#head in hands i’m just a lil guy. trying not to sound like. sappy or like i’m Only doing this bc ppl are complimenting me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

teasty · 4 years ago

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hold on tight || b.c (m)

"hi! can you write something about streetracer!chan x f reader where things got heated up 🥺🥺 i really like your works by the way, kiss yourself really is one of my jisung’s fav fic !!" - anon

a/n: holyashjdljzhldsa just the thought of streetracer!chan makes me... omg i don’t even KNOW, i'd actually go crazy... and omg tysm! that means so much to me :,( and you're gonna have to excuse me since there's so many things heated could mean i'm just gonna make it angsty and smutty,, also kinda went off for a fluffy ending because it's bang chan, the christiano bangnaldo, how can i not???

● pairing: bang chan x (fem) reader

● genre: a lil bit of fluff at the beginning | angst | smut (mdi!)

● requested? yes!

● words: 8.7k

→ summary:

You’ve never known about your boyfriend’s secret and very illegal job, if you could even call it that.

"Shut up, buckle up and hold on tight 'cause it's gonna be one hell of a night for us, darling."

It’s a cold, rainy night. You’re waiting comfortably on the couch, sitting there wrapped up in one of Chan’s blankets, waiting ever so patiently for his return. He’s not usually out this late, neither did his job usually end this late. Your mind was getting the worst kinds of ideas as you held your phone in your hand, more worry than anger coming over you. You couldn’t be mad at him, really, you were just worried something happened to him, since he wasn’t picking up your calls or even looking at your texts.

It’s around midnight, and you swore you wouldn’t sleep until you watched Chan, in all his glory, walk through the front door of your guys’s shared apartment. You’ve been dating Chan for years, ever since high school. And, now, even after graduating college and finding a stable job and apartment, Chan still tended to keep things from you. It was a bad habit of his, yes, but you couldn’t really be too mad at him for it. Besides, you’ll be able to help him out of that habit. Once he comes back, at least.

To wait, you decided to watch a bit of television to let your mind wander from the thought of something bad happening to Chan. Of course, the subtle thought of him cheating crossed your mind a few times, but Chan’s only ever been the most loyal and dedicated boyfriend, even past his pretty hard shell. He acts pretty tough sometimes, but you know that he’s just a little bit insecure about himself on the inside. Which, to you, is completely normal. Everyone’s at least a little bit insecure. You couldn’t blame him for that.

Getting with Chan was actually very difficult at first. You both had a rocky start before you started dating, since Chan was kind of like the cliche popular bad boy, and you were the snarky book nerd. You both started off arguing and bickering about everything. But, when you both got closer and closer, you began to see a softer, kinder side to him. And, like magic, you two started dating. You don’t really remember how it happened. It might’ve been just Chan saying, “Wanna date me?” or something like that just ‘cause it’s simple. However, getting it past your parents about your relationship with Chan was the most difficult in the world. They did not approve of him whatsoever. Even today, they’re still cautious of him even though Chan’s already proven his loyalty to you and swore to your parents that he’d never lay an aggressive finger on you.

You’re parents didn’t really like him because of his choice of outfits and friends, which was a stupid way to judge somebody in your opinion. So, no matter how many times they tried to break things off or distance you from Chan, you two always found your way back to each other. Though it was fun, all the sneaking out at three in the morning, saying you’re going over to a friends house when you’re really going to go see Chan and all the late night calls in a hushed tone, you’re glad you can finally relax about it and live peacefully with Chan without the need to sneak around.

But, your mind hasn’t been so peaceful these last few hours. There’s still no sign of Chan and no opened messages. You gave up on calling him after the fifth call had gone unanswered, and just decided to wait. Clutching your phone to your chest in case he were to call or text. Your eyes switch between the screen and the front door (which led into the living room).

You nearly jumped out of your blanket when your phone started ringing obnoxiously loud. Your heart beat loudly as you scrambled to look at the caller’s I.D. And, thankfully, it’s Chan. You’ve never answered so quickly.

“Chan?” Your excited voice squeaked out when you brought the phone close to your ear, a bright smile etching over your lips. Just happy that he’s in contact with you.

“Hey, darling,” Chan’s voice was husky and tired, and a little deeper than you remember. He must be exhausted, and you wondered if he had to stay late at work, “I’m so sorry for being out late. I’ll be home soon.”

“Alright… Is everything okay? What were you doing out so late?” You ask carefully, wrapping the blanket tightly around you.

“Work. My boss had me work over time. I would have texted you, but I was pretty busy,” in the distance, you can hear the sound of his car’s engine. He must be driving pretty fast. Chan also has a really nice car he saved up for and worked really hard for. It’s a smaller, good looking and really, really fast car. You could recognize that engine anywhere.

“Oh… I’m sorry about that,” You respond after a moment.

“It’s alright. Nothing to worry too much over,” you can hear Chan’s smile even through the phone, “And, by the way, could you do something for me before I get home?”

“Sure.”

“Could you make me something small to eat? I didn’t have the chance to eat dinner at work. If you could do that, that’d be so great, baby.” Chan says, and you get up off of the couch. Already heading for the kitchen.

“I could make you some jjajangmyeon? We have all the ingredients,” you say, surfing through your pantry.

“That’d be great, (Y/N). Thank you,” Chan sighs through the phone, and you pull out the ingredients.

“Of course. When will you be home?” You ask before he could hang up.

“I’ll be home in the next ten to fifteen minutes, at the least.” He says, and you can hear the engine get a little bit louder behind him, “I have to focus on the road. I’ll be home soon. I love you, baby.”

“Love you, too, Chan.” You respond, and hang up. Now with the satisfaction and the relief of knowing Chan’s coming home, you separate the ingredients out and start cooking (thank god you took that home economics class back in high school. You couldn’t cook for shit before that). Since Jjajangmyeon is a pretty slow cooked dish, you try your best with temperature control to fit it into the timeframe for when Chan gets home, wanting it to be ready for him.

You had your hair tied back as you cooked, occasionally looking up to watch the television, which was still on the random news channel from before. It talked about things you weren’t too interested in, so you only kept it on for background noise.

You were so immersed in cooking, you didn’t even notice the door slamming open and closed and a pair of heavy footsteps walking up to the kitchen. You jumped when Chan’s arms wrapped around your waist, his chin planting itself on your shoulder. He laughs tiredly at your reaction, and you turn to give him a subtle glare, but your smile deceived you.

“Hey, baby. I’m sorry for coming home so late. I promise it wasn’t my intention,” Chan grumbles out, his words low and slightly slurred, mostly because he’s tired.

“It’s alright, don’t apologize,” you chuckle softly as you arrange two portions of the jjajangmyeon into two different bowls. Chan watches silently over your shoulder, “I’m just glad you’re home. You worried me. Please text me next time, before you stay overtime and don’t bother texting me. I worry a lot, you know?”

“I know, (Y/N). I know you worry too much for your own good,” Chan smiles softly, chuckling tiredly, “It’s one of the reasons I love you so much.”

You smile, flustered, and raise a warm hand to press against Chan’s cheek, turning your head to press a loving kiss to his temple, which is cold, even in the warm kitchen. “Dinner’s ready. Do you want to eat in bed?”

“Not if you’ll make me do the dishes directly afterwards,” Chan lets go of you to take his dish, and you take yours.

You cock a brow at him, “I was going to make you do them anyways. You’re not getting out of it that easily.” You giggle and tap his nose with the tip of your finger. “Come on. Take mine, too. I’ll shut everything down.” You hand your bowl to Chan, who takes it quickly as you scurry around, turning off the television. Turning off lights and putting the dishes in the sink.

Once Chan’s changed into more comfortable wear and you’re both comfortable in bed, watching some show on the TV while eating. Time at home was usually like this; relaxing. You’re cuddled up to Chan while he ate slowly. Once you both finished, you placed them on the nightstands for the time being.

Chan was asleep instantly. You were up a bit longer, still a bit run on adrenaline from worrying so much earlier, despite knowing you have to be up early for work. Chan didn’t have to work till the afternoon, but you had to be up early since you’re a librarian at the local public high school. Chan’s an assistant producer and works under a decently big entertainment company. It’s quite the drastic difference, but you being a pretty big book worm yourself, you decided it would be fun to be a librarian (mostly using your literature degree), even if it’s stressful at times. Chan’s work, however, is much more tedious than your own. Where you can usually go at your own pace, he has more strict deadlines and sometimes more difficult work.

So, you let Chan sleep on your stomach. His arms wrapped around you securely as his face nuzzled into the soft fabric of the oversized shirt you were wearing. You were up a bit longer, watching the TV while running your hands through Chan’s soft hair. Enjoying the moment for the time being before you, yourself, drifted off into a deep sleep.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You were the first one to wake up the next morning, per usual. You woke up to your alarm that Chan thankfully slept through. You got ready as quickly and quietly as you could. Since you work in a pretty professional environment, you wear something modest, but fits well with the fall weather and your fashion style. You wore a white long sleeved shirt and a pair of black slacks under a jacket with your university’s logo on it and a pair of sneakers. They weren’t too big on dress code for the teachers at the school, but the students still had to wear uniforms.

Before you left, you made Chan lunch for the day and yourself a lunch. You even bothered to wake him up briefly to give him a kiss goodbye and that you’ll be back early afternoon, although he’ll probably be at work, then. Chan, although three fourths asleep, gave you a tight hug and a kiss with a slurred ‘Love you’ before plopping back onto the bed and instantly falling back asleep.

Although Chan had quite the expensive car, he wasn’t quite fond of you driving it. You have your own car, and it’s fine. Mostly used to drive to and from work and nothing more, since most other things you were with Chan, so you both usually took his car. It’s not so much a matter of richer and poorer, his car just had more little trinkets and things that are just more convenient. You’re not completely sure what model his car is, all you know is that it’s expensive.

The school isn’t too far. It’s actually a ten minute drive from your apartment. You have to make it there pretty early, so the roads aren’t jam packed like they would be when Chan has to drive to work. So, you have a bit of an advantage there. When you get there, you’re met with the people in the front office, who bow respectfully to you, and you make your way to the library.

You set up at the large, round desk. You especially like being a librarian, because it’s quiet. You don’t think you’d do too well as a teacher, so you settled for a librarian since it was a good and easy way to use your literature degree and put it to good use, other than the fact you’re writing a novel, but that’s a whole other story (hehet).

It’s about half an hour before some students pile in, bidding you good morning and sitting down at the tables to study for whatever assignment or test they have, or to finish homework. Some of them go around to look at books, but most just sit by their lonesome and work on whatever while blasting profane music into their poor ears.

You were busying yourself going through overdue books, and emailing parents about student’s overdue books. You were immersed in your work, so you were somewhat shocked when someone tapped your shoulder. When you turned, you were met with the smiling face of your coworker. A middle aged, pretty woman named Jung Migyeong, who gave you the permission to call her ‘unnie’. She’s considerably your work - best friend. She’s the only person who really delved into conversation with you, unlike most of the other teachers who only talked to you about whatever book they’re class reading or for book suggestions (and you just choose the first book in the library that comes to mind).

“Oh, you scared me!” You giggle in a hushed tone, and Eunmi smiled brightly, her motherly aura giving you a sense of calmness.

“Sorry, sorry!” Eunmi sits on your desk, more leaning against it. Eunmi is really a pretty lady. Her hair is cut short to her shoulders, and she never wears makeup. Her natural tone is without blemishes or acne. She always wears pretty dresses to work, and she always carries around her purse for some odd reason. “I wanted to catch up with you. I didn’t realize you were so immersed in your work. I should’ve known, you’re more responsible than half the teachers here.”

“I try, I really do,” You respond, leaning back in the chair and smiling up at her, “Do you have a free period for the first hour?”

Eunmi nods, “Yes, I do. They switched it up just ‘cause of something wrong in the student's schedules. But, that’s past the point. How have things been going? In the home life?”

You shrug a shoulder, your smile dropping, “It’s… going. My boyfriend didn’t come home until, like, twelve - thirty last night. He said he had to stay late for work, but I don’t get it, Eunmi. He wouldn’t answer my calls or texts, and I don’t think his job prevents him from at least opening a text until he gets off, you know?”

“You said he’s a producer, right?” Eunmi asks, her head tilting down to look at you more clearly. You nod, “Well, he might’ve been busy with the idol. It’s pretty difficult work, I’m surprised he’s been able to keep up with it well.”

“Well, he came home hungry and tired,” you sigh again, “Which is weird because if he stays late he usually grabs something from the kitchen at the company building or fast food and eats it before he comes home. But, he was hungry… not super hungry, but I made him jjajangmyeon.”

"Jajangmyeon?" Eunmi’s head tilts, and one brow lifts and she scoffs, “That’s like a fifty minute dinner.”

“Not if you toy around with the temperatures, no,” you smile, and Eunmi shrugs a shoulder, “Eh, I was the one who suggested it to him. It’s one of his favorites, and he sounded exhausted and overworked so I though, you know, might as well. But, after eating, he was out like a light. You wouldn’t think that producing would make someone so tired.”

“You never know,” Eunmi reassures, “You seem to be really worried about this. You don’t think he’s cheating, do you?”

You quickly shake your head, “No, no! I know him, and I know that he would never do that to me. I think he’s just trying to hide something from me. I’m not mad at him, I just don’t want him to keep anything from me.”

“You’re not mad… yet!” Eunmi corrects, and your lips purse, “If he’s really hiding something from you, it must be pretty big. I would personally be surprised if you were able to keep your temper if you found out whatever it is he’s hiding. Cheating or not.”

You’ve never really been one to get extremely mad or even start arguments. As said before, you and Chan did have petty arguments back in high school, but since then, you’ve both matured. Chan always shut down a fight if you were getting too agitated, and you were usually never the first one to start up an argument, since your patience isn’t as thin as before. You will admit, though, you’d be decently upset if you found out Chan really was hiding something from you. You trust him so much, you thought there should’ve been nothing to hide.

“I suppose you’re right,” you lean your head against your hand, resting your elbow on the desk, “If there’s a good chance, I’ll talk to him about it tonight. If I want things to really work out with him, then there has to be complete trust and honesty with each other.”

“That’s the spirit,” Eunmi proudly says, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with him, unnie,” you admit shamelessly, and Eunmi smiles wistfully, “I want to grow old with him. But I don’t want to live waking up every day at four in the morning and coming home to no one for hours on end. And, sometimes he won't come till midnight or morning.”

“Well, my husband and I used to have a lot of secrets, too. That we kept from each other,” Eunmi admits, reassuring you that you’re not the only one going through something like this, “The only way we were able to sort things through was by sitting down and talking to each other. Just telling all of our secrets to each other, even if they’re embarrassing or stupid. Just knowing the fact that we can trust each other with everything gives us that reassurance that we’re meant to be. Honesty is everything.”

You look down, thinking about the advice Eunmi had just given you, and you swallow down the growing lump of frustration in your throat, “Thank you for the advice, unnie. It means a lot to me.”

“Of course. I’m always free to talk, and you have my number if anything happens,” Eunmi smiles fondly, “And my doors are always open to you. I’ve spoken to my husband about you and he said that he’s always willing to keep our doors open. Just in case anything happens. You can’t be too careful, right?”

“Right,” you smile, flustered by Eunmi’s kindness, “Thank you so much. I’m… you’re right. If the worst of the worst happens and I’m booted out of my own apartment, then I’m at least glad to know that there’s some place I can go to that’s not three cities over.”

Eunmi laughs softly, and you laugh along with her, “I’m glad. Anyways, it’s about that time. I’m going to start heading back to my classroom. Let Chan know that I said hello, and that I wish you both well. Good luck, (Y/N).”

“Thanks, unnie. I’ll call you later,” you wave briefly as Eunmi makes her way out of the library, students bowing briefly to her as she passes.

You’re glad to have a friend like Eunmi. You’re lucky to have someone open their doors to you. Sometimes, you wonder if Eunmi views you as a younger sister, since she constantly rambles on and on about how she loves being called unnie or noona by her younger coworkers, even if she’s among the younger teachers. She’s like the sister you’ve never had. Sure, things had to be professional, but you’d like to spend more time with her out of the workplace. That would be fun.

The rest of the day is pretty slow. You had a few classes come in to pick up literature books, math books and to check out some books, but that was really it. You didn’t see Eunmi again, and left a few hours after the school closed. There was a bit of traffic on the way home, but it was mostly cleared up.

When you got home, you weren’t surprised to be met with an empty house. No sign of Chan, except the lunch you made him was gone, meaning he took it with him, thankfully, and he left a cute little note on a sticky note saying his thanks to you for making it for him. Which he usually did for you (you never bothered to throw them away. You actually kept them all in a little cigar box for safekeeping. Why? You didn’t know. You just felt like it.)

Like every day when you come home, you change into a pair of more comfortable clothing, which was just one of Chan’s hoodies you took out of his side of the closet, and a pair of ripped jeans. Since Chan didn’t do the dishes before he left, like you thought he would, you decided to do them to pass the time. In doing so, you turned on the TV for some background noise as you rolled up your sleeves to start scrubbing the dishes.

However, your attention was soon caught by the TV when the regular news anchor started talking about crime. At first, it was just about a robbery that took place in uptown, and that didn’t really suit your interest. What did catch your attention, enough to turn off the faucet and ignore the dishes to watch the TV, was when an all - too familiar black car with tinted windows and no license plate appeared on the screen, and there was a red car, too, but you didn’t recognize that one.

You turned up the volume, “Today, police are trying to look for these cars with no license plates caught on camera last night. They were suspected to be illegally street racing and gambling last night at around eleven o’ clock at night before being caught on security footage of a hotel nearby. If you can identify these cars, please contact the police immediately. One has been identified as a black Ferrari SF90 Stradale. The other has yet to be identified. If you see anything suspicious on the streets, please contact authorities. Here’s a clearer picture of both cars.”

And, that’s when it sparked you. One of the pictures of the black Ferrari was of the front. Despite the tinted window, you could clearly see a black ice Little Tree air freshener hanging from the mirror and a familiar hand gripping the wheel tightly. How could you recognize it? Despite the low quality, you can see a familiar ring on the middle finger. A celtic design Chan loved so much.

“Oh… my fucking god,” your mouth drops open as realization hits, and you immediately dash to the bedroom to yank open Chan’s dresser drawer, one left vacant for paperwork to “keep things safe”, and you pull out his insurance for his car. And, there it is, in plain sight. Ferrari SF90 Stradale. Color; black. Windows; tinted. At first, shock pools through you. Doubt climbing up. There’s no way Chan’s a criminal. There’s no way that he’s the one in the Ferrari. It has to be someone else.

But, there was only one way to find out. You had to be sure it was him.

So, you grabbed your purse and your keys and threw on a pair of slip - on vans. The sun was already setting, and you nearly forgot to lock up before running to your car. Barely unlocking it before you throw yourself into it, not even bothering to buckle your seatbelt before driving off to god knows where. Your gut leading you, immediately driving towards the area shown on the news. You pull out your phone, trusting the wheel in one hand as you pull up Chan’s profile and call him, pressing the phone to your ear.

The ringing carries on and on until the familiar voice of Chan speaks up, telling you that he’s not available and to leave a message after the beep.

“Oh, fuck off!” You scream at your phone before trying to call him again. Again and again it led to voicemail. Voicemail after voicemail. You couldn’t text him, not with you driving.

After the tenth call, you let out a frustrated yell, hitting your wheel with your palm and trying your best not to cry. You might be overreacting, since there’s a large chance that it isn’t Chan. But, for some reason, you believed it. You believed, at least somewhat, that it was Chan’s car. That it was Chan in the car. You didn’t want to believe it, but you did.

And your questions coursing through your mind were soon answered when you pulled up to the spot from the news, it now twilight, the sun just being set over the city’s horizon. You pulled onto an empty freeway, and parked in an alley between two buildings. There’s a group of people and a ton of expensive cars around the freeway. There were people crowded around a table. Some girls sat on top of cars, talking and laughing to each other while wearing vulgar and revealing clothes. Your brows furrow, deciding to stay low for a while. You turn off the engine to your car and watch carefully, gripping your phone in your hand. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, popping beer bottles, laughing and talking amongst themselves.

But, it’s when the sound of a loud engine came into earshot, and everyone, including you, turned to see the source of the sound. The moment the crowd of people see who it is, they start to cheer loudly. Throwing up their hands. However, your mouth falls open once more as the black Ferrari SF90 Stradale with tinted windows and a black ice Little Tree air freshener hanging from the rear - view mirror. It pulls up to the crowd, and they all part to make way for it.

Instead of shock or sadness, anger and rage begins to boil inside of you, and you grip your steering wheel tightly as you watch Chan, Christopher Bang, step out of the car. People pat his shoulder, and he smiles widely at them. Giving a few people hugs and even smiling to some of the women, who tried to steal a hug from him, too. He’s wearing clothes you don’t ever remember seeing. He wears a black leather jacket over a white button up and black skinny jeans. You’d be impressed by how good he looks if you weren’t so upset.

You didn’t even have to look at your phone as you pulled up Chan’s profile and called him, pressing the phone roughly to your ear.

“Pick up… Pick the fuck up,” you grumble under your breath as you watch Chan. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, and looks at it briefly.

Not even hesitating to hang up.

As you heard the familiar sound of Chan’s sweet voice telling you he’s not available at the moment and to leave a message after the beep, you finally have enough courage to get out of your car. Slamming the door shut and making your way out of the alley. They’re not too far, but it's a long enough walk for you to catch the eye of some people. You don’t even pause to rethink your decisions when a girl taps the chest of one of the guys, who glares at you with a raised brow.

The man that glared at you stepped away from the crowd, and you could barely see Chan over the people. He walks over to you, and you stop when the man is right in front of you, peering down you. The smell of cheap beer oozing off of him.

“And who the fuck are you?”

“Chan’s girlfriend, now get the fuck out of my way,” you try to push past him, but he grabs you by the arm. Tightly, too. Probably tight enough to leave a bruise after a while. “Hey! Let go of me.”

“No can do, princess,” the man says, smirking mercilessly down at you, his grip not loosening one bit, “Whether or not you’re Chan’s bitch doesn’t matter to me. It’s either you leave or I take you home and we have a good time. Well, I will, at least.” So, you tried to yank your arm from his, trying your best not to use your free hand to punch him in the face.

“Where’s Chan? Bring him to me.” You demand, and the man scoffs, chuckling.

“Fine, have it your way,” the man turns his head towards the crowd, a few people watch, and he says, “Grab Chan. This chick says she’s his girlfriend.” A few of them laugh at him, thinking it’s a joke. But, you stand your ground, glaring through the crowd. One of the people that laughed pushed through a few people. It takes a minute, and there’s a tense silence between you and the man as you try to pry his hand off.

But, as you suspected, a smiling Chan pushes through, but his smile instantly drops when he sees you.

“Hey, Chan. This chick’s babbling on about being your girl. Should I kick-”

“Get your hands off her right now before I shoot you in the face.” Chan interrupts, anger lacing his dark, deep voice. The man holding your arm instantly lets go and steps away, his hands rising in defense. Mumbling something about just ‘trying to keep things safe’. Once the man is away, Chan walks up to you, now being the one tightly gripping your arms. Leaning down so his face is close to yours.

“Why are you here, (Y/N)? Why the hell are you here?” He asks harshly, his voice full of surprise and desperation. He even shakes you slightly.

“You seriously thought I wouldn’t find out?” You snap, ignoring his question all together, “You thought I was dumb enough to let this go under? Well, I’ve been dumb for too long, Christopher. I’m not going to be like that anymore.” You know he’s not too big a fan of being called by his real name, but you do it anyway.

“Go home (Y/N). I’ll explain everything to you afterwards.” Chan says, placing a hand on your shoulder, trying to turn you away.

“No!” You yell, pushing his arms off you, “I am not going home, Chan! I am staying with you. I need to know what the hell all of this is. Right. Now.” You demand, and Chan shakes his head.

“No. You’re going home, (Y/N),” Chan tries to push you away again, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly and trying to turn you from the curious crowd. However, you weren’t going to be let off so easily. You swiftly turned around, letting your flying hand come in contact with Chan’s cheek. Smacking him. You made sure not to backhand him, knowing how much that could hurt. Besides, you don’t want to hurt him too much, you just want to get your point across, and he wasn’t listening to your words. He lets go of you again, his head flinging to the side because of the impact.

“I said no. I’m staying here,” You repeat yourself, and Chan’s eyes no longer lace with aggression, but worry. He doesn’t seem upset that you hit him. In fact, he seems to gloss over it. “I need to know what’s going on-”

You weren’t able to finish your sentence until Chan grabs you by the wrist and pulls you into the crowd. They part to make way for him, and you aren’t able to muster out a sentence before Chan unlocked his car and shoves you forcefully into the passenger seat.

“Chan, what -”

“Shut up, buckle up and hold on tight ‘cause it’s gonna be one hell of a night for us, darling,” Chan snaps, and your lips clamp close at his harsh words. You didn’t expect that out of him. You could nearly cry right there. Chan backs away and slams the door shut, and you quickly scramble to put the seatbelt on as Chan yells something at the crowd, and they erupt in cheers. A few people scramble to get into different cars, and the rest stay back, keeping their distance. However, Chan didn’t seem too pleased as he walked around the car and into the passenger’s seat, locking the doors.

“Chan…”

“Quiet,” Chan snaps, revving the engine of the car. You can faintly hear the cheer of the onlookers behind as Chan pulls alongside the other three cars. A young woman wearing small shorts and an exposed shirt too small for fall walks ahead, and pulls a red cloth out of her back pocket. Her red lips smile bright as she lifts her red cloth. She holds up one finger, and Chan’s engine growls from behind, the car shaking along with it. Your hands go to grip the first thing, which is the cup holder in the center console and the door. Bracing yourself for what’s about to happen.

“Chan!”

“I said quiet!” Chan yells, sparing you a glance and your brows creased with worry as the woman holds up a second finger, and Chan’s hand grips the wheel as the other rests over the buttons.

She doesn’t hold up a third finger. Instead, she throws down the red cloth, and the moment she does so, Chan is off on the road. His foot slammed against the gas as he pushed his back against the seat and used one hand to effortlessly steer. You feel so impossibly scared in the car. A small part of you was debating whether or not you should have gone home, but you knew that it was the right decision to stay. To truly understand what’s been going on and what this is all about.

You try your best not to scream as the loud engine nearly bursts your eardrums.

“Chan… Chan, stop the car!” You scream, the need to vomit creeping up, even though you try to gulp it down.

“I can’t, (Y/N). I really can’t right now.” He says loudly over the engine.

“Please, Chan, just stop the car…!” You yell out again, and Chan finally glances at you, seeing your distressed look before his head snaps ahead again.

His hand swiftly reaches over to grip your thigh, as if trying to prove that you’re secure, “Calm down, (Y/N). You’ll be fine. We’re fine. I’m not stopping the car. Sorry, but I just can’t.”

“I should hate you for this, Chan!” You say, and you can see the way his knuckles turn white from gripping the wheel. “But I can’t… I just… Goddamn it, why!?”

