#i am so so ready to graduate and never take dance classes again

[pilotstreets]

hm. it's 1 am and if i eat a lot of cheese rn and chug some chocolate milk then maybe i'll get sick be able to skip out on dance class tonight

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Why you gotta tempt my trouble?

Of Oak and Ivy, Chapter 1

Series Masterlist           Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: In college, Matt Murdock had two best friends, Foggy Nelson and you. However, life had no intention of letting you graduate with him. When he reconnects with you in adulthood, he is troubled to see the hand God has dealt you and vows to use every tool at his disposal to save you from damnation.

warnings: swearing, sickly sweet fluff, get ready for some pining y'all.

a/n: Here's the first chapter of the college fic! The next one won't be posted until I've written a few more (which might be a while because I'm trying to make them longer and I'm only one chapter ahead at the moment.) Please let me know if you like it and want to see more or be added to the taglist!

w/c: 5.3k

Digging the heels of your hands into your eyes, you resisted the urge to bang your head on the counter you sat at in an attempt to reboot the organ. This passage made no damn sense and you had mere days to understand it and conform to its ideals in order to do well in the class that it was assigned to. Biting your lip, you flipped back a few pages to start the chapter over for the third time when the sound of someone clearing their throat nearly startled you out of your seat. 

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, I didn’t see you!” Saving your place in the worn book, you looked up to find a young man standing before you. He was handsome, with fluffy, inky locks and a charming smile on his lips. 

“That’s alright, I, uh, can’t quite fault you there.” He smiled sideways at you, gesturing to the opaque rectangular frames on his nose. Your mouth formed an “O” shape before you tripped over your response. 

“I want to laugh but that feels wrong. Is it more rude to laugh or not laugh? Oh god, forget I said that, I—“ 

The boy in front of you chuckled. “It’s quite alright, and it was meant to be a joke.” 

“Right, well, sorry again. How can I help you?” You clasped your hands, tilting your head as you waited for his response. 

“I was wondering if you had braille copies of any of these textbooks?” As he posed the question, the handsome boy passed you a list of the textbooks he was looking for. 

Looking over the document, you pursed your lips. “That is a fantastic question that we will have to answer together. I wish I knew off the top of my head, but today's only my third day on the job.” You cringed, wishing your manager was here. 

“I imagine it’s not a common question, so I won’t hold it against you.” There was that charming smile again. Your insides felt like they were slowly melting under his grin. 

“That’s, um, very kind of you.” You stammered out, feeling heat flood your cheeks. 

“Matt.” He broke in. “Matt Murdock. And you are..?”

Offering your name, you dutifully turned back to the index, scanning the pages for any clue as to where braille copies would be stocked. 

“That’s a pretty name, it suits you.” Your fingers halted in their dance across the page, your eyes flitting back to the gorgeous customer. 

“As much as I appreciate that, turning up the charm won’t change the fact that it might take a minute for me to find these.” Your eyes narrowed as you became skeptical of his intentions. 

“Take your time. It’ll give me more time to get to know you.” The flirty grin never faltered on Matt’s face. 

“Oh you’re trouble.” You shook your head, thumbing through the pages of the file before you. “I’m starting to think I should search on my own.” 

Matt just laughed, leaning forward on his white cane and grinning at you. “Where should we start?”

“I have a couple ideas.” 

You and Matt searched far and wide for accessible copies of the textbooks he needed. While they—thankfully—did exist, they were scattered throughout the store haphazardly, not in either location the index had suggested. The lack of care and attention the volumes had gotten was making you progressively more irritated. There was absolutely no reason these books should’ve been treated with such disrespect, even if they weren’t commonly asked for. 

After finding all but one book on his list, it was barely past store closing. Locking the door with a huff, you clocked out before joining Matt where he was seated on the ground by the first shelf. 

“I hate to say this, but I think we might need to order you a new copy.” You remarked with a frown, scuffing your shoe along the faded carpet on the bookstore’s floor. 

