’m still in love with you.” He blurted out, never one for subtlety.

You took in a sharp breath, eyes meeting his. “I’m still in love with you.” You repeated his words back to him, a nervous expression on your face.

He nodded, taking a seat on the couch next to you, turning so he was facing you. “I made a mistake choosing Megan. I’ve only ever loved you and I was an idiot for leaving you.”

You bit your lip, nodding slowly, “yeah, you were.”

“I’ve been writing these songs about you and I’ve been thinking about you constantly. And Megan and I haven’t been doing so great and I kept trying to figure out why, but then Megan figured it out before me.”

“And she told you that you’re still in love with me because you’re too much of an idiot to figure it out yourself.” You said to him, a knowing smile on your face.

He chuckled, “in nicer language, but yes.”

“Yeah, I know. She came over an hour ago and told me that you broke up.” You said, looking down at your phone. “I’ve been trying to figure out what to do for the past hour until you texted.”

“She came here?” He asked, eyebrows knit in confusion.

You nodded, “yep. I can see why you liked her so much, she’d very in tune with emotions.” You laughed at your own half-joke, holding some truth behind it.

“I never loved her like I love you. I think I thought I did, or I tried to, but she’s not you, and she’s never gonna be you.” He spoke, bringing a shy smile to your lips. “And after everything I’ve done, I know I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve to even be here right now.” He said, looking down at his hands.

You reached out, grasping his large hands in your own, making him look back up to meet your eyes, trying to read your expression. “Would you take me back if I asked?” He moved closer to you, leg rubbing against your own.

"That depends,” you whispered, head leaning in slightly.

He matched your movements, lips ghosting over yours, “on what?”

You smirked, “you gotta ask to find out.”

He let out a chuckle through his nose, the air hitting your face. “Y/N Y/L/N, would you fall in love with me again?”

You leaned in, connecting your lips. You missed the feeling his lips gave you, like electricity running through your veins. His hands held your waist gingerly, afraid if he grabbed you too harshly you would pull away.

Your lips moved together slowly, beautifully. Even when you pulled away there was a sense of grace in the actions. “On one condition,” you whispered, “if you ever leave me again, you’re never coming back.”

He nodded, pressing another kiss to your lips, one hand moving to cup your jaw. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead on yours, thumb rubbing circles on your cheek. “Trust me, I’m not stupid enough to make that mistake twice.”

You hummed, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “I was gonna make tacos if you want to stay.”

He chuckled, pressing a peck to your lips before tackling you into the couch, arms around your waist. “I’d love that.” You laid in his arms, basking in the feeling you hadn’t felt in so long.

[kelieah]

i’ll be back (mob!arvin russell x reader)

request (summary): anon: mob arvin x reader where reader comes home from work to tell him that somebody groped her and he gets all protective or something?

word count: 0.8k

warnings: language, violence, tw: sexual assault— please read at your own risk!

edited: kind of a shitty ending sorry jehfse

a/n: i am LIVING for mob!arvin russell rn. how have we not come up w this. seriously,, like ksdjfhsdb. also ive never posted a fic w/o a header of gif this is weird lol

main masterlist | arvin russell masterlist

You inhale deeply and shakily attempt to unlock the front door of your house. You drop the keys and curse to yourself, picking them right back up. You exhale and try to shake off the utter shock and disbelief you’re feeling due to previous events at work. You finally lock the door and allow yourself in, sliding down the door as you close it.

“Hey darlin’— doll? What’s wrong,” Arvin walks down from upstairs, his previous soft expression turning into a concerned one as he glances at your poor state.

“O- Oh, it’s nothing honey. Just— just work things y’ know,” you laugh timidly and wave your hand in dismissal. 

He sighs heavily and walks over, holding out his hands. “C’mere. Come on, up,” he motions for you to grab his hands. You let out a quiet huff and oblige, giggling as he swoops you up in his arms. “Would you like a drink, baby?” he asks while holding you close to his chest.

“Yeah, that sounds nice. Thank you, lover,” you whisper softly and smile at the man before you. Who would’ve thought. This goddamn mobster, a complete softy for his kin. You knew that of course, but everyone else would think you’re mad. Most mobsters in this day didn’t care much about their family or lovers, treated them like accessories or belongings. You’re blessed with Arvin, who grew up loving and defending his loved ones like no other leader out there.

He places you down on the couch and walks over to grab some whiskey. Once he finishes pouring the two of you glasses, he sits right next to you and hands you a glass. You gingerly accept it and grasp the glass ever so lightly, your mind still in a daze of the experience.

“Flower? You’re scarin’ me a bit not gonna lie,” he mutters and drops his hand onto your thigh, gently squeezing it. “Talk to me, I’m here for you.”

You flinch at his touch and shake your head for a moment. Arvin immediately pulls away and looks at you with eyes full of worry and shock. You’ve never flinched at this touch, never. Anxiety began to bubble up inside of the both of you as tension rose in the air. 

Not realizing your were eyebrows knit together so tight it looks as if you’re in pain. You close your eyes and the memories flash through your mind like a film. You open them, tears now present in your doe eyes as you glance back at Arvin. Your lips quiver as you open your mouth and begin to tell him what had happened at work.

“You’ve been doing so well, Mrs. Russell. Excellent work might I say,” your boss praised as he walked you to his office.

You smiled happily and hugged some files to your chest. “Is that so? Thank you very much, I work hard for this company,” you beamed.

“Course! We’ve all noticed, and I say you should be rewarded for your efforts,” he replied and moved towards his desk, leaning upon it. “Come come, sit. I must tell you.”

You quickly sit and look up at him excitedly. You had a feeling that a promotion was on your way. “Yes, sir?”

He smirked and took a seat next to you, shaking his head while letting out a quiet chortle. “I want to give you a promotion!”

“Oh! How kind of you—”

“But, I do have one more task for you,” he said lowly, his voice almost purring in a way. 

Blinded by eagerness and joy of a promotion, you only nodded and leaned in. “What is it, Mister?”

He smirked and placed his hand on your thigh, squeezing your skin firmly. You had let out a gasp and before you could rip away the disgusting man had grabbed your face.

“H- He then,” you stammered as tears stream down your cheeks. “He did, he did horrible things. I- I feel disgusting, like a whore—”

“No. You’re not a damn whore, far from it. Trust me,” Arvin cut you off and downed the rest of his drink. He sighed begrudgingly as he placed his glass aside and ran his hands through his suit to feel for something. He took out his pistol and cocked it, checking to see if there were any bullets left. He slams the magazine back into the gun, stuffs it into his back pocket and stood up swiftly. 

He leans down and presses a long, warm and loving kiss against your temple. “How bout you relax, finish your drink, run a bath and sleep. When I come back home, I’ll make dinner. How’s that sound, sweetheart?” he murmurs against your skin while holding the back of your head. Too stunned to reply you only nod and smile weakly at your husband. “I’ll be back,” he presses one last kiss to your head and walks off. Knowing all too well what he was about to do, you nod acknowledgingly with a small grateful smile and watch him walk off. 

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[pallasperilous]

Boneless Wings

 {AO3 version}

So, blah blah blah, it’s their standard-issue disaster: pack of dumbass witches (always with the dumbass witches. Where do they find the time for this shit? Somebody get these women signed up for a Peloton subscription or a macramé class or a vibrator of the month club, seriously, whatever it takes—), ancient curse, Castiel being the actual angel of stepping in it, nobody cares. 

The point is, two hundred and forty-one hours of binge-worthy drama later, Dean and Cas are living in a semi-detached just a short thirty-minute commute to somewhere equally lame, Castiel has two literal-ass wings, and yes, Susan, they kiss now. 

The neighbors are weirdly cool with it. 

For those of you perving along at home, Dean could absolutely provide a list of the hundred or so ways that having a boyfriend* with giant fucking actual wings is super hot and/or awesome.

This is not that list.

(*you can just shut right the fuck up , Sam, because it’s either this or Dean will start saying lover. And nobody needs that. Nobody wants that.)

1.  Bird mites. Holy shit. 

 2.  Sharing a bathroom. The shower curtain rod, and consequently the security deposit, are early casualties. The medicine cabinet follows swiftly behind. Shower hijinks are not even an option.

 3.  Dean comes home one day from a gig and there is a giant plastic green turtle in the backyard. A closer inspection reveals that the turtle is actually a mule for about half a truck bed of industrial dust ‘n grit. It is, in fact, a kiddie sandbox. Dean points out that they do not, in fact, have a small child (FINGERS CROSSED), so...?

Cas then earnestly shows him an entire playlist of exotic birdy dust bath videos on Youtube. 

Dean then earnestly shows him the garden hose. 

4.  The down just gets, like...everywhere. EVERYWHERE. How many times have Sam and Dean practically sold their kidneys for a single angel feather for some dumb spell to solve some pointless Occult McProblem? And now Dean is picking them out of his damn teeth every morning. (No, gross, not because of... Jesus, no, that is not a thing.)

On the upside of this one, Dean finally has an excuse to buy a Dyson, which he’s secretly always thought looked awesome. It is. 

 5.  When Dean is scraping out the umpteenth canister of fluff he jokingly suggests they use some of it to supplement the tragically flaccid down comforter currently shaming their bed, and Castiel pitches an existential fucking sulk. Dean wants to experience happiness again, so he does not point out that it get ass-bitingly cold here this time of year, and decent bedding is not exactly inexpensive, and the Dyson kind of maxed them out on household purchases.

But whatever.