“I can’t tell you that right now!” He yells back, looking over briefly before making a sharp turn, making you clutch onto the seat belt for protection, his hand now back over the buttons, “You just need to sit there until this is over, got it? I don’t care how scared you are, you’re gonna get through it like the strong woman you are, (Y/N), and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

You look over to Chan, and his lips are downturned, his brows furrowed and his eyes glossed over, as if he could cry right there.

“But why didn’t you just tell me?! We wouldn’t be like this right now if you just told me, Chan, and that’s the truth.” You yell over the engine, and Chan bitterly and breathily chuckles, shaking his head as an angry smile casts over his lips.

“You wouldn’t have stayed with me if I told you, (Y/N), you know that.” His voice is a little softer. If any softer, you wouldn’t have heard him. “You would’ve left me.”

Your mouth falls open, and you shake your head, “Never… Never! Never, ever, accuse me of that. I would never leave you even if you killed a man, Chan, and that’s the truth!” He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even look at you as he turns another sharp corner, and you can see the other cars following behind, closing in. He sees it, too, and he presses some buttons you didn’t bother reading and slams his foot on the gas again. You let out a deep breath, still clutching the seat belt, “I just want to know why, Chan. Why are you resulting to this even though you have a stable job at the entertainment company, I-... I just want you to be honest with me.”

“I’ll tell you later, (Y/N). Just sit tight and keep your mouth shut. I need to focus or we’ll fucking crash, you got it!” He yells, and you flinch at his harsh tone. Finally keeping quiet.

The race seems like it lasts forever, when it was probably only five minutes. With sharp twists and turns and screeching of the engine in wheels, it feels like torture. You hate this, but there’s no backing out yet.

Chan doesn’t utter a word. Only cursing at the other cars when they do something that they weren’t supposed to do, or somehow start catching up to him. You let a few tears slip as you watch his hands and Chan as he focuses solely on the road. The lump in your throat is growing bigger and bigger, and swallowing it down seems to get more and more difficult.

But, it’s over at some point. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and Chan finally slowed down after reaching a pathetic excuse of a finish line. Your trembling hands grip the hem of the hoodie you were wearing as Chan comes to a steady stop. People come cheering as the other three cars pull up behind, being careful not to bump into anyone from the crowd. You breath heavily, and look over to Chan, who rolls down his window, plastering a triumphant smile on his lips.

“I don’t even get why I race against you, mate. You always win. Just take the money and get outta here,” says one of the racers playfully, tossing Chan a briefcase through the window.

“Thanks man. Good race,” Chan says, “Now, I have business to attend to. If you’ll excuse me.”

He rolls up the window, and the man who handed Chan the briefcase smacks the window playfully as Chan rushes off, his smile instantly vanishing as he goes through backgrounds to try and get to a main road without drawing too much attention. Chan’s smile drops, and he hands you the briefcase.

“You want to know so badly? Open it and be careful. It’ll be hell to clean up if you drop it,” Chan grumbles, looking over as you look to him for reassurance. He only gives you a cocked brow as you look back to the case in your lap before unlocking it and opening it. Your jaw falls as you look at the thousands of bills stacked on top of each other, rubber bands holding equal stacks together, and you gawk at just how much money Chan won from one race.

After a minute of you staring at the money, Chan slams the case closed in your lap, locking it with one hand and tossing it in the backseat making you jump at how hasty he is.

You both sit there, Chan driving to god knows where in tense silence. You're holding your head in your hands as Chan shifted his gaze between you and the road.

It’s about fifteen minutes until you look up, surprised that he’s still driving and nowhere near home. It’s an emptier city, but Chan seems to know the area well.

“Chan, where are we?” You ask, but Chan gives no answer. Only driving a bit further before pulling into an alley between two old buildings. “Chan, I said -”

You were quickly by Chan yanking off his seatbelt and leaning over the center console to firmly grab your face and pull you into a rough kiss. It isn’t too rushed, but it’s not at all gentle. You’re caught by surprise at first, but couldn’t help melting into it. It’s almost instinct at this point to kiss him back, but you push him away after a moment. “What… What the fuck are you doing?”

“Kissing you,” Chan answers briefly before grabbing locks of your hair at the back of your head and pulling you into another kiss, his other hand creeping down to unbuckle your seatbelt, and you let it slam against the car as it flies off you.

“No, Chan… We need to talk,” You grumble out as you try to pull away, and he presses wet, sloppy kisses to the side of your mouth. His eyes are fluttered shut, and your’s are half lidded. You will admit, you love this. The kisses and how unnaturally aggressive Chan is being. But, you knew that you have to talk things out, or you’d never get to figure out how the hell things turned out like this, “Chan, I’m serious right now.”

“Then relax, baby,” Chan breathily whispers out, and your thighs squeeze together, “Let me make things up to you, okay? I’ll fuck you so good, baby.” He pulls away for a moment, and he stares at you with a teasing smirk, “Think of it as my apology, alright?”

“Chan, I’m… I’m - ah! Chan!” You gasp when Chan’s lips come in contact with the side of your neck. Your neck is already tilting to give him more room, despite trying pathetically to push him away. There’s no getting through to him anymore. You’ve passed the point of no return, and there’s not much you could get past him without slapping him again. And that didn’t seem like a very good idea to you. Your hand flies up to grip the back of his neck, the other loosely clutching the hem of his button up.

“You know that… ah… that we are going to talk about this at some point…” you groan out, and Chan only groans against your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin. “You can’t get out of it like this…”

“Shut it, (Y/N),” Chan snaps, and your head falls back. Chan leans his seat back, aggressively grabbing you by the thighs to pull you over and sit on top of him. Straddling his waist despite it being such a tight environment. He pulls you down by the hoodie, into another kiss. You could feel how frustrated Chan is by the way he grips you tightly, as if you’re going to magically vanish, and by how he talks to you.

It’s rushed, too. Chan is impossibly quick to pull up your hoodie, his hot, sweaty hands creeping up your warm back, caressing it with a different, quick sense of gentleness. His lips connect with yours once again. His tongue already pressing against your lips. The quick, sloppy kiss all too lust filled. The erotic sounds coming from the both of you almost making you gloss over the fact that you should still be very mad at Chan. But, you just can’t find the need to pull away from him. You need to let off the steam, too.

You flush your body firm against him, one hand on his chest and the other by his head, holding onto the head of the seat for support. Breathing as slowly as you can through your nose to savor the air Chan so selfishly takes from you from the heated kiss. Your thoughts begin to vanish and your worry and concern for Chan’s life choices begin to falter for the time being. So immersed in the heated kiss to forget about it entirely. All your focus is now on Chan. You can tell how stressed he is, and the loving part of you wants to help him let off that steam. But, now, you’re in the same boat. So, he’s going to have to do so much for you as you’ve been doing for him.

Chan’s hands don’t bother to hesitate before they loop underneath your jeans, not caring to unbutton them as he tries his best to pull them off by himself. Because of how restricted you both are because of the size of the car, you had to do it yourself. You parted from the kiss and pressed your head against his shoulder to unbutton your jeans and pull them down as quickly as you could before throwing them in the back (along with your shoes and socks. You can already see how hard Chan’s gotten as his rough hands massage and knead your ass, only covered by the thin, black cloth keeping you at least somewhat covered. But, if this was like any other time, they’d be gone quicker than you’d imagine.

Your hands fly up again once your pants are thrown to the back, resting on either side of Chan’s head as he grips your hips, grinding your womanhood against his clothed hardon (you’re also clothed, but it’s so wet from your juices that it basically attaches itself to your skin). His head throws itself back, his eyes closing and a pleasure filled smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. You press yourself against him, now propped up to be looming over him, sitting on him.

When you do press against him, his head snaps forward again, and his dark eyes glare up at you, “Don’t start getting proud, (Y/N). I’m gonna fucking break you.” His hand crawls up to grip your face in his hand. One of your hands weakly comes up to grip his wrist. His hand moving down to grip your throat, and your lips part blissfully as his fingers press into the sides of your neck, still allowing airflow through you. “Oh, fuck. You like being choked, huh? You like being choked like a slut don’t you?” You don’t answer, too nervous to and too caught up in the pleasure to actually let something other than a moan escape your lips.

“Talk to me, (Y/N). Use your fucking words,” Chan growls, and you swallow. The lump in your throat pressing painfully, yet blissfully against Chan’s hand.

“Fuck me, Chris. Fuck me…” You utter out his name, and Chan’s brow raises. But, he smirks nonetheless and lets go of your neck, and you let out a breath as he undoes his jeans and pulls them down to his feet. His hand palming his clothed cock briefly before pulling it out. His hard dick already leaking with precum.

“Condom…” You mutter, and Chan shakes his head. You look up to him with worry.

“Trust me, baby,” he mutters, and you sigh, leaning against him, pressing your body against his as Chan moves your panties out of the way before he aligns your throbbing cunt with his dick, and slowly pushing himself into you, raw. As his raw cock slowly becomes engulfed by your heat, Chan lets out low groans. Your face nuzzles into the side of his neck as Chan slowly guides you down until you’re sitting on his cock.

At first, he stays there like that. Not moving. You suspect it’s because the sane part of him wants you to get used to the feeling of his cock so deep in you without a condom, but Chan seems to keep you there for a few moments just for the sake of how good it feels without a condom. The way his head is leaned back, his lips slightly ajar and his eyes fluttered shut.

But, it doesn’t last long before Chan’s strong arms wrap around your waist, holding you up and starts ramming into you. His hips move so quickly, yet so efficiently as he burns your wet walls. You erupt in a series of loud moans, mixtures of Chan’s name and curses spilling out, too. Chan groans sometimes, right next to your ear. The sound of skin slapping against the fabric of Chan’s boxers echoing through the air tight car.

Your pussy burns from how fast Chan thrusts into you, keeping you at a steady position so he could have an easier time ramming himself into you without the difficulty of it being such a confined and restrictive place in the car (especially in the driver’s seat). The burn is so good for you, though. It’s such a numbing, euphoric feeling that you’ll crave later. A type of burn you could never provide yourself, only Chan.

Chan’s hands go from gripping your body to sliding up your side to gripping your hair and yanking your head back so he could look at you. A judgemental, sexy smirk adorning his lips as he sees how fucked out you are. Your mouth open as you moan, and your half lidded eyes occasionally closing from the bliss.

“Fucking hell… you’re so good for me, (Y/N). You take my cock so fucking well, don’t you?” You let out a choked moan as Chan’s hand grips harder on your hair, craning your neck. “Mmm… Baby girl can’t even talk to me… I know I said to shut it…” he laughs darkly through his moans, and your moans get louder when Chan lets go of your hair, letting your face fall back onto his shoulder as his hands grip your ass. Kneading them as he fucks himself into you. You clench helplessly around his cock.

“Oh… fuck, you’re gonna cum, aren’t you? You wanna cum around my cock, baby girl?” You nod frantically, your climax climbing up as you push your body back to meet with Chan’s aggressive thrusts. Your overstimulated cunt only being destroyed by Chan’s cock as he thrusts harder into you, his hips staggering slightly as you clench around him. “Mmm! - Cum for me, baby. Cum for me.” Chan growls out as his hand grips your face again, forcing your head up as your eyes roll into the back of your head, a loud string of moans escaping your lips as you cum all over Chan’s cock, and he pulls out just quick enough to spurt out a string of cum along your ass.

He lets go of your face, and you breath heavily as you rest your head on Chan’s chest, closing your eyes to catch your breath. A burning sensation still resting in your core as you relax, your womanhood’s muscles contracting every now and then from the orgasm.

Chan cleans you both up with a napkin he had in the center console and helped you put your jeans back on (deciding to toss your soiled panties) and he slipped his jeans back on silently. It’s not until you’re sitting on his lap, resting your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat when he speaks.

“You know I love you so much, right?” Chan mumbles out, and you look up to him. “I was so mean to you today… when you must’ve been so confused.” His head falls back, and he looks out the window with a longing look in his eyes, “I’m the worst boyfriend in the world, aren’t I?”

“No, you’re not. Don’t even think things like that. Yes, I am still a bit upset, but you know what? We’re going to get past this because I love you, too, Channie.” You stare at him with an adoring expression adorning your sparkling eyes (trying to ignore the burning in your core).

“You… You want to know the real reason I’m a street racer, (Y/N)? Why the fuck I'm doing this?” Chan asks softly, his hand stroking your hair.

“If you could… I’ve been asking all day,” you chuckle softly, and Chan smiles bitterly.

“Well… I… I’m doing this all for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“No job will pay for the things I want to give you, (Y/N).” He turns over, reaching into the center console to pull out a black box, and your eyes widen as he opens it. You can’t see it, but you can barely see the sparkle of a something reflective. “I… I couldn’t pay for this myself. I knew I couldn’t. I hate how this is how I’m asking you… but, (Y/N), will you-”

“Oh my god, yes!”

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wherethehellismysupersuit · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! I really enjoyed the last post you made of Ren it was so cute ahhh!

Since you asked for prompts I thought of one: Ren gets jealous after seeing reader spending more time with MJ or Kavin than him even though they’re usually attached by the hip.

Hi anon! Thanks for the kind words and prompt. It turned out a bit long and i can only hope i've interpreted it correctly, lol. Enjoy! (might be a lil ooc tho, depending on how you see him)

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ren is definitely not a jealous person.

He’s more of a passive side character, in the words of Kavin. Calm and collected is basically synonymous with Renrawin Aira.

So why the hell is he irritated?

“Your face is gonna get stuck if you keep scowling like that,” Thyme says, snacking on his usual yoghurt cup.

“Don’t you have something better to do? Go bother Gorya. And for the love of god, wipe your chin. You’re making a mess.”

Thyme sighs longingly, looking at the direction where his girlfriend sits with Kaning and Kavin, the former’s head buried in a textbook while the latter two make sappy faces at each other. “She told me she’d kill me if I interrupted her.” A dreamy smile graces his face. “I love her.”

“Great.” Ren mumbles distractedly, and Thyme finally snaps out of his Gorya induced stupor to observe what exactly is bothering Ren so much.

The scene in question is you and MJ studying together, heads bent down, occasionally leaning closer to highlight something on each other’s respective book. You’ve graciously shared your earbuds after finding out that he pretty much has the same music taste as you (Unlike Ren, who only listens to obscure artists no one’s ever heard of because he’s cool).

Ren’s jaw clenches as he watches MJ do a dramatic hair flip and your stifled laughter as you try and mess his hair up.

“They look pretty cozy, don’t they?” notes Thyme, glancing at Ren. Seeing his face look annoyed, the boy brightens, already sensing an opportunity to further annoy him.

“Her and MJ look pretty cute together, don’t you think?” Thyme says nonchalantly.

“No they don’t,” Ren says, voice unusually loud and eyes still fixed on you. He and you had become friends out of necessity, when your respective friends coupled up and MJ was somewhere getting piss drunk. Both of you enjoyed riling each other up, whether it was him taking away the books he knew you wanted to read from the library, or you stealing his pens when he was being melancholy because he usually had all the best stationery.

You usually hung out with him. So why were you randomly hanging out with MJ? And sharing earbuds with him? And playing with his hair?

“Earth to Ren,” Thyme singsongs, waving a hand in front of his face.

“How does Gorya even stand you without wanting to punch you in the face?” Ren finally snaps, glaring at Thyme, who just shrugs in a you-tell-me manner.

“Hey guys,” your voice sounds and he turns away from Thyme to look at you. MJ’s arm is casually slung across your shoulder as he checks his phone.

“Did you actually study or just fool around?” Ren asks acerbically, while Thyme snorts.

“We actually finished a lot!” you reply, genuinely happy and oblivious enough to not notice his tone. “MJ, you gotta be my study buddy again. We almost finished half our portions today!”

The man shoots you a thumbs up and you reply in kind when his phone rings. “Shoot, I have to take this. See you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” you confirm, and Ren watches MJ leave with a slight frown on his face.

“I’m gonna go annoy Gorya,” Thyme announces, striding away to where she sits.

Ren’s frown merely deepens, when a cool hand is placed on his forehead, smoothing out the wrinkle in his brow. He flushes faintly.

"Wouldn’t want to ruin that million baht face by getting frown lines early, hmm?” You smirk, removing your hand and collapsing onto the seat Thyme vacated.

Ren already misses the touch.

“So what’s the deal with you and MJ?” he asks, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“We’ve agreed to study together,” you say, eyes closed as you enjoy the breeze. “I can bounce all my concepts and theories off him, and in return he gets tutored. A win for both of us.”

“you could’ve asked me,” Ren mumbles.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he says, but of course you’re the most persistent person he’s ever met.

You pester him until he snaps.

“You could’ve asked me, okay?”

Silence reigns upon the two of you. “…What?”

“You could’ve asked me!” He explodes, looking slightly frazzled. “You don’t have to study with him, he’s never present in any class!”

“Ren-”

“And what was with the sharing earbuds and playing with his hair?” He continues, clearly worked up. “I’ve known you the longest and yet you’ve never shared so much as your playlist nor touched my hair-”

“Cause I thought you’d make fun of my music taste because it’s basic! And don’t you usually take an hour to get your hair to make that swoop? You glared at that girl who tried to touch your hair-”

“Oh my god, shut up!” Gorya shouts from across, brows drawn together in an exasperated furrow. “You both like each other, you idiots.”

Another stunned silence reigns, with the exception of Thyme, Kavin and Kaning making a series of oohs.

“You like me?” both of you ask at the same time, and laugh awkwardly when it’s simultaneous.

“Um, well…” you fumble, not looking Ren in the eye in the hopes that he wouldn’t see your flushed face. “Do you want to maybe go out on a date? Tomorrow?”

Ren looks slightly taken aback, but pleased. “Aren’t I supposed to ask you that?”

“It’s the twenty-first century,” Kaning says sagely. “With that being said, drop by the flower shop, Ren. I’m sure Uncle Gawao can give you a discount.”

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

lmk what you think of it!

#f4 thailand #f4 thyme #f4 ren #f4 gorya #f4 mj #f4 kavin #thyme x gorya #kavin x kaning #as always pls be nice lol

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lo-frequency · 4 years ago

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Shinsou x Chubby Latina!Reader: Un Pequeño Malentendido

Or, "A Little Misunderstanding" in English. Anyway, I'm learning Spanish in college so I was rlly happy to get a request for a Latina reader from @blossominglark. In other words, I got carried away lol.

Shinsou had heard about the new American student that transferred into Class A. He’d heard about your impressive academic ability and formidable quirk, and that you were multilingual, proficient in Spanish, English, and Japanese. Well, decent enough at Japanese. Impressive for sure, but Shinsou had yet to actually see you and place a face to your already admirable name.

He’d get to know you soon enough, however.

“Out of the way, mind-control freak,” one of Shinsou’s fellow classmates said as he brushed past him in the hall. Shinsou rolled his eyes, and was about to reply with an equally biting comeback when another voice beat him to it.

“Oye, watch your mouth, jerk!” you said, coming up behind Shinsou in the hallway. The classmate looked back with a scowl, but decided he didn’t want any smoke when he saw you, instead choosing to walk away while muttering under his breath.

You walked up to Hitoshi, shaking your head in contempt as he walked away. “Cabrón,” you scoff, muttering something about hating bullies. Shinsou looked at you with slightly raised eyebrows, wondering what possessed you to speak up for him like that. He doesn’t even know you, nor has he seen you at school before. You meet his bewildered stare with a kind smile.

“Hi, my name is Y/N L/N, I’m in Class A! We haven’t met before, but I heard about you from my classmates. You’re Hitoshi Shinsou, right?” you asked, probably noticing the questioning look in his eyes.

Y/N L/N? No wonder he hadn’t seen you before, you’re the transfer student. Shinsou was surprised to hear that you recognized him...he knew he had a reputation, but sheesh. He scratched at the back of his neck. “Yeah, that’s me...” there was an awkward pause as you two stared at each other, “Well, I appreciate the help, you didn’t have to do that,” he finally said. While Hitoshi was definitely grateful, it was just a little embarrassing that you felt the need to intervene as if he couldn’t defend himself. He didn’t know what your classmates had told you, but he hoped you didn’t view him as just some poor victim with an unfortunate quirk.

Your smile widened. “It’s no problem. I know what it’s like to be picked on for being different, so…” you trail off with a sheepish smile and a shrug. The silence falls between you again, and you decide that you should probably head back to class. “Bueno...it was nice meeting you, Hitoshi. I guess I’ll see you around?” you say with a short wave, turning to head down the hallway after Shinsou bobbed his head in acknowledgement.

He guessed you only came down this hall when you heard him getting harassed. His gaze lingered on the sway of your full hips as you walked away, before also turning to leave. “Then I’ll see you around, Y/n...” he said to himself, thoughts lingering on your charming accent and even more delightful appearance. No wonder there was so much buzz about you.

Hitoshi did see you around after that. A lot, in fact, and it wasn’t long before you two became unlikely friends. Unlikely friends eventually blossomed into a beautiful relationship, and you two could often be seen making eyes at each other between classes, or meeting up during breaks. Since Hitoshi often had to work with Class B for Hero Course training, you two were like Romeo and Juliet, a forbidden love between students of rival classes. Some (Neito Monoma) were more vocal about your ‘controversial’ relationship than others.

Speaking of the blond, ever since it got out that Shinsou was dating you, Monoma had gained an odd fascination with you. He always asked Hitoshi questions about you, or even talked to you (if you could call his odd tangents a conversation) whenever he got the chance. Hitoshi didn’t really like him talking to you (or any other dudes, really), but it’s not like he could stop you.

Nonetheless, Hitoshi had never been happier in his short life. He wasn’t much of a romantic before, but couldn’t believe how much his world had changed since meeting you. Not to get too sappy, but everyday seemed brighter with you- until it wasn’t.

One day, you suddenly stopped talking to him. You didn’t even greet him in the morning like you usually did, and when he came to collect you for lunch, you stiffly told him you’d rather eat with your other friends that day. This went on for a few days, and the normally stoic face Hitoshi wore was starting to crack at the seams.

He missed hearing your little voice say “Qué padre” whenever you found something interesting, the sound of your footsteps as you followed close behind him in the hall, and the warmth of your plush body against his when he hugged you. It was like he was going through withdrawals, and he’d only been without you for three days. What did he do wrong, and why wouldn’t you talk to him about it?

Little did Hitoshi know that the two of you had been caught in the web of a certain scheming blond from Class B.

****

Hitoshi sighed as he watched you approach him for the mixed training activity the Hero Course was having that day. Class A and B were working together against the teachers, and he’d been paired with you….bc of course 🙄. These days, it hurt him more to be around you than not, when all you ever did was look at him with contempt.

Whatever. He’ll do whatever it takes to pass the training session, with or without you.

The training exercise begins, and while you two managed to make a plan, your standoffish behavior wasn’t making it any easier for Hitoshi, despite trying his best. He eventually sighed in frustration and pulled the two of you aside to address your attitude once and for all. “What is wrong with you, Y/n?” he asked you in an urgent whisper, hoping none of the other students would find you two.

You crossed your arms, scowling at him. “Oh, now you care about me? Or is this just another act?” you asked him, an accusatory undertone to your question.

Shinsou furrowed his brows. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

You let out a humorless chuckle. “I heard it from Monoma. He said you never liked me in the first place, and only pretended so you could get intel on my weaknesses and help Class B win, ” you said bitterly.

That’s all Hitoshi needed to hear. “And you actually believed him? You shouldn’t listen to a word Monoma says, the guy is unhinged,” he said, glancing behind him to make sure you were still safe. “If anything, it was probably a sabotage tactic,” Hitoshi mumbled as he surveyed the area around him.

You slowly unfolded your arms. “En serio? So you don’t hate me?”

Hitoshi glances back at you as if the answer was obvious. “ ‘Course not, kitten. I could never,” he says quietly. You can’t help the bashful smile that rises on your lips, but before you could apologize and give Hitoshi a hug, he suddenly turns and starts pushing you in the other direction. “Now that we cleared that up, we need to get out of here before we get caught.” As soon as he finished his sentence, you hear another person’s voice shout that they’d found you two.

Yet, all you could think about was the weight of Hitoshi’s hand on your lower back, and how much you’d missed it.

I know it wasn't much but I just wanted to flex what I learned in Spanish class a lil bit. I hope it y'all enjoyed it anyway, thanks for tuning in!

#shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #shinso x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x chubby reader #latina!reader #bnha x poc!reader #bnha x fem!reader #shinso x chubby reader #chubby reader #x chubby reader

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livexdolan · 4 years ago

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The Cage - Part One

A/n: so hi! This is a UFC based fic about Grayson Dolan. This is an AU with an OC. There is no face claim as of now but they might change idk. I’m not going to ramble lol I’m just very very nervous. Anywho please enjoy and let me know what you think! There will be many parts to this series by the way lol so this part is kind of slow but just wait aha

Word Count: 5924

Warnings: fluff, mentions of death, explicit language, and triggering topics (maybe?) mentioned

“I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to be famous- never telling anyone but I’ve always wanted to know- wanted to get in the head of someone famous and see what they go through- but I could’ve never guessed this was how I was going to find out.

It all started when I was 22, fresh out of college, with a crappy assistant job at a publishing company in Los Angeles, California. Having been stuck at this job for almost three years and never even having my articles read, I was starting to lose hope that I would never be more than an assistant. Until one day…”

“Lily! Get in here! And bring me a coffee!” I scurry to Mr. Lane’s office, clutching the coffee I had just gone and grabbed for him, stopping by my desk to grab my notebook and pen.

I opened his glass door and put his coffee down on his desk, pushing up my glasses as I opened my notebook and clicked my pen, looking up at him expectantly, waiting for him to say what he needed me to do. He looks at me, his eyes bright at first but quickly losing their color and he sighs as though he’s already exasperated, “What is this?” He holds up a copy of a story I had put on his desk.

Oh jeez, another rejection. I push my glasses up again and start to stutter out an explanation in a quiet voice, “Well, I-I heard you talking to some of the reporters about need-needing a new story for next week's issue and well, I-I already had an idea so I thought I’d-” He cuts me off with a quick raise of his hand and a stoic look on his face, giving nothing away.

“Look,” he sighs and rubs his face with both hands before continuing, “It’s not a bad story, but it’s a half-baked idea. That’s your problem. That’s why you haven’t gotten a byline yet- you can never deliver a full idea- let alone a full article, do you understand?”

I look down, refusing to let him see my cheeks burn red and my eyes water. This is what he says every time I give him an idea. “Do you want to be a journalist?” He questions.

I make eye contact with him quickly lifting my head and squaring my shoulders to try and seem more confident, “More than anything, sir.”

“Well then, I have a proposition for you.” He gets up from his chair, his tall, lean body going to perch on the corner of his desk as he looks up at me his blue eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint, “I’ll give you a lead, and if you can follow through and get me a full 12000-word article by Monday, you can keep your job and I might throw you a lead here and there. But if you fail to deliver…” He pauses momentarily, thinking over his next words carefully, “you lose your job.”

I gasp and try to reason with myself for a second, making a mental pro-con list before replying quietly, “What’s the article on?”

He shakes his head and smirks lightly, filling my stomach with more unease, “No, you have to agree to the proposition. Then, I will tell you the story.”