Matt, whose pleasant personality hadn’t dimmed despite the lackluster findings, simply chuckled, knocking his shoulder into yours. 

“Well, we gave it the old college try, so to speak.” He waggled his eyebrows at you above his dark glasses. 

You groaned, but couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped your throat. Despite your intense introversion and social awkwardness, Matt put you at ease. 

“Sorry, my roommate is rubbing off on me.” He gave an exaggerated grimace. 

“Is he a law student too?” 

“Yep. Foggy Nelson. The three of us might actually have some classes together.” Matt’s face lit up with the idea. You’d confessed during your hunt that you had already purchased your own copies of many of the books on his list. Given that you were both first year law students, it made sense that you’d be in classes with one another, but you felt a weight lift off your chest nonetheless.

“Honestly, that makes me feel so much better. I’m incredibly nervous.” You confessed, focusing on a fraying patch of carpet underneath your sneaker. 

“I’m sure you’ll do great.” Matt leaned against you, focusing on you in a way that made your chest flutter. 

“See you say that not knowing how long it’s taking me to get through the first reading assignment for Legal Methods.” You dropped your head into your hands, remembering the cursed passage from earlier. 

“Foggy mentioned something about that book. It’s…outdated?” 

“That’s an understatement. The first chapter is about a famous eugenics case, Buck v Bell, and I might be reading it wrong but it seems like the author is suggesting that we don’t have ableism that resembles that of the case in current day? I was getting so frustrated reading it that I honestly couldn’t tell if it was confusing or just a stupid argument.” You explained. 

“It’s in the McKinnon book, right? If you want, we could read it together and try to figure it out? Unless you have somewhere else to get to…” Matt Murdock, the charming, unswayable man you’d met a few hours ago blushed at the question, making you grin. 

“I would love to hear your opinion on the text, Mr. Murdock. We can start an unofficial study group.” 

“I like the sound of that. Let’s crack open this shit show.” Matt let you pull him off the ground and over to your work station where he opened his own copy of the text and began to read. 

A few hours and more than a few boxes of takeout later, you and Matt were still working your way through the chapter, though you’d both decided with certainty that the text was more angering than confusing. 

“If the professor is as ableist as this author, I’ll never be able to pass this class.” You grumbled, shoving the hellish book away from you. “There’s no way I can pretend that eugenic ideals have disappeared, even for a better grade.”

“Seriously. I’m hoping it’s supposed to make us mad so we can argue about it? Though I seriously doubt everyone will be on our side, unfortunately.” Matt scowled. 

“Well, at least we have each other, right?” The man in front of you perked up with that comment, but you hurriedly corrected yourself. “And your roommate, of course.” 

Deflating slightly, Matt scratched the back of his neck. “Speaking of, I should probably get back so he doesn’t send out a search party. I’ll see you in class?” 

“See you then, trouble maker.” You murmured, smiling softly at him. 

“Have a good night, sweetheart. Get home safe.” 

“You too.” 

A few days later, your evening with the sweet law student had fallen to the back of your mind as nerves about your first semester of classes set in. Fidgeting with your outfit in the mirror, you inhaled a shaky breath. 

“Stop worrying, you’ll be fine!” The voice of your roommate, Jen, rang out across your shared loft making your brow furrow. 

“Easy for you to say! You’ve done this before.” You groused, still examining your reflection. Jen was an old friend of yours who had lived down the street from you growing up. The two of you had been practically inseparable since elementary school, despite the fact that she was two years older than you. 

“Jen’s right, you know.” Oscar, Jen’s long-term boyfriend and your unofficial second roommate, squeezed your shoulder on his way to the kitchen. “Everyone is going to be nervous, so they won’t have time to judge you.” 

“Yah, yah. I appreciate the votes of confidence but, unfortunately, my anxiety and I have to hit the road. I would rather not be late.” 

“Have fun!” Oscar called as you grabbed your bag.