 6.  Castiel is indulging in what Dean thinks of as a sky pout when he flies right into a head-on with li’l Timmy NextDoor’s new Christmas surveillance drone. It dings the shit out of one of Cas’s left primary feathers (the scientific term is “those big motherfuckers”), which apparently hurts like a bitch. Cas is grounded for a few weeks after that and is cutely pathetic about it and at first Dean is absolutely down to kiss it better. By the end, Dean is almost ready to strangle Cas with his own necktie, but he has learned a lot of surprisingly interesting stuff about ancient Mesopotamia, like that it was super horny.

 7.  After the snow melts, Dean starts finding shit on the front step with the morning paper. It’s not even a good newspaper; Cas signed them up for the local fish-wrapper (or maybe it was Sam, before he fled for the hills— he occasionally breaks out in a  “support local journalism” rash). The crossword puzzle is insulting, but the paper does at least syndicate Carolyn Hax, whom Dean secretly suspects of being an absolute wildcat in the sack, so he grudgingly expends the calories to bring it in every morning. 

Anyway, at first the stuff he discovers crapping up the welcome mat is just shiny bits of trash — couple granola wrappers, some MGD pull-tabs, a few field-stripped twisty-ties. Probably just windblown, and he tosses it in the garbage can. 

Then a couple weeks in, things start getting...grisly? It escalates real slowly, from a variety platter of mouse bits to squirrel à la power line and then half of a dry-aged raccoon and an opossum that has recently graduated from playing dead to professional dead-being. The neighborhood crows obviously love that their front step is now a roadkill café; Dean has to bat increasing numbers of them away with the kitchen broom in order to relocate their horrible snack to the edge of the nearest storm drain.

Then one morning there are like twenty crows and they’re in just the cutest little football huddle-up around what turns out to be a human fucking finger with a retro-fun mood ring still on the knuckle (it’s feeling: Sad) and Dean fully loses his shit. 

Cas hears him freaking out and comes whomping out of the garage ready to, whatever, flap somebody to death maybe, but as soon as he establishes that Dean doesn’t need anything more than a fresh pair of boxers, he de-poofs a bit and assesses the whole human finger/crows situation in his usual infuriatingly unrushed way. The crows had mostly bounced up to the cable line over the house, safely out of brooming range, but one by one they start to drop down and hippity-hop back towards the world’s tiniest crime scene.

If Dean were five percent less freaked he’d be tempted to go inside and find out how much of a dent he can make in a six-pack before Castiel finally dings and spits out his results, but he isn’t, so he just stands there in silence clutching the broom like it’s a shotgun.

Eventually Cas says “hm,” and then he looks at the crows and makes some noises that sound like a spoon caught in a garbage disposal, and the crows make some scrawps and chuks back, and then one of them delicately noodges the tip of dead finger with its beak and then hippity hops back a foot or two, bows, and then they all fly away over the shitty little beige duplex across the street like they’re running ten minutes late to an important bird appointment.

Castiel stands up (Dean reflexively backs up into the doorway, as this involves Cas bomfing out his wings a bit for ballast and Dean has caught a blow to the nuts on more than one occasion), dusts off his goddamn slacks, pulls a plastic evidence baggie out of thin goddamn air or maybe his socks, and casually bags the finger like they’re doing a standard FBI wheeze. “So what,” Dean says, as Cas diligently zips the baggie, “the fuck?”

“Oh,” Cas says, blinking in surprise that Dean is still there and interested, “they think I’m their god.”

Dean kind of stares back at him, the six feet of dude and like sixteen feet of bird, and thinks sure, okay, but his face must still be stuck on “Tippi Hedren attic scene” because Cas puts a reassuring hand on Dean’s shoulder and adds “Don’t worry. I’ve told them I don’t require further offerings, and I reassured them that you’re my consort and were simply jealous of other potential mates.”

It takes Dean two weeks to come up with a response to that, but by then it’s become evident that no bird is ever going to shit on the Impala again, so he decides to just chalk it up in the win column and move on.

You know. The family business.

8.  No matter how tightly he folds them, Cas can’t fit his wings through the definitely-not-up-to-code doorway of the wood-paneled family rec room in the basement, so Dean claims it as his man cave and dubs it the “No Fly Zone.” 

Castiel doesn’t find this funny, but Dean really only uses it to fold laundry. 

 9.  Transpo is an obvious issue. Cas can almost stuff himself into the Impala if he sort of reverse-cowgirls the back seat, but then the wingtips smoosh up against the windshield and Dean’s visibility is approximately zip. And, sure, Cas could fly himself anywhere they really needed to go, he’s basically a Chevy Of The Air, but sometimes it’s raining, and the seraph Castiel — Shield of God, Heavenly Soldier of the Lord, multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent, will smell like a wet fucking chicken for days afterward. Febreze does not help.

Dean spends a few nauseating weeks contemplating the purchase of — and here he learns that the human gag reflex can be conditioned, but never truly eradicated — a convertible. Once Cas brings up the possibility of a minivan or perhaps a station wagon (he’s taken to studying family motor vehicles with all the intensity of a birder with a life list) and Dean makes him sleep on the couch.

Dean gets his own living room rotation after he shows Cas a Craigslist posting for a very reasonably priced horse trailer. Castiel points out that it’s used and Dean notes that neither of them is exactly mint in original packaging either. Castiel points out that he’s not a horse, and after a few necessary but admittedly unoriginal jokes, Dean pulls up a website with an exhaustive photographic tutorial on how to convert a horse trailer “for the safe and sanitary transport of ostriches, emus, and/or cassowaries.” Cas points out that he’s not an ostrich, emu, and/or cassowary, and Dean counters that he clearly isn’t, because an emu would probably show a little more gratitude, and that’s how Dean learns that the couch has a broken spring under the left cushion. The transpo issue remains unresolved.

 10.  Dean keeps a pair of shop-grade safety goggles by his side of the bed. It’s not the sexiest look, but it turns out feathers are stabby as hell when encountered at a particular angle. Cas can do the healy thing, of course, but they learn the hard way that cornea perforation is not really a mood enhancer. On the bright side, Castiel accidentally corrects Dean’s incipient presbyopia, which means Dean doesn’t have to hold the newspaper at arm’s length anymore when he’s idly speculating what Carolyn Hax looks like below the neck. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.

 11.  You’d think that, when you’re coming down from a time-limited but incurable curse that makes you feel like every cell of your body has its own cute little individual headcold — because you missed a hex bag due to the fact that you were preparing your legal response to Sam turning up to the hunt wearing a goddamn hair scrunchy, as if he were fresh off the set of a very special episode of Clarissa Explains It All — anyway, you’d think that being wrapped in the warm embrace of an angel’s wings would be nice. 

But you would be wrong, because apparently your boyfriend has been out communing with the bees again, and those feathers pick up ragweed pollen like it’s their goddamn job, and guess what else angels can’t cure? Dean will take Motherfucking Seasonal Allergies for 600, Alex. 

12a.  One of the neighbors has that homesteading hippie brain disease that drives an otherwise normal-seeming person to brew their own beer and raise a bunch of chickens despite living within five hundred yards of a fully functioning Hy-Vee. There’s a week where one of the wee little velociraptors seems to be processing some kind of trauma because it starts yelling at dawn and keeps going until well past the hour that swearing is allowed on network TV. 

When Dean finally hammers on the front door the next afternoon the neighbor apologizes with some extremely nasty home-brew (HIPPIES) and some absolutely devastating weed (HIPPIES!) and explains that “Ginger is going through a rough molt” and then he kind of nods his head towards Dean’s side of the fence where Cas is futzing around in the squash plants and stage whispers (this is a direct quote) “You know how they get.”

Dean is about to rip the dude a new one for comparing his immortal space-kaiju lover to a fucking Australorp yard pullet when Castiel pops his head up over the white pickets and breezily contributes “Bad molt, yes, those are terrible, Dean can tell you all about how insufferable I am those weeks,” and sometimes Dean just doesn’t know why he even tries.

 12b.  The less said about angel molt, the better. 

Seriously, the freakin’ eyes-on-his-hands naked mole rat dude from, whatsit, Pan’s Labyrinth of Subtitles, would run screaming from this shit. 

 13.  There’s a 4th of July BBQ Potluck Block Party and Dean’s inability to stand idly by while good meat is abused ( shut up Sam ) means he winds up manning the grill and dismissing the pretenders to set some strictly inedible things on fire. Cas hangs out next to him and uses his flappers to kinda whupf the smoke away from Dean’s eyes now and then, which rules. It’s actually a pretty chill event until Sharon and Don From Number 4267, The Green House With The White Trim, turn up with a giant Pyrex full of naked, still-marinating teriyaki wings. 

Sharon And Don look down at their wings and then up at Castiel and then down at the wings and then up at Castiel and they are clearly teetering on the edge of a Midwestern politeness failure-based nervous breakdown. But then Cas, smooth as a margarine commercial, gently takes the dish from Sharon’s frozen hands, examines the contents for a silent moment, and says “it’s alright. They weren’t personal friends.”

He gets an extra burger for that one.

 14.  Cas keeps absent-mindedly trying to groom Dean — who, in case it still needs to be said at this point, possesses zero-point-zero feathers of his own — so he goes after Dean’s hair, instead. Dean has to stop him after his second hour of trying to straighten out a cowlick. “I don’t understand how you can steer properly with this deformity,” Cas says, as if it’s a genuine miracle that Dean isn’t constantly careening over ottomans like Dick Van Dyke. He’s even more horrified by Dean’s (frankly minimal) use of hair gel. “Jesus, Cas, it’s not like I’m drinking it,” he says, but then one time they have an epic make-out session shortly after Dean performs his masculine beauty rituals and there’s some smearage of various types of Product (tm) on the flappy areas. 