Can I do this? Can I risk everything? I mean, that’s what my life’s been so far, a lot of risks and sacrifices. But is this a sacrifice I’m willing to make?

What would mom do? I sigh, “O-ok. Okay, I accept. Now, what’s the story?”

He claps his hands together excitedly and looks up at me with a boyish grin, he moves swiftly behind his desk and grabs an envelope, handing it to my shaky hands, “Grayson Dolan, he fights tonight here at the arena, go with a press pass, get an interview with him and ask him a couple of questions. Oh, and make sure we get a quote.”

I stare at him open-mouthed, frozen to my spot, “What? The Grayson Dolan?! You and I are both very aware that he refuses to do interviews. This isn’t even possible.” I say without trying to raise my voice too much.

Jace just leans back in his desk chair, lacing his fingers together and putting them behind his head, “Not my problem- it’s yours now. If I don’t have that story in my hand Monday morning, just pack your things up and leave, got it?” He smirks up at me.

I just silently walk out of his office and back to my desk, sitting down and putting my head against the cool wood surface. I don’t know if I want to cry or punch myself in the face.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“And then he told me that if I accept- but fail to give him a story- I lose my job!”

“Wow! I never liked that guy, you know. He gives off such- such a douchebag vibe.”

I can’t help but chuckle at my dad’s voice dropping a little, he hasn’t been big on cursing since mom passed. At first, it was weird because both my parents cussed when I was growing up. But after mom passed, dad decided that, ‘there’s enough hate in the world’ and that he’s not going to add to it with foul language.’

“I know Dad, but what am I supposed to do?”

“Don’t accept it! You should never risk your whole career on whether or not some guy is feeling up to an interview!”

“Ok, one-” I start, “it is not just some guy! This is Grayson Dolan! And two,” I lower my voice and chew my lip, a bad habit I picked up in middle school, “I already agreed.”

“Of course you did!” he sounds exasperated and I pull my phone away from my ear a little out of reflex, “You are just like your mother, you know that?” he sighs and the line goes quiet.

“Daddy?” I whisper into the phone. He stays silent. It’s my turn to sigh and fall back onto my couch. I mutter into the phone, “He wouldn’t tell me the story until I accepted. I have to go get ready, I’ll talk to you after the match. I’ll be sitting ringside so look for me, ok?”

“Ok, I will. I’m still not happy about this.”

“I know Dad, you’re not happy with two-thirds of the things I do.”

That gets a reluctant chuckle out of him, “I guess you’re right. Good luck, by the way. If anyone can get an interview out of Dolan- it’d be you. And if you can’t, your childhood bedroom would love to have you back.”

“Ha-ha. Thanks. I love you.”

“Love you too baby, I’ll see you soon?”

“Dad,” my stomach drops at his hopeful voice and I can’t bring myself to tell him the truth, “Maybe, bye.”

I hang up the phone before he can say anything and I sink into the couch.

I wake with a start, my neck sore from the back of the couch. Oh no. I grab my phone in a haste, I turn it on and my whole body sags in relief when the time shows up; 6:45.

I have about an hour and a half to get ready, that’s enough time!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Wrong. Very wrong. I feel a wave of heat wash over me, igniting my anxiety as I look at the time on my phone; 7:45.

I quickly put on my normal, light makeup consisting of moisturizer, skin tint, blush on my cheeks and nose, giving me an almost sunburnt look. I shape my eyebrows a little, fix my glasses, and put on my chapstick. I quickly brush out my short, wavy hair and clip back the front parts. I shake my head slightly to get my bangs in place and do one last check in the mirror before heading to my closet.

Too pink. Too casual. Too tight. Too- ugh where did I even get that from? I start moving the hangers faster, getting frustrated with my lack of options. I move past a pastel purple dress- wait. I go back to the dress and grab it off the rod, holding it up in the light.

When did I buy this? My eyebrows furrow as I look at the beautiful and delicate dress that I must’ve forgotten about. I pull it off the hanger and slowly put it on, saying a silent prayer that it fits.

I smooth the soft material out and look in the mirror. I’m pleasantly surprised by how the dress fits. It’s silk with spaghetti straps and is a lilac color with little flowers all over it.

I don’t have time to overthink my outfit now. I throw on my roommate’s white Timberlands, grab my black purse, making sure my ID, wallet, and phone are all tucked safely inside. I grab my press pass and put the lanyard around my head carefully.

Taking a deep breath, I walk out to the living room where my roommate is sitting waiting for me to come out.

I clear my throat and try not to look too awkward. Ryan looks up from her MacBook and gasps, tossing her laptop onto the couch next to her, she moves over to me, her long legs gracefully walking around the coffee table.

She investigates every part of my outfit, making me feel small and self-conscious. Before I can stop myself, I start rambling in a quiet tone, “Is-is this too much? Do you th-think it looks okay?”

She grasps my shoulders and a wide smile makes its way onto her face, “Of course, you look amazing!” I smile at her and she winks at me, “When that pretentious ass sees you- he might want to do more than just let you interview him.”

I snort and roll my eyes and she laughs, “Yeah right,” I mumble.

She walks over to our coat rack and pulls off a small black cardigan, “Here, I know it gets cold in there,” I smile gratefully and take it from her, folding it over the crook of my arm and taking a deep breath.

I start to walk towards the door and she calls my name, I look back at her as I open the door, “You look hot Lil- knock ‘em dead,” I smile at her and nod, walking out before I get sappy.

I pull into the busy parking lot of the arena and gulp down my bubbling anxiety. I find a parking spot, towards the back of the lot seeing as I don’t get bothered by having to walk a little. I go up to the line, seeing a sign that says, ��PRESS ENTRANCE HERE’ I smile at the worker looking at me and pointing to the Press sign and then at my pass hanging around my neck, he nods.

I go towards the other entrance and show a different security guard my pass and he opens a door for me, I smile up at him, “Thank you-” I glance at the small name tag, “Don.” He blushes slightly and coughs.

I blush too and walk through the door quickly. I realize that I’m ‘backstage’ and can hear the fans cheering for one of the main card fights happening. I check my small watch and see that it’s going to be another hour or so before Grayson Dolan fights.

I take another deep breath and start walking forward, trying not to look like a lost puppy and failing when a man wearing a UFC crew shirt comes over to me with furrowed brows, “Who’re you looking for?”

I look at him, his deep voice vibrating against the walls, “Grayson Dolan,” I answer back.

He gives me a once-over and I try not to make a face when he meets my eyes and smirks, “Oh, he’ll like you.” I furrow my brows but decide not to question it as he points down a long hallway, “Four doors down, take a right, then the last door on the left is him- the one that’ll say, Grayson Dolan.” I thanked him even though he was a bit rude, and made my way down.

Once I turn down the hallway I see someone sitting outside one of the rooms on a single chair. I make my way closer and my heart drops into my stomach when I see it’s a girl sitting outside Grayson Dolan’s room, “Hello? Are-Are you okay?”

The girl looks up at me from her phone and gives me a once-over, except it’s different from the way the worker did- she looks annoyed with me. She stands up, her high heels making her about an inch or two taller than me, “Who are you?” She asks, crossing her arms over her chest, pushing her cleavage up.

I cough to clear my throat a little, taken back by her abrasive tone, “I’m a reporter- Are you okay?”

“I’m perfectly fine, and if you’re here for Grayson Dolan- he won’t talk to you.”

“I- I’m sorry, why do you say that?” The woman steps closer to me and I try not to gag at the smell of her cheap, overused perfume. I step back from her and she straightens up slightly, glowering at me.

“Just run along, maybe you’ll understand when you’re grown,” She says, looking back at her phone, when she glances up and sees I’m not leaving she rolls her eyes, “Grayson Dolan doesn’t talk to reporters. I wouldn’t be surprised if you weren’t actually a reporter anyway, you’re probably just here to fuck him, huh? Get in line,” She laughs.

My whole body feels like it’s on fire. I don’t understand why she’s being so rude and malicious towards me but I have to get this interview. I can’t let people like her bring me down anymore. When she gives me a fake smile and sits back down, I decide to be the bigger person. Not snapping back at her and ignoring her. Because she doesn’t know me and she doesn’t know what I’ve been through.

The door opens before I can say anything anyways and we both look over, startled. A man looks over at us, then turn and glances back inside the room before he nods, looking at me, and asking what my name is, “Lily Taylor, here with Ace Publis-” I try to tell him but he cuts me off opening the door wider and my eyes widen as he tells me to come in. I try to keep from laughing when the girl asks if she can come in but he just shakes his head at her, I turn around quickly before he shuts the door, “If I were you- I wouldn’t lie to others and say you’re around his age, it’s very obvious that you’re old enough to be his mom,” And the door shuts on her shocked face.

I realize my heart is pounding in my ears and that is probably the meanest thing I’ve ever done, “I should probably apologize,” I whisper to myself and jump slightly when I hear a deep chuckle.

“What can I help you with, Ms. Taylor?” My shoulders tense at the familiar voice and I turn around slowly, facing a couch with a very amused Grayson Dolan sitting on it.

“I- I’m so sorry for being so rude to her. I didn’t mean to be.”

“Why do you think I’d care about her? She’s been sitting out there for two hours,” He laughs and I think he caught the raise of my eyebrow but ignores it, “I asked you once, Ms. Taylor, I don’t like repeating myself.” He reminds me of his question.

I square my shoulders, “I’m here with Ace Publishing & Co., I would love if you could answer some questions for me,” I smile at him, trying to come off as friendly.

His amused expression drops and he scoffs, “You’re one of them? God- here I was hoping you were a die-hard fan. Was going to make you feel very special,” He smirks at me and I scrunch my nose out of habit at his gross words. I quickly stop, realizing I need this, “Frank- show Ms. Taylor out please,” He sighs, and my eyes widen and I stick my hands out and Frank stops moving for a second.

“Wait! Wait! Please I-” Frank huffs at my refusal to move and grabs my arm as I move closer to Grayson, “Please. I wouldn’t be this adamant if I didn’t need this. Please. My career is counting on this moment. Please, I will get down on my knees and beg if I have to, please,” I put my hands in a pleading gesture, hoping he’d take pity.

He holds his hand up to Frank and he lets go of my arm, I sigh and straighten up a little, hoping to gain back some of the dignity I seemed to have lost, “What do you mean?” He cocks his head to the side curiously and I blush, glancing at the ground.

“My boss he uh- he told me that if I don’t get at least a quote from you I can kiss my job goodbye and well, it’s not the best job but I’ve worked my ass off to get where I’m at and he’s being unfair and I understand that this isn’t your problem and I understand why you don’t like to talk to interviewers-”

He cuts me off, “You know why I don’t talk to interviewers?” I look up at him and nod meekly, “Why? Explain it to me,” he crosses his arms and I think he might be upset with me.

I look back down at the ground and take a breath, glancing back up at him through my lashes, “You don’t do interviews because doing an interview is personal and revealing. You’re scar- scared to let the world see who the Grayson Dolan is because you don’t think they’ll like you as much.”

He cocks his eyebrow and uncrosses his arm, sighing, looking away from me to the wall, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he contemplates for a minute, “You got like 20 minutes to ask me whatever you want, and no stupid questions that all the interviewers ask, okay?” I nod and move to sit in the chair next to the couch.

“Do you mind if I record this? I’d like to keep this paper-free, meaning I don’t have a notebook out and try to write everything down. We’re just going to have a conversation and let it flow. I can stop recording at any time if you say something you’d like erased. I’m not here to expose you, just here to get to know you. As a person. Not as a fighter. I’m not going to ask you anything about how being a fighter’s been or what your inspiration is. I’m going to ask you about you. As a whole. Because the UFC is not your personality,” I explain to him, pulling my phone out and pulling up my voice memos app and looking back up to him, waiting for an answer.

He stares at me until finally, I say his name quietly, hoping he’s okay, he blinks and flushes, shifting, “Sorry, y-yeah, that’s okay. I just- I didn’t expect you to be like- acting like a human.”

I laugh and start recording, “Maybe that means I’m a bad journalist? I don’t know- I feel like it’s easier to connect and get the questions in without papers and cameras and all that other stuff.”

(this part is going to be a dialogue as though we are just listening to the recording)

“That makes sense, and no I can tell you’re going to be great, you treat me like I’m just- a guy, which doesn’t happen often.”

“I bet, you don’t deserve that though. Okay, I’m going to start us off with some icebreakers- so tell me what your childhood dream job was, your favorite ice cream flavor, and 3 things you do on the weekends.”

“Oh, jeez, what is this- first day of 6th grade? Fine- Uh, I always wanted to be a pro wrestler, that was my dream job as a kid. My favorite- vegan- ice cream flavor is probably mint chocolate chip. And, uhm, three things I do on the weekends...okay okay I got it; eat, sleep, workout. Now you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you, Miss Reporter. If you want this to flow you gotta participate as well.”

“Okay, fine. Uh- as a kid I always wanted to be a veterinarian, and then when I was like 10 I realized I wanted to be a writer. My favorite ice cream flavor is probably mint chocolate chip as well. And on the weekends...I’d probably say; read, watch fights with my dad, and drink tea with my best friend at a cafe.”

“Every single weekend?”

“Yeah, my dad lives on the other side of the country so we do a FaceTime call and watch UFC together. My roommate has a job that takes up a lot of her time during the week so we go to this small cafe by our house every weekend.”

“Wow.”

(this is where the rest of the interview would be but, for later in the timeline, we aren’t going to cover every question she asks him :))

“Okay, now tell me about your family. Where you grew up, were your parents married, did you have a dog, and how do you think this all helped make you the man you are today?”

“I grew up in New Jersey; my dad left when I was 10. I’m allergic to dogs and cats, so I have a parrot named Gizmo. My mom never remarried and my sister lives with her. My brother and I moved to LA when we were 18, with no money, no job, just hope. We went to a gym and asked them if they’d train us. The next thing I knew, my brother was getting a job working at the gym and becoming one of my trainers. I learned how to fight and used my wrestling experience and worked my way into the UFC.”

“You didn’t answer my last question.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No, you told me how you got started in the UFC. I don’t want to know about that- everyone knows that story already. I want to know how you think the things you went through as a child have shaped you as a person.”

“I- I guess- I don’t know, to be honest. I don’t think much of who I’ve become so that question is hard to answer.”

“Why do you say that? You are one of the most accomplished men in America.”

“To others, but this- I wasn’t supposed to be a fighter. Everyone sees me as accomplished but I just feel like this was an accident. There was no great event in my life that caused me to become an MMA fighter- it just happened.”

“You don’t believe in fate, Mr. Dolan?”

“No, I don’t. Do you, Ms. Taylor?”

“Yes, I believe that we all have a path we are meant to follow and that everything happens for a reason.”

“Why?”

“Because- I don’t know- it’s nicer than the alternative to me, I guess. I don’t want to live in a world where nothing has a reason behind it. We’ll move on to the next question. You don’t disclose personal information; relationships, family, children, etcetera.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“Why is that? Are you afraid?”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“The same reason I said earlier as to why you don’t like interviews; you are scared people will see the real Grayson Dolan and not like you as much or think you’re different.”

“Are you like- a profiler or something? Why do you think that?”

“I’m not a profiler- I’m a journalist. It’s my job to look for clues, pick up on the small things about someone no one else would notice.”

“Ok, I’ll accept that. Is it my turn to ask you questions?”

“No that’s not how this works.”

“You said you wanted this to be like a normal conversation, did you not?”

“Yes, I did say that, but-”

“Okay, well, I don’t know about you but normally when I’m getting to know someone- I get to ask questions just like they do.”

“Fine. What do you want to know?”

“I want to know...if you’ll go out with me?”

“What? Like on a- like on a date?”

“Yes, a date, Ms. Taylor.”

“Uh- I don’t know, maybe, I-”

“30 minutes to the fight, Dolan! Gotta get you warmed-up!”

(the story is back to normal now)

“So?” He questions as he stands up and I try to gather all my stuff. Trying to push down the butterflies while I stop the recording. I just continue to get more flustered, especially when he puts his hand out for me and I shyly take it, he pulls me to my feet and I stare at him through my lashes.

“I- sure. On one condition,” I smile slyly up at him and he raises an eyebrow at me, I ignore the unfamiliar feeling between my thighs at the look on his face and continue quickly, “You have to win this fight. I’ll be in the front row watching. If you win- I’ll go out with you.”

He smiles and then chuckles, “I thought you were going to make it hard? I could win this fight in my sleep baby, I’ll let you know the time after the fight, just stick around, yeah?”

I snort and roll my eyes, ignoring the pull on my heart when he calls me baby, “I’ll be there,” He smiles at me again and I jump a little in surprise when I feel his warm, large hand on the small of my back, he opens the door for me and leads me into the hallway.

I try not to laugh at the face of the Instagram model when she sees Grayson’s hand on me, “I’ll be looking for you in the front row, just so you know.” He teases.

I smile at him and kiss him on the cheek, “I’ll be the one cheering the loudest. Knock Em dead!” I walk away quickly and glance back seeing him standing there, his right hand gently going up to touch the spot I kissed and we both blush. My heart drops into my stomach when he looks over and sees the model. I have to turn the corner and get to my seat so I don’t see how he reacted. He wouldn’t sleep with her right after asking me out, would he? My subconscious snaps back; you barely know the man! Maybe he does this all the time! I push her down and ignore the bad feeling in my gut.

As I sit down in my seat, everything that just happened hits me and I slouch into my seat, what. the. fuck. I’m going on a date with Grayson Dolan! I got an interview with Grayson Dolan! I kissed Grayson Dolan on the cheek! I bite back a smile and take out my phone, taking a video showing me smiling at the camera, then flipping the camera around and showing off how close I am to the octagon. I sent it to my dad quickly.

He responds almost immediately.

*From Daddy: Wow!! So cool! Have tons of fun! Not too much though! Not ready to be a grandpa...yet ;)

I snort and roll my eyes, responding and then turning my phone off when the lights in the arena dim.

*To Daddy: Lmao, shut up. I’ll try to have fun though! The main card is starting! I’ll talk to you later, love you <3

After I watch a few of the fights before Graysons’, I take some pictures and jot down some information about the fights and who won, knowing it’ll add more substance to my piece.

I watch as the whole arena transforms and the whole place is bursting with barely-contained energy and the place goes dark. Suddenly, lights start beaming and music starts playing, I smile at the Kid Cudi (each fight he uses a different Cudi song) choice for tonight- Enter Galactic as it blasts through the speakers everyone goes wild, Grayson moving swiftly to the octagon with his head low and singing the song softly to himself. I can tell he’s not the same Grayson I was talking to, he has flipped the switch- as he told me he does- and is now The Grayson Dolan- UFC Fighter and Champion.

He takes his shirt off and I blush at his tan skin, the rippling muscles making my brain go straight in the gutter. The ‘doc’ pats him down and puts vaseline on his face. I try not to laugh at how weird he looks with his eyebrows slicked down.

He makes his way into the octagon and I see him scanning the front row when his eyes land on mine. I smile at him but he just gives me a curt nod in response before turning away. I’m taken aback by his attitude but I know he has to stay in his fighter mentality.

The other fighter, Dominick Reyes, comes in and he has a good amount of people cheer for him but the majority of the arena boos when he comes out. I know that having some of how this fight goes in my article will make it look better because it’s such a big deal, so I jot some notes down, some about Grayson and some about Reyes.

I subconsciously chew on my nail, scolding myself when I realize what I’m doing. He’s going to win. I tell myself to calm down, I’ve never been to a fight before so the chaotic and anxiety-filled energy around me must be getting to my head.

The ref announces them both, and then they go to the middle, Grayson goes to touch Reyes’ fist, but Reyes pulls back and smirks at Grayson, “C’mon pretty boy,” he sings.

Grayson’s jaw clenches and he starts moving around the octagon, Reyes slowly falling into a pattern of chasing him around. Grayson continues to step to the right until suddenly, he moves to the left, and Reyes doesn’t see it. I watch in astonishment as he puts all of his power into the punch, hitting Reyes perfectly on the temple. Reyes drops to the ground and Grayson’s about to follow him to the mat but the ref stops him, officially calling the fight. Grayson looks over at me, my mouth hanging wide open and he smirks, winking at me.

That asshole just winked at me.

I stand up quickly, cheering loudly with everyone else and he shakes his head, turning back to his team as they run into the octagon to hug him. Once Grayson is done with everything and the crowd starts shuffling out, Grayson comes over to me, “D’you see that?” He smiles and I smile back.

“Yeah, yeah, I saw,” He chuckles and grabs my arm pulling me into him.

I gasp as I hit his hard, sweaty chest, “You’re sweaty,” I scrunch my nose up and try to pull away but he tightens his grip, staring down at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“You owe me a date,” He responds and I roll my eyes, ignoring the hammering of my heart at how close we are to each other.

“What time and where?” I say, acting bored.

He chuckles down at me, “I’ll pick you up at 5:30. This Saturday. Just bring your beautiful self and don’t worry about anything else.”

“What’s the dress code?” I raise my eyebrow and he shrugs.

“Whatever you want to wear, although I’ll tell you right now they might frown upon you wearing lingerie or something like that.”

I snort and as he moves away from me a little and we start walking behind his team I realize that I’m a lot colder than I realized, rubbing my arms subconsciously and realizing that I left my sweater in the car damn it.

Grayson notices me rubbing my arms and bumps my shoulder, “You cold?”

“A little. I have a sweater in the car, I’ll be fine.”

He frowns as he opens the door to his dressing(?) room, “I have a jacket you can wear.”

He goes over to a chair in the corner and grabs a big, soft black jacket with DOLAN on the back and the UFC and Reebok logo on the front. I shake my head, “No, r-really it’s- it’s okay,”

“Just take it, you can give it back later, s’not a big deal, I don’t need it. I’m way too hot right now.”

He hands it over to me and I look down at it in his hands and then glance back at him, crossing my arms. He rolls his eyes and comes over to me, putting it on my shoulders and looking down at me, “Just wear it. Please?” He whispers and I flush, seeing that if I moved too fast our lips would be touching.

I nod softly and he steps back. I take a deep breath and put my arms through the sleeves and the jacket immediately warms me. I relax into the warmth and pull it tighter around me and he smirks, “Like you in my clothes.”

I blush and look down, “I- I should be goi-going,” I point my thumb at the door and he bites back a smile.

“Yeah, I’ll see you Saturday then?”

I nod and stutter out a response as I walk back to the door, “Y-yep! 5:30! Wait- I didn’t give you my address o-or my phone num-Ow!” I yelp in surprise when the door handle digs into my lower back and he can’t hold back his laugh as he walks over to me, trapping me between him and the door.

I swallow at his large frame covering me up, his arms resting on each side of the wall by my head, I can see his large biceps and the veins running up his arms in my peripheral vision. He smirks and leans down, “Check your pocket,” he says softly and I look up at him with furrowed brows.

I slowly move my hands to the jacket pockets and after digging around a little I feel a small piece of paper in the right pocket. I pull it out and open it up. I glance up at him in surprise at the digits scribbled onto the paper.

“H-How did you- why-” He cuts me off by moving away from me, my body on fire from how close he had been to me.

I move off the door when he motions for me to move and he opens the door, “Ms. Taylor,” He says, trying to hide a smirk.

I scoff incredulously and walk past him, stopping outside the door in the cold hallway, I turn back to look at him before I walk away to go have a panic attack in my car, “Mr. Dolan.”

A/n: okayyy so I know it’s bad and I’ll be editing it soon but I’m posting this on an ipad lmfao so please cut me some slack.

Tag List:

@pineappledols @episkygrant @georgia302 @dolan-habits @leahs-existentialcrisis @persistence-ofmemories @bubsdolan @ohdolans @vinylhazza @vintagedolan @astrodolan @zeusgrayson @deeperdolan @blindedbythelightt @dolsobsessionz @evergreendolan @dicedols @plantbasedgray

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dialovers-translations · 4 years ago

Text

DIABOLIK LOVERS Do-S Kyuuketsu VERSUS Ⅱ Vol.6 Yuma VS Azusa [TRACK 5]

Original title: レゾンデートル

Source: Diabolik Lovers VERSUS II Vol. 6 Yuma VS Azusa [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Tatsuhisa Suzuki & Kishio Daisuke

Translator’s note: I think I have said this before when translating his Bloody Bouquet CD, but Yuma gives the best pep talks. Out of all the DL characters, he really seems the most down-to-earth and reasonable when it comes to both accepting and expressing his emotions. All of the others are conflicted or too stubborn to admit how they truly feel, but Yuma has very little filters and that’s honestly what I appreciate about him. It makes for such a nice change of pace.

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5 ll Track 6

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Track 5: Raison D’être

*CRASH*

Yuma enters the room.

Yuma: ...That damn door finally opened up. Listen up...Unlike ya guys, I can’t enter this room through that narrow well. ‘Cause of that, it took me a while to bust inside of here.

Azusa: Yuma...I thought you went to see Ruki?

Yuma: I got kinda worried. That maybe you’d totally lose your mind from the lunar eclipse and that Sow over there wouldn’t make it out alive.

*Rustle*

Yuma: ーー And sure enough. Who said he wouldn’t do anythin’, huh?

Azusa: ...!

Yuma walks up to you.

Yuma: Oi, everythin’ alright? I figured ya might have lost an arm or a leg, but Azusa seems to be the one injured instead. The fuck’s goin’ on?

*Rustle*

Yuma: By the way, Azusa. You’re still spoutin’ that bullshit, huh?

Azusa: What do...you mean?

Yuma: Don’t play dumb. You know, the stuff where you’d ask us to hurt ya. ...Geez, keep that kinda fucked up shit to the bare minimum already, won’t ya?

Azusa: You just don’t...understand.

Yuma: Haahn!?

Azusa: I’m different from you. I’m utterly useless...nor can I ever be of use. On top of that, I’m always...strange, as if someone has taken control of my brain. I thought that I could finally become normal thanks to the eclipse...

Yuma: That’s not true...!

Azusa: Getting hurt...is where my value lies. Right, Eve?

Yuma: Haahー!?

Azusa: That’s the only value I have in life so...Why? Yuma...Why am I jealous of you?

Yuma: Che...I don’t have a fuckin’ clue whatcha talkin’ ‘bout, mate.

Azusa: This is strange...It makes no sense. I want to blame it all on the moon but...When you look at or are hurt by Yuma...This strong anger wells up inside of me...and my chest aches...I feel like I’m going crazy...Bearing the pain is what makes me valid. I’m well aware of this butーー This pain in particular, is hard to endure...

Yuma...! Is the little voice in my head responsible for this as well!? He makes me believe that...Eve belongs only to me. I can’t stop it. Even though I’m so utterly useless...Even though I can never become Adam...Still, Iーー

He looks over at you.

Azusa: I want to keep Eve...all for myself.

*Rustle*

Azusa: I...want you.

Yuma: Honestly, I really don’t get ya. To be blunt, you’re the type of guy I have a hard time dealin’ with. Both now and in the past. ...Anyway, don’t ya think it’s ‘bout time ya understand this? Ruki told ya as well, no? We’re brothers. While we may have different roles to fulfill in the family, there’s no hierarchy between us.