“You’re gonna kill it!” Shouted Jen as you exited the apartment. 

You shook your head, hoping they were right, and set off for your first ever Columbia Law class. 

The trek across campus was pretty and the walk helped you calm your racing thoughts. The walkways were littered with other first year students who looked more clueless than you—including a blond boy with a kind face who was staring quizzically at a kiosk in front of him that was plastered with event flyers. 

He muttered to himself for a moment before reaching to the side of the kiosk obscured from your view and tugging on the arm of someone beside him. “Ok dude, according to this map we should be heading…” He paused, squinting at the paper he was reading before dramatically pointing left. “West!” 

“That’s East.” You chuckled, walking over to inspect the map for yourself. As you neared the misguided fellow, your eyes widened as you recognized his friend. “Matt?” 

Laughing brightly and greeting you, Matt tugged free of the other man’s grip and strode over to you. “Are you following me?” He narrowed his eyes at you but his tone remained playful. 

Shoving him, you scoffed. “You wish, Murdock. I was going to warn your friend here that the upperclassmen usually put up fake maps as a prank on the first day of classes.” 

“Thank god we have someone to warn us of their cruelty, or we’d be dead meat!” The blond spun around and bowed in front of you. “Franklin Nelson, at your service m’lady. You can call me Foggy” 

You giggled, introducing yourself. “It’s such a shitty prank. Thankfully, I have roommates who are in their third year and they showed me around weeks ago. Where are you headed?” 

“Greene Hall.” Matt informed you. 

“Oh, that’s where I’m headed too! Civil Procedure? With Professor McGuiness?”

“The very same! We’re damn lucky to have run into you.” Foggy sighed, shaking his head. 

“It’s this way, and we aren’t too far. We’ll probably get there early.” 

“That’s good because this one,” Foggy stuck a thumb at Matt, “Has this idea that we need to sit in the front if we don’t want to fail. I’d be perfectly fine sitting in the last row and never being called on once!” 

“Studies show that sitting in one of the first few rows increases retention!” Matt elbowed his roommate who just snorted. 

“Retention schmention. I say we sit by the cutest people in the class and have them tutor us when we inevitably fail.” Foggy winked at you and you laughed. 

Matt squeezed your arm, leaning closer to you. “I think that can be arranged regardless.” 

Heat rose in your cheeks as his flirtatious grin made a reappearance. “Oh shut up, trouble maker, or I’ll sit in the very last row just to spite you.” 

“We wouldn’t want that.” Matt held out an arm, “Mind walking me to class, sweetheart?”

Rolling your eyes, you turned to Foggy. “How do you put up with him? You’re a Saint, truly.” But you took Matt’s arm anyway, ensuring that you were keeping a steady pace and avoiding anything he might trip over. 

The walk to your first law class was, eventful, to say the least. Matt and Foggy were clearly soulmates of a sort, with their nonstop bantering and the way they balanced each other out. Foggy was a ray of sunshine, while Matt was more comfortable in the shadows, so to speak. The blond was all loud declarations and bright smiles, while Matt was more low toned flirting and quiet observations. They were both incredibly intelligent, overly sarcastic, and had a flair for the dramatic. You were ecstatic to have stumbled into their lives. 

Matt had successfully cajoled the both of you into sitting with him in the second row, a compromise which Foggy considered a huge win. As students filed in, you subconsciously fiddled with your shirt, suddenly feeling incredibly insecure about your presence in this classroom. A gentle hand grabbed your wrist, making you jump. 

“Relax,” Matt whispered. “You look fine, trust me.” 

“How do you know?” You murmured nervously. 

“Those boys a few rows behind us are staring.” Matt’s smile remained, but his voice held a tension you couldn’t quite place. “And the TA is trying very hard not to.” 

“How on earth can you tell that?” You raised an eyebrow at him, incredulous. 

“Matt is seriously like some sort of super powered being. He has the greatest intuition of anyone I’ve ever met. Best to trust him about these things.” Foggy nodded solemnly, clearly trying not to burst out laughing. 