And, sonuvabitch, for the next six hours Cas is spirographing around the house like he has a heavenly inner ear infection, and he only stops veering into the doorframes after Dean wipes down every. Single. Feather. With mineral oil and about eighteen clean shop cloths. Dean switches to something called hair wax, which costs thirty zillion times more per ounce and makes him smell vaguely like church, but is a lot less gloppy. The things we do for love.

 15.  Seating inside the house is a bit of a conundrum, too. Cas can kind of flop his wings out to the sides if he sits in the middle of the couch, but then Dean’s stuck on the recliner, which is basically in the next county. Bar stools are disastrously tippy, Dean’s lower back and hips have not endured mumble-mumble years of hunting just to be subjected to a damn beanbag chair, and, after a brief flurry of optimistic excitement, Dean determines that they’d have to take the front door off to get a massage chair in. He finds a swing online that if, he can get the hardware properly installed in the crossbeam, is rated for up to 500 pounds, so he texts Cas the URL so he can check out the specs. After half an hour he writes back —

CASTIEL: Dean

CASTIEL: I believe this swing is intended for sexual congress.

DEAN: ...

CASTIEL: I can infer from the ellipsis that you have spent several minutes attempting to draft a response.

DEAN: ...

CASTIEL: Dean

DEAN: it’s multipurpose

  16 . On the plus side, though, big-ass wings make for a pretty good drying rack. He can get every sock in the house laid out on those suckers in a single round and, one episode of Dr. Sexy later, they’re perfectly dry and toasty warm, without any of the pair-busting casualties Dean has learned to expect from the apparently socknivorous dryer in the basement. 

Dean assumes it’s just the product of good air circulation and body heat until he realizes that he hasn’t had to toss a pair for being too worn out in...maybe six months? So he asks Cas “Are your wings... healing the socks” and after an entire Abbott and Costello routine centering around heal versus heel, Dean determines that the answer is: yes, his boyfriend’s wings are channeling the almighty power of Heaven to magically repair the socks Dean buys at Target in twelve-pack bags. On sale.

This is actually kind of sexy, if Dean is being perfectly honest, so, you know what? It doesn’t belong on this list.

 16.  So nobody really freaks out or bursts into tears or calls the news or the FBI or anything when Cas goes out in public with him, which Dean is secretly a little disappointed about, because come on. (Maybe giant wings just reads as a gay thing? Was there an episode of Will and Grace about this that Dean missed back when he was ass deep in wendigos or something?)

But no. Dudes tend to just glance at them across the Home Depot parking lot, throw them the Mutual Dude Acknowledgement Nod, and say some shit like “Comic-con,” or “nice anime” in a knowing tone. Then they go back to rolling their carts full of gaskets or hammers or whatever back to their mom’s station wagon. 

Little girls tend to go googly-eyed — Castiel seems to fall into the same category as a Disney princess, despite the stubble and the drabcore wardrobe, and Dean can’t count the number of times some mom has approached Dean at the grocery store (like he’s Castiel’s manager?? Which, okay...yeah, actually) and asked if they do birthday parties. The money would actually be pretty tempting if Dean weren’t five thousand percent sure that Cas would get them both arrested by launching into an anatomy lesson about duck sex or how God is a loser who favors relaxed fit jeans and Wild Turkey.

The worst is white ladies of a Certain Age, and it always seems to happen in the pudding aisle, for some reason. They either go cross-eyed with horniness and become indiscriminately handsy (Dean can’t blame them for the impulse, but also back off, Karen), or ask Cas for prayers for their cat’s chronic asshole problems (which Castiel WILL take seriously). 

Worst of all is when some hippie spinster clocks them. This woman inevitably reaches right for the feathers and asks in a willowy voice if they’d ever consider turning some of them into dreamcatchers to sell at her studio, which is literally always named The Faerie’s Glen. Then Cas gets confused about why, exactly, a sixty year-old WASP in a peasant skirt would need to call on the infant-protection powers of an Ojibwe spider goddess, while Dean just wants to bite the lady’s fingers off. 

Either way, it’s always a bad scene, and many fully loaded grocery carts have been lost to the fallout.

17.  For some metaphysical reason Dean is too dumb to suss out but also too smart to question, lugging a pair of Cessna-sized flappers around this mortal dimension actually seems to tucker Cas out. He doesn’t need to zonk out every night, but he semi-regularly throws in the towel and actually crawls in with Dean for the duration. 

This would be swell in theory, but the guy absolutely cannot settle the fuck down in less than three (3) human hours, which is the exact amount of sleep Dean requires to maintain his famously sunny demeanor. It’s not just ye olde tossing and turning — Dean can handle that, sharing a bed with Sam is like sleeping next to a kangaroo with restless leg syndrome — no, it’s a nonstop parade of little flippy-flappies and shiffle-shuffles and spontaneous outbursts of preening. 

So Dean makes him a Baby Sleep Sack. 

This is something Dean knows about due solely to one super dumb hunt involving a banishing sigil that had to be drawn in — he still feels like this had to be a misprint — human breastmilk, and that was obviously not happening. But the monster of the week wasn’t going to banish itself, so they wound up at the nearest Walmart, at 4am, picking up what turned about to be an unnecessarily generous supply of baby formula, along with a fresh box of shotgun shells because God bless America*. It doesn’t work, although “lots of stabbing” turns out to be a solid fallback plan, but the point is that while Sam was debating between Digestion Support or Neurological Development, Dean acquired an unprecedented familiarity with some of the products currently available to the sleep-deprived parent. So Dean finds some DIY Baby Sleep Sack knockoff patterns online and determines he can replicate and scale up the concept with some beach towels and duct tape, and the next morning he presents the lumpy but totally functional prototype to Castiel. 

Initially Cas thinks it’s a sex thing (reasonable, it probably is), but once they clear up that misunderstanding, he’s obviously a little peeved by the concept of being swaddled as if he were a gassy baby instead of a deathless sky monster in a sexy dude-shaped can. But Dean must be giving off some serious man on the edge vibes because Cas grudgingly agrees to let Dean tape him up the next time he’s feeling dozy. 

It’s real awkward and takes forever to get Cas bundled up right, and then he’s just kind of lying there on top of the sheets, like an enormous, grumpy baked potato. 

“I could easily break out of these restraints,” he says in a pissy tone after Dean has crawled in and turned off the light, and Dean rolls over to tell him “no shit”, but then he has to stop himself because the guy is already asleep.

Eventually they upgrade to a version made out of some of those trendy weighted blanket things, a few yards of parachute silk, and a whole lot of velcro. The dude looks so damn peaceful that Dean is honestly a little jealous.

*he doesn’t, actually. 

 18.  There’s a sunny afternoon that isn’t the usual Kansas is trying to murder you level of humid so Dean rolls the Impala out into the street for a wash. Cas helps him out a bit initially, although tragically not in a way that involves removing any unnecessary articles of clothing, but Deans sends him to grab a new tub of wax from the shed and he never comes back. After half an hour Dean needs a beer break and goes looking for him, expecting to find Cas lost in thought over whether Turtle Wax is made of actual turtles, or is made to put on actual turtles. Instead he finds Cas crouched on the shimmering pavement at the back of the driveway, sun beating down on him like it has a personal vendetta, and he’s got both wings stretched out real low above the ground. Dean kind of flips out because it’s the type of pose that just screams “stabbed in gut by angel blade” or “migraine from Hell, literally.”

Then Cas looks up, which pulls his wings up a smidge too, which in turn reveals that fully half a dozen neighborhood cats are lounging in the shady patch beneath his wings, spread out on the concrete like blobs of furry peanut butter. No, it’s actually eight cats. There are eight cats.

“Ling-Ling was feeling a little overheated,” Cas says, as if this explains everything. 

And, you know what, at this point, it does.

 19.  Dean has faith that eventually Sam or Cas or the third demon from the left in the second row will turn up a solution for the whole business. Castiel will get to tuck those bad boys back into the secret wing-closet dimension and he won’t have to worry about getting stuck in stairwells anymore, or being reported to the FAA (again). Then they can finally pack up the house, plaster over the more egregious spots of drywall damage, and go back to killing things outside of the tri-county area. The whole thing has been a pretty embarrassing interlude for a couple of dudes who’ve kicked Satan’s ass multiple times — Sam is probably telling other hunters that they’ve been deep undercover to take out a nest of suburban vampires, or a pack of ghouls with mortgages, instead of vacuuming angel down out of the AC unit and considering a Costco membership. 

And sure, there have been some...serious pluses to the situation (see: the other list), but, in his weaker moments, Dean has to admit that he’s kind of going to miss some of the goofy, irritating shit, too — like finding a six-inch feather in the veggie crisper (how? why?), or watching Cas fwap his wings out just in time to accidentally clothesline a jogger, or even the strangely compelling, sorta cheesy smell that starts to float around the house if Cas goes a little too long between hosedowns. 

He has actually grown fond of this shit. Which is 100% the least sexy thing on earth, it’s some genuinely, seriously pathetic goo goo crap, and that’s why nobody will ever hear a fucking word about it. People will ask “so what’s it like, with the wings” and Dean will waggle his eyebrows suggestively and review the highlight reel over an inadvisable amount of rail whiskey. His secret’s safe with, well. Him.

 20.  Seriously though, the bird mites. 

Gross.

[simpingforsoftboys]

Y/N and the Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day

ft. OikAka (Oikawa x Akaashi)

!GN Reader!

Thanks so much for the request anon! Ngl I've never considered this ship but it kinda makes a lot of sense? Like damn they'd be so cute together- and with the reader? Woo! Love it! Going to go for hurt/comfort in this one!

Also yes, the title is based on that one kids book.