Azusa: ...

Yuma: Try and remember the time at the orphanage. Bet ya can’t forget ‘bout it even if ya wanted to? All of us received the same shit treatment. We were all equally punched and hurt.

Azusa: But...!

Yuma: No but’s or however’s! You’re the only one of us who still clings to the concept of a hierarchy...! Your current life is completely different from the one you led back when living at the wanderers’ camp! ...So gettin’ jealous...or wantin’ to hog the Sow all for yerself...is totally valid.

Azusa: ...! Yuma...?

*Rustle*

Yuma: But ya know, she’s the one thing I can’t just hand over to ya. Desire isn’t somethin’ ya can control through reason.

Azusa: Desire...?

Yuma: It’s the same as wantin’ to eat. Ya can’t suppress it.

Azusa: But...Up till now...I’ve never thought like this...

Yuma: Is that truly so? ...Well, I’m not ya, so I can’t tell for sure whether ya felt it as strong or not, but I guess people just differ? ーー Say...

Yuma suddenly pulls you close.

*Rustle*

Yuma: Isn’t that true? ...Well, I honestly don’t think it’s worth stressin’ yerself out over it. Don’t ya think this lil’ voice in yer head ya keep on talkin’ ‘bout...is actually just yer own feelings speakin’?

Azusa: My...own?

Yuma: Yeah. Ya think way too much ‘bout stuff like ‘bein’ useful’ or ‘the reason behind yer existence’...In reality, there’s nothin’ wrong with ya at all. It’s normal to exist.

Ruki: Ruki and...Kou too? Do they feel the same way?

Yuma: ...Ya better not say that in their faces. You’re gonna get smacked on the head. You’re crazy ‘cause ya keep on restrainin’ yerself. Notice that already. Right here...There’s nobody who would get a kick out of hurtin’ ya...

Azusa: ...T-Then...This pain in my chest can...just stay the way it is...?

Yuma: Ya like pain, don’t ya? Just accept it. ...Besides, if it’s makin’ ya uncomfortable, then try and do somethin’ ‘bout it.

Yuma hugs you close.

*Rustle rustle*

Yuma: My bad but...Ya might have to try and steal her away from me. If ya do that, the pain might just fade away.

*Smooch*

Azusa: Oh...Steal? Can I...? Do I have the right to...?

Yuma: Idiot. That isn’t somethin’ ya need my permission for. However, she’s mine.

Azusa: You can’t...Eve...belongs to me.

Yuma: God...Ya really are stubborn after all. But it’s also fascinatin’. Makes it worth takin’ her from ya after all. Mmh...

*Smooch*

Azusa: ...I don’t think I can grow to like this pain so...I need her.

Yuma: I see. Fine by me. Bring it on. Let’s have her decide which one of us she prefers. Of course...

*Rustle*

Yuma: ーー With these bad boys.

Yuma bites you.

Yuma: Nn...Mmh...

Azusa: You can’t, Yuma...She is...mine Eve. Come on, don’t face his way. Look at me...If you won’t, I’ll do this...

Azusa bites you as well.

*Sluuuuurp*

*Gulp*

Yuma: Nice expression you’re rockin’ there, Sow...How does it feel to have two Vampires toy with ya at the same time? Hehe...

Azusa: Haah...Eve...Does it hurt? Or does it feel good? ...I’ll make you feel even better.

*Sluuuuurp*

*Gulp*

Azusa: Mmh...

*Gulp gulp*

Yuma: Oi, oi, Azusa...With that sorta technique, you’ll only tickle her a lil’. This is what a...real bite looks like! Haahn...

*Sluuuuurp*

Yuma: ...Hahー! ...See? Seems like she feels so good, she’s at a total loss for words. Hahn...Mmh...

*Sluuuuurp*

Azusa: It’s not just about strength...Say? I know where it feels good for you...I’ll pierce you with my fangs exactly there...Haahn...

*Sluuuuurp*

*Gulp*

Azusa: Mm...

*Gulp*

*Sluuuuurp*

*Gulp*

*Sluuuuurp*

Azusa: Nn...Haah...Look this way, Eve...It feels good, doesn’t it? Let’s...kiss. Mmh...Nn...

*Smooch*

Azusa: Nn...

*Smooch*

Yuma: Borin’...For one, you’ve never been this fixated on her before, have ya?

Azusa: ...Haah...Today is...special. However, when I think about it... I might have actually...been obsessed with her this whole time. I simply didn’t realize...but thanks to the moon, it became clear...Mmh...

*Sluuuuurp*

*Gulp gulp*

*Sluuuuurp*

*Gulp*

Azusa: Mmh...

*Sluuuuurp*

Yuma: Come on...Gimme some as well...Hahn...

*Sluuuuurp*

Yuma: Mmh...Nn...Ya better don’t let that guys’ words get to ya too much...Nnh...

*Sluuuuurp*

Azusa: No fair...Yuma...You can’t just hog her for yourself...

Yuma: Shut up! I don’t take orders from anyone!

Azusa: ...Eve...Do you like Yuma’s that much? However, mine are good too, you know...I mean, look...My fangs fit you so perfectly, they can give you the pain you desire at once. Haah...

*Sluuuuurp*

*Gulp gulp*

Yuma: Ahn? Bein’ a lil’ cheeky there, aren’t ya?

*Sluuuuurp*

Yuma: Ah...This is bad...I said that but...Haah...It kinda sounds like I’m tryin’ to tell ya to hold yerself back, huh? That’s weird...

Azusa: I don’t care if it’s cheeky or not...I love Eve...Mmh...

*Sluuuuurp*

*Gulp*

Yuma: Che...Annoyin’...That kinda sappy stuff isn’t for me.

*Rustle*

Yuma: I’ll use my fangs...to have her confess her feelings for me.

Azusa: I wonder who will achieve that faster?

Yuma: Sow...Say you love me...

*Rustle*

Azusa: Eve obviously loves me more...Right? You do, don’t you? Of course you do...Mmh...

*Gulp gulp*

Yuma: Ah yeah, yeah. Just tell yerself that. ...Come on, Sow. Don’t get distracted by him.

*Sluuuuurp*

The two of them continue sucking your blood.

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #yuma mukami #azusa mukami #diabolik lovers VERSUS II #diabolik lovers translation #diabolik lovers drama cd #drama cd

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jamaisjoons · 5 years ago

Text

intro: her XI ⤑ knj | m

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 you enter namjoon’s life in the most unexpected of ways, but will you be able to stay, especially when he comes with three adorable but chaotic children, even more chaotic best friends and a bitch of an ex-wife? not to mention your own emotional baggage. 〞singe dad au.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: single dad!namjoon x marine vet!reader

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: angst ⋆ fluff

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 6k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: it starts of super fucking fluffy, like - fluff galore, there’s a naked bath scene but like nothing sexual happens, just lots of soft kisses and touches,,, but they are naked so,,,, also it gets a lil sad/angsty towards the end, reader broods about her past toxic relationship, mentions of cheating/infidelity, then it gets sappy and fluffy again because joon is a gentle giant bear and i love him thank u for coming to this solar talk

➵ 𝑎/𝑛: guess what’s back, back again. intro: her’s back, tell a FRIEND,,,, yeeHAW it’s a new chapter of the lONG, L O N G awaited intro: her. I’m so damn sorry it took so long, idk what got into me but i was missing my babies and my man so i hAD to return to it like asap

⏤ thank you to miss ellie aka @hobisbeautifulass so betaing this for me ! sorry it took me so long to add this omg

⇥ Previous || Masterlist || Next

Sitting on Namjoon’s sofa, you’re surrounded by the boys as you play an intense game of Mario Kart. Rap Mon is currently curled on the floor, his tail flicking lazily as he watches the screen. Jungkook’s small body - as usual - lies on your dog, using Monie as his person pillow. Not that your dog minds really - especially with the way he’s got his head perched on Jungkook’s small knee. Jimin sits against his father’s lap, watching as Namjoon helplessly tries to steer Toadette’s pram around the circuit. Taehyung, on the other hand, is seated on your lap, and you hold the wheel close to your body - allowing the little boy to press the button.

Usually, Jungkook would be glued to you; and for the most part, he still is. However, when Namjoon asked who he wanted to play with, Jungkook had shaken his head - his hair flopping with the action - and declared to his father, in a very proud voice, that he could do it himself. You’d wanted to believe him at first, but the shiftiness in his eyes had confused you. Until you’d started playing - and then, you’d found out that Namjoon was damn awful at the game. Of course, you’d offered to play with Jungkook yourself, with his wildly competitive streak, he’d also refused you - to Namjoon’s utter surprise.

Thus, you’d ended up the way you had: with Jimin and Namjoon, you and Taehyung and Jungkook by himself. Keeping your attention focused on the screen, you stick your tongue out in concentration. Of course, when Jungkook had requested you play Mario Kart, you’d been over the moon. You absolutely adored the Mario games, and Mario Kart was something you’d played frequently during University - whenever you needed to relax from the crushing workload of training to become a vet.

“Alright, Tigger, now,” you whisper to Taehyung. King Boo - your character - aligns right behind Namjoon, and as soon as you do, Taehyung presses the B button, firing off the green shell you’d been storing.

“What the- HEY! Why would you do that?” Namjoon shouts, turning and staring at you in disbelief. A mischievous smile painted on your lip, Taehyung bouncing in your lap happily, you shrug at your boyfriend. Namjoon growls, his lip pulling into a slight pout as he ducks his head to the side. Grumbling under his breath, “I was already a lap behind anyway,” he mutters. Suppressing the cackle at the back of your throat, you simply blow him a kiss before turning your attention back to the screen.

From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook sit up straight - his little shoulders tense as he leans forward slightly. The two of you are neck and neck - Jungkook just a little behind you. Loosening your grip on the wheel slightly, you let yourself swerve to the side just before the finish line - allowing Jungkook to overtake you - consequently taking first place. Throwing the controller down, Jungkook stands up on his little legs and begins jumping around.

“I did it! I did it! I came first,” Jungkook starts yelling as he bounces in victory. His excitement instantly has Monie on his feet, your dog’s tail wagging happily as he runs around Jungkook’s small body in circles. Jungkook turns to you and runs up to the sofa. Placing his hands on the edge, he jumps up and down while looking at you, his face a picture-perfect expression of elation. “Noona! Noona did you see? Did you see? I came first!” Jungkook says.

Face softening, you nod happily, causing him to beam. At this moment, it doesn’t matter that you’d purposely thrown every circuit of the cup, it doesn’t matter that you’d spent half your time making sure the computer-controlled characters didn’t overtake him, and it definitely doesn’t matter that you’ve come second. No, because right now, all that matters is that Jungkook is happy - and you simply don’t have the heart to tell him you purposely let him win - nor would you ever.

Instead, biting your lip, you reach out and ruffle his hair, “well done, baby. I knew you could do it!” you tell him. Jungkook grins brightly at your praise, his entire body vibrating with cheerfulness.

“It’s okay, daddy,” Jimin’s sweet voice carries out. Jungkook immediately stops celebrating, both your attention turning to him. Once again, you bite your lip, trying to stop yourself from cooing at the scene. Jimin’s currently standing on the couch, his face incredibly close to Namjoon. Squeezing his father’s cheeks between his small palms, squishing your boyfriend’s face together and causing his lips to puff out, Jimin sweetly comforts Namjoon. “I don’t mind losing! You did your best daddy,” Jimin continued.

This time, you can’t help the way your face softens, a quiet ‘aww’ falling from your lips. Namjoon’s arms wind around Jimin’s small body before he pulls his son into his embrace. Burying his face into Jimin’s soft belly, Namjoon blows a raspberry - previous upset at losing the game already forgotten. Jimin’s squealing giggles fill the air, the jubilant sound echoing through the living room. Seeing his twin, Taehyung leaps out of your lap and throws himself towards his father, not wanting to be left out.

Instantly, Jungkook’s eyes light up and seizing the opportunity, he climbs into your lap. Making himself comfortable between your crossed legs, you and Jungkook watch as Namjoon gently wrestles his sons - their childish titters weaving together as he begins tickling them. Finally, both boys squirming vigorously, Namjoon relents. However, instead of letting them go, he whispers into their eyes - muttering so low under his breath you can’t make out what he’s saying, though the impish glint in his eyes doesn’t bode well for you; neither does the mischievous twinkle in the twins’ eyes.

“Now!” Namjoon says. The abrupt sound startles you, causing you to jerk. The only thing keeping you from falling off the sofa is your instinct to keep Jungkook from getting hurt - you know that if you fall, so does he.

However, in the second you catch yourself from falling off of the sofa, Jimin and Taehyung attack you. The two boys jump onto you, their bodies bouncing on the sofa as they begin tickling you. Your eyes widen when you feel their fingers wiggle over your body, raucous, childish giggles filling the air and mixing with your own. Usually, you’d struggle violently - but with the smaller boys around you, you’re conscious of hurting them - and thus, you subconsciously subdue your squirming body. However, that only gives them more room to continue their assault. Not wanting to be left out, Jungkook grins and joins his brothers, Namjoon laughing from the other side of the sofa.

“Joon! Oh my god, Joonie, please,” you whine, heaving for air through your laughter. Your boyfriend’s eyes soften, and taking pity on you, gathers his sons in one sweep of his arms. With the three finally off of you, you gasp for air in an attempt to catch your breath. “I hate you,” you mumble, tilting your head to Namjoon and sending him a mock glare.

Namjoon lets go of his sons, his face falling dramatically as he clutches his heart. “Oh, my love, you wound me,” he gasps theatrically before turning and flopping onto your lap. He looks up at you, his gentle umber eyes swimming with nothing but tender love. A soft smile curls on your face and you gently trace his features: over his strong eyebrows and along the delicate slope of his nose. You tap his nose twice with the tip of your pointer finger before you cup his face. Then, bending at the waist, you press a soft kiss against his lips.

Your boyfriend smiles against your mouth, before reciprocating as he tenderly returns your soft kiss. A chorus of ‘gross’ resounds through the air, the boys flopping on their father as their noses scrunch identically at the display of affection. The two of you laugh softly, your breaths fanning each other’s face - but neither of you moves. Eyes twinkling with contentment, and Namjoon’s mirroring yours, you both brush your noses together - your mouths caressing each other in a series of butterfly kisses.

Lost in the moment, neither of you notice when Seokjin, Yoongi and Hoseok enter the living room; nor do you notice the triumphal smiles on their face. Silently, they watch the five of you. Taehyung and Jimin catch their attention first, both boys briskly crawling off the sofa before running up to the three of them. Jungkook, noticing his brothers are gone, looks around - only to find them in Hoseok and Yoongi’s arms. Briefly, he turns to you and Namjoon, rolling his eyes when he realises the two of you aren’t going to separate anytime soon. Sliding off the sofa, he waddles over to Seokjin before gesturing for the older man to pick him up.

Meanwhile, practically oblivious to your surroundings, you and Namjoon stare into each other’s guys, whispering soft nothings while you continue lavishing each other in gentle tenderness. Eventually, growing sick of the display, Seokjin clears his throat. Instantly, the two of you stiffen, Namjoon sitting up slightly as you both stare at the newcomers with wide eyes.

An impish twinkle in his eyes, and a playful lop-sided smile curled on his face, “well, isn’t this adorably domestic,” Seokjin teases. Groaning, your head falls back onto the sofa, Namjoon rolling his eyes at the slight taunting lilt to Seokjin's voice.

"Don't," comes his only reply. Hoseok's eyes wander over your figure, his eyebrow quirking at your state of dress.

"When was the last time you went home?" he asks. Biting your lip, your gaze down at yourself, your face flushing with heat. Dressed in a pair of Namjoon's boxers, an oversized t-shirt with your university logo on it, and fuzzy socks; you know you're the epitome of comfy. Hell, your face is thrown up into a messy bun, strands of hair falling out of it and framing your face in an unkempt way.

Face intensely heated, "I went home two days ago," you mumble under your breath. Twin scoffs of disbelief echo, causing you to scowl at Seokjin and Hoseok.

"And when was the last time you actually stayed home?" Seokjin asks. That immediately causes you to shut up, your jaw clamping tight as you purse your lips. "Yeah, that's what I thought," Seokjin snorts. Turning to Taehyung, the boy happily sitting in Yoongi's arms, Seokjin directs his attention to him before asking, "When was the last time noona stayed home?"

"I don't know," Taehyung replies with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

"I went home two days ago, oh my god!" you reply, your voice taking a defensive tone. Yoongi snorts, causing you to despair - even he didn't believe you. Grumbling under your breath, you throw your hands up in the air in exasperation, "Okay fine! I don't remember the last time I stayed at home - and I only really go back to get more clothes. But even then, I have enough here that I could just do laundry," you ramble, a pout forming on your lip as you look away. Eyebrows shooting into their hairline, the three simply blink at you, taking in your words.

"How do you get to work?" Yoongi asks, causing you to shrink behind Namjoon. Sensing your embarrassment, he tilts his head from his place on your lap and presses a kiss against your kneecap in comfort.

"Did you not see her car in the driveway? She drives to work," Namjoon rolls his eyes.

"Damn, why don't you just move in?" Hoseok taunts - his tone is light, and meant in a joking manner - but both you and Namjoon startle for a minute, looking at each other in surprise. Shyly, you smile at him before ducking your head down. As much as you love him, and as much as you've grown used to being around him and essentially moving into his house - it was still too soon to be thinking about that. Seokjin opens his mouth to say something, but in an instant, Yoongi cuts him off.

"Anyway, do you have time? We didn't come over to tease you," he says. Nodding at his oldest friends, Namjoon finally gets up from your lap before gesturing to the empty seats. Shifting closer to Namjoon, you sink into his side, Namjoon loosely resting his hand in your lap. Instinctively, your fingers lace between his, neither of you even thinking about the gesture.

Putting the boys down onto the carpet, you watch as they begin playing with each other. It always surprised you how easily they were able to read the room - as much attention as they craved, they always knew when to settle down and leave the adults alone. You turn your attention to Seokjin, Hoseok and Yoongi, your eyes skimming their faces for any clue about what they're going to talk about. However, Yoongi's face is a picture of stoicism, Seokjin's easy gaze giving away nothing - though, Hoseok winks playfully at you. His light gesture has you relaxing, the tension in your shoulders deflating as you sink further into Namjoon's side. At least you know it's nothing serious.

"So, what's up?" Namjoon asks, his voice calm.

"We've booked a world tour. You, Yoongi and Hoseok," Seokjin says, taking charge of the meeting. Your eyes widen, excitement bubbling in your veins. A tour! It's been about two years since they've toured - you couldn't wait to see them on stage. You hadn't been able to go the last time - they'd toured while you were amidst your final year exams. However, this year, nothing would stop you from supporting your boyfriend and friends.

Unable to contain your excitement, you bounce in your seat. Namjoon turns to you, quirking his eyebrows. A burst of adrenaline rushes through you, and before you can even think about it, you're kissing Namjoon on the corner of his lips. Your boyfriend looks at you in stunned surprise before a lazy smirk crawls onto his face.

"Someone's excited," Hoseok laughs, causing you to turn and stick your tongue out at him.

"Of course I'm excited - it's going to be amazing! It's been so long since any of you have been on tour- and I couldn't go last time. But I will go this time - even if it means I have to wake up at the asscrack of dawn to buy tickets," you reply, nodding your head in determination. For most of it, Namjoon looks at you in happiness - though, he can't help the twinge of sadness in his heart.

Eyes softening, he regards you tenderly: with your bouncing legs, bright smile and animated chatter, you are a picture-perfect sight of joy and elation. He should be happy - and the majority of him is: he's got a loving, supportive girlfriend, three wonderful children and he's at the peak of his career. However, right now, all he can think about is how good it's been between the two of you; how easy you've both fallen into a routine: waking up together, getting the boys ready for school before going to work, then coming home and spending time together only to head to bed together. He's grown comfortable in domesticated bliss - and he can't help but wonder what it'd be like on tour; being so far apart, unable to touch each other or be near each other - like you are now.

"Joon?" you ask. His eyes come back into focus, your visage becoming clearer. He smiles gently at you, shaking his head at the soft worry evident in your eyes. "What's wrong?" you ask, squeezing his hand in comfort. Namjoon returns your squeeze, basking in the comfort you so effortlessly offer.

"I'm just worried I guess. It's been a while - and last time it was easy because I could take the boys with me. Everyone was with me. But-"

Namjoon begins. He doesn't need to finish his train of thought, because you're finishing it for him, "but this time I'll still be here in Seoul," you supply. Namjoon nods, his usually warm eyes dulling with melancholia. You shake your head, the loose wisps of your hair following the movement, "it's okay. This is your job- your dream before you met me. I'll still be here for you when you come home- and maybe, I could come to see you one day," you offer.

Taking comfort in your words, Namjoon lifts your hand to his mouth before pressing a soft kiss to the back of your palm. His heart clenches at your words - even now, when he's about to leave for months, you don't resent him for it. Instead, you simply step aside, offering nothing but warmth and support. "You're right. And you don't need to wake up at the asscrack of dawn to buy tickets. I'll give you as many as you want- for whatever dates you want," Namjoon replies. Eyes widening, you look at him in shock - stunned by his offer.

"Are you serious?" you gape, your jaw completely slacked. Namjoon chuckles, turning back to his friends.

"Yup! We can do that, right?" Namjoon asks. The three of them snort in response.

"You literally just ignored our presence for a good five minutes - why should we help you?" Yoongi questions, his eyes are passive and cool - but you notice the light twitch to the corners of his lips. Relaxing, you let out a breath of relief. At least he wasn't really angry. Though, you can't help the heat of embarrassment that flashes through you briefly - really the two of you need to stop doing that.

A small wave of guilt washing through you, "I'm sorry," you apologise with a slight now. Seokjin and Hoseok sigh dramatically at your gesture.

"See, now how are we supposed to stay fake-mad when you do that?" Hoseok sighs theatrically.

Seokjin nods beside him sagely, "yeah, we'll give you all the tickets you want," he says in mock pensiveness. Eyes rolling at their dramatics, you ignore them - more than used to them by now - and instead, turn to Namjoon. Once again, you drop an impromptu kiss onto his lips.

"See, it'll be fine!" you reassure Namjoon. Biting his lips, and feeling a lot more sure of himself, Namjoon returns your kiss. From the carpet, you both hear Jungkook sigh loudly - causing you to laugh.

That night, once Seokjin, Hoseok and Yoongi leave, you find yourself in the twins' rooms reading them a bedtime story while Namjoon tidies up. Jimin and Taehyung are in their respective beds, snuggled underneath their covers as they listen to you. Laying on the large beanbag in their room, Jungkook curls into your side, his head resting on your shoulder. Softly, your voice carries out into the still air of the bedroom - you're currently reading one of their favourite fairytales, 'Swan Lake', as they slowly drift to sleep. Your low, mellifluous voice comes to a close as you near the end of the book. Once you're done, you gently shut the book.

Your eyes sweep over the dimly lit room; their bedside lamps and the star projector Namjoon had installed being your only source of light. Bright stars flit over their features, the projector light spinning lethargically and adding to the sleeping ambience of their room. For most of it, their eyes are mainly shut - both the twins' eyelids fluttering as they slip in and out of sleep. Gently, you manoeuvre Jungkook's head off your shoulder so that you can finish tucking the twins into bed. Jungkook whines at the loss of your body, a small pout forming on his face as he squints his eyes blearily at you.

Getting up from the beanbag, you gently pad over to Jimin's bed. Fluffing his pillow slightly, you tuck his blanket under his body before pressing a tender kiss to his forehead. As you move to his twin, Jimin smiles sleepily at you, one eye peeking to watch you repeat your actions with his twin. When you're done, he watches you walk back to Jungkook - carefully lifting the boy into your arms. Jungkook's body is mainly limp, sleep weighing his muscles down. However, that doesn't deter you for one moment - and after a brief struggle - he curls easily into your arms, his head finding the comfortable spot in the crook where your neck meets your shoulders.

As you bend down to switch off the bedside lamp, Jimin calls out to you, "noona?" Humming softly, you turn your attention to him, shifting Jungkook in your arms. "Do you love daddy?" Jimin asks, his voice low and quiet. Your eyes widen at the unexpected question and you blink owlishly at the small boy. Unsure of what to say, or how to answer, you ponder Jimin's question for a few moments - silence falling over the room. Eventually, you decide on the truth.

"Yeah, puppy. I love your daddy a lot," you admit quietly. It's the first time you've said it out loud - and it doesn't matter if it's just to the six-year-old boy - the weight of your words are still heavy - nothing but the truth in them. Jimin smiles and with a nod, he snuggles back into bed.

"But you love us more, right noona?" Jungkook mumbles as he looks at you with a small pout.

Laughing softly, you nod. "Yeah, but don't tell daddy that," you whisper - your tone conspiratorial. You hear Taehyung exhale loudly through his nose, and turn to him, your eyebrow quirking. You'd thought he was already asleep - but clearly, you were wrong. He's looking at you hesitantly, a silent question in his eyes.

"What's wrong, Tigger?" you coax gently. Taehyung brightens up at the use of the nickname, causing you to smile tenderly. Frequently, Namjoon would refer to Taehyung as tiger, and one day, when Taehyung was singing along and bouncing to 'The Wonderful Thing About Tiggers', you called him Tigger: considering he bounced around, was incredibly sweet, and a cuddler to boot. Suffice to say the least, Taehyung had loved your nickname - it was his favourite character in Winnie the Pooh after all - and ever since then, it had just stuck.

Nervously, "are you our mommy now?" Taehyung breathes out. If you'd thought Jimin's question had come out of the blue, Taehyung's one completely throws you for a loop. Unsure of what to say, you stand between their beds - all three of their gazes fixated on you as they expectantly await your answer.

Eventually, you take a deep breath, and gathering all your courage, "that's up to you and Namjoon," you reply. As soon as you say that, the three of them nod - apparently accepting your answer. Taehyung curls further into his sheets, Jimin nuzzling his head against his pillow.

"You should be our mommy... I like your hugs... and you smell nice," Jimin mumbles, his voice heavily laden with sleep. Taehyung makes a soft noise, agreeing with Jimin's sentiment. However, that's all they say - because then, they're both drifting off to sleep.

Overwhelmed with emotion, you wrap your arms tighter around Jungkook and carry him to his own bedroom. Already dressed in his pyjamas, and on the brink of sleep, all you have to do is tuck Jungkook into bed. A feat that would be easy - if Jungkook wasn't desperately clinging to your neck. When you unwrap his arms from his neck, Jungkook whines but acquiesces - letting you place him on the bed. Sitting on the mattress, you begin tucking his sheets under his sides before brushing his hair out of his forehead.

"Noona?" Jungkook asks sleepily - and this time you freeze. A twinge of fear courses through you - is he going to ask you something you're unprepared to answer again?

"What is it, baby?" you ask, swallowing thickly. Jungkook turns to his side, looking at you with his large doe eyes.