You simply rolled your eyes, pulling your notebook from your bag. Opening it to the correct page, you stifled a giggle as Foggy leaned over Matt’s lap to whisper-yell at you. 

“Why do you already have notes written? Matt, why does she already have notes written?” 

“I like to come prepared. I took notes on the first few chapters of the book.”

“But we didn’t even have an assignment for this class!”

“Yah, but I was bored at work and I thought I’d get a head start.” You just shrugged but Foggy glared at you, shaking a finger in your face. 

“You’re gonna make the rest of us look like slackers! You, missy, have some apologizing to do.” 

“For doing my due diligence?” You laughed. 

“Yes! For being too proactive. I think you owe us a tutoring session or two.” Foggy crossed his arms with a huff. 

“You have no idea if I even know what I’m doing, these notes could be gibberish!” You chuckled, shaking your head. 

“Nope, it’s good material. I can tell. You owe us. Doesn’t she, Matt?” Foggy elbowed his roommate who smirked. 

“I think he might be right, sweetheart. What would you say to being the leader of our study group.” Matt tilted his head, focusing on you. 

“Do I have a choice?” You sighed. 

“No!” Foggy exclaimed at the same time Matt responded, “Not really.”

“Then I accept, but I want my objection noted.” 

“It’s all in the record, don’t worry.” Foggy waved a hand, turning his attention back to the front of the room as the Professor walked to the front. 

The rest of the week went similarly, as you had three of four classes at the same time as Matt and Foggy. They made great company, so you could hardly complain, but it was the first meeting of your “unofficial official study group” (as Foggy had dubbed it) and you were quite nervous. 

You were fairly confident that you knew what you were talking about, but the idea of being the backbone for two other grades besides your own was quite stressful. Not to mention the jittery feeling you got every time your brain reminded you that you’d been in Matt’s room with him for an extended period of time. You chided yourself, Matt—though he was incredibly flirty—was one of the best friends you’d ever had, and you’d be damned before you jeopardized that because you were touch-starved and more than a little thirsty. 

Taking a deep breath to keep your antsy libido in check, which was getting increasingly difficult given the fact that you were sitting atop Matt’s bed practically cuddled against him, you turned your focus to the space in front of you for a moment of redirection. 

The room was small, a standard dorm room with two long skinny bed frames that held stiff foam mattresses, two identical desks with chipped paint and lumpy rolling chairs, and a bolted-shut window. Although the room was dim and cramped, the view was gorgeous, overlooking a rectangular patch of grass framed with lush green trees and the distant Manhattan skyline, bright with yellow lights against the black of the atmosphere.  

Shifting your focus to the inside of the room, you smiled at the dichotomy on full display. While it was clear both boys had cleaned in preparation for your visit, Foggy’s side of the room was haphazardly straightened, with loose socks peeking out from underneath the bed and a handful of stray candy wrappers still visible atop his desk. Matt’s half of the space was meticulously organized, complete with braille labels. It was clear that everything had its place. 

A shoulder nudged yours and you choked on a breath in your haste to turn towards the presence beside you. Matt smirked, but a small crease was present between his brows. “You ok? You stopped reading…”

“Yup!” You squeaked, clearing your throat and trying again. “Yes, sorry. Got distracted by your view.” Which was mostly true... 

“Is it nice? Foggy’s never told me.” Matt grins sideways at you, furrow on his smooth skin fading. 

“It’s…stunning. There’s a lot of green up front, with the lawn and plants and whatnot, but the red brick buildings contrast beautifully. And behind campus you can see the rest of the city, like we’re in an urban valley almost. It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen.” 

“It sounds pretty. You should describe more sights for me, sweetheart. You’re good at it.” 

Heat ran up your face at the compliment, pulsing in your cheeks and the tips of your ears. Turning from the window, you found your chest settling calmly as you studied Matt’s face. You’d never been this close to him and it was startling how easily his innocuous expression stirred up emotions in you. 