Today had been a pretty terrible day for you. Your boss was in a bad mood- meaning she had been increasingly rude to you throughout the day, the office's wifi cut out while you were finishing up the report you had worked tirelessly on for the past week, and you had accidentally dropped your phone in a puddle- screen down- effectively cracking the screen and rendering it unusable (since the insides got wet too). Needless to say, it was quite possibly the worst day you've ever experienced. It took absolutely every ounce of strength to prevent yourself from bursting into tears in the street. There was nothing you wanted to do besides break down and eat a tub of ice cream- actually, being comforted by your lovers would be a good alternative. The only good thing that had happened so far was getting to go home early- since your boss was not in a working mindset and instead decided to go get drunk, a little after noon. It's not really a good thing actually, just means you'll have more work to do the day after tomorrow.

Crying sounded really good right now.

Fifteen minutes later you got off the bus and walked into your apartment complex. The elevator ride to the fifteenth floor was devoid of any other residents. Alone in your misery, you allowed your bottom lip to wobble.

The elevator dings- signaling that you've arrived on your floor.

You step out of the lift and into the hall. The walk to your front door is just as long as usual but somehow feels as though it took an eternity. Seems like your bad fortune followed you home- since the house key breaks, leaving the bottom half in the lock itself.

You're locked outside.

Again, it's a struggle to hold back the tears.

Keiji and Toru wouldn't be home at the moment, since the both of them were out on a date. (There's nothing wrong with that- it's just as important to have one on one dates as it is to have dates with the three of you. You also have plenty of dates with just Toru or Keiji by themselves.) Looks like you'll have to call your landlord... oh wait your phone is broken... and you forgot that he's on his yearly vacation in Seoul at the moment.

Maybe one of your neighbors will let you use their phone to call one of your partners! Nodding to yourself, you get up and knock on Rina-san's door. She's not home. Swallowing your mild frustration, you move along the hall to the next door. Kento-san's not home either. This pattern continues for the next few doors- eventually you just give up. The other apartments are vacant after all, still under renovation.

You return back to your apartment's door and slide down to the ground- back to the wood. Lips quivering, frustration evident, you bow your head and let the tears fall. There's no other noise in the hallway aside from your quiet sobs.

Today was just the worst.

Did you accidentally upset the universe somehow? Or maybe you said something disrespectful and some culture's god was angry at you.

Tears still streaming from your tear ducts, you let your head softly slam back against the door. There's so many things you're feeling right now. Sadness- because you really wanted to have a good day and now that you can't have that you want to be comforted, resentment- at the world, at yourself, at everyone. It wasn't fair- and by that you mean everything- every single, little thing was unfair. Anger- because damnit what else could you be feeling right now? The situation was beyond your control- anyone would feel angry in your shoes. It's hard to fathom that somewhere in the world, someone was suffering worse than you were at the moment.

You didn't care about them.

All you were focused on was how you were feeling.

Thinking that way suddenly made you feel very self conscious.

Maybe there was a reason for the day going like this.

A humbling experience perhaps?

That thought had you seriously wondering if you had actually done something unfathomably terrible... but your memory came up blank. 

The lift dinged.

You had to force yourself to look in the direction of the noise.

The overhead lighting seemed almost heavenly- surrounding your saviors in an unearthly way and appearing to give them halos. 

Why did they look so shocked to see you?

Isn’t that what they’re here to do?

Save you from your plight?

“Y/n darling, what are you doing here on the ground?” Keiji asks, beating Toru by a millisecond and running over to your side- pulling you into his comforting embrace. His hold makes you feel safe, likening him to the firm, concrete walls of strongholds. Yes, Keiji feels secure, strong, and upright. You just know that you can collapse against him and he won’t waver.

Looks like your tears aren’t dried out yet, because you let out a choked sob, dripping snot and all- burying your face into his neck. 

“Shh, it’s alright baby- me and Keiji have you.” Toru says softly, finally coming to your side and wrapping his long arms around the two of you. His hug feels different. It’s like lava- but not quite so. He could burn you- but he chooses to use his heat to bring you comfort instead- only burning those he deems a threat to what he calls his. He’s flexible but will give it all up at a moments notice- trading that mobility for statuesque stillness- letting himself cool, despite his better judgement, in order to become a tall, rock wall capable of protecting you and Keiji. 

You’re warm and you’re safe.

They construct walls around you.

So you let your own walls fall, trusting them to protect you when you’re at your most vulnerable.

“I-I had a really bad d-day.” You whimper into the ravenette’s milky skin. He can feel the hot tears against the column of his neck but chooses not to say anything- instead he holds you tighter. “My boss w-was in a s-shitty mood, I couldn’t f-finish my report in time c-cause the wifi cut out. My p-phone broke- and my k-key did too-” Overwhelmed once again, you cut yourself off and fall back into silence, sniffling quietly. 

“I’m sorry Y/n, you shouldn’t have had to go through all of that.” Keiji says- and you can hear the sincerity in his tone. You bask in his company for a long while, trying to pretend that time stopped- just for the three of you. 

“I need to get the key out okay? Then we can go take a nice bath inside, how’s that sound?” Keiji whispers softly, not wanting to upset you but also wanting you to understand the benefit of letting him go. You’re tempted to say no- wanting to just enjoy his touch, but your rational side tells you that you’ll get all the cuddles you want once you’re in the apartment. 

“O-okay... sounds good.” You move to cling to Toru, while Akaashi begins removing some bobby pins he has hidden in his hair and gets to work. 

“Hey babe.” Your brunette lover murmurs, turning your chin up to gaze into his eyes. “You’re wheezing so much, am I really that breathtaking?” The two of you stare at each other- personally you don’t know if you want to laugh at his horrible attempt at humor or if you want to cry. So you settle on slapping the back of his head. 

“Not the time ‘ru.” You scold, but there’s an undeniable smile on your face.

“Ouch... okay okay I’m sorry!” He apologizes, rubbing the back of his head. “I just hate seeing you so sad.”

“I know ‘ru... thank you.” Toru lets out an acknowledging hum and you can feel the way his heart beat increases ever so slightly. He’s so warm- his fiery love practically oozing out of his being. You love him so much.

A few minutes later, Keiji manages to get the broken part of the key out of the lock and the three of you can finally go home. He’s always been so clever- and you’re reminded again, why you love him.

The three of you head inside...

You take a relaxing shower (since all three of you can’t fit in the small bathtub), then cuddle up together on your king sized bed, tubs of ice cream in hand and candles lit to set the mood. Your favorite comfort show is streaming from the television, both the loves of your life sandwiching you between them, and you realize just how fortunate you are. 

You’ll take as many bad days as necessary- so long as you get to come home to this. 

Maybe, the universe was fair to some after all.

Just maybe- you could consider yourself one of the lucky ones.

I hope this was what you were looking for and more! It’s a little on the shorter side but I’m pretty proud of how it turned out!

[midnightmoonkiss]

Painful Stings & Sweet Apologies

Yandere! Izuku Midoriya X Fem! Reader

Summary: Rage fueled by failure, Izuku finds comfort in a bar, only to come home to a broken promise and a furious darling. He didn’t mean for this to happen.

WARNINGS!: blood, violence, alcohol (Izuku under the influence)

Category: Angst, one-sided fluff

Word Count: 9k+

A/N: This is my first yandere fic! I’m nervous as hell, I have no idea if I got this right lol. Though I did spend months perfecting it to the best of my abilities! Hope you enjoy~

Just To Clarify:

You’re both adults

It’s Friday

It’s cold and rainy (naturally--)

Izuku’s bedroom has a walk in closet and a bathroom

the kitchen is off-limits

THIS IS A YANDERE FIC!

Izuku is an obsessive yandere~

Cold, burning liquid rushed down the male’s throat as he gulped at the drink within the short glass.

Whiskey, or more specifically - a Jack Daniels, the honey-brown alcohol that delivered a bitter slap to all those who drank its refreshing nectar. 

It wasn’t his usual drink, and certainly not one he’d ever guzzle like a parched beast.

Hell, who in their right mind would do that? Even with a single sip, it left your chest burning with its heat.

But desperate times call for desperate measures, right?

Or, more of, self-loathing times call for a quick, one-way ticket to Forget-Me Ville and Cringe Island.

The bar he sat at was lively, filled with drunken laughter and slurred speeches of men and women who have been out for far too long.

But it was Friday night, so who cared?

A rainy, cold, sucky, depressing Friday night, one of which his friends tried to make a bit better by taking the pissed off, green-haired hero out for drinks.

They certainly hadn’t expected Izuku, an innocent little guy who couldn’t handle his liquor for shit, to shoot down an entire glass of whiskey.

At first, he ordered a simple beer - a starter drink if you will.

It didn’t take but ten minutes for him to gulp that glass down, and he was onto his next drink - a sangria wine cooler. His typical drink. He always was more of a fruity guy, after all, preferring the sweet tang over the bitter bite.

But as the night raged on, and so did his inner turmoil, he kept ordering stronger and stronger drinks, until he got to the whiskey. You could say he lost his sense of reason a while ago.

He was still seething with rage, not as much as before but the mixture of anger and frustration swirled hotly with the alcohol pumping through his veins and sitting in his belly.

You could say it was keeping him warm in this lifeless atmosphere.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t think of you, his precious little darling. He could barely think straight, mind occupied with too many thoughts to be able to understand any of them. It was all a garbled mess, one he chose to ignore.

Was that a good or a bad thing? He’d find out later.

But for now?

He needed another drink.

In the beginning, this Friday seemed like it was going to be one of the best he’ll ever have.

For months this pro hero has been working alongside detectives with catching a murderous villain known by the name “Ghoul.”

They were sick and twisted, their motives unknown, their trail hard to tract.

He had only one encounter with them, but he was too late to catch them.

That’s the day he was brought in to help aid the case.