"I didn't want you to be my mommy at first," Jungkook breathes out - causing you to freeze - however before you can panic, "because I wanted you to be my girlfriend," he continues. Instantly, relief floods through you, causing you to let out a soft, breathy laugh. Jungkook ignores you, looking at you with nothing but sincerity in his eyes - and you find your breath hitching in your throat. Immediately you know, that you're completely unprepared for whatever he's going to say next.

"But I want you to be my mommy - if it means you'll stay with daddy, Jimin, Taehyung and me forever," Jungkook finishes. The moment he finishes his sentence, your heart grips, tears filling your eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you try to suppress your overwhelming emotions - not wanting to cry in front of Jungkook. Instead, "I'd love to be your mommy - and stay with you all forever," you choke out, your voice straining as your throat constricts.

"Then you should stay - and be our mommy," Jungkook says. His words are simple - as if the answer was there all along - and to Jungkook's four-year-old mind it is simple.

You swallow thickly - gulping audibly. "Yeah, maybe I should," comes your only response.

An hour later, you find yourself submerged in the bath. Light sniffles escape your nose as you wipe the tears from your eyes. Really, you can't help but laugh at yourself. Just a few months ago, you were ready to run for the hills over this level of commitment - and now, here you are, crying in your bath over their sweet words. Never would you have imagined such touching words from them. Of course, they didn't really understand the gravity of their words, and their toddler-like minds couldn't really comprehend forever - yet, they'd still asked you, oh so sweetly, to be in their lives forever. So easily, with only a shred of hesitation - they'd bravely asked you to be their mother, to love and care for them like a mother would - to be with their father. It's the last one that has you emotionally devastated - you have their approval.

You've been with Namjoon for months now - but part of you always worried whether the boys only accepted you because you were intertwined heavily in their lives - or maybe they'd just grown comfortable with you. But today proved that they wanted you in their lives - enough that they trusted you to nurture and love them as a mother would - as their mother should have. Choking down another sob, you submerge yourself further in the bath - letting the water envelope you in its warmth.

"Love?" Namjoon's voice breaks through the silence. Sitting up, you turn your head - only to come face to face with your boyfriend. Concern shines in his warm brown eyes, Namjoon looking at you in a mixture of tenderness and worry. His eyes trail over your slightly puffy eyes and swollen face, a frown marring his face at the clear signs of what he thinks is distress. "What's wrong, Angel?" he asks, his voice incredibly soft and gentle. Shaking your head, you sink further into the bath, your throat constricting.

Guilt gnaws at your belly - you don't deserve his concern, and you certainly don't deserve his sons' trust - not when you'd almost walked out on them. Of course, that stemmed more from your fear of commitment than them. You were just afraid to be hurt again. Afraid to let someone in and have them utterly break the trust you put in them. Maybe Dojae was right - maybe you do ruin your own relationships. As soon as the voice of your ex echoes in your head, you shake it off. No - he's wrong. No matter what he said - you didn't ruin your relationship. He did. You had loved him - and were willing to give up almost everything for him. Everything except your dream to become a vet. Something he hadn't appreciated very much.

Sometimes, you wonder why you stayed with him for as long as you did. Though, you figure it was youthful stupidity. Dojae had been your boyfriend since high school and things were fine during then. But all that changed in university. The two of you had always loved science and biology - and though you'd always wanted to be a veterinarian, he'd somehow convinced you to apply for medical school - just so you could be with him; and in your foolish youth, convinced you were in love with him - you'd agreed. But that first year had been completely miserable - and you'd never hated anything more. Nonetheless, you'd put up with it for an entire year. Until you couldn't anymore.

After your first year, you'd transferred to veterinarian school. It was still fairly close to Dojae's medical school - but you could no longer spend as much time together. And then, things had changed. You'd given him everything - your first kiss, your first relationship, your first time. Hell, you even gave him one miserable year of medical school - just to make him happy. But it hadn't been enough. No, despite how much you loved him, how much you were willing to put up with for him, it just hadn't been enough. And he'd gone looking for more with someone else - in someone else's bed.

You'd seen the signs at first - when he'd come to you smelling like a different perfume, or when the settings for his passenger seat had changed - even though they'd been adjusted specifically for you. You'd seen it when he'd message you hours later, and when he did it was only about when you'd be able to come over because he missed you - and by that he meant in his bed. However, each time, he'd made an excuse and not wanting to believe it, you'd believed them. You'd believed him when he said the perfume was from his lab partner, or that he'd dropped a friend off and that's why the settings were changed. You believed it when he said he messaged late because he was busy studying - or that he just missed you so much he had to have you. But they'd all been lies.

Lie after lie, he'd fed you his deceitful excuses - and like an idiot you'd believed them all. But that doesn't mean it's your fault. No - it's not. You gave him everything - and all he did was take, take and take - and demand more. You were simply trying to finish your degree - it's not your fault you couldn't drop everything just to give his cock some attention - and it's definitely not your fault that he started fucking your roommate just because you were busy studying for your numerous tests and exams. No matter how much he tried to blame it on you; no matter how much he tried to say you're the one who pushed him away. It's not your fault.

"Angel? Where are you right now?" Namjoon asks gently. Drawn out of your bitter reverie, you blink in surprise when you feel him behind you, his lips gently caressing your naked shoulder. Somehow, while you'd been lost in your own world, Namjoon has stripped and gotten into the bath with you. Not only that, but you'd been so deep in your thoughts, you hadn't even noticed that Namjoon had shifted your position. Now, you find yourself laying against his hard chest, the soft of his belly pressed against your lower back as his thick thighs cage in your body.

When you fall against his back, your shoulders noticeably deflating, Namjoon frowns. "Angel?" he prods, nudging you lightly with his nose.

You take in a deep breath, "I was thinking about Dojae," you mutter under your breath. Namjoon stills behind you, a frown marring his face. Then, he wraps his strong arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest. Head lolling behind, you rest it on his collarbone and take in a deep breath: drinking in his scent of sandalwood and vanilla.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks gently. His voice is soothing, not a single ounce of judgement in them, and you know that if you did want to talk about it, Namjoon would simply listen. But you don't want to talk about it - a sentiment you express to him. Humming softly, "do you want to tell me why you're thinking about him?" he asks.

Biting your lip, "they asked me to be their mother," you whisper. You feel him stiffen behind you, his shoulders tensing below your head as he grows quiet. The two of you stew in silence, Namjoon waiting for you to elaborate while you gnaw on your lower lip. Eventually, you take another deep breath, "I wasn't expecting it - and they asked so sweetly - but I feel so guilty because I almost left - and they didn't deserve that. But then I thought about why I left and..." you blurt out, your words rushing out one after another.

The air thickens with trepidation, and you feel Namjoon suck in a sharp breath, "do you... do you want to leave again? Is that why?" he asks - a mixture of hesitation and fear evident in his voice. Face crumpling, you quickly shake your head, sinking further into his embrace. Feeling your head move, Namjoon relaxes - the uneasy tension dissipating.

"I don't want to leave. I... would it be so wrong of me to say I want to be there for them? That I want to be their mother - that I desperately want to be with them and you for the rest of my life? That I hate Dojae - and I wish I never met him? That I wish I met you instead - that I wish I met you earlier?" you ask, your voice low and full of uncertainty.

"No," comes Namjoon's immediate answer. Twisting in his arms in the slightly, you finally turn your head to look at him, your eyebrows furrowed as you frown. "It's not wrong for you to say that. Sometimes... sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I never met Jihee - if I'd met you earlier; if you were my children's mother. I imagine it all the time too, wonder all the time," Namjoon confesses. Your heart clinches in your heart - the distance in his eyes all too familiar, as well as the slight tinge of pain in his eyes as he thinks about his ex. However, as soon as it comes, it fades away and Namjoon inclines his head down to you, a soft smile on his lips. "But none of that matters. Because we found each other anyway, and we're here now," Namjoon finishes. He moves his hand, entwining your fingers together. Then, bringing it up to his lips, he presses tender kisses to each of your fingertips.

"You're right, we're here now," you echo, your voice just above a whisper. Namjoon smiles brighter before he bends and places a gentle kiss to your temple. After that, the two of you sit in silence, simply basking in each other's presence. Lazily, Namjoon's fingers dance along your skin, lightly tracing circles over your kneecap as you sit in the bath.

Eventually, you break the silence once again, "forever sounds nice," you chuckle lightly - trying to lighten the mood. Namjoon's own soft laugh fills the quiet bathroom, and immediately he's dropping his head to pepper kisses along the length of your shoulder.

a/n: owo did we ENJOY IT HUH? i hope so ᵘʷᵘ because i KNOW I DID IM SO FUCKING SOFT I MISSED HIM I MISSED BY BOYS I MISSED DAD JOON WAH WHY DID I STOP WRITING THIS WTF

Kofi | Masterlist

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harrin-king · 4 years ago

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just a lil dialogue idea: “...did you just sniff me?”

good luck with school :-)

“Not to sound, I don’t know, ungrateful for the redemption you’re providing me with here, but do you all have to stick your noses into everything? Because I think your whole little group needs a new hobby.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “You think this is redemption? That’s an interesting take. I’d call it charity, maybe,” he says, ignoring the rest of Billy’s comment.

Billy follows his lead and ignores him too. “Like, you guys could start a knitting circle, I’m sure ol’ Joyce would enjoy that. Oh! A Bridge Club. What do you think, Harrington? Think that would occupy you enough to stop willingly tracking down monsters with nothing but a fucking baseball bat?”

Billy has been out of the hospital for three months. He’s been adopted by Joyce Byers for two, and has been patrolling the woods for monsters with Harrington for one.

None of it was really his choice, but neither was the possession back in July, and he finds this to be something much more tolerable to have thrust upon him.

Steve gives a small smile, taking quick crunching steps through the dark forest. “Aw, don’t hurt my feelings, Hargrove. I might start thinking you don’t want to hang out with me.”

Billy scowls, but he can feel it lacking its usual venom. Somehow, the events of the summer have made him someone worth saving, worth helping, worth befriending, instead of someone to be feared.

No, the Mind Flayer taking over his brain and making him commit atrocities only encouraged Harrington and his whole flock of a family to put an axe in his hand and make him help to make sure it never happened again. Go figure.

“I don’t want to hang out with you,” he grumbles, though it isn’t entirely true. What he doesn’t want is to be going after the very thing that almost killed him. The Harrington aspect is the only part that makes it less terrifying, makes his heart beat too fast for reasons far away from fear.

“Fine then,” Steve says, but he sounds bemused more than angry. “Stay back next time and hang out with the kids. You can play Dungeons and Dragons with them, I’m sure that’d be fun for you.” A wide grin overtakes his face. “There’s your alternate hobby. Sorry it’s not quite as exciting as- what was it? A knitting circle?”

Billy fights to keep the frown on his face, but it’s hard not to be intoxicated by Harrington’s humor, his ability to be light and brave, even when doing something as frightening (and fucking stupid) as combing the woods for monsters. “If I did that, I couldn’t hold a real axe, I’d have to have a fucking imaginary one and speaking of which: don’t you think you should stop antagonizing the person with a weapon walking behind you-”

Steve turns his head back towards Billy with his fingers to his lips, makes a Shhh sound.

“Don’t you shush-”

“Shut up, Billy, Jesus,” Steve says, and all of the humor and goodness from his voice a few moments earlier is gone.

It’s then that Billy notices the rustling sound, and the low growl emitting from a handful of yards away, its source hidden behind some brush.

Panic shoots through him. In his mind there’s only him, being dragged down into the basement of that steel mill; him killing Heather, him killing Mrs. Driscol, him killing a third of Hawkins, all because of that thing, that thing that took him and is now only a minute or two away from doing it again.

A hand clamps around his wrist and he has to keep from screaming. But when he opens his eyes to face death a second time, it’s just Harrington, tugging him away. “Come on, Bill. Just-”

Steve drags him by his arm all the way to a tree to their left. A generous piece of its trunk is hollowed out and Steve stuffs the both of them inside. “Just stay quiet. It’ll come out of the bushes in a second and we’ll see what it is.”

But Billy doesn’t want to see what it is. He wants to be sitting at the kitchen table with Joyce, drinking tea at two in the morning when neither of them can sleep. He wants to be driving Max home from the arcade and pretending to hate the music she chooses. He wants anything but this.

The panic is almost blinding. In therapy- another thing he does involuntarily, but can’t deny the benefits of -Dr. Owens is always trying to give him ways to calm down from anxiety attacks, claiming every new skill is a “tool for his recovery toolbox” or something like that.

And it’s dumb. But Billy hates feeling like this.

Five things you can see.

Alright. Stupid hollow tree. Steve. Roots and grass under his shoes. His own hand. Some stars up in the sky.

Four things you can touch.

Usually he’d reach out and actually touch the things he listed, but most of what is in reaching distance is Steve or on Steve’s person, so he refrains. Still, he finds things that he could touch.

Tree bark. Steve’s hair. Steve’s shirt. Steve’s jeans.

Billy’s breathing is still uneven, the world still feels like it’s going to cave in. He keeps trying.

Three things you can hear.

Steve’s breathing. An owl hooting, distantly. That damn monster still rustling in those bushes, refusing to just reveal itself and put him out of his misery.

Two things you can smell.

The sappy, woody scent of the tree. And Steve, but Steve smells like a lot of things. Like hairspray and like cigarettes and like denim and sweat and expensive cologne.

A bit of calm finally begins to settle on Billy. He takes another deep breath, breathing in Harrington. It’s comforting.

He takes another.

“Um.” He hears Harrington clear his throat. “Did you just sniff me?”

Billy opens his eyes. Unconsciously, his face has moved closer to Steve, his nose a mere inch away from Steve’s shoulder. Billy jerks back.

“Jesus. Sorry. Just trying to uh. Ground myself.” He pinches his wrist for how fucking stupid that sounds.

Suddenly the rustling stops, but then it gets louder as, to Billy’s horror, the creature starts making its way out of the brush, the sound of it getting closer.

Billy tenses, painfully glad that Steve is there with his bat and it won’t be Billy who has to be brave tonight.

A head pokes out from between the trees and Steve’s body relaxes. Billy squints his eyes to look.

A mountain lion.

Steve gives a sharp, involuntarily cackle and then looks directly at Billy.

Billy looks back and then they’re both laughing impossibly hard, all of the coiled up energy in their veins escaping through loud guffaws in the otherwise silent forest.

Steve’s head lands on Billy’s shoulders as they continue to laugh. As they settle down, Steve seems to remember something. He looks up at Billy.

“Wait. Did you sniff me earlier?”

Jesus Christ. “Don’t think so highly of yourself, pretty boy. I was just breathing, I don’t know, deeply to calm down.”

Steve smiles. “Scared, huh?”

They’re still in the tree, the small space seeming so much more cramped now that it isn’t fear that keeps them there.

“Oh, shut up. Of course not.”

When Steve tilts his head up to meet Billy’s eyes, the change in angle makes his lips only a breath away from Billy’s own. “Do I smell good?”

“Fuck off,” Billy breathes, but when he tries to break Steves gaze, to turn away or get out of this tree that feels so charged and hot, he’s shocked it hasn’t caught fire, Steve’s lips catch his.

One thing you can taste.

#thank you for the ask and for the luck!!!!#much love to you #steve harrington x billy hargrove #harringrove #my writing

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unbridgeabledistances · 4 years ago

Text

here is a part 2 of my valentine’s day one-shot from the other day!! part 3 of them actually celebrating is coming fri, but wanted to make it a lil countdown:) also big creds to @udontfuckangie for their post about ian getting mickey stargazer lilies for valentines bc it… truly made me feel so many things and i had to write this

Ian didn’t really remember ever celebrating Valentine’s Day for real— not like everyone else in middle school or high school, like when Lip was off buying flowers for girls or Mandy was trying to get the guy she liked to ask her out— but he definitely remembered celebrating it as a kid, when he’d have to scrounge up some shoebox from under his bed and bring it to his overcrowded classroom to cover with colorful construction paper and make shitty valentines to swap with his friends. Those were the days when Frank was around some, and so was Monica— he remembered one year, when he was maybe 5 or 6, when Monica was there and he had come home with a thin pink slip of paper from his teacher saying that he needed to bring in valentines for his class. Monica had whisked him down the street to the dollar store where they’d ransacked the rickety shelves of all the art supplies they could carry, and then they sat at the kitchen table for hours gluing glitter to cut-out hearts.

So maybe that’s why Ian’s heart had melted last Sunday, when Franny had mentioned that she needed to buy valentines for her class at school— Ian knew it was stupid, or whatever, but he knew how far a few solid childhood memories could go in this neighborhood, how those types of moments were the stuff you lived on for years afterwards when things got harder and darker. So while he’d been caught up in so much shit lately, for a couple of hours on that Sunday afternoon all Ian wanted was for Franny to soak up that feeling like a sponge—to make memories with her like the good ones that he’d had with Monica, the ones that stood out and burned in his chest like a hot branding iron when he remembered them.

And then a yawning, sleep-soft Mickey had stumbled into the kitchen, and the three of them were nestled beside each other at the table doing fucking arts and crafts; and for some reason it made Ian’s blood run hotter than usual, and got him thinking about how fuck it, he wanted to give Mickey a Valentine’s Day this year— not in the weird, heteronormative bullshit way, but in the way that he could just kind of… show Mickey how much he meant to him, how Mickey still made his heart feel like it was going to explode out of his ribcage even after the years they’d been together. This was the longest time that he and Mickey had ever been together consecutively, the longest time they’d slept side by side before something dark curled its fingers around them and pulled them apart, and he wanted to do something to acknowledge that— something to start their forever, as fucking cheesy as that sounded.

Of course, Mickey had no concept of Valentine’s Day or any of that shit, which made the whole thing all the more perfect— Ian wanted to catch him off guard, wanted to pull them both out of the funk that had been hovering over them for the months after the wedding, when everything turned brittle and stale once the bills started to pile up. They were better now—or at least they were trying to be— but it still meant something that half of their time being married had been spent navigating a fucking global pandemic and squabbling with each other and barely making ends meet.

So now it was the day before Valentine’s Day, and Ian was standing on a busy Chicago street corner in the bitter cold, watching the bundled passersby briskly walk by to scramble inside and stave off the chill. Ian hadn’t been to this neighborhood since his days working at the club, or maybe once or twice when he was hanging out with people from the youth center; the pristine glass storefronts with minimalist displays nearly blinded Ian’s eyes after the past ten months of being accustomed to the crumbling paint-chipped architecture of the South Side. But he was here on a mission; in front of him stood the high-end, boujee as fuck florist’s shop, one of the top-rated ones in the city according to the quick search he’d plugged into his phone.

Ian normally didn’t give a shit about stuff like this— to him, a flower was a flower, and a chair for a wedding was just a goddamn chair— but he knew Mickey, for some reason this sappy shit was a whole lot more important to him, no matter how hard Mickey tried to hide it. All the symbols and the fanfare meant something to Mickey—it meant that they’d made it, that they got to have a normal fucking life together, beyond both of their wildest dreams. So if Ian had to brave a stupid, gentrifying flower shop on a chilly Friday afternoon to make Mickey happy, then that was what he was going to do.

A soft bell tinkled as Ian entered the shop, immediately surrounded by the nearly-bare shelves of minimalist bouquets. The store was incredibly cramped and narrow, with overly-peppy music playing low, and was packed tight with wire-rimmed glasses wearing, re-usable bag toting hipsters standing in a line all the way to the counter. Shit. This line was going to take all day—and who the fuck knew if they even had what Ian was looking for? A looming pang of desperation started to churn in the pit of his stomach as he lurked by the doorway. Fuck it, he had to do this.

Before Ian really processed what he was doing he was quickly darting past the line, getting a series of dirty looks from everyone he shuffled by.

“S’cuse me, coming through, floral emergency.”

Finally, he reached the counter, sliding in beside some girl in her mid-twenties with a punk haircut. “Uh, sorry, can I just ask if they have what I’m looking for real quick?”

The girl rolled her eyes. “If you’re desperate enough to cut the fucking line, I’d say you’re worse off than I am. Men are fucking clueless.”

Ian nearly grimaced, but tried to twist his face into a soft, grateful smile. “Thank you.” He turned to the cashier at the counter, a dude with a man bun and a floral button-up shirt who looked pretty amused by this whole situation.

“It’s the day before Valentine’s Day, honey. Everyone here is in a floral emergency.” The cashier sighed, looking Ian up and down appraisingly. “What’re you looking for?”

“Uh. I think they’re called… stargazer lilies? The ones that bloom at a specific time, or something? We were supposed to have them at my wedding, but then the venue got burnt down by my husband’s homophobic father, so we kind of had to pull the whole wedding thing together on short notice— it’s kind of a long story, but I really, really need to get these flowers for Valentine’s Day.” Ian leaned in close over the counter, hoping he didn’t look too desperate. “It’s our first one together and it’s been a fucking shitty year and it would just— it would mean a lot.”

Ian finally exhaled, and hoped by some miracle that this cashier, or someone in the fucking universe, would take pity on him.

The cashier pulled his glasses down to the bridge of his nose, tapping away at the iPad on the counter before glancing up. “Hmm. I’m sorry honey, you’re fresh out of luck. Those lilies bloom in the summer mostly, and no one around here really has them. You could maybe check one of the little flower shops down the street, they do special orders and stuff this time of year—but I’ll be honest, I don’t know if you’re gonna get these flowers by tomorrow.”

Ian felt disappointment bubble up inside him. Of fucking course there were none of these obscure flowers in Chicago the day before Valentine’s Day— he’d had this grand idea of giving Mickey a perfect Valentine’s Day, of starting off on the right foot, and he still put this shit off until the last minute and couldn’t give Mickey what he deserved. Mickey would’ve never made this mistake.

Ian cleared his throat. “Shit. Well, uh, thanks anyways.”

He turned, heading for the door and getting ready to be assaulted by the bitter cold again. Okay, there were a couple flower marts down the street, he could try that— but he had a sinking feeling that the results would be the same, that he’d be left empty-handed tomorrow with nothing to give.

Okay. Focus. I’ve gotta plan a bunch of shit for Valentine’s Day by tomorrow.

What would Mickey do?

The flat drone of the dial tone made Mickey’s head buzz, the same dull vibration he’d heard dozens of times that week. Finally, he heard the click of someone answering.

“Hello, this is Sizzlers, how may I help you?”

“Hi, it’s, uh, it’s Mickey Milkovich. Again. I’m just checking in one more time to make sure we’re all good for tomorrow?”

There was a silence on the other end of the line, like the hostess was taking a moment to compose herself. “Yes, Mr. Milkovich. Since this is the… seventh time you’ve checked in in the past week, I believe, everything has definitely been arranged as you requested.”

Mickey cleared his throat. “Uh, good. Thanks. We’ll be there for our reservation at 8.”

He clicked his phone off and flung it down onto the bed. It had been nearly a week since he’d decided he was going to try to give Ian some kind of Valentine’s Day like the normal fucking couple Ian wanted to be, but he had to admit, this shit was hard work; he had to think of the perfect place he wanted them to go, had to call and make a reservation and arrange everything perfectly— and then there was the matter of deciding what to get Ian, because apparently married people also got each other fucking gifts on Valentine’s Day, which sounded like overkill to him. He’d been scrolling through Buzzfeed “Valentine’s Day Gift” lists for the better part of the afternoon, and even snuck some of Debbie’s chick magazines into the bathroom to sift through articles like “Ten Things to Get Your Man for Valentine’s Day” or “Best V-Day Gifts for Newlyweds.” Finally, after fucking days of plans stirring in the back of his mind, Mickey finally thought he had all of the pieces together; the reservation was made, the timing was set, and he’d even stopped by some fancy fucking chocolate shop on the other side of town on the way home from the Alibi earlier that afternoon.

Everything was planned—now there was just one thing left to do.

Mickey grabbed the crumpled piece of paper he’d set on the bedside table, the one he’d been staring at all week. Fuck it. He grabbed a discarded pen from the windowsill, from the collection of pencils that Ian kept next to his notebooks.

Mickey sighed as he put the pen to the paper. Now comes the hard part.

part 1 is here! and part 3 is here!

#this has been such a fun lil distraction this week!!!#actual cute fluffy content coming friday lol #<3 #gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #shameless fic #ian x mickey #ian and mickey

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luvdsc · 4 years ago

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would you mind doing a description of each member of nct dream? you don’t have to cuz that’s lowkey a lot BUT i figured i’d ask since i’m trying to write something and get their personalities right. i really admire your work!! have a nice day, babes!!!

yes, of course, lovebug 💕 I’ll be rewording the analyses from the asks about my ideal type and adding to them, so it might be a bit familiar! I could’ve written more, but I had to stop because I reached max length for each paragraph 😅 I hope these are helpful to you, and thank you so much for liking my work, honey bee!!! 💛 best of luck with your writing, and I hope you have a good day, too! 🌼 also, I’m on mobile and I’m so sorry for all the scrolling! I’ll add a read more when I get on my laptop ✨ edit: the read more has been added :’)

MARK :: oh, where do i start with mister absolutely fully capable? mark is the definition of adorkable. if you look up that word in the dictionary, you’re gonna see his picture pasted right under it. he’s endearing and awkward, and he tries his best in everything and puts his best foot forward, giving 110% in whatever he does. he’s a hard worker and a good boy. he laughs at that’s what she said jokes, and he’s the type of person to think of a funny joke from three days ago and start laughing at the most inappropriate time, like in the middle of standard testing. he’ll say things he thinks are funny, like “five guys hello guys” or that long sentence about possibilities and immediately look to you with those wide doe eyes, seeking a positive reaction from you and hoping you’ll laugh. he’ll try to wink at you randomly sometimes, but he always fails and just ends up blinking, which will make you laugh and call him cute and have him scrunching up his nose because that’s not what he intended to happen and he’ll be really flustered at the compliment. he’s really sweet, and I think taeil called him the most romantic? however, I feel like having a relationship isn’t a high priority for him right now. he seems to have workaholic tendencies, which could frustrate his s/o. he would need to have someone that understands his work and music is the most important to him, and he might unintentionally neglect checking up with his s/o at times. he’s a little shy and introverted, so it might be hard for him to make a first move if you aren’t friends at first. he’ll write dozens upon dozens of songs about you. that’s the way he’ll express his affection because he’s too shy to in the beginning and music is what he’s good at. there will be lots of late nights with him strumming his guitar and you sitting next to him, reading a book or playing a game on your phone, and he’ll call your name and you look up before he nervously starts to play a new song that he’s written for you. and at the end of the song, he’ll glance up at you really quickly before looking back down at his guitar, and you’re going to have to go over to him and take his face into your hands softly and tell him his song was amazing and you love it as much as you love him. and he’ll smile so big as his glasses slide down his nose before he quickly leans up and presses the softest kiss against your mouth to show you his appreciation before he loses courage to do so. sometimes you steal those round rimmed glasses of his and try them on yourself, and mark has to cover his face and look away and wring his hands and he makes those little oi mark noises because you look so cute and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. on the other hand, mark is also very stubborn. it may not look like that, but if you notice the relationship between him and hyuck, hyuck is always the one giving in at the end. mark will absolutely not do something if he doesn’t want to do it. I do think he will go after something if he wants it, but he will hesitate slightly at first. he follows the rules a bit too much. he doesn’t seem to be the most fun person to party with either unless you get him to drink a beer because he’s a lightweight, but that also means you have to take care of him afterwards. also, he said in an interview that he doesn’t like rollercoasters or fast rides, but he enjoys the cotton candy at amusement parks lol but he did go on those rides in the end, but his head was down the entire time rip. mark gets easily embarrassed. it’s like in that video where they read tweets aloud and mark got super embarrassed when jaehyun read this tweet that gushed about his laugh, and mark just curled up into himself and couldn’t lift his head up and awkwardly laughed. he’s adorkable. please tease him and hype him up in this very same way just to get this cute reaction out of him.