He had the slightest shadow of stubble gracing his sharp jawline. As you ran your eyes along his face, you found yourself lingering on the beautiful hazel eyes, nearly blocked by his dark glasses. The blank, honey-bronze orbs held more emotion than you’d ever seen in someone’s expression. In the small time you’d known Matt, you found yourself constantly moved by his passion—for his city, for justice, for Foggy, even for you. 

“So can we get back to the precedent of Buck v. Bell or are you just gonna stare lovingly at Matt all night?” Foggy smiled sweetly at you but the glint in his eyes made it clear he was annoyed. 

“I wasn’t—I mean I—“ You sputtered, scootching farther away from Matt in an effort to conceal your obvious crush. 

“Whatever. It’s late and I’d like to finish soon. Precedent?” Foggy prompted, pointing to his textbook. 

“Well, the main point is that disabled and institutionalized individuals were no longer considered to have the same rights as other people.” Matt huffed, thumbing through his textured pages. 

“Right. And the opinion implies that losing rights through due process opens you up to losing rights in the future without another trial.” You added, squinting at a particular paragraph for clarity. 

“Which sucks, but checks out for 1927.” Foggy frowned. 

“If I’m interpreting the important parts correctly, this case is meant to highlight an important consequence of precedent, which is that one decision can impact the judicial system for decades, even over important things like due process.” You explained, turning to Matt. “Is that what you got from this?”

“That’s about what I interpreted, yah.” Matt nodded, giving Foggy a sly grin. “That enough of an explanation for ya, Nelson? Or do we need to break it down point by point.” 

“Shut up, Murdock.” Foggy grumbled. “I’d be better with this if I wasn’t dog-tired.” 

“You’re doing great, Foggy. Don’t listen to him. All we have left to do this week is read for Torts and then we are home free.” You smiled sympathetically. 

“Ugh!” Foggy flopped down onto his pillows, covering his face with his hands. 

“Not to be a pain, but I don’t have this text…” Matt shifted uncomfortably, biting his lip. 

“That’s alright, I can read mine aloud. If that’s ok with you, Foggy?” You looked to the half-asleep law student for confirmation who nodded tiredly. 

“If it allows me to close my eyes, I’d be more than happy to listen.” 

Matt chuckled, before tilting his head towards you. “Can I come closer? To make sure I don’t miss anything?” You could’ve sworn you saw Foggy roll his eyes, but you blinked and he remained still as a corpse against his pillows. 

“Of course, Matt. Here.” Shuffling closer to him, you lay the textbook across both of your laps, trying incredibly hard to not focus on how warm he was. “This ok?” 

Matt nodded, mouth parted slightly and your eyes followed his tongue as it darted out to wet his lips. For a moment, all you heard was static and the soft puffs of Matt’s breath. Coming back into your body, you shook your head to clear out the lovestruck cobwebs. 

“Ok, um, Introduction to American Civil Law: Chapter 1, Liability and Negligence…”

To tell the honest truth, Matt hadn’t taken in a word you’d spoken since you passed the introductory paragraph. Legal jargon washed over him like the water of a warm bath, spoken by a soothing dulcet voice and punctuated by the steady thump of your kind heart. Your thigh was resting against his and he could feel the tension in your neck as you desperately kept it mere inches from its desired landing place on his shoulder. Your soft t-shirt brushed over his arm with each expanse of your chest as you inhaled, rubbing more of your sweet lavender and vanilla scent over his skin. 

As you continued to be blissfully unaware of his lack of attention, or rather his abundance of attention, his body was fighting an internal battle to not sweep you into his arms and bury his face in your neck. 