But, that day haunted him for weeks. He knew that if he had arrived at the bloody scene sooner, he could have captured that cannibalistic fuck, brought justice to those who had already died by their mangy hands.. and prevented the deaths that would ensue after.

He’d known horrible villains before, but this one was different. Their teeth were sharp, blood permanently stained their clothes, and they gave off a wolfish vibe. Yes, a hunter. One who tore flesh from human bones and munched on it until someone screamed in terror for help.

For months he helped gather intel, piece puzzle pieces together, aid with location predictions and stakeout missions, until finally - they found that bastard.

It was more of a hunch than anything really, that Ghoul would show up to that site.

Ghoul, while hard to track, left a pattern in their wake. They avoided certain areas, thrived where the poor were at their weakest. The murders always seemed to happen at the exact same time behind run-down fast-food restaurants.

It was unclear if the sicko liked a hearty human meal with their victims own stomachs filled with greasy, fattening food, or if it was just convenient to them, either way - the perp was too damn sloppy.

To regular ol’ police personnel, the murders would just always happen there, behind restaurants.

But after Deku’s team began tracking where each and every murder occurred, it was quite easy to tell they were drawing, funnily enough, a circle around the city’s map.

It was stupid, childish, and downright idiotic, but damn if that didn’t lead the team to find the cold-blooded killer.

Adrenaline and pure hatred for the villain fueled Deku’s onslaught of attacks, each seemingly more powerful and less calculated. His mind was muddled.

He was filled with rage, finally being able to see the shitty excuse of a human again, but it affected his movements. He was being hasty, careless, not his usual calculated self.

And that’s what brought him his demise.

His shoulder was harshly bitten, razor-sharp teeth tearing through the fabric of his suit and shredding up the skin on his shoulder. Their quirk pumped through his blood instantly, making him collapse onto his knees, paralyzed. He hissed in pain as the sickeningly warm liquid flowed down his arm, unable to stop himself from face planting onto the dirty gravel of the alleyway.

He had lost, and Ghoul got away.

He still remembers it, after all, it was only hours ago that it happened.

The sun had long since set, the crescent moon hung high in the sky as her stars shimmered around her. His wound was stitched up and healed by doctors, leaving only a bitter scar to remind him of his failure.

He failed not only himself but those who counted on him.

God, he sucked.

And so, he ordered another drink.

He wanted to forget. He didn’t want to feel the failure sting at his fragile heart anymore.

It was too much to take.

What type of hero let the villain get away, knowing full well that they would kill again?

They couldn’t track Ghoul’s trail anymore, for the circle had been completed - and they were left with nothing with the numbing feeling of brutal loss.

Hours blurred together as his mind went hazy. His speech slurred together, dull, green eyes unfocused and mouth blabbering out nonsense to his friends that he couldn’t even really hear. It just- came out. 

Soon enough, he was being dragged out of the bar by his annoyingly sober friends.

The night had gotten colder since they first entered the warm bar, rain pelted down like freezing bullets flying from a machine gun. A dirty old awning kept them dry as they stood still at the front of the bars entrance, the loud music bouncing off the walls inside echoed down the empty streets.

Heavy streams of salty rainwater poured off the edge of the awning, splattering down into a mud puddle that emptied into the sewer grate below.

Who doesnt love the musty stench of rain on asphalt?

Hell, the smell itself, combined with the strong yet savory scent of the Korean barbeque joint across the street was enough to make him nauseous. He had drank far too much, and his stomach was suffering the consequences. He should have eaten more before drinking. How foolish.

 “It’s pretty late, you should head home.” Reasoned his best friend, Todoroki, puffs of condensation leaving his mouth as the warm breath met cold air, pressing a freezing hand to the back of the freckled boy's sweaty neck to jolt his drowsy, drunken self into a more alert state. Nothing but time could sober you up, but damn if that hand didn’t help slap some energy into him.

“Yeaahh, ye-yeahhh.. I gooht you Todooroe.” God, he sounded like someone high on anesthesia after being awoken from a surgery - which he definitely would be able to compare this experience to. Being a hero meant at least a few surgeries a year. Comes with the job.

Plus, this wasn’t the first time he’s been drunk.

He sure as hell hated the aftermath, but some nights it felt as if the hot burn of alcohol was the only thing that could keep him sane.

This was just one of those nights - or perhaps it was multiple nights slammed into one from just how stupidly drunk he was. The world was blurred, and Izuku doubted he could even walk straight at this point.

The half and half hero waved down a stray taxi, street water splashing up onto the sidewalk as the yellow vehicle came to a screeching halt.

“Get home safe.” Todoroki sighed out his nose at seeing his friends out-of-it state, helping the giddy and jelly-like hero into the back seat.

Izuku pouted, grabby hands clinging onto his friend's shirt in protest.

With a half-hearted chuckle, Todoroki pried himself free from his grip, handing the cab driver more than enough yen to get the drunk boy home.

He gave the taxi driver an address, and soon the car was rolling off down the street, Izukus flushed face pressed against the cold, fogging glass and staring with eyes full of tears at his friend.

Though, it seemed as if he had forgotten a promise he made to someone very important to him. Someone who he devoted his entire life to.

Someone who he risked everything for.

You.

His princess who had been locked in a small, dark room all day, wrists tightly cuffed to loose chains on the wall. The only light provided was a rusty oil lamp Izuku had gotten at a yard sale one day. The flame was dull, and left the room covered in shadows.

The tile below was as cold as it had been since the morning when Izuku had forcefully chained you there for misbehaving the night before.

You had deserved this punishment for disobeying him.

That’s what he tried to convince, anyway.

He was only trying to keep you safe! He hated punishing you, hated the way you thrashed and screamed at him in protest - that only meant he had to be rougher with you. You had broken into the most dangerous room in the apartment, afterall.

The kitchen.

There were far too many harmful objects in there!

Knives that could slice your delicate skin to shreds, forks that could jab into your body, hot stoves that could leave you with a nasty burn, and canned food stored too high up on the shelf that could fall and hit your head.. It was for your protection that the kitchen was off-limits to you!

Plus, Izuku, your oh-so kind and sweet boyfriend, had no problem with cooking you meals to eat together. In fact, he loved it!

He felt accomplished whenever you'd hum in approval at his cooking, or even turned on if that slutty mouth of yours just so happened to moan around your utensil. 

Those were the nights dinner was forgotten.

But you had been foolish, entering the kitchen for a midnight snack whilst Izuku was out on patrol. Your sneaky little self thought you were clever, leaving no trace of your betrayal.

Until you were awoken hours later by a green glow, blood running cold as a pair of murderous neon eyes stared into yours.

It had to be one of the scariest sights to date.

His pupils were shrunk, green electricity buzzing around his large body. He hovered over your trembling body, a wrapper in between his two gloved fingers.

He was so close, your noses brushed together.

You swore he could see into your soul, as well as see the fear in your (E/C) eyes.

“What is this, (Y/N)?” He had asked innocently, hurt coating his words.

“I-” you wanted to make an excuse, protest, say it wasn’t yours, but every single letter died on your tongue as his face pressed closer, a sadistic smile overtaking his features.

“You didn’t.. You didn’t go into the kitchen, did you?”

His hot, minty breath blew all over your face as he spoke, and you shriveled back in fear as insanity crossed his expression in that way you were far too familiar with.

The giggles bubbled in his throat as he tried to fight logic with delusion, “It wasn’t you, right? Someone broke in, didn’t they? You wouldn’t break my trust, would you?”

His voice was cracking, fingers digging into the flesh of the bed beneath you as his eye began to twitch.

He stared down at you, curly green hair brushing against the sides of your face, waiting far too long for an answer he would never get. His bottom lip wobbled, feat tears welling up in his eyes and falling onto your pale cheeks as his body shook with anger and sadness.

He was already stressed about the following mornings mission, and to come home to his princess betraying his trust was not something he enjoyed.

And so, you were punished.

But he had promised you wouldnt be locked in there for long, he knew how you feared the dark. He had conditioned you to fear it, after all. It was his greatest accomplishment.

You were always so willing to cuddle into him when the lights were off.

A few hours turned into nearly an entire day, the only indication you had of this was past experiences, skin around your wrists rubbed raw from the metal cuffs, and the unusual sting of your ass and bare legs burning from the freezing tile beneath you.

That was the least of your worries, though.

Worst of all - the flame, which was holding you together and keeping you from crying out for help to those who might hear you in this soundproof room, which would no doubt get you a harsher punishment, was about to die out.

That flame, albeit small, was your only hope of surviving this.

Izuku was typically a very reliable person, it was strange for him to not keep his word to you. He devoted his being to you, worshipped the ground you regrettably walked upon, why would he break his own promise?

The thought of being trapped in the dark, the echo of your chains taunting your delirious mind had you close to tears. You didn’t want to be alone here anymore.

You watched in horror as the flame got smaller and smaller, tears now rolling down your cheeks as you pleaded under your breath for it to last longer.

The air vents around you provided enough oxygen for it to survive, but that damn oil..

Where was he?! 

Suddenly, the door to his apartment flew open, giggles seeping through the house and teasing your ears.

Then, there was no more light.

A screech tore from your throat, a desperate call of his name as you thrashed around, tears pouring from your eyes.

You felt as if you couldnt breathe as your head whipped around the space, desperate for more air and light as your lungs seemed to scream.

You couldnt feel the cold chill of the floor anymore, body numb as adrenaline pumped through your veins.

What was in the dark?

How big was this space again?

Rather, how small was it?

What was that noise?

Did something just touch you?

There was wind, there was wind, no. A cold chill?

Oh god what was that-

Loud, clumsy footsteps made their way closer and closer to the locked metal door. You sobbed as your heard the jingle of keys, metal scraping against metal as he fumbled with inserting them into the lock.