RENJUN :: renjun is the one you can call when you have a body to bury and he’ll show up with the shovel. he’ll call you a stupid idiot, but he’ll still show up to help you. he’s the type that would come over at 3 a.m. if there’s a bug in your apartment and squash it for you after much complaining and telling you that he won’t do it. he’s fiercely loyal and caring. he took care of chenle when chenle wasn’t as proficient with korean and made sure he was doing ok and was always ready to translate for him whenever. he puts up a tough, ready to fight front, but he’s a scaredy cat and if you pretend to be a ghost (read: jisung), he’ll be scared shitless. you can see him get scared and hide behind jeno and hug him so hard when the zombie jumped out in one of those save dream interactive videos. he’s the person you can banter with and he understands dry humor and sarcasm, and I think he’s best for e2l story plot lines because of this lmao but he also fits the best friend role well. he will roast anyone with no mercy with just a few words. he’s artistic. he’s super good at art and has shared several of his beautiful digital drawings before. he’s the person to go to when you want to have long, serious talks at 4 in the morning, and as seen through his radio show, he will try his best to give you advice, even if he may not be experienced enough, but he is trying his hardest to help. if you read some of the advice he gives on his radio show, you can get a better sense of who he is as a person. he’s really insightful and puts a lot of effort into giving the best answer he can. also, he really reminds me of a little brother or someone I want to be best friends with because we can roast people together or talk about paranormal stuff. he just seems really fun to mess around with because he gives funny reactions. he gives off that younger sibling vibe where only your big sister can make fun of you, but once she sees someone else doing it, it’s not ok and she’s gonna go after that person for making her lil bro cry. in a relationship, he wants someone he can trust with his thoughts and interests, such as aliens, and while his s/o may not believe in them, he wants them to genuinely listen to him and not just brush it off. however, he will still roast his s/o into oblivion. it’s how he shows his affection lol. he’ll call you an idiot and cute all in the same sentence. but he’s really a soft and sensitive boy underneath his snappy, sarcastic exterior. he cried when they won first place for the first time. i’m sure he cried when ridin’ reached number one on the charts. he’s attentive and likes affection even though he tries to say he doesn’t. in that one weekly idol dreamie episode, hyuck listed who hated affection, and he wasn’t one of them. he’s a good boy, and underneath all his snarky comments, he wants to be loved and cared for. you can see how he got a lil huffy when jisung chose chenle as his favorite hyung lol he doesn’t express his feelings outwardly as much, but if you’re his s/o, he will quietly adore you in his own way while outwardly being that one snarky couple who banters all the time. he’ll draw pictures of you, secretly have you as his homescreen, or have a secret photo album on his phone of just pictures of you. he’ll complain if you get him a couple item, like a bracelet, but he’ll wear it 24/7 and refuse to give it back to you. he will absolutely lose his shit if he misplaces it. he’ll cook for you if you ask, but he’ll make a big show about fake complaining about it beforehand. I think he’s okay with hand holding and kisses here and there, but he won’t do grand gestures of pda because he thinks those should be more private and between the two of you. he thinks pet names are sappy as heck, and he’ll get terribly embarrassed if you call him one but he’d be like “that’s so gross and corny... but call me that again.” honestly, just tell him ily and his cheeks will turn so red and he’ll bury his face in his hands but he’ll say it back in the quietest voice and he truly does mean it with his whole chest.

JENO :: jeno is someone who fits in so many roles. his character is versatile in a sense. you can make him into a bad boy, the boy next door, your best friend, anybody. his humor is underrated, and he makes funny puns. he’s good at sarcasm and wit, like when he asked jisung if he thought jaemin’s iq was single digits or when the instructor complimented him and said his rap sounded like mark and he was like “oh.... that’s not good.” he worries about being funny. he mentioned losing sleep over it in weekly idol, so please tell him he’s funny and laugh at his jokes ): he really is funny, and i love his humor. jeno is really smart. he managed to rank 4th or something I believe in his school after cram studying the day before. he’s really self-assured and confident in himself, but he doesn’t show off or act cocky, yet you can sense the quiet confidence in him. he’s humble and works hard and deserves more credit than he’s given. he possesses leadership qualities and is a source of strength for other members. i think they said he was one of the cleaner members and when he’s drunk, he cleans LMAO he is into sports and gymming, especially biking. hyuck said that jeno’s bedroom has his and jaemin’s bikes hanging on the walls lol he also is really competitive, but not a sore loser type. jeno doesn’t strike me as the type who needs his s/o around 24/7 and prefers to have hobbies and space separate from his s/o. he’s laid back, but at the same time, still energetic and fun to be around. he’s still weird, but not over the top weird. jeno is insightful and kind, and he has stated that he’s very shy and timid before. doyoung likes him the most because he’s kind and respectful and takes into account other people’s feelings and listens well. he’s a good boy. he’s also really playful and teasing and plays well with others, like jisung jokes around with him all the time. I feel like jisung jokes around with him the most out of all his hyungs aside from chenle because jeno doesn’t get mad. i believe the members say he’s the only one aside from chenle who doesn’t get mad when someone messes up in dance practices. he cries when he gets angry. jeno is also really affectionate. he enjoys cuddling and holding hands and back hugs and whatnot, but he doesn’t overdo it. it takes a long time for him to trust and open up to someone, and you’re a very lucky person if he lets you see this side of him. he won’t force you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. If something is bothering you, he won’t pry at first if you refuse to talk about it, but I do think he will eventually make you talk if he feels something is terribly wrong or if it’s affecting the relationship. jeno is driven and knows what he wants. he’ll give you space, but if you’re not what he’s looking for or if you don’t put the effort in as well and won’t open up to him, I do think he will move on. he might bottle up his emotions at first, but as the relationship progresses, he’ll be fully open to you and tell you everything. I don’t think he’ll be terribly affected if he’s rejected because he is confident in himself and able to brush it off. he knows his self-worth. oh, and he loves animals. obviously, jeno loves his cats because he has them even when he’s allergic. he’s the type of s/o who, if you mention you’re walking back to your dorm late at night after staying in the art building to finish your painting, he’ll show up with messy hair and his glasses in his sweats with a hoodie thrown on haphazardly and walk you back safely even without you asking. kiss him on his nose at random times just because you love him, and he’ll make that jeno trademark noise of confusion before giving you the prettiest eye smile that makes the moon dim in shame and nuzzling his face into your shoulder shyly. call him jeno darling or jeno love if you want to see the same reaction as before. it’s gonna be a total KO to his heart if you call him that and boop him on the nose with the softest kiss. anyway, jeno is the bestest boy in the entire universe, and give him all your love, please and thank you.

HAECHAN :: hyuck is so fucking talented. he’s good at everything: singing, dancing, rapping, variety shows, you name it. he was born to be an idol. he’s the golden one and excels at everything. he’s an ace, and he knows it. yeah, he’s cocky and brags about everything he does, but he actually has evidence and proof to back it up. plus, no one can stay mad at him for very long because have you seen how cute he is?? he’s a brat, but you still love him anyway. he’s good at sweet talking and getting what he wants. he plays a push and pull game, and you end up falling for him in the end. i know in fics on here, you often see jaemin in the playboy/fuckboy persona, but I think hyuck absolutely exudes this persona. he is able to read the room or a person and knows the exact way to act in order to get the reaction he wants. it’s hyuck’s world, and we’re all just living in it. he can have all of us eating out of the palm of his hand if he desires. i think he truly embodies the traits of a slytherin: ambitious and cunning. it’s every man for himself, and he’ll do whatever it takes to get what he believes he deserves and plays by his own rules. hyuck is so smart and intelligent, both in terms of brains and emotion. he’s absolutely brilliant, and he’s the type of person to ace an exam without even studying for it. I think he did very well in school, and he also beat doyoung in mental maths when they had a competition on weekly idol lol and he’s also street smart. there’s a reason why doyoung and taeil are scared of him and why they prefer to be on his team than against him lmao. I think hyuck is also a people pleaser though. he wants to be liked, and it’ll drive him crazy if someone calls him boring or shows no interest towards him. I think he’ll want a s/o who plays the push and pull game with him. he’ll playfully tease them a lot, and they’ll have to be interesting and able to dazzle him with their own wit and sarcasm. he, like renjun, is snarky and sarcastic. he likes to make people laugh and enjoys being the center of attention. he is super affectionate and rivals jaemin in this aspect. he thrives off of physical touches, hugs, cuddles, etc. he likes to cuddle when he sleeps, and I feel like he enjoys being the little spoon. he isn’t afraid of pda and will show off his s/o to the world with a loud kiss or back hug anywhere. he’s the type who would do that back pocket spin peter does to lara jean lmao. the two of you can laze around at home, while he plays video games on his computer and you can sit in his lap and he’ll do that thing where his arms are around you and his chin is on your shoulder. he’s a good cook, and he’ll cook for you, but he expects you to pay him back in kisses. his s/o might think he doesn’t pay attention to what they’re saying to him, but he does. he absolutely adores his s/o and remembers everything about them. he’s the type to surprise his s/o with their favorite flowers on a random day, and his s/o would’ve thought he wasn’t paying attention when they told him their favorite flower months ago. and please, please, please surprise him with flowers too because that will catch him off guard and you’ll see him blush and get flustered for once. it’s like when the dreamies first debuted, and chenle said hyuck was the best singer and he wanted to be like hyuck, and hyuck got really quiet and shy and flustered about it. however, he’d get really shy around his crush if they weren’t friends first. there’s that video of him returning something that twice’s mono dropped I think and he was so nervous before and afterwards. or there’s that time when he handed flowers to seungwoo and got so flustered as the dreamies teased him afterwards. also, I feel like sometimes people forget that so much hard work goes into what he does because he makes it look so effortless. hyuck works so hard in everything and puts his all into what he does. anyway, please appreciate hyuck and love him lots. he deserves to be showered in love and affection.

JAEMIN :: jaemin is like jeno in the sense that his character is also super versatile. you can make him fit any type of persona for your fic. jaemin is a sweetheart. his entire existence is love. hyuck said that he treats his members the same way he treats his fans in an episode of weekly idol before. he’s a really affectionate person as seen in the way he showers jisung with affection. he eats, sleeps, and breathes aegyo. you’re going to experience his aegyo a lot if you’re his s/o, so brace yourself. he even managed to make hyuck flustered when he kissed him in that recent reload era game video. he has a lot of love to give out, but he also wants the same amount of love in return. you can see how he craves for love from jisung in return and the way he gets a little upset when he doesn’t get it, like when jisung didn’t call him his favorite hyung. his s/o needs to be okay with being showered with affection and love, and they have to do the same for him. call him cute pet names, give him random kisses throughout the day, back hug him while he’s cooking, he will just absolutely glow and bask in your love. jaemin is good at cooking. he will cook for you, and if you cook, he’ll eat what you make with no complaints. it’s like that meme where person A gives person B a drink with salt in it, and person B drinks it all, and when person A asks why they did that even though it was salty, person B says it’s because they didn’t want to hurt person A’s feelings. jaemin is person B. he’ll also make you model for him and pose literally everywhere so he can take pictures of you because you’re the prettiest person in the entire world to him. he’ll make you his lockscreen, homescreen, hang up pictures of you in his room, all that jazz. he’s the one who buys couple items or outfits and makes you wear them with them. his entire Instagram account will be pictures of you or with you. however, he’s also petty af and nags a lot lmao. he complained to jeno when jisung said he wanted to eat bread at 3 a.m. and how he couldn’t go out to buy him any. he also nagged renjun in one of those dream vs dream videos for not having any questions about him, while all his questions were about renjun. or when he was sulking about jeno not knowing his favorite cartoon character. I believe he mentioned having extreme mood swings too where he’s either too quiet or too loud and out there, and as a s/o, you’d have to cater to both sides of him. jaemin is also an introvert. he’s very quiet and shy around strangers, but he’ll unleash his inner weirdness and loudness when he feels comfortable around you, and you’re in for a wild, fun ride. in that video where he and jeno were making cakes, he seems really hyper and wild. same goes for that video where they went out to eat, and jaemin was pouring soda into a glass dramatically. or when they played that dance game where you have to add onto the dance and copy the previous dances, and he added some random flailing motion and complained when someone did it wrong. or when he and renjun were paired up for that guessing game when they both had headphones on, and he started flailing everywhere and getting kinda frustrated at renjun for getting zero right. he’s a bit weird lmao. as his s/o, i hope you go along with his weird antics and have fun with him too! you also have to remind him to take care of himself. make sure he doesn’t drink that ungodly coffee drink of his or eat too much sugar. take care of him, love him, cherish him, and jaemin will be the best boyfriend ever. he might even set up a whole led light display for you at night declaring his love like he did for jeno. actually, no, he definitely will. he’ll do big grand gestures to show his love for you. he’ll fill your house with roses and press kisses to each of your fingertips with a different reason for why he loves you. he’ll continue to list the reasons for why he loves you for every star he sees until he runs out of stars, but he’ll never run out of reasons for loving you.

CHENLE :: chenle was born to be a star. he is so incredibly talented and picks up skills so quickly. it’s evident because he managed to debut after two months of training and he became fluent in korean quickly. he’s humble and gracious, and he’s the embodiment of that miss universe song: he’s beauty, he’s grace. he doesn’t flaunt his wealth, in fact, it only ever comes up because others bring it up. or he accidentally shows it off when he asks what rent means or when he tries to innocently rectify the situation, like when jaemin was like “oh his parents held a concert for him for his bday” and chenle was like “noooo no it was just to make a memory” on idol room lmao. the way he expresses his love is through gift giving. it shows in the way he told mark he’ll buy him anything he wants for his bday or when he gave apple watches to the 00 liners or when he immediately agreed to buy jeno a plane ticket to china to show him around his home. but he’s not trying to flaunt his wealth. this is simply how he shows his love. chenle is laidback and easygoing. he doesn’t care about jisung using honorifics with him, and he’ll go along with whatever’s happening. there’s that one video during mfal era where hyuck and chenle won the prize and hyuck was like “hey I’ll take the prize ok?” and chenle just immediately agrees and doesn’t care at all. but don’t get me wrong, chenle is super competitive. he wants to win, but it’s more about that feeling you get when you’re the winner, rather than the actual prize for him. he’s really into sports, specifically basketball, so i feel like he’d enjoy it if his s/o expressed some sort of interest in it with him. they don’t have to play basketball with him, but he’d appreciate it greatly if they listened to him talk about stephen curry or cheer him on from the sidelines. he’s affectionate. if you read my renjun description, chenle is the other one that hyuck said doesn’t mind affection from the other members on weekly idol. I don’t see him showing affection blatantly as much like hyuck and jaemin, but I think he loves receiving it. chenle obviously receives so much love from his family and is super close to them. he will love his s/o with his whole heart, and I hope his s/o will love him back just as much. also, I’m pretty sure he’ll love his s/o acting cute because his heart rate spiked up when jisung did aegyo on idol room lmao. I think he’s the only other extrovert in the dreamies, besides hyuck. I believe someone asked jaemin or skz hyunjin if they got close after the collab stage, and they said that they were really awkward with each other. however, skz felix and chenle became good friends! chenle is friendly and a people person. he thrives in social settings, and he’s a social butterfly. he’ll help people out of their shells and make sure to include them in conversations. he’s the type of person who would clear his throat and be like “hey y/n has something to say” if you tried to say something in a group convo and weren’t heard. he’s fine with being the center of attention, but he doesn’t actively seek out that position, like hyuck does. unlike hyuck, he’s not a people pleaser. I think he’s confident in himself, and he’s self assured and satisfied with who he is, so he doesn’t really care what others think of him. chenle is really playful. he likes to tease the other members and wreak harmless havoc lol you can see how he plays around with the other members, like in nct life where he just throws snow at jisung or scares jisung with a rubber chicken when they went to an amusement park in shanghai. he’s a thrill seeker. he loves roller coasters, shooting games, laser tag, etc. he gets excited over the littlest things, and he’s a naturally cheerful person who lights up the room and just naturally has people gravitate towards him. however, he has his serious moments too, and I can see him sitting next to his s/o behind the piano and playing something for them. but then, he’ll probably ruin the soft moment by slamming his hands down on the keys and scaring them at the end.

JISUNG :: jisung reminds me of high school puppy love. he’s curious about the world and introspective. he asked the fans to send him pictures of the moon because he couldn’t see it himself. I think he has a lot of deep thoughts and keeps them to himself because he’s introverted and nervous about sharing them aloud in case he’s not taken seriously as the youngest. he’s inquisitive and sweet, and he’s the culmination of everything good in the universe. he’s the one whom renjun talks to about aliens and paranormal things, and I believe he’ll want a s/o who will take him seriously on these things and listens to his concerns without teasing or making fun of him for believing in them. jisung is shy and gets embarrassed when he’s given compliments. there’s this video where the dreamies read compliments from fans aloud, and you can see how flustered and shy he gets as he ducks his head, has to pause and cover his face before playing with his hair as he reads through the compliments with the biggest smile peeking on his face. I think this is the cutest thing ever, and at the beginning of the relationship, if his s/o compliments him or does something cute, he’s going to react exactly like that. tell him his dancing is amazing, watch his fancams around him, tell him his face is nice to look at, etc. and you’ll see him get reduced to a flustered, blushing mess. the first time he sees you wearing one of his sweaters with the sleeves covering your hands and giving you sweater paws, he will combust and stutter and not be able to look at you as his cheeks turn red. he might just suffer a heart attack if you decide to casually call him a cute pet name one day. additionally, jisung is at that age where he wants to know what others think of him and he wants to be liked. I think this is the reason why he’s more hesitant about speaking up or voicing himself in an unfamiliar environment because he doesn’t want to give off a negative image. he’s also painfully shy, but he wants to make friends, which he explains on dancing high. because of this, he truly cherishes any friendship or relationship he has because it’s seen as something incredibly special to him. as his s/o, you’re gonna mean the world to him and he will value your opinion greatly. once he’s comfortable around you, he’ll be loud and talkative. jeno says that jisung talks the most at the dorm and he’s never quiet. jisung is also a lil shit lol, and he knows how to get out of things, like cleaning up after dinner by locking himself in the bathroom. he’s also a little lazy and probably not the cleanest tbh. he sleeps in jaemin’s bed or in the living room because he’s too lazy to go to his top bunk. he doesn’t listen to his hyungs and talks down to them in a playful way because he knows they’re whipped for him lmao. when the relationship progresses, jisung is going to act in the same, exact way with you. he’s a savage, and he will roast you in the same way he roasts his hyungs, like when hyuck wanted to go to LA with him for why not the dancer and he was like “you have to be good at dancing to go” (which btw, fight me, jisung, hyuck is literally the best dancer). he’ll tease you, hide items on the tallest shelf just so that you’ll call him for help, and smush your cheeks and call you cute. he’ll ruffle your hair and run up behind you and sweep you off your feet princess style just to scare you before carefully placing you back down or tossing you into the pool lol he may have complained about carrying renjun in that reload era game video, but he’ll give you piggy backs when you’re tired or carry you around if you asked. he likes playing video games and those block breaker game apps and when he loses, he’ll sit there and pout without realizing it. he does that little nose scrunch unknowingly, and it’s the cutest. he’ll like dates at home the best. he sucks at cooking, but he’ll try to do it for you. but it’ll end up with you cooking while he back hugs you, and you have to walk around the kitchen with him being a koala attached to you as you feed him bits of the food being made.

#asks #anonymous

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soulwillower · 4 years ago

Text

heart eyes • bill denbrough

(bill denbrough x reader smut)

requested: no ;)

warnings: swearing, smut, oral (fem receiving), body worship!!, fluff, road trip w the losers, underage drinking, body shots, praise kink bc its me, a lil dirty talk, this one is kinda tame, its fluffy :) ALSO THIS IS SO UNEDITED SORRY

i was going through all my writing and i found this smut i wrote a while ago!! im p sure its the first smut i ever wrote n i never posted it, i figured i would rn :)

[losers + reader are aged up 18+ in this.]

6.2k words lol

♡

“i mean this trip would’ve been fun, no matter what. listen! guys, i love you! and... and i fucking love that we don’t always have to be inebriated to have fun.” stan exclaims, gangly limbs sprawled on the floor as ben starts giggling. stan pays no mind, “but listen, listen. i am soooo happy that we brought this stuff though, you know?” stan continues to babble on drunkenly, eliciting giggles from all the kids in the room. he’s waving an almost empty bottle of smirnoff. you giggle softly.

thankfully, ben had actually managed to sweet talk a coworker from the diner in order to score the losers a few handles of alcohol, and you’d nearly finished off the smirnoff and all are a few hearty swigs into the bottle of strawberry burnett’s and fireball.

your cheeks are very red.

you know your cheeks are burning.

but bill’s loose arm around your waist has your skin burning even hotter. you don’t want to think of it as anything more than platonic, because with a quick glance to your right, you see his other arm holding eddie in the same fashion. you're just friends, and always have been.

bill is just a very outgoing and flirty person when drunk.

and if you had voiced this aloud, bill denbrough would probably have had to agree. he barely felt his arm where it lay across eddie, but his arm that was cradling you feels like it is dead weight.

god, he’s got it so fucking bad for you. the conversation lulls as a familiar tune plays through the speaker, making most losers scrunch their nose and laugh. y/n and richie, as always, have other plans.

not even a measure into the song, richie screeches and pulls you into his chest, already swaying you as your alluring voices blend together as perfectly as they always do.

the two drunkenly sing together for the entire duration of the song, serenading each other in a sweet, albeit weird (in a way, bill decides, that only richie and you can achieve) fashion. the lanky boy twirls you around, and you're giggling and laughing and smiling so brightly, and the others are all smiling happily.

and bill just knows, looking from richie’s face, to stan, then mike, bev, ben, and then to eddie right next to him, that everybody in the room has just fallen a little more in love with you.

you're a fucking angel. just like heaven…

and, knowing deep down that it was highly unlikely, bill still hoped he could some day call that angel his own.

bill takes a moment to breathe as the seven of his best friends huddle in the weak circle they’ve formed after quite a few drinks.

the speaker plays soft music. the kind of music - you recall loudly to everyone with a smile - that ‘stanny’ plays in his own car on days in the summer when he lets you roll down the passenger side window and stick your feet out as they speed down the town roads.

“you know why-“ mike starts, interrupting himself with a hiccup. he giggles, and bill smiles. “-you know why i love you?” he says, question directed at ben. ben chuckles, face red from the contents of his near empty cup, and shrugs.

“no, wait, i’m not drunk enough for the sappy stuff.” you whine, biting your lip as you glances over to bill.

he averts his eyes, chastising himself in his head immediately after for being a little schoolboy.

“fine, y/l/n. truth or dare?” mike says with a cheeky smile. richie hollers and you scoff, shaking your head. across the room, eddie does the same.

“c’mon, mikey… i haven’t played that since sophomore year.” you say, face revealing a teasing smile which betrays your tone. bev shrugs, leaning back into ben’s chest. “dunno, could be fun.” she says.

bill watches closely as y/n sends a long look to bev, who shoots her best friend a suggestive glance.

bill wishes sometimes that he could hear beverly and y/n’s thoughts and secret conversations, but after a flash memory of the time when he walked in (after listening to silence for nearly three minutes before entering) on the two girls staring at the other in complete silence, he shivers and retracts that wish.

those girls were creepily telekinetic.

y/n’s sigh pulls bill back to earth. “fine.” you say, rolling your eyes and sounding bored. bill knew better than to believe y/n could really be bored. he stares at your body as you take a hefty swig from your cup, wiping your mouth and slurring, “truth.”

“out of all the people in this room, whose clothing style would you choose to swap with?” mike asks after some moments of silence. you look like you're thinking very, very hard and this makes bill laugh in drunken stupor. his friends shoot him a confused look, but attention quickly lies back on y/n.

“stan, maybe. or eddie bear.” y/n says, flopping into eddie’s lap, making him blush and card his fingers through your hair. “I love all those cute shorts.” you say, throwing a wink in richie’s direction.

bill has to laugh at the expression on the curly haired boy’s face. he has to admit, though, that eddie looks fucking great in those shorts. the two boys both respond idly, though, and the game continues, getting dumber and more risqué the more drinks they share.

mike admits to wearing briefs over boxers, bev admits that the first girl she kissed was y/n. ben has to jump into the broken hot tub, and eddie takes a body shot off of richie.

"bill, who do you think is the best kisser?" bev smirks, shooting a look that he doesn't understand but, on a much more transcendental level, understands too well.

"if you don't say me, i'll be mad." richie says, making kissy faces that make ben push the side of his face away with a chuckle. bill laughs lightly, but his lips move quicker than his brain. "y/n, probably."

seven pairs of eyes land on him and he blinks, face heating until he's surely a tomato. "wh-what? you a-asked." he says awkwardly, and to change the subject, stan clears his throat, "y/n's turn!"

bill shoots him a grateful look, but stan gives him a stare that screams make a move, dumbass.

"okay, dare." you mumble, cheeks slightly dark and a sweet grin on your lips.

“'kay. i dare you...” richie trails off as something catches his drunken eyesight away in the kitchen. he starts to giggle to himself, then. “take a body shot off of bill.” he says, pointing a bony finger at the innocent girl to bill’s left.

bill’s face pales at this, but the liquid courage has him pulling off his shirt at the encouragement of the others merely moments later.

“i’ve yet to take an actual body shot before.” y/n mumbles, explaining how you've always done them off shoulders or necks.

“lick, shoot, suck.” bill mumbles, staring at the ceiling. bill hears bev giggle quietly.

“don’t forget that last part, y/n.” richie piped up from across the room, the words being followed by a thud and a soft grunt.

“i couldn’t if i tried, rich.” you mumbles as your face comes into view. bill can only smirk up at you when he feels liquid pour into his navel.

“he’s gotta be flexing right now. there’s no way he’s that naturally ripped!” richie complains, his voice looted in a joke. ben laughs as bev slaps richie’s arm.