Leaving St. Agnes had been a culture shock for the ages, but Matt was beginning to love it. The orphanage had been an overwhelmingly lonely place, which Matt attributed to his tendency to pick fights and his disability causing him to stand out. Meeting his new roommate had been nerve wracking, but Foggy was as easy to like as the first ray of sunshine in the spring, despite his grumpiness when he was exhausted. Sure he was messy and his snoring had kept Matt awake for hours, but he had a massive heart. Though he and Foggy had very different lifestyles, the other man fit perfectly into his life, as did you. Matt was more than aware of his tendency to form quick attachments, but his feelings toward you were an entirely different beast. 

The night he’d met you in the bookstore, an invitation to go on a date with him had been teetering on the edge of his tongue for hours. Flirting came naturally to him, one of the many reasons he didn’t get along with the other boys of Clinton Church, but given his less than standard childhood, he’d never had the opportunity to start a relationship. Every minute he spent with you made it more obvious that you deserved to be loved, not aimlessly thrown into a date or two, and Matt wasn’t sure he would be able to provide that. At least not now.

An ear-splitting snore sounded from the other side of the room, abruptly ending his daydream. Your arm left its place at his side as you stifled a laugh. “Guess I was more boring than I thought.” 

“Trust me, it’s not because of you. That man could fall asleep to the sound of a fire alarm if he tried hard enough.” Matt smirked, humor not quite reaching his eyes as his brain mourned the loss of your touch. Feeling you shift tensely next to him, he pondered for a moment. “If you’re worried about waking him, we could go somewhere else?”

“Where would we go at 2 in the morning on a Thursday?” You groaned, desperately aching to be done with school work for the week but simultaneously more than willing to spend all night with Matt. 

“I know a place. But we will probably want this blanket.” Matt grinned at you as your confusion peaked, but you threw the blanket over your shoulder and took his hand nonetheless. 

How your friend had discovered that the roof of Butler Library remained accessible after hours via a secluded maintenance stairwell, you’d never know—but you couldn’t help but thank the heavens for granting you this slice of paradise. 

The cement that compromised the roof was cold, a symptom of being deprived of the sun for hours now, but you and Matt lay huddled together on his bedspread, lounging in a pocket of warmth your closeness had created. You were practically snuggling, which was not helping soothe the part of your brain that was rabidly attracted to him, sharing your highs and lows from the week. 

As the two of you giggled about an incident with a pigeon that had decided to attend Civil Procedure, you found your eyes tracing over the moonlit form of the beautiful man before you, who seemed to notice your staring as his lips quirked up. “So, tell me, sweetheart, how’s a girl like you end up in a place like this?” 

With an exaggerated groan, you shoved him playfully. “You and your damn lines, Murdock.” 

With a chuckle, Matt’s expression turned from something entirely playful into one of genuine interest.  “Seriously, what brought you to Columbia?” Feeling your heart pound under his blank gaze, you blew out a breath. 

“That is a long, sad story that I’m sure you don’t really—“

“If you don’t want to tell me, I totally get it. But I’d like to know more about you.” Matt’s answer was honest and lacking his perpetually flirty edge that kept you at a safe distance, which sent a burst of heat to your stomach that you weren’t expecting. 

“Oh, well...” Sighing deeply, you considered your options. You’d had a hard time making friends in the past, and had a tendency to over share (or so you’d been told), but Matt had asked for the real answer. That meant he really wanted it, right?

Steeling yourself for the impending rejection, you confessed. “I’m originally from Connecticut. Small little town called Bridgewater, about an hour from New Haven. It’s just me and my mom, really. My dad lives in godknowswhere, Virginia with my two siblings and his girlfriend. He’s…kinda the worst, so we don’t talk much. My mom though, she’s amazing. I owe everything to her.” 

Matt smiled at you, nodding encouragingly when you hesitated. 