Until finally, you were basked in the honey-dew glow of the bedroom.

You fought to control your breathing as he dropped to his knees, taking far too long for your liking to get the cuffs off.

But at least now you know why he took so god damn long.

You could smell the putrid miasma of alcohol wafting off him the moment he stepped into the darkroom, tainted with the salty effluvium of rainwater as it dripped onto your skin from his damp, messy hair.

Rage bubbled inside you as he giggled once more at your tear-stained cheeks, “D-did yoou miss mee?” He slurred, a giddy smile on his face as the stale stench of what he had been drinking all night circled around your head like a rotten wreath.

Instead of answering, like you knew you should have, you turned your head towards the door, soaking in the light you were previously deprived of. Even if it was just a mere minute.

At your silence, his smile quickly turned into a frown. Big, forestry green eyes welled up with sadness, bottom lip trembling, “(Y-Y/N)?” He couldnt help but reach out, scarred fingers wishing to wipe away those stray tears from your face.

You missed him.

That’s why you were crying, surely.

He wanted to comfort you, say that he was there now and that you could both cuddle until twinkling dawn.

You weren’t alone anymore.

He was all you needed, and he was right beside you.

He’ll always be there for you, and you’ll always be there for him.

Because you love each other.

“D-Don’t cry-”

His cold hand was smacked away, and his usually sturdy body was shoved back so that you could scramble out of the freezing closet.

You needed space.

More room to breath.

To be on flooring that didnt feel like ice cutting into your flesh.

Hell, you were sure the skin that had the unholy misfortune of touching the floor were burned red at this point from how long you had to sit there.

Not to mention your poor wrists, you couldnt even bear the sight of them being so raw. You were pretty sure they would bleed if you even touched them. Your body was screaming in pain, stomach growing for food, mouth parched from not being given water so that you wouldnt make a mess on the floor.

You were weak, shaking, and afraid.

That bastard had the gall to say not to cry, to look concerned when he knew damn well how much you absolutely despised the dark.

At first it was a childish fear, but the moment he snatched you from your regular life, that fear became a reality. There were countless nights you’d be punished by being left alone in the dark.

He didnt want to hurt you, no, and he never has, but damn if he hasnt conditioned you to be afraid. 

Storms were the worst.

What was once a peaceful white noise turned into a terrifying nightmare once the moon rose in the sky.

There were times you were locked in that closet during violent storms, screaming and begging to be let out.

Sometimes you were, other times you werent as lucky.

Though it was only raining right now, each pitter-patter of the droplets against the window or balcony made hairs on your neck stand up. The sound was previously muted in the closet, but now it was hitting you like a freight train on a track that never seemed to end.

You heard him scramble to his feet as you wiped your tears away, the creak of the floorboards as he stumbled towards you.

A subtle bang made you jump, his foot no doubt hitting the chest at the end of your bed. Everso the clumsy one, even in an illuminated room.

Suddenly, he was right behind you, arms wrapping tightly around your middle as his head dropped to your shoulder, nuzzling his cheek against your neck.

Perhaps it would have been pleasant, comforting, even, if he wasnt soaked to the bone. The cold water from his dark grey, long-sleeved sweater was now seeping into your own thin clothes, freezing wet hair sending shivers down your spine and it presses against your heated, sensitive skin. Some drops even went down your back, ripping a gasp from you.

This wasnt comforting at all.

This was suffocating.

You squirmed in his grasp, desperate to get the hell away from him.

You were already pissed, and him wrapping around you and squeezing you tight like a snake to its prey was the cherry on top of your disastrous sundae.

With a grunt, you used the rest of what little strength you had left to rip yourself free from his ‘hug,’ nearly tripping on your own two feet as you rushed away from him.

He pouted at you as you shoved yourself into a corner of the room, finding comfort in being able to see all around you, no surprise attacks from behind, only what was in front of you.

Your breath was heavy as you glared at him, nostrils flaring and jaw clenching.

Truly, you had some nerve.

But it was hard to help it.

He broke a promise.

He never does that, and yet in your time of need- he wasn’t there for you.

For once.

He knew damn well you were locked up, scared shitless, expecting him to return home in a few short hours, yet here he is - looking absolutely clueless as to why you were suddenly so angry at him.

Tears streamed down his drunkenly flushed cheeks, hurt by how you shoved him away again.

All he wanted to do was snuggle you, his body exhausted yet numbed by the alcohol still burning in his tummy.

“Where..” you started, voice low, scratchy, and dripping with venom that reached deaf ears. “Where have you been!”

Just as he was about to open that mouth of his, no doubt about babble nearly incoherently - form logical excuses with evidence to back him up, say he lost track of time which you know damn well he never did, you shut him up.

You hated dealing with him when he was drunk, hell - you hated dealing with his obsessive ass most days.

But drunk? Drunk he got worse. He was clingy, more emotional, and worst of all? He didn’t have a filter.

He always managed to hide those more sinister desires under that sweet mask of his - until alcohol brought it out.

God, the smell of it made you sick to your stomach, but luckily you didn't have any food to throw up.

No thanks to him.

“What the fuck, Midoriya?!” You leered at him, noticing quickly the way his eyes darkened in that way they always did when you referred to him by his family name - the name he hated being called by you of all people.

“I’ve been trapped in that room all goddamn day! You said it’d be a few hours? What the hell happened to that! Look at the fucking time! Nine hours! Nine hours I’ve been stuck in my own personal hell! I can’t feel my fucking legs because of you!”

“I-” he attempted to start, the firm grip he had on his sanity quickly loosening with every shout you threw at him.

You cut him off, again, pent up rage now overtaking your sense of reason and fear, “What the hell happened?! You know what! I don’t even care! Not only did you,” You pointed a trembling finger at his stilled body, “break a promise! Something you swore you would never fucking do, you also had the nerve at laugh at me as I was trembling in fear!”

You looked like a mess, body shaking and bent over itself, one arm clutched around your waist as if to hold yourself together as that accusing finger stayed trained on him. Your hair was messy, frizzy, soaked with sweat and oily as hell from being denied a shower. Your clothes, thin and girly - much to your utter distaste, but to his satisfaction - now damp thanks to his carelessness.

All of this was because of him.

It always was.

Every single thing that went wrong in your life always seemed to be because of him nowadays.

You couldnt believe you let yourself fall for that misleading smile all those years ago, only to end up like this.

A mouse in a lions den.

But hell if that would stop you from squeaking your heart out till his razor-sharp claws ultimately caged you back in.

“Do you see my wrists?!” with a strangled sob, you held up both of your arms to show him the mess he already knew was his fault, “look at them! They hurt so fucking much because you left me in those disgusting handcuffs! This is all your fault!”

Your knees were wobbling so bad you swore your legs would give out at any second, but you’d be damned if you didnt hold your ground to this lunatic.

True, some days he was nice, normal, even. But days like these, or days much worse, you were reminded of just who he really was.

A monster was stretching it. He never intentionally tried to hurt you, your friends, or even your family.

No, he just stole you from your apartment in the dead of night, convinced the reason you were crying was because of the thunderstorm and not because some psycho snatched you from your window like some sort of 1970’s movie trope. That night he cradled your thrashing body to his hard chest with his strong arms, cooing at you and whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you begged to be let go. You were just scared of the storm~ He would keep you safe~ He is the number one hero, afterall~

That was all utter bullshit, straight from the beginning.

And even now he was still wrapped in the delusion that you loved him as much as he loved you.

A fated pair.

Please.

But you still held on to the pathetic hope that one day he’d snap out of it, return to the Izuku you knew from the beginning and not the person who now stood a few feet in front of you, staring with cold, emotionless eyes.

“I’m sorry.” he says impassively, face as blank as a new canvas - unreadable and dangerous in every way imaginable. It was hard not to feel as if he was just waiting to strike, already calculating his next moves like he always seemed to do. It was far easier to deal with an angry Izuku than one where you couldn’t read his already complex emotions, thoughts, anything. He was the definition of expressive, and it truly took a fuckin bullet to the back of his head for him to be like this.

So clearly, you hit a nerve.

Wonderful.

“Oh?” Despite knowing the implications of the situation you found yourself in, it was impossible not to laugh at such a pathetic fucking apology.

Knowing him, he probably was sorry, deep down inside. You knew he didn’t like seeing you hurt, especially if it was because of his doing, and yet- you pressed on. 

Pent up anger was a nasty thing to deal with, especially since it’s been brewing inside you for so long.

“Are you now? You don’t fucking seem sorry! If you were really sorry, you wouldnt have done it! But look where we are! You’re such a fucking-!”

“Shut up.” he growls out borderline maliciously, stumbling slightly as he turns to walk out the door. He was clearly fed up, his strong hands clenched into threatening fists, but so were you. Even if you were undeniably frightened to confront him, you wouldn't let that stop you from pushing yourself off the wall - your safe space - and wobbling after him.

“Look at you! You can’t even walk right! How drunk are you, huh? Washing away your feelings again, are you? What about my feelings! Huh?!”

You were pushing it.

You really were.

The entire house felt it, the air chillingly still as Izuku had to grind his teeth together so as to not lash out at you. 

He didn’t want to.

That was the last thing he wanted to do, but all that stress and self-hatred previously washed away was coming back up to the burning surface that cages his discretion.

Heavy breaths blew out his nostrils as he made his way to the living room, desperate for you to get the hint from his hunched over body that he wanted you to fuck off.

Yeah, he messed up, deep down he knew he did but currently his mind was far too clogged to even begin to comprehend it.

You were like an annoying mosquito, your words morphing into a persistent buzz.

He was ignoring you, and that made you livid.

He always ignored you when your problems were deemed irrelevant, or when he found you were being far too vexatious.