"sh-shut up, richie." bill mutters with an easy grin.

bill slips a lime wedge into his mouth and his tongue falls upon the rind, tasting the muted citrus flavor as salt is sprinkled in the stretched of his skin between his belly button and his waistband.

if he wasn't drunk, he'd be a blushing mess.

and he has to try harder than he's ever tried for anything in his entire life to not get hard as you suddenly lean over him, your hot tongue poking out to lick a stripe up the salt.

he suppresses a groan and then you shoot the shot from his stomach, everyone screaming and cheering and laughing. you're laughing too, and bill's shocked into a stupor by how casually and effortlessly beautiful you are.

you're leaning towards his face now, a soft smile on your face as your lips fall to pluck the lime from his mouth. but before you pull all the way back, he feels your soft lips touch his around the wedge and his whole body ignites, cheeks turning red.

but just as quickly as you were there, you're gone and he's left with the faint taste of lime and a heaving chest, the feeling of your tongue on his body ingrained into his mind.

it was about thirty minutes later that all the losers retreated to their rooms to pass out, bill following you a few steps behind. of course, when eddie and bev had planned the sleeping arrangements, they'd insisted that you two share a room. not that he's complaining, not at all.

bill barely gets a minute into the door before you're turning and stepping closer to him. his hands fall to your arms, in his mind as an excuse to steady you, but he knows its because he really just wants to feel you in his arms.

“do you really want to kiss me?” you purr, voice uncharacteristically quiet. and wow, that was out of left field. bill almost laughs, but refrains in case the inebriated girl in his arms took it the wrong way. “yes, y/n. a-always.”

you beam, a slight hiccup escaping your cherry lips as you get on your tippy toes. you're still half a head shorter than him even on your tips.

his heart thumps as he takes in your beautiful features up close, and he longs to feel your lips against his.

but, instead he shakes his head gently through his drunken state. your face falls and you step back. bill swears the angel’s wings start to droop and wilt as you seem to sober up slightly. you look sad and embarrassed and bill’s heart shatters a fragment.

“y-you’re drunk.” he says lamely, wishing that own his drunk eyes would get on board with his brain and quit running over this girl’s beautiful face and enticing curves. “w-we both a-are.” he adds, biting his lip.

you huff, turning around and bending over to pull sweats out of a drawer. “okay,” you mumble and he can’t read your voice much but he can tell you're upset.

in a drunk thought, he realizes he may never fully understand you.

bill bites his lip at the sight of your perky ass displayed like that in front of him and he wants to smack himself as he feels the familiar heat in his abdomen, turning around to give you privacy as you change.

he doesn’t turn around, as much as you both want him to.

richie once claimed that bill was hornier than he was, and while then he’d laughed especially hard at that claim, bill currently cursed richie a million times for being correct.

“would you reconsider if we were sober?” when a hand lands on bill’s shoulder, he turns to see you staring up at him, wearing a plain blue and white baseball tee and sweats.

it’s quiet for a moment. y/n holds your breath. bill himself lets out a breath after a moment. “you’re fucking beautiful.”

it’s not an answer to your question, even, but he says it before he even realizes it and the look on your face suddenly makes bill wish he could say things like that without stuttering forever if it meant it made you feel like that.

you turn bright red, head dropping down bashfully. you fail to hide your smile drop, though, and it makes bill feel slightly sick. “you don’t have to say that bill.” you whisper, sounding insecure. and then you slip under the dark green duvet of the bed.

bill tells himself that if he were sober, he’d speak up; have the courage to say all the things to you that his mind is constantly screaming.

you are fucking beautiful, everybody knows it..

all our friends see it...

mike once told me you were the hottest person in the school and that was before we even met you, now he also claims you’re the most thoughtful person in existence...

ben thinks you might be the smartest person in our generation...

bev is confident that you are going to change the world some day...

richie calls you his platonic soulmate...and says that you have second most rockin’ bod (second only because he’s trying to mack on eddie)...

eddie tells me every day how much he looks up to you and how much he admires your strength...

stan once told me that he’d marry you in a heartbeat...

(i think i’m falling for you...)

(and i hope you feel the same...)

your eyes look so innocent...but i know you’re not...

your lips look like they taste like candy...

you are so fucking pretty...

i want to put my dick in your mouth-

his last thought snaps him out of his drunken stupor and he quickly pulls on flannel pants and tugs off his shirt, not missing y/n’s eyes on his bare torso as he pulls on a shirt.

bill. you’re drunk, go to sleep, asshole.

he lays on the edge of the bed, turning off the lamp light and rubs his eyes. your eyes are closed, and you lay on your side, back facing him.

“i’m lucky t’have you, billy. we all are.” you mumble, and bill doesn’t even fight the bashful smile that climbs onto his face. you can’t seem him, anyways.

“g’night, billy.” you finish dreamily, snuggling the comforter and making bill swoon in the dark.

“g-goodnight, y/n.” he says quietly.

the next night was much more tame; the losers were worn out after a day of exploring and decided to go to the outdoor pool in the backyard of the b&b you'd rented.

you sit on the couch by yourself, knowing bill was in your room because he didn't feel like swimming.

but you were nervous to go in there, because you and bill hadn't been alone since last night when you'd basically confessed to him. and yeah, he'd sort of confessed back, but you could tell he was just trying to be considerate and not make it awkward for you or the rest of the losers.

with a sigh, you rising to your feet and padding to the closed door. soft music plays from the other end of the door and you smile as you hear bill hum quietly to bowie.

when you push the door open, bill’s figure is silhouetted by the faint orange glow that soaks the bedroom in gold and yellow light. crossing through the doorway softly, bill lifts his head and smiles softly.

you bite your lip at bill, who is sat dumbly on the edge of the bed, and it's quiet for a few moments but you know you're both thinking the same thing.

he stands to meet you only a few paces from his doorway, and he's so close to you that you have to tilt your head and stare up at him through dark lashes. his breath comes out like a whisper, and you feel desperate to know his lips again. but not like last night. you want all of him now - always. sober, drunk, sick, healthy, forever.

“bill..” you start, doe eyes searching his, as if trying to read him. he looks like he doesn’t know what to say because you both know the reason that your friends made you sleep together on this trip in this dim room and why he’s looking at you the way he is.

“please...” he whispers, a half smile on his face. his own voice cuts through the faint music playing through the silence. your lips lift in a smile at this. bill thinks you look the most beautiful he’s ever seen you.

he didn’t say anything but a plea, and yet you both know exactly what he’s saying.

your heart soars, and you grab his neck and he crashes his lips to yours desperately, letting out a quiet moan of relief.

you’ve never had somebody like him. of the few relationships you’d managed to keep up for a decent amount of time, you've never known someone like you know him - he's your best friend, the most important person in your life, and your first real love.

that used to scare you, but as you reach your hand to grasp his neck and pull him closer, you realize that this feeling in your stomach may not be as dangerous and innapropriate as previously thought.

because bill denbrough kisses like he’s taking his dying breath, like he’s drowning and you're the last bit of air left in the entire world. he kisses you like a starved writer desperate for a muse. his adamant tongue parted your shaking lips and sent tremors along your skin, as you clutch his chest.

his hands start on your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing your cheekbones as he tilts your head gently to deepen the kiss.

slowly, just as slowly as you fell for him, he slides his hands down your sides and grips your lower back with one large hand, the other squeezing your hip as he pulls your hips to him.

when you pull away for a second, he’s got an earth shattering, face-blinding smile on his lips that almost makes you want to cry.

you've never felt this breathless in your life, especially just by one boy, and all you can do is allow him to press you against dresser and catch your lips with his. his lips slot against yours hotly, moving with a kind of boyish expertise that makes your fingers tingle from all the way up to where they're nestled into his hair.

his plump red lips, slick and glossy, pull away from you and you watch with your hands carded through his auburn hair as he ducks slightly lower and kisses your jawline and your legs feel like jelly because you cannot believe it's happening. a song still plays through bill’s speakers.

one of your hands runs down his clothed chest and you gasp, having to bite back a squeal of pleasant surprise when one of his hands squeezes your ass. at your yelp of pleasure, bill chuckles and then his teeth bite down on the hollow of your throat.

he lifts his head to meet your eyes but doesn’t apologize, instead opting to shoot you a cocky lift of a brow at your reaction.

but before you can even roll your eyes, his lips are back to working magic and you're breathless, the heat in your stomach coiling and making you desperate.

you quietly moan his name as his tongue follows in his teeth’s wake; your neck slowly becoming the most beautiful piece of art bill has ever created.

eventually he raises his head again, his green eyes stuck on your neck, admiring the thunderstorm he’s started, and its everything you can do to not collapse when you get the courage to push bill softly and walk him towards his bed, your lips pressing needily to his.

bill gently spins on his heels around you and pushes you instead onto the mattress, and you're suddenly laying below him with wide eyes.

and you're grabbing his flannel and tugging him on top of you.

for a while, as bill holds himself up above you with his forearms, all that either of you can hear is the melodic tune of heart eyes by coin flowing from bill’s speakers and the sweet noise of their hands exploring each other.

honestly, the first time was unintentional.

while trying to move up, bill slowly rocks his hips against you. you gasp at the feeling of his semi-hard on pressing against your core, and bill almost moans at the noise of you alone.

a small moan escapes your throat again when he does it once more and he pulls away, clearly trying to hide his smug expression.

his eyes trail to your button up, admiring the trail of blossoming hickies reaching from below your jaw to the hem of your sweater, near the top skin of your breasts.

“c-can i?” he asks softly, and your face flushes pink as you nod shyly.

his hands reach out and slowly he undoes the buttons of the sweater, lips pressing sweetly on each bit of skin exposed as he slips the sweater off your frame. his lips against your skin leaves goosebumps in their wake.

you swoon at this action, but as the garment falls from your shoulders, you cross your arms and looks away softly.

“you don’t have t-to huh-hide from me, sweetheart.”

a piano melody plays softly in the background as bill coos quietly, turning your jaw with his forefinger so you're forced make eye contact. “hey. you’re s-so perfect. a-and i’m so fucking l-lucky.” he whispers sincerely.

and even through the expiring sunlight, the golden streams illuminating your face reveal a smile- a genuine, toothy, blushy, bashful smile that makes bill beam in return.

“please. luh-let me show you how m-much you mean.” he whispers.

you're glad you have enough self control to not burst out crying at bill’s words. if you were unsure if he wanted you before, this was the confirmation you knew you didn’t even need. and you love it all the same.

“please,” you whine softly, blushing harder at the pure look of love and lust on bill’s handsome face.

as his lips and hands flutter around your torso, you take in his figure and the god-like aura created by the music and the atmosphere of the world around you.

one word keeps circulating through your head, and as his fingers softly pinch your left nipple, you mewl and pull him up for a passionate kiss, deciding to let the word sit pretty in your mind.

you trails your fingers along the hem of his shirt and he leans back to let you unbutton it slowly. your lips find themselves against his hot skin, trailing in small kisses and bites down his chest as they follow your nimble hands. you cherish his smooth skin and taught muscles.

he soon turns to catch your lips with his, this time feverishly and deeply. he feels hungry against your lips, his tongue winning dominance instantly and smoothing around your mouth as he sighs against you, his hips rocking against you as your hands roam from his hair to his back and chest.

he pulls away, hands trailing down to your jeans, lips following his hands yet again, slower this time.

you whimper quietly at the feeling of white hot pleasure coursing through you and bill shoots you a smirk. “e-everybody is o-outside, y/n/n. we can be as loud as w-we want.” he says in a low tone, and you bite your lip in bliss. you feel yourself get wetter at his words, his voice sounding like royal velvet.

he stops his lips right at the button of your pants. “do yo-you want this?” he asks, his eyes welcoming, and you knows that if, for some absurd reason, you didn’t want him right now (or ever, honestly) you could be honest and he would be forever respectful of that.

“yes, bill. please.” you plead, hands carding into his hair as you watche him smile from in between your legs.

you watch as he unbuttons your jeans, sliding them off and tossing them somewhere across the room. you have to bite back a giggle at the boy's eagerness and he bites his lip as he stares up at you, green eyes sparkling and true as his head sinks lower.

he kisses the inside of your knees slowly, trailing his lips closer and closer to the apex of your thighs where you need him the most before switching to the other side. you groan at his teasing and his quiet huff of a laugh leaves his lips and fans over your thigh.

he’s done this before, it’s obvious.

and it’s probably also very obvious to bill that you are not used to this kind of praise, this kind of approval, and this much intimate attention on your own body. he loves it - loves that he can finally show you how you deserve to feel after years of watching you, his best friend, and waiting for the day that he could put his lips on yours.

his lips finally press a soft kiss over your red lace-clothed clit, and you let out a strangled moan, hips jilting involuntarily at the tease.

his eyes meet yours and all he does is wink.

cocky bastard, you think as bill slides your lace undies off your legs.

it suddenly dawns on you that you're completely naked and vulnerable in front of this boy, and yet somehow you feel more comfortable and at home than you've ever felt in a situation like this.

and you're not totally sure when exactly that fucking word starts to circulate in your mind again- perhaps it is when he licks the first, bold stripe from your entrance up to your clit, or maybe it’s when he uses one hand to gently pin your hips down while his tongue does wicked tricks. or perhaps it’s when he first slips a single finger in.

or maybe that word has been there, hiding in your mind, on the tip of your tongue, the whole time.

but you suddenly can’t think of anything besides bill, because he’s building a rhythm with his tongue and fingers and you know that if anyone is awake in the house besides you, they’d know exactly what was happening in your room currently. and you can't find it to care as you look down at bill, eyes staring back at you with a cocky look on his face as his face is buried in your heat.

your wild moans pick up in pitch and you clench around his fingers tightly, the feeling of bliss having never felt this strong before. your toes curl and you let out whimpers, one hand tangling in his lush hair and the other twirling in the sheets.

his fingers pick up pace, curling and pumping in and out of you as he sucks your clit.

“bill, fuck, i’m close-“ you start, groaning in pleasure as he smirks slightly. you whimper when he pulls back, a devious smirk playing on his shiny, slick lips, his fingers sliding out of your heat. you groan at the sight of him, shirtless and hair missed up from your fingers, his mouth sinfully shiny from your juices.

he reaches his hand up to you and obediently you take his fingers into your mouth, sucking and licking up yourself from him. he watches with his mouth slightly open and eyes dark. "g-good girl, y/n."

the sharp warmth in your chest and the heat straight down to your center show you how much you like his words, and you preen when he tucks your hair behind your ear. "you taste p-perfect, baby." he whispers into your ear, your jaw going slack in shock that words like that would dare fall from his lips, your thighs clenching together. you bite back a moan at the feeling, wanting nothing more than for bill to fill you up and make you scream his name.

it doesn’t get long before you pull him out of his boxers, and soon you're rolling a condom onto his hard cock.

you almost, almost blush when your mouth waters at the sight of bill’s cock, hard, leaking with precum, and much larger than you'd anticipated.

rich was fucking right, you think, they do call him big bill for a reason.

he’s looking at you like you're the only thing that matters as you pull him onto you. he's letting out breathy moans that you realize you could listen to on repeat forever.

but suddenly he’s pushing you hard against the mattress, kissing you like a sailor returning to see his first love, and he’s lining himself up at your entrance, slowly teasing your entrance with his tip. you whimper at the feeling, your over-sensitive clit throbbing as you tug at his shoulders. he grins into your mouth. "u-se your words, baby." he mutters, and you go red.

“god, bill, please fuck me. need it so bad." you whimper breathlessly. he smiles at you, kissing your nose.

"i kn-know you do." he mutters and you want to smack the back of his head but then he pushes in agonizingly slow and you're gasping. simultaneously, you suck in breaths at the sensation, eyes staring deep into each other. his are lidded and yours are blown wide, taking him and whimpering at the feeling of him stretching you out.

you can feel the blush on your cheeks when you realize this is one of the most intimate experiences you've ever had in your life. and when bill's finally buried to the hilt inside you, you let out a low moan at the feeling.

thank god he warmed you up so well, because he was big and felt perfect buried inside you like this, his lips ghosting over your face as you clench your legs around his hips. his fingers rise to roll on your nipple and you let out a gasp of pleasure followed by a small moan of his name. he lets out a shuttering breath into your collarbone as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“please, bill, move. please, fuck, i need it-“ you beg, eyes closed in need and lust.

you feel a strong hand grab your jaw suddenly, and your voice stops as you open your eyes to be met with deep green ones shining fiercely.

“look at me wh-while i fuck you.” he says, more a command, and you involuntarily moan at his words.

the power he has over you feeling foreign and incredibly enticing. never did you expect for bill denbrough to be anything more than vanilla in bed - but you're all here for it as you look back at him submissively, trying to hide your smile.

you keep your eyes on him as he pulls out just as slowly as he eased in, before pushing soundly back into you and coaxing a long, low moan from your lips. your head dips back, your spine curving and eyes fluttering before snapping back to his. he starts to thrust as you've adjusted to his size and you can feel him filling you up perfectly, the feeling euphoric. your toes curl in pleasure and you determine that his melodic moan itself could push you over the edge right now.

he builds a rhythm, your legs tightening around his waist as his lips catch yours in a searing kiss. "y-you're so fucking g-good for me, huh?" he asks, but the feeling of him fucking you into the mattress renders you almost speechless, your lips in an 'o' shape as you watch him. you nod, whining as your hands roam his chest and slide to his back.

"god, yes, bill. don't stop," you say breathlessly, whimpering as you pull him down to you by the neck. he kisses you soundly as he pounds into you, his hands roaming your body and making you blush.

you feel a familiar warm feeling in your abdomen after a couple deep thrusts and you moan out as he lifts your legs slightly to hit another angle. “f-fuck...” he mutters, eyes trailing over your whole body yet never shying from your face for more than a few moments.

and now the word lingers in your mouth, on the tip of your tongue, but you're in so much pleasure that you can’t form words that aren’t his own name as they leave your mouth like a prayer.

his thrusts are deep, rough, and yet somehow sensual as if he’s trying to convey thoughts or feelings through his actions, and the combination has you slamming your hand over your mouth to conceal your loud moans, eyes finding his as you remember his previous words.

his eyes make you feel more special than any other human on this earth ever has. you've had a fair share of sexual encounters, but never have you ever experienced something like this with someone like your bill denbrough.

and as one hand grasps your breast and the other holds himself above you, his lips pressing against yours like he’d die if he wasn’t touching you, bill can tell that you're close. “y-you close, baby?” he purrs in your ear, and through his thrusts you can only nod your head and mewl.

his hand suddenly grabs your hands and lift them up above your head, pinning them there and rendering you unable to move our touch him; the feeling of being restrained makes you moan wantonly, moving your hips with his. he hums deeply, a delicious sound, "oh, you l-like that, y/n/n? g-good, so g-good." and then he moans into your collarbone. his words and the feeling of him hitting the perfect spot inside you, fucking you deeper than you could imagine, has you nearing the edge.

his large thumb snakes it’s way into your mouth then, and you look up in his eyes as your lips wrap around his digit. he groans, hips stuttering inside you. "good g-girl." he mutters, eyes glued to your lips as they suck on his thumb.

he drags his thumb out of your mouth and you release with a small pop. he lowers his hand, moving it down to rub sensual figure-8’s on your clit, a stark and delicious contrast to his hip’s motions. you yelp in pleasure, your sensitive clit throbbing.

“c-cum for me.” he whispers, and you're wrecked. your climax, after a slow, burning build, hits you hard and you clench around him, moaning out his name as your eyes barely stay locked on his. your voice cracks in pleasure as your body pulses in pleasure.

bill cums not even three thrusts after, a mess of groans and your name falling from his lips. he pulls out and you quietly hiss at the sudden absence of him, watching with exhausted eyes as bill tosses his condom and turns back to you.

you're fucked out and so out of breath that all you can do is grasp bill’s hand. he smiles softly at your naked, glowing form as the last of the afternoon light seeps through the windows.

he pulls on boxers quickly, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before disappearing out of the room, leaving an empty feeling in the hollow of your stomach.

you're pretty was used to the people you sleep with not wanting to stick around much, and yet you can’t help the deflation in your chest as bill leaves the room. is he going to sleep on the couch? was it that bad for him?

you pull on underwear just as he comes back in, a cup of water in his hands.

when he softly offers it to you, you tear up slightly but cover it up with a yawn. you know you've never had someone care this much about you. that word lingers on the tip of your tongue, begging to drip from your mouth like honey.

“y-you tired?” bill asks shyly, his body dipping down as he sits next to you. you wonder why bill all of the sudden is acting so shy- as if he didn’t just provide the most incredible sex of your life.

“you wore me out.” you says with a little smile as you lean slightly against him and kiss his cheek.

his cheeks blossom at the simple affection. "i love you." he says suddenly, no stutter. his eyes widen in shock as he realizes what he'd just slipped.

you turn to look at him and he's bright red, looking more scared than you've ever seen him. you can't help your smile, though. "bill... i love you too." you admit, stomach fluttering in excitement. he smiles softly, exhaling, "h-holy shit, thank god. that would have m-made the rest of this t-trip so a-awful."

you giggle, hand falling to his jaw. "i love you so much." you mutter, pulling him down with you so your heads hip the pillow, his hands falling on your bare hips as you kiss sweetly. you can't stop smiling into the kiss, and neither can he, so it's full of quiet laughs and teeth knocking, noses brushing together.

"i love y-you so much, y/n." he whispers into your lips, his mouth wide with a dopey smile. you smooth the hair from his eyes and kiss him again. "be mine, p-please."

"i already am, denbrough." you whisper softly.

#bill denbrough x reader #bill denbrough smut #bill is 🤤🤤#losers x reader #losers club x reader

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spohkh · 4 years ago

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miracle on cornelia street [dean/castiel]

so BASICALLY sarah @adanceinasnowglobe and i were talking about what everyone would be up to post-series -- yknow, like, now that theyre all safe and healthy n everythings cool and destiel is officially together. yknow. as happened in canon -- and we were like so obviously destiel get a house, and thats kind of the basis of this verse so !! this is the foundational fic for what i HOPE will be a series of fun lil day-in-the-life drabbles, from both me and sarah!!

ehehehe :-) enjoy!

read on AO3

The house is a quaint thing, sitting low and snug under a pair of shady oak trees in a quiet suburb just outside of downtown Lawrence. Its brickwork face is weathered—definitely in need of a good power wash—and the roof is just as worn. The bottom step to the porch slants unevenly, and the porch itself has cracks in the concrete. There are chips in the paint on the window frames, the iron porch railing is rusting, and who knows when the gutters were last given a proper cleaning.

There’s a lot of work to be done, but standing there in the small front lawn, Dean Winchester can’t say if he’s ever seen anyplace else so perfect as the house at 3767 Cornelia Street. Dean’s house—his home. His home with Cas.

“Can you believe it?” he quietly says to Miracle, who has been sitting patiently by Dean’s leg. Miracle tilts her head and wags her tail. Dean looks back up at the house. “Yeah, me neither.”

The sound of a familiar car rumbling up the road snaps Dean out of his reverie. He rubs a knuckle at his eye and clears his throat and tries to look like he hadn’t been standing in his front yard about to cry while talking to his dog, christ.

The car rolls to a stop on the curb just in front of the house. The driver’s side door opens, and Sam slowly unfolds his ridiculous limbs as he gets out. It’s always a wonder how he can fit himself into a car at all. Sam gives a dorky little wave as he ambles over to where Dean is standing.

Dean peers behind Sam, trying to see into the car. “What, no Eileen?”

“Hello to you, too. Dick,” he replies snarkily. “She’s wrapping up a work thing. She’ll come over when she’s done.”

Dean sucks his teeth in disappointment. “Ah, well. Guess you can go home then.” Sam shoves at his shoulder. Dean just laughs and pulls Sam in for a proper hello hug.

“Why are you standing out here, anyway?” Sam asks when they part.

“Can’t a man just hang out in his own front yard? Accompanied by a dashing canine companion?” He leans down to pat Miracle on the head.

“I guess…” Sam looks down at Miracle. When she tips her head up and gazes back at him, Sam snorts.

“What?”

“Miracle on Cornelia Street,” Sam says with mirth.

Dean squints at him. “What?” he repeats, now more incredulous.

“You know—like Miracle on 34th Street. But we’re on Cornelia, so.” He nods down at the dog. “Miracle on Cornelia Street.”

“Dude.” Dean rolls his eyes at Sam’s goofy grin and starts walking up the path to the house, Miracle trotting behind him. “Shut up and come inside already.”

Sam follows after him, pausing just inside the threshold as he spots something on the doorframe. “Oh, classy,” he says, throwing a sardonic look to where D.W. and C.W. are scratched into the wood.

“Just wait,” Dean jokes with a toothy smile, “when I got the time I’m gonna draw a little heart around it.” He was joking, but now that he said it, he kind of wanted to.

Cas looks up from the stove when they walk into the dining room. He’s wearing one of Dean’s old AC/DC tees, the logo all but worn away from being washed so many times. He’s usually in some ratty tee or other when lounging around these days. But in honor of Sam’s visit today (Cas’ words) and to seem a little more dressy short of donning his usual button-downs (Dean’s private opinion), he’s also wearing the cable-knit cardigan Sam got him as a gift last Christmas. “Hi, Sam.”

Sam leans against the counter that separates the dining and kitchen areas, craning his giraffe neck to catch a glimpse at the stove. “Hey, Cas! What’cha cooking?”

“Nothing. Dean made it. I was just watching the pot so it didn’t boil over.” He locks eyes with Dean, his intent stare very clearly communicating I did not touch the chili I added nothing I did not touch the dial I was just watching it like you asked so don’t even start.

Dean just smiles as he walks past the counter and steps into Cas’ space. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he says, and busses Cas on the cheek.

“You’re welcome,” Cas replies warmly. He’s gazing up at Dean with those summer afternoon blue eyes, standing in one of Dean’s shirts and that dorky cardigan, and Dean starts to get full of that feeling from out in the front yard again. If they were alone, Dean would probably say something recklessly sappy like I am so stupid in love with you.

As it is, Dean clears his throat and turns back to Sam, slinging an arm around Cas’ shoulders, and says, “He did the salad.”

Cas sneaks him a knowing look before, thankfully, putting his attention on Sam without commenting on Dean’s hasty redirection. “I did the salad,” Cas agrees blithely, and places the salad bowl on the counter for Sam to see, seeming pleased with himself.

Sam looks between the two of them, an amused tilt to his eyebrow that Dean implicitly distrusts. He’s definitely thinking mocking thoughts about the two of them. But he just quirks a smile and says, “It looks great.” Shrewd little diplomat.

Cas shifts to the side to see past Sam’s shoulder. Sam glances behind himself before shooting Cas a confused look.

“She’s still at work,” Dean tells Cas, guessing who he’s looking for. “Sadly.”

“What, am I not good enough?”

“Of course you are,” Cas promises earnestly, just as Dean says, “Well…”

Sam’s opening his mouth to retort, probably something absolutely scathing, when his phone chimes. He pulls it out of his pocket, a smile spreading over his face. “Speak of the devil,” he says, then tips his head with a grimace, “as it were. That was Eileen. She’ll be here soon, so I’m gonna go wash up.”

“Bathroom’s down the hall—“

“Dude, I know where it is. I did help you guys move in.”

Dean spreads his hands in assent. “Fine, christ, I swear never to be a good host to you in my home ever again. Go ahead and go take your dump now.”

“I’m not gonna—ohmygodnevermind.” He turns on his heel and huffs down the hall, Miracle trotting after him, the tags on her collar clinking together jauntily.