“Um, yah, so long story short, she was diagnosed with cancer when I was a kid. My dad has sort of always been a jackass but her prognosis…I don’t know, it was the last straw for him. I don’t remember much but they started arguing about money and then, he took everything. I didn’t realize it at the time, my mom is the nicest person on the planet and she would never blame my dad for her misfortune, but we lost our house, she lost her job, her assets, two of her kids—though they didn’t fight to stay like I did. The longer I lived, the more curious I became about everything and when I did some digging in high school, I found out my dad had claimed everything in the divorce. He and his attorney had argued that my mom was abusive and financially exploiting him and the judge gave him anything he asked for. I decided I wanted to be a lawyer so I could stop others from going through what my mom and I have.” 

The story poured out of you, relieving a pressure you’d been carrying for as long as you remembered. Matt simply listened intently, emotions passing over his face in small flashes as you described your past. Realizing all of the bullshit you’d just dumped on him, you cringed. 

“I’m sorry, that was a lot, I just…” Matt’s brow furrowed and his hand shot out to cup your elbow. 

“No! No, I’m just so sorry that happened. Your dad sounds like a piece of work.” He gave a disgusted grimace and you giggled. 

“He is. My mom still loves him though, bless her heart. We spend Christmas with him every year like he didn’t ruin her life.” The laugh that you have held no humor. “Anyway, that’s my backstory. What about you, trouble maker?” You leaned into the loose hold Matt kept on your arm, eager to learn more about him. 

“Well, I’m from New York. Hell’s Kitchen, born and raised just like Foggy. I, uh, I never knew my mom. Was close with my dad, though. He was a boxer, taught me a lot about fighting, persistence.” Matt’s face fell slightly as he paused. Intertwining your fingers with his, your smile softened. 

“He sounds like a good man.” 

Matt nodded. “Yah, he uh, he was. He died when I was 9.”

Eyes widening, a hasty apology spilled out of you. “Oh Matt, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize—“ A squeeze of your hand stopped you in your tracks. 

“It’s ok. I do miss him, though. After he died, I was taken in by an orphanage, raised by nuns. This is, really the first time I’ve lived without feeling like I’m being watched.” Matt chuckled awkwardly, removing his fingers from yours to push up his glasses. “Law interested me for a reason similar to yours, I suppose. My dad, uh, he was murdered. Organized crime hit. I tried to get someone, anyone really, to bring the group to justice and I…failed. Made me realize the justice system needs more devoted participants, I guess.” Taking his hand back into yours, you ran a thumb over his knuckles, allowing him to collect his thoughts before continuing the conversation. 

“So you’re interested in criminal law then?” Your heart flipped happily as Matt’s starlit face lit up again. 

“Honestly, I’m interested in most of it. But the more I learn about the world, the more I realize how important criminal defense is. My dad’s murder inspired this journey, but what I do with the degree, it’ll be in his memory. I’m starting to think that defense would be the best way to honor him.” 

How on Earth did you manage to find the sweetest boy on campus? “That’s…beautiful Matt. Really. He must be so proud of you already.” 

Matt’s lips twitched but he seemed unsure. “Maybe he should wait to see if I actually get this degree. Torts is already shaking up to be a nightmare.” 

“Ugh, that’s for damn sure.” You laughed breathily, shivering as a breeze pierced your thin shirt. 

Face twisting with concern, Matt ran his hand over your arm. “Are you cold? Sorry, I didn’t think it would get this chilly out.” 

“Oh, it’s ok! I’m not that cold.” You assured him, relishing in the soft brushes of his calloused fingertips over your arm. 

Raising a brow at you, Matt pulled off the crew neck he was wearing, handing it to you. “Humor me.” 

Rolling your eyes at his demanding tone, you slipped the garment over your head. The worn gray sweatshirt was soft and comfortably warm with Matt’s body heat. It was such a pleasant relief from the frigid cement that you had to bite back a groan. Breathing in the earthy, clean scent that always followed Matt, you sighed in relief. 

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” Matt grinned. 

The night didn’t go on for too much longer after you spilled your guts to your new friend. At his insistence, you called Oscar and Jen to come pick you up rather than walking home. 

You fell asleep easily that night and, while it would be easy to blame the late hour, the fabric of Matt’s sweatshirt wrapped