He always did this, always.

You were trapped in a cell with some asshole who didn't even want to listen to you.

Obviously, you had enough.

Typically you’d back off, go fume in another room or punch the wall till the skin around your knuckles tore open and dripped blood everywhere, making him snap out of whatever state he was in just to suffocate you in his toxic love.

Oh how life proved to be full of surprises.

A low growl of your own slithered passed your teeth, eyes practically burning red as if you prayed you had a quirk that could do something against him.

“You’re a selfish bastard! You fucking piss-poor excuse of a hero-!”

SLAP!

A shrill scream tore from your raw throat, the echo of skin burning against skin dizzying you as you were thrown back onto the floor.

Boiling hot tears streamed down your face as you sobbed out of pure fear, body shaking uncontrollably and you shuffled backward, desperate to get yourself as far away from him as you could currently manage.

It had all happened so fast, you didn't even have time to register it as it occurred.

One moment his hands were gripping the back of the couch with such strength you could see his knuckles turn a ghostly white, and the next, crackling, neon-green lightning surrounded his body, illuminating the dim apartment in a slimy glow. Before you even had a chance to register just what happened, he whipped his head around, his eyes, typically blown wide with sickening love and sparkling under delusional illusions, were narrowed and glowing in a way that sent shivers of immense regret down your spine. His arm whipped back with his hand, the very hand that delivered a painfully paralyzing slap.

He always spoke with his hands, and you just happened to be too close to him at that moment.

The reddended skin of your cheek burned, and you swore you could feel more than just tears streaming down it.

You were stuck shaking on the floor, imaginary bile rising in your throat, and all you could do was stare at him with wide, bloodshot and terrified eyes.

He had never laid a hand on you like that before, you didnt know what to think.

He always promised to do you no intentional harm, to never lay a finger on you with intentions of making you cry out in pain.

He had never acted so feral and out of line before.

It.. it scared you in a way you never felt before.

The gap between you grew, you really were just a mouse trembling in a lion's den.

“P-princess-” he shakily called out, voice weak and uneven, quirk diminishing into thin air like it never was there in the first place.

His own eyes were wide and filled with immense regret, tears already pouring down his flushed, freckled face.

He took one step forward, and you scrambled back, hand coming up to touch at your cheek, shock making you feel faint at the sight of blood coating your trembling fingertips.

You felt sick once again, empty stomach feeling as if it was collapsing in on itself to push even the tiniest bit of nonexistent food out.

You didnt know what to do.

Choking on your own sobs, you tried desperately to shuffle away from him, but he only came closer.

You cried out the moment he dove at you, your hands clasped together tightening against your chest as if to hold yourself together as this bear of a man wraps his arms cold, soaked arms protectively around you, his large shoulders violently shaking as he buried his snotty, tear stained face deep into your unruly tresses.

The stench of alcohol burned your nostrils, edging you on to try and push his heavy chest away. You tried, but you failed miserably, resulting in his arms pulling you even closer to his sweaty and damp body. It was disgusting.

“L-let go of me!” you wailed, your own tears stinging your eyes as your vision blurred and you could no longer tell just what you were staring blindly at, the dimness of the living-room paired with the suffocating embrace of your captor swallowing you whole.

You couldnt take it.

You could barely breathe at this point.

“p-p-ple .. plea-s-se..!” your cries intertwined with his own desperate ones as he babbled nearly incoherently on about how sorry he was, how he never meant to do something so horrible.

“I’m not a monster!” he howled out, desperate words seeping with ululation.

He was desperately trying to convince himself of that.

He wasn’t talking to you at all.

He was talking to himself.

He wasn’t a monster.

He wasn’t a monster.

He’s not like him.

He’s not like that piece of filth.

No, he’s so much better.

He’s a good man.

No, no, he’s not a monster.

He’s your hero.

He could never purposely harm you.

No.

It was an accident.

An accident.

You’d understand.

He knew you would!

You always understood him.

You were like two peas in a pod!

You forgave him, surely.

Yes.

Yes!

You did the moment he hugged you, the moment he started comforting you.

He was a good man.

How could you not forgive him?

He loved you so, so, so much.

You knew that-

You knew he would never do such a thing.

His breathing was even, eyes wide and straining as he stared at the floor, a crooked smile on his face as he repeated the words over and over again in his twisted mind.

He never met to hurt you.

No.

He didnt.

“Plea-” you tried once more, biting your wobbling lip as he squeezed you even tighter.

“No, no, no, no, no, no..” he heaved out, hand coming up to gently pet your oily hair as if to calm you. His head shook back and forth in your hair, “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m so sorry, honey.”

There was nothing you could do.

You were stuck alone in a mouse trap, the cold, metallic bar snapped down on top of your frail neck.

There was no escape.

There never was.

His form of ‘love’ far too strong for you to even attempt to.

And so, you gave up. 

Just like you always did.

There was no point in resisting him.

Sticky blood trickles down your raw cheek, dripping down onto the chilled bare skin of his neck, still cold from the damp clothes he wore, instantly catching his wondering attention.

“You.. you’re bleeding?” he whispered guiltily, already feeling a new wave of salty tears building up in the corner of his eyes.

His large left hand trailed up the skin of your neck, idly collecting the thin trail of red liquid onto his fingertips and smearing a path up to your jawline, stopping the moment your shivering form flinched.

He frowned at the red mark taking up half your beautifully innocent face, a small cut resting in the middle of it where no doubt the ring he foolishly wore as an accessory swiped.

Guilt made his stomach churn, the familiar burn of acid rising in his throat.

A deep inhale, and he swallowed it down, arm still wrapped around you, languidly rubbing your back as he stared with nothing short of pity at your wrecked state.

Your lips wobbled, holding in a reply as you force yourself to look into the vast abyss of darkness that was the hallway of your apartment instead of his orbs gleaming with concern.

Concern.

Concern for something he caused.

At least he had a heart, but you were still scared shitless and wanted nothing more than to run away. You were still fighting to regulate your breathing.

His thumb suddenly pressed against the slap mark, ripping a yelp from your throat as your head flung back to avoid any more contact. It was then that you noticed a pounding headache echoing inside your skull, yet another reason to aid in the water running down your face. Pain consumed your body, and you wanted nothing more than to escape this shell you were trapped in.

Openly chewing on his lip, both of his arms went back around you, cradling your delicate form to his chest.

Without a word, he stood up, practically forcing you to have to wrap your bare legs around his waist to keep yourself steady, something you were trained to do by him. He loved it when your legs were around his waist whenever he picked you up.

It became a regrettable second nature.

Heavy foot steps brought you back to your bedroom, and then into the bathroom connected to it.

Your fears crept up your spine at the pitch black room you were forced into, remembering how you were in a similar position just a few minutes ago.

When would this cycle end?

Ah. 

It wouldnt, would it?

You were set delicately down atop the cold marble counter as if you were a fragile piece of glass, which, in many ways, you were. The tears had at least stopped, but your body continuously shook like a chihuahua, your breathing still hard to control as fumbled around mindlessly with your fingers to serve as a distraction.

He flipped the light on, momentarily blinding your sensitive gaze with its bright light.

Sniffing, you wiped at your nose, watching as he walked about the bathroom, grabbing a wash cloth just to run it under cool water. The rain was still heavily pouring just outside the wall mixed with the loud splatters of the stream against the white sink. It would have been calming had cold water not splashed up onto your bare thighs, making goosebumps prickle along your skin. Your thighs were nearly numb at this point.

After ringing most of the water out, he held it up to your cheek, staring at you.

Taking the cue, you hesitantly took the cool, wet cloth from his grasp and gingerly pressed it to the swelling skin on your face. You hiss out in pain, dry sobs wracking your body at the stinging pain and the fact that he was still far too close for you to currently handle.

The pain on your cheek paired with the numbing cold was a good distraction.

You chewed on your lip as you squeezed your eyes shut, freehand gripping tightly at the hem of your shirt as you listen to him fumble around in the cabinet hanging over to the left.

You jumped the moment you felt his larger fingers ghost over the ones holding the cloth to your cheek, cautious (E/C) eyes opening ever so slightly as you looked over at him.

You couldnt help but feel idiotic as you suddenly felt flustered at the intense gaze he was giving you, eyes now gleaming viridescent in the white light of the bathroom almost staring right into your soul.

It was like he was reading you, pulling words off your own frail pages just so he could recite them to you.

He did this often.

Keeping silent, staring for long periods of times as he tried out scenarios in his head of the words he was going to say.

It gave you chills, but yet, it made you feel like you were the center of his drifting attention.

The sun his planets revolve tirelessly around, repeating the same cycles like a record forever skipping on repeat.

In these moments, though, he became an enigma.

Not exactly something your fragile state of mind entirely needed right now.

You shivered when his palm came to cup your soft jawline, thumb absentmindedly tracing over your parted lips.

His mouth opened, ready to say something, but he stayed quiet.

Mouth shutting, he leaned forward, tentatively bringing you into another hug.

“I’m sorry.” he repeated, the words nearly as quiet as your stilled breath, but you had nothing to say to it. And he knew it.

He was used to you staying silent.

He would prefer it most of the time.

So he could sink into his fantasies, the deluded fantasies that you loved him wholeheartedly, that you chose to stay silent as to not hurt his feelings, and always forgave him no matter what.

That you would forever and always be his.

He wouldnt give you the choice not to be.

He wouldnt let you leave when you’re his favorite person in the whole wide world.

The only one he needed.

And he was the only one you needed.

Yes.

Of course.

You didn’t need anyone else but him.

And he didn’t need anyone else but you.

So what if a few more people died because of his mistake, he would capture Ghoul eventually. Regardless, he would always come home to you.

Always.

And that’s all he needed.