Dean reaches past Cas to turn the burner off, then lands his hand on Cas’ hip. “Have I told you today how cute you are in that sweater?”

“Yes.” Cas brings his hands up to cradle Dean’s face. “Four times.”

“Make it five.” Dean kisses him. He pulls Cas into a hug, pressing his face against Castiel’s shoulder. They sway into each other. After a warm moment, Dean says in a low voice, “The first family dinner in our house.”

Cas hums a soft, contented sound in agreement. “The first of many,” he responds, just as quiet. Dean squeezes him tighter. He knows they’re both thinking about Jack and Claire, their bedrooms sitting empty and waiting for whenever they can find the time to visit—and Kaia and Alex and Jody with Claire, if they can, and Charlie and her girlfriend, and Bobby, and all the other wayward extensions of their sprawling family caught out in the wind. Their house isn’t big enough to host everyone, but with Sam and Eileen up the block and the bunker just a few miles out, there’s plenty of room to put up people who come out their way. Dean has the hope that 3767 Cornelia Street becomes a common pitstop for folks—a suburban Roadhouse, a tidier (much tidier) Singer Salvage.

Dean presses a kiss against Cas’ neck, and Cas breathes a sweet little sigh that pushes all thoughts about future dinners right out the window. Fuck, this dinner could go out the window, for all he cares. He kisses a little higher up, right under Cas’ jawline, before pulling back to catch Castiel’s darkened gaze. “How ‘bout we ditch the nag and go have a private party of our own?”

“Dean, no. I worked really hard on that salad.” He sounds perfectly serious, but the playful glint in his eye gives him away. Dean snorts, mumbling oh, forgive me, Chef Cas as he leans in again.

Just as they kiss, Sam walks back in. “Hey, I think something’s wrong with your sink–- oh, sorry.”

“Huh?” Dean reluctantly pulls away as Sam clears his throat, looking sheepish. “What’s wrong with what, Sammy?”

“Uh, with your bathroom.”

“The bathroom? Oh, what, you clogged the toilet?”

“Wha— N— I DID NOT SHIT IN YOUR BATHROOM.”

“Then how did the toilet get messed up?”

“It’s the SINK, the SINK—”

“You took a shit in the sink?”

Cas pinches the bridge of his nose. “Dean…”

“What? He started it.”

“Started WHAT?”

Dean snaps his fingers. “The end of the world.”

“Oh! My god!”

“I guess technically, yeah, since god is our kid...” He turns to Cas. “Weird, weird lives we lead.”

Cas just shakes his head, clearly exasperated. Sam has given up on speaking completely and has fallen back on making a gesture like he’s one second away from grabbing Dean by the throat.

“I was there for all twelve years of it,” Sam says to Cas, “and I still can’t believe you stayed with this guy.”

“Well,” Cas muses serenely, “you’ve been here a lot longer than me.”

Sam grimaces when Dean throws him his best shit-eating grin. Nothing like his two favorite people bonding over how much of a pain he is.

The sound of the front door opening distracts them, and then a voice calls, “Knock knock! The life of the party has arrived!”

“Eileen!” Sam exclaims happily. Miracle takes off down the hall, Sam hot on her heels.

Dean chuckles at Sam’s unabashed excitement, then gives Castiel another peck on the cheek before moving away from him. “Can you put everything out on the table? I’ll go check out the bathroom sitch real quick.”

Cas catches his hand as he starts to leave, softly saying his name. When Dean looks back at him, Cas smiles and says, “I love you.”

Dean wonders if maybe three time’s the charm and he should just give in to what his body wants him to do. If a man has a right to stand around and cry messily anywhere in his own home, surely the kitchen would be the place to do it. The kitchen, after all, is the heart of any house.

But Dean doesn’t. He indulges in a little sniffle, Cas’ eyes glimmering with knowing in the soft light. Dean brings Cas’ hand to his mouth and kisses the neat gold band around his finger, and he kisses each peaked knuckle, and he turns Cas’ hand over and kisses his palm and his wrist. Then he lets go and puts his own hand against Cas’ cheek, and says his recklessly sappy thing: “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

And the glowing feeling inside him doesn’t settle, only grows brighter.

Whatever’s wrong with the sink will be just one more thing to a long list of shit to deal with. Their house needs work, no denying. But Dean knows they’ve got plenty of time.

#destiel #deancastiel #dean winchester #castiel #supernatural #my writing

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my-arlington-academia · 5 years ago

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Teasing Tadashi fic 😊💘💝

I swear I was writing this before chapter 9 came out! At first this was supposed to be more angsty until I remembered that I suck at writing angst and that... I don't enjoy writing it as much as reading it from someone else soooo... have fluff!!!💖💕 in the original script Scholar, Ellie, Tyler and Axel had formed an "alliance" to prank Tadashi. But after a while he started feeling like they hated him and that he was getting bullied, I almost made him cry then I was like "nope. nu-huh. I can't write this." Of course there was comfort at the end with them apologizing and Scholar explaining that the reason why she was messing with his so much was because she had a crush on him and had no idea how to deal with it.

Uhh... anyway! To brighten up I made this and I'm much more happier with it! Well you guys know the drill, last time I wrote Scholar as a he so Scholar is a she again in this one. And I realized that I'm switching only between the she/her and he/him pronouns but that's because I'm not confident in using they/them, I'm scared that if there's a group of people in my fic, it'll be confusing because the readers will think "wait, is it the group of people or is it Scholar that the narrator is talking about?" It may be a really stupid reason but this is the type of thing I'm sure I can mess up with because I'm a dummy dum 😖

Also, Layelle's super cute drabble inspired me (*cough* @arlingtonssweetheart *cough*) so this fic will have a lil bit of Japanese too. And it'll be written like this. This fic is about 2000 words long and for some reason I wasn't able to put a "read more" like usual... probably because I'm on mobile. I'm terribly sorry about that! You guys will have to scroll through all of that... 😖

edit: I added the “read more” thingy!

Okay! Enough rambling!! Please Enjoy! ✊😍🤗

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When she met him, Scholar knew right away just how fun it would be to mess with the student body president. His back was always arched and he spoke in a slightly presumptuous manner. He had a very confident walk, he always knew exactly where he was going and his handshake was very solid. He was overall a really proud and level-headed person... which would make it really satisfying if he were to lose that pride even if it was just for a few seconds.

Scholar's intention wasn't to bully him, of course. At least not in a mean way. But whenever she got the chance to tease him, she took it. At first she wasn't making a conscious effort out of it but gradually, as time went by, her head started filling up and she would always think about Tadashi. It was becoming harder and harder to focus in class with the target of her affection seated right next to her. However, she at least had the decency to wait until the end of the lesson for the teasing, she didn't want him to think that she was being a bother.

"Tadashi, teach me something in Japanese."

Without any warning, Scholar whispered in his ear and as expected, he got a jolt. Tadashi would definitely be the type of person to use ASMR to fall asleep, his sense of hearing is so sharp. With how close her face was he wasn't able to look at her in the eye and answered while still looking ahead.

"What do you want to know?"

Scholar backed away from Tadashi's personal space and smiled warmly. However instead of smiling back, Tadashi got chills down his spine. He knew that this was the smile she always used before teasing him in ridiculous and sappy ways.

"Tell me how to say "you're beautiful" pretty pleaaase?"

He already knew where this was going, yet he answered anyway.

"You're beautiful"

"Aww... thank you"

He knew this was coming. He knew and yet he still blushed and became red like a beet while Scholar looked really proud of herself, as if she had just pulled off the smoothest move even though it was really absurd.

"You're being so silly right now..."

He was trying his hardest to act like he was reading through his notes, but really, he just wanted his blush to disappear as soon as possible. Lately, because of Alistair's words he had become even more self-conscious than before. His friend's remark crawled back into his mind and it wasn't leaving anytime soon.

"Dude. You obviously have a crush on her."

You obviously have a crush on her.

You obviously have a crush on her...

You have a crush on her.

As always, he wasn't able to calm down at all or to fool Scholar with his lackluster acting skills. Or more precisely, his nonexistent acting skills. Scholar crossed her arms on the desk and put her chin down on them while still gazing at him. From the corner of his eyes, Tadashi could see her still staring and it made him even more nervous.

"S-Scholar... please, stop staring at me. It's distracting me."

Scholar swiftly poked Tadashi's cheek with her finger and hid her fond smile with her other arm, she almost had her face buried in it.

"And you're the one to say that? I'm always distracted by how cute you are all the time Mister student body president."

"I-I am not cute. And please move your finger away from my cheek."

That was a complete lie. Even though he was really embarrassed about doing stuff like this in public, he loved getting teased by Scholar and most of all, physical contact. Had he not been so stuck-up and shy, he would hug Scholar the next time they would be alone together, but everytime they were he got too prideful. Or rather, he would feel really embarrassed and hurt if Scholar, for some reason, pushed him away or laughed at his open display of affection. Whenever he was with Scholar, all kinds of cheesy thoughts would fill up in his mind. I want to hug her, I want to hold her hand, I want to snuggle with her, I want to...

......

And the bell rang, it was time for the next and last period of the day. Scholar gently pulled on his cheek like he was a little kid and moved her hand away to pack her bag. She had to move to another classroom. Unfortunately, they did not have the last lesson of the day together.

"See you later Dashi! And you better not forget what I asked of you yesterday, okay?"

"I-I haven't forgotten! See you soon..."

That's right. It was February 14th today. It wasn't rare of Scholar to invite him to hang out after school but today was a tad bit different. He knew it was stupid to get his hopes up but he really couldn't focus on anything at all. The text message he received yesterday was stuck in his mind. It was a simple "let's meet up in front of the school entrance when the last bell rings" and thankfully, since he can't stutter through texts, he replied with a really composed "Alright, I'll be there." And yet, words couldn't express how frustarted he was the whole day. He didn't follow anything at all in class, he just took notes of random things that sounded important in between his monologues. It was like he was daydreaming 8 hours in a row.

By the end of it he didn't care anymore. He'll just ask Alistair for his notes or something, he'll figure it out. When the last bell rang, Tadashi was the first one to leave the classroom. His classmates of the business, commerce and politics department looked at him in shock. They were already whispering behind his back as he was leaving in a hurry.

"...Maybe he really wanted to go to the bathroom?"

"That must be it!"

But no. He did have butterflies in his stomach but it was not because he wanted to go to the bathroom. He rushed to the school entrance. Now that he thinks about it, this is a weird meeting spot. Usually Scholar would ask him to meet up in the garden or in the cafeteria lounge. Honestly, this was a really awkward place. In a couple of seconds, hundreds of students would rush out to go to their rooms in the dorms and drop their school bags on the ground like dumbbells. Is she going to tease him in front of all the students of this school? God please no. While Tadashi was lost in his thoughts, Scholar came out of... the garden. With a bouquet of red roses.

"You're awfully early Tadashi, did you run to get here? You do know that it's against the school rules to run in the hallways, right? You're not being a really good role model Prez."

But Tadashi didn't listen anymore. All he saw was the huge roses and Scholar holding them with a small blush on her cheeks. Was she seriously about to confess to him in this open space? How did she even have enough time to go fetch the roses? The bell just rang about 30 seconds ago! Could it be possible that she begged Dr.Lee to let her go 5 minutes earlier than usual? ...Well, no matter how she pulled that off, Tadashi was achieving new shades of reds right now. On his face of course.

"I-I apologize if I have the wrong idea but... those roses, are they for me?"

A few students started getting out of the building, and they couldn't just pass next to the scene that was unfolding before their eyes. One by one, they would slowly make a circle around them. Scholar extended her arms towards Tadashi, holding the bouquet with both hands.

"For who else would it be?"

Before Tadashi could even mutter a "thank you" and take the flowers, in a really unnatural manner, Scholar let go of it and the roses fell to the ground.

"Oops! I'm soooo sorry!"

But Tadashi was too submerged in emotion to even notice the bad acting, and so, just as planned, he got down on one knee and took the bouquet. At this point, more and more students were coming out of the school building and like all the others, they were making a circle around them. The small gathering of students soon became a herd, and all eyes were on Tadashi, kneeling down with a bouquet of roses. To make this moment last a bit longer, Scholar stepped on his left foot.

"Umm... Scholar, I have to get up. Move your foot away."

Poor little Tadashi still hadn't caught on what was happening and he looked up towards Scholar, only to see that warm smile again. The one she used when she was teasing him, and he once again got shivers down his spine. After that he looked around. And immediately regretted it. Practically half of the school was gathered around them, watching the scene in awe. That's when Tadashi finally understood what had happened. No matter how you look at it, it seemed like Tadashi was the one confessing his feelings to Scholar, even though it was supposed to be the other way around. One knee on the ground, bouquet of red roses in hand, looking up at Scholar and most of all looking mortified. Not to mention it was February 14th so of course it couldn't be taken in any other way. Tadashi was done for. Only the first few students knew that Scholar was originally the one holding the bouquet, the majority who came later had the wrong idea. And it was all according to Scholar's plan.

Tadashi cursed under his breath.

"Dammit. She got me again..."

As for the lively students, the loud whispers couldn't be stopped.

"Oh my God. I knew it, it was so obvious that Tadashi had a crush on this scholarship student."

"I see them hanging out together in the garden and in the cafeteria lounge almost everyday, do they think they're being discreet?"

"Fuck, where's my phone? I gotta film this..."

"I never thought Mister Prez was the type to pull off that kind of thing, he has balls, that's for sure."

"Duuuuude. What a show-off! I bet he's pressuring her into accepting his feelings, that's why he did it here."

"Not a surprise. The crowd will put more pressure on her and it'll be hard to refuse, Tadashi that witty bastard! Using all of his assets in this way is so not fair!"

Tadashi was mentally begging for Scholar to let him run away from here. When they got surrounded by enough people to her liking, she took the bouquet out of his hands and removed her foot which allowed him to stand up again. Of course, the crowd cheered and whistled thinking that she had just accepted the confession while it was not it at all. Scholar grabbed Tadashi's hand and ran with him to the garden by pushing through the herd of students. Someone screamed "DON'T DO ANYTHING RAUNCHY IN THE GARDEN! USE PROTECTION KIDS!"

That voice... goddammit. It was definitely Raquel. Great. Tadashi looked like he was in physical pain from thinking about what kind of reactions his friends would have after this.

Once they reached their usual spot in the garden, Scholar gave back the flowers to Tadashi. He was panting and still red as a beet. Thankfully, the crowd had the decency to not follow them but they still ran just in case.

"Agh... Scholar... I... cannot believe what you just pulled on me. I got bamboozled so hard, I'm mad at myself for letting my guard down. And here I thought that you wouldn't tease me at least in a serious moment like this."

"Haha... All according to keikaku."

"Oh my God... I can't fucking believe you would do this to me."

"I can."

Tadashi looked so drained, like 5 years just got sucked out of him in a few seconds. That embarrassement, he would remember it until the day he dies. Now everybody thinks that he has a huge crush on Scholar and that they're dating... Not that they're wrong but still!

"We... wait. Scholar, does it mean that we're dating now?"

Suddenly, Scholar looked a little bit vulnerable, she was planning this for a while now so she was mentally prepared but it was still nerve-wrecking in a way. Tadashi wasn't the most self-aware person out there. Or to be more accurate: he was dense at a unimaginable level.

"You... don't want to? You don't like me?"

"What?! N-no! Of course I like you! More than like I..."

He really wanted to say it. He really did, but using the word "love" right away, would that freak her out? He didn't want to make any missteps nor scare her away the really first day of them dating.

"N-nevermind that! Does it mean that all this time when you were teasing me, that was actually fliritng?"

There it is. The dense Tadashi. Scholar mentally facepalmed herself so hard.

"I've been trying to flirt with you for the past 5 months but thanks for noticing I guess."

Tadashi was reminded of all of the times Scholar would tirelessly pick on him, mess with him, make fun of him and borderline bully him. Had he not known the type of brilliant and kind person she really was, he could've easily mistook all of it as her messing around with him to be annoying. Thankfully, even though he was as dense as a brick, he was at least able to understand and make that distinction: she was obviously not trying to be a jerk.

"Oh... Oh... I see. But you could've been more direct! How was I supposed to understand that this was f-flirting??"

"Dashi. Sweetie. The only way for me to be more direct than that would've been yelling at the top of my lungs that I love you... You didn't like the teasing-flirting?"

Tadashi shook his head almost violently.

"N-NO! Absolutely not, I like it... I think... no uh. I definitely like it! Actually if we could, um..."

He opened his arms and looked down in shame with an obvious blush on his face.

"C-can I have a hug... please? It would make me happy..."

This was the most adorable thing Tadashi had ever done. Scholar immediately jumped in his arms, the poor boy had already been teased a whole lot today. While Scholar buried her face in his chest, Tadashi was holding her as tightly as he could. After a couple of seconds, they let go of eachother and tried to look as unfazed as they could even though there was no use hiding their feelings anymore. Scholar was the one to end the silence.

"Well... Now that we're dating, you know what we have to do, right?"

Tadashi was slightly fidgeting with the bouquet still in his hand.

"Um... We hold hands and we go back to the dorms to spend some quality time in your room?"

"Yes! And then we fuck"

The romantic atmosphere was thrown out of the window. This was obviously a joke to lighten up the mood but Tadashi did not appreciate that.

"Who taught you that?? And more importantly, stop learning Japanese just to tease me!!"

Nonetheless, they made their way back to the dorms under the curious gazes of the students while holding hands, like promised. The news already got around the school: Scholar and Tadashi are dating.

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Aaaayy! It's done! *Clap👏 clap👏 clap👏* This was really fun for me since, well... I love teasing Tadashi 😂 (but who doesn't?) This is the ultimate proof that I like this blushy boi. Hope you didn't cringe! Because I'm sure I will when I read it again in a few days... On a side note, sorry if the February 14th thing was too sudden or out of nowhere, but to be fair the SE team gave us a Halloween chapter in May sooo... whatever! It was Halloween 2 days ago and now it's Valentines day! Deal with it! Also, the biggest plot hole of this fic is that Karolina didn't do shit to stop Scholar and Tadashi from their Miracle Romance🌟🌙 (Sailor moon ref 👌) but I wanted this to be a simple fic without any drama.

Aaaand that's all I had to say! Thank you for reading!!! 💖💗

#sweet elite #se #tadashi nakano #fanfiction #fanfic

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gallickingun · 4 years ago

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hofortendou x nishinoya || gallickingun matchups

@hofortendou : first off conGRATS !! i’m so glad to see that your blog keeps growing! also i would like to participate in your matchup event! i would like a male match from haikyuu 🥰 i’m (she/her) 5’4”, short-ish haired brunette with big hazel eyes (i’m talkin’ tim burton scale) and covered in freckles. I do digital art both as a hobby and for uni, i play video games, watch too much anime, i longboard when i can or if it’s a particularly nice day out, and i absolutely love plants, like they’re all over my apt. if i had to give myself an aesthetic i’d say a mix between art mom n grunge, i think? i usually wear a hoodie and shorts/sweats bc i work from home but i’m a sucker for cropped jackets/shirts w mom jeans and docs when i need to actually get dressed. i like to learn new things and am v organized but not overbearing w it, my personality is very open minded, intro-extroverted and humor based but i’m literally baby and WILL cry if you raise your voice at me. that being said i’m v affectionate and love me some tenderness. if i had to look for anything in a partner it’d be sympathy and humor, for sure. and i would love to go do something fun like roller skating or walk around a fair for a first date, something memorable and not super basic, y’know? ty and ily moe ❤️

Thank you so much for participating! I really hope you like this! And thank you again for supporting me, it means the whole entire world 🧡

Warning: Slight NSFW ahead! Under the cut~

― Noya supports going out or staying in - whether that’s trying a new Thai place, or watching anime on the couch. Sometimes you gotta paint the town red, other times you have to chill out on the sofa! ― He’s affectionate as all get out, absolutely adores and requires to touch you at all times. Hand in your pocket, hand in your hand, hand on your waist. Once you two get comfortable enough with each other, he’ll kiss you in public if you’re okay with it, he’ll hold your hand at all times, and will definitely make sure that everyone knows the two of you are grossly in love. ― I think your aesthetics would go really well together! Noya canonically loves the color black, so I think that your grunge aesthetics would go together, even if you both like to switch it up from time to time.

☁ Nishinoya absolutely adores you. To the point where you’re not sure sometimes if he’s genuine or not. Whether you’re fully decked out in a complete face of makeup and a full snazzy dress, or lounging around the house in one of his old jerseys and some joggers.. that man is going to remind you how beautiful you are.

☁ He definitely wants to kick your ass in video games, though. He has a radical competitive streak, no matter what the activity is or if he’s done it before. It will be his first time playing Mario Kart and he’ll jump up and down on the couch, mashing buttons and squealing at the top of his lungs every time he gets thrown off the track. If it’s more FPS style games, he talks too loud and pretends to know what he’s talking about by using slang that he’s heard from his other friends who play video games a little more.

☁ Noya loves it when you wear crop tops - sweatshirts, tanks, tees, etc. - he likes to sneak his hands along your waist and up your shoulders. His thumbs run along your ribs and he pulls you in closer all the time, nuzzling your nose and whispering sappy compliments and corny pick up lines and raunchy one liners. He ducks his head into your neck and as he’s pressing kisses to your skin, his fingertips are searing into your waist, and you feel completely lightheaded at being so overwhelmed by his closeness.

☁ He gets loud from time to time, but when you shy away from him or possibly even tear up, he’s immediately bringing his voice down a few octaves and rushing forward to apologize and comfort you. His hands find your face and his voice is gentle, eyes warm as he looks across at you to

☁ There is a pretty heavy praise and worship between the two of you - Nishinoya loves to kiss your lips and tell you how pretty your eyes are and how good you take him and how beautiful your body looks while he’s fucking into you slow and deep. He’ll whisper with his nose against your temple, his lips against the shell of your ear, “Such a good girl, damn, you’re gorgeous. Look so pretty when you’re taking me just like this,” and then he makes your pussy cream with his fingers sneaked between your hips to find that precious bundle of nerves.

☁ On the same hand, he loves it when you whimper praises into the thin air between your bodies. You whimper, gasping out, “N-Noya, love your cock, please, fill me up, I-I want more.” And oh, does he deliver. Somehow he’s able to keep stretching you out and filling you up, even when you both think your cunt has sucked him in to the base. You tell him in blundering babbles how strong he is and how safe you feel with him, and the sound of you doting on him with your words is what makes his cock twitch just before he coats your walls white.

☁ At least once a month you two have a veg out on the couch night. Noya orders dinner, you put together a blanket nest, and you two snuggle down into the corner of the couch and watch whatever reruns or new anime is on that you’ve both decided to watch. He’ll ask you a million questions if he’s never seen it before, even if you haven’t seen it before, because he’s just so curious to know how it ends even though he doesn’t really want you to tell him.

☁ Nishinoya wants to do everything you love, no matter if he’s truly interested in it or not. It’s important to you, so it’s important to him. However, he really has a short attention span, so unless it’s something super stimulating, you’ll need to be willing to redirect him whenever necessary. You might need to stop for food in the middle just to break it all up.

☁ Affectionate? Please. Nishinoya can’t keep his hands off of you. If you’re in the same room together, he’s stood next to you, hand in your back pocket or arm around your shoulder. Everyone knows you two are together from the moment you set foot anywhere because he’s kissing your forehead or you’re leaning into his bicep or you’re holding each other around the waist. Sometimes the others have to remind you that you’re in public, even though Noya is just giving you a lil’ forehead smooch.

☁ Noya is a pretty joking guy, even though he does have his serious moments. He and Asahi are really close and he knows how to joke with him, so he learns from that and uses it to determine how far he can go with you so far as sarcasm and banter. He nudges your ribs and giggles in your ear and tells too many jokes sometimes, but you love it. There are times when he takes it too far, though, and the first time you get upset because of something he said, he’s apologizing for days and latching himself onto you like a koala. You have to tell him a dozen times over that you’re okay, so long as he doesn’t tell that joke again.

"It’s hot! And I’m not getting any better at this!” Noya groans, dropping back on the concrete so he’s laid out, sprawled limbs spread out every which way. He drapes his arm over his face to cover his eyes from the beating sun, his lips pulled into a pout, “Please, can’t we eat?!”

You chuckle, squatting beside him to tickle the little sliver of skin that’s peeking out from under the hem of his shirt from where he’s caused it to ride up by moving his arms around. “C’mon, Yuu, you’re not going to quit on me now, are you?”

Noya groans, rolling onto his side so he can rest his cheek against the tops of your knees, “But it’s hot and I’m hungry. We’ve been at this for hours!”

“It’s been twenty minutes.”

“Well-”

“It’s fine, babe,” you tell him, running your fingers through his hair, pulling gently at the brunette strands with your digits. Another chuckle shakes your chest and he turns his head to look at you, thankful that your body is blocking the direct sunlight, “I don’t want to not learn, honey, I just forgot to eat breakfast. Maybe we can grab something, go for a swim, and then try again?”

You do as he says, finding a food cart to grab something small to eat and scarfing it down on a picnic table that’s centered along the pavilion that overlooks the beach. You hold hands underneath the table, your palms rested on Noya’s knee. He’ll play with your fingers, squeezing your knuckles and following the curve of your palm down to your wrist. It feels that sometimes he’s even checking your pulse to make sure that you’re still okay, still with him. As if he cannot believe that this isn’t some sort of dream that he has the ecstasy of reliving every day.

As you drop your tee shirt to reveal your bathing suit, you can’t help but notice Noya’s eyes are all over your frame. He comes up behind you before you can turn around to admonish him for undressing you with his eyes in front of everyone here on the beach, and his arms wrap around your waist, head tucked into your neck. When he speaks, his voice is husky and it sends a jolt of electricity directly to your core, “We could always just go home-”

“You promised, Noya!” You whine, circling your hands around his wrist and tugging playfully. He groans and bares his teeth to your shoulder, sucking one harsh time before releasing you, “Only because I’m completely whipped for you, babe.”

Your feet hit the water and Noya is flying past you into the waves, screaming at the top of his lungs before he plunges into the sea. You can’t contain the giggles that part your lips, covering your mouth with your hand as the waves crash into your shins. You’re meeting him halfway, floating in the ocean water up to your shoulders, your body folded at the waist beneath the crest of the waves, “You’re so dramatic, Yuu.”

“You wouldn’t have me any other way, would you?” he asks, eyes still burning with that familiar flame as he tugs you by your hips so you’re straddling his waist beneath the water. You gasp as he rolls his hips up into you, the feel of his thick length hardening against your thigh, “N-Noya-”

“Shh,” his voice is accented by the feel of his middle finger slipping your bathing suit to he side, “Keep quiet, baby girl, and I’ll make sure we both feel good.”

Your voice is lost in your throat, irises swallowed by your pupils when the first languid stroke of his fingers finds your innermost folds. Nishinoya pulls your chin with his free hand, tilting your head so he can kiss you on the mouth, eliciting a gasp from the back of your throat, “That’s not quiet, baby. Try again.”

The way you gulp and nod your head makes him chuckle, but he can’t keep himself from you, and before you know it, he’s devouring you from both ends.

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