He chucked against your neck, having buried it in the crook as his mind slipped through his shaky fingertips.

The Big Bad Wolf and his Little Red Riding Hood.

God how he loved the comparison.

Perhaps he was addicted.

Addicted to you.

Even now, as he inhaled your sugary sweet, natural scent stained with the metallic smell of dried blood.

Pulling back, he gazed into your hesitant eyes, delicately resting his forehead against yours.

His hair, now dry and no longer dripping with salty rain, tickled your skin, making you involuntarily take in a deep breath.

Closing his eyes once more, he soaks in the moment of your warm body in his frigid embrace, nothing else mattered to him.

Just you.

Only you.

“L-let me see your cheek,” he asks softly, words not as wobbly as before,  afraid that if he spoke too loudly in such a thin atmosphere, everything would shatter abruptly like glass.

Your body moved on instinct as if you were used to doing as he asked immediately no matter what, pulling the cool cloth away from your burning cheek.

Resisting the urge to sniffle and flinch away, you allow him to rewet the cloth, holding still as he dabs lightly at the small wound.

“I know it hurts,” he breathes out, “shh, shh, it’s okay.” it was always so strange how his voice still managed to calm your nerves even after all you’ve been through.

Deep down, you knew he was still that loving and energetic boy you met back at that coffee shop.

If only you knew how sinister and twisted he could really be.

Perhaps.. perhaps you wouldn’t be in such a situation now.

But there was never any point in pondering the what-ifs.

All you could do was fight your mind from seeking normalities in such a relationship as this, if you could even call it that.

You wouldn’t succumb to his desires like you always did.

You wouldnt lose yourself.

No.

You couldn’t let that happen.

Or was it too late already?

You hissed when you felt the stinging seer of rubbing alcohol dotted onto your cut, cleaning the wound.

“It’s okay.” he repeats, cooing to you with a reassuring smile that should have made you feel sick all over again.

You let him apply antibiotic ointment and a small cheek bandage, his hands shaky yet careful. You could say he has experience in applying bandages.

It was uncomfortable as it sat on your raw skin, but it’s not like you were going to go and rip it off. That would feel like ripping off a wax strip on a sunburn.

Humming, he gingerly wipes away the dried blood on your neck with the same washcloth, not minding how blood-stained the innocently white fabric became. 

Next came your still aching wrists. There wasn’t much he could do for your legs, but at least he had roll-on bandages on standby.

Turning the cold tap on, he lets you run them under cool water before gently dabbing the stray droplets away, careful not to press too hard.

He really needed to invest in softer handcuffs, it’s just- those were the only ones he had, and he didn’t use them often. Besides, it never got this bad before. But that wasn’t a good excuse.

He’d have to order some online tomorrow..

Applying more ointment around the area, the kind that offers instant relief, he wraps your smaller wrists up as best he could, cringing himself whenever you’d flinch.

He’d make it up to you.. Pancakes in the morning, perhaps?

Izuku then begins to sluggishly put away everything he brought out of the cabinet, tossing what needed to be tossed into the trashcan.

He was slow, almost as if he was trying to keep his balance, which he no doubt was. 

Standing in front of you once again, he wrapped his arms around you, whispering “up” in your ear.

It was something he would always say when he wanted you to wrap your arms and legs around him so he could carry you like a baby.

But who were you to refuse?

It wasn’t as if he couldnt pick you up without your limbs wrapped around him, it was more for your comfort rather than his convenience.

So, tentatively, you wrapped your still shaking arms around his neck, doing the same with your legs around his bent waist.

“Good girl.” he praised as he began walking back into the bedroom, stopping just at your side of the bed to place you down at the edge.

Numbly, you let him remove your rain-soaked clothes from all the hugging, sitting on the bed in just your panties as you watched him toss the clothes in the hamper by the door

It wasn’t the first time he insisted on treating you like a child who needed help changing, but at least you didn’t have to walk.

It was hard to remember if it was a good or a bad thing that you didn’t care about being nude in front of him anymore, not even bothering to hide your chest as he came back over with a fresh set of clothes - the strawberry patterned pajamas he always seemed to adore you wearing.

You always looked so innocent in them. The shirt is far too large for your frame, the sleeves hanging off your hands and the large v-neck exposing your collar bones and parts of your shoulders. The bottoms were the regular run of the mill pajama pants, soft as cotton and comfy as hell.

The top truly was the part of the look that tied it all together.

He couldn’t help but smile as your arms immediately raised as he pulled the shirt out of the pile, making quick work of slipping it over your cute head and helping your arms into the sleeves.

He liked to take care of you.

You needed him to, after all.

You were his innocent, helpless little darling, after all.

Pulling your pants up, he guided your body down into a resting position, dragging the thick, grey, and black patterned comforter over your stilled body.

Such a good girl.

He tucks loose strands of messy (H/C) hair that fell across your face behind your ear, being mindful of the wound.

He stares at it for a moment, his expression holding that of worry and regret.

Pushing off the bed, he stumbles his way to the kitchen in the dark, having turned off the light as he went, the layout of the apartment burned to memory so he could easily avoid furniture.

In the kitchen, he opened the freezer and grabbed an ice pack, one he would commonly use on his own sore muscles and bruises. It hurt his heart knowing he was the reason you had to use it for the first time.

After wrapping it in some paper towels, he trudges his way back into the dark bedroom, eyes wracking over your balled up form, covers bunched over you like a shell.

“Put this on your cheek..” he whispered, placing the pack just in front of your face.

He would love to be the one to hold it to your cheek, but his mind was still hazy, and his words were still slurred. Events could sure as hell sober you up a bit, but damn did that nausea always come back crashing in through the brittle window full force when you’d least expect it.

Rummaging through the drawers once more, he picked up some of his own fresh clothes and made his way into the bathroom again.

All he wants is to sleep, but he also didnt want you to smell dried sweat and rain on his being throughout the night.

He knew you missed him, him and his warmth, you always did, right? No question about it. You must be longing for him even now. 

Wanting him to hold and comfort you just like always.

Numbed adrenaline pumped in his veins as he stepped into the shower, letting the warm water wash away his filth and regrets.

God, it felt so good to be able to somewhere warm for once.

The entire night he’s felt nothing but cold.

Not even the fire in his belly or the breath stolen from his lungs could’ve warmed him up.

He was mad at himself. Mad that he lost control and hurt the one thing that mattered the most to him.

Mad that he let himself get disgustingly drunk.

Mad that he walked in the rain like a dumbass just to soak your clothes and make you feel as cold as him.

But at the moment, too many thoughts were flying in his mind for him to properly think, no, he couldnt really even say he was thinking at all.

He was just letting the water splatter on the back of his neck, forehead resting on the cold shower tiles and he watched as water swirled down the drain like a whirlpool. His hair stuck to his cheeks like glue, but he couldn’t find himself caring.

Absentmindedly, his fingers brush across the fresh scar on his broad shoulder.

He swore the longer he stood there, watching the clear flow of water, the looser his grip on himself became.

He couldnt really say he felt anything at all anymore.

When did he lose himself?

Was he ever even really found?

Ah.

With you.

You were the missing piece in his complicated and skull biting puzzle, the one who made him whole and lit up his dull life. You were the reason he felt things anymore, you were the reason he still managed to get up and save people with a clear conscious.

You always had such a positive impact on his life, and he knew he had just as good a one on yours.

A wobbly smile tore his flushed face in two, you both really did need eachother.

He was so happy to have you in his life.

Knowing you’d never leave him.

Turning the boiling hot water off, he stepped out, the plushness of the bath-mat embracing his wet feet as water continued to pour down his nude body.

It felt, it felt so hot suddenly.

His breath came out in exaggerated pants, hands sweeping his hair from his face as the burn of bile rose in his throat.

Lunging for the toilet, he emptied his stomach into the glistening white bowl.

Gasping for air, Izuku whipped his mouth on the back of his hand, still trying to catch his breath as he fumbled to flush.

God, he needed to sit down.

Shakily turning the bathroom faucet on, he washed his hand, making quick work of brushing his teeth before lazily drying himself off.

Ignoring the other clothes he brought in, the toned hero simply pulled on a pair of black boxers before walking out of the bathroom.

Green eyes immediately looked at your form, just to see the soft rise and fall of your chest as you soundly slept, the ice pack sitting comfortably on your cheek.

You looked so adorable.

You always did.

Smiling once more, he walked over to the bed, pulling back the sheets just to slide his larger, warm body in and next to your own.

He sighs blissfully the moment he tugs you into his embrace, relishing in the feeling of your soft body against him.

Removing the icepack from your cheek, not wanting you to awake to a cheek burning from the cold, he places it on the nightstand before snuggling closer to you.

You always fit so perfectly in his big arms.

You were meant to be by his side.

And you loved it, didn’t you?

Eventually, he fell asleep, soft snores echoing around the quiet room filled with the downpour of rain still pouring down outside the large glass windows,

But you were still wide awake.

It was hard to remember the last time you got a good night’s rest, especially when the room was spine-chillingly dark..

Hard to remember what life was like before you even met your own personal nightmare.

You were used to the exhaustion, the dark circles kissing at the skin under your eyes becoming normal the day you were brought here.

Oh, how foolish you were.

You should have locked your window that fateful night.

But heroes are quite stealthy, aren’t they?

Was this even reality at this point? Or all just a figment of your imagination, protecting you from the true horrors before your very eyes.

Either answer wasnt one you wanted.

But you never had a choice.

Tears slipping from your eyes like they always seemed to do, you stared longingly off into the distance, the warmth pressed against your back pulling you further into your own bubbling madness.

All it took was a signal thought for this to all become normal.

For the pain to wash away with your tears.

‘Maybe this is ok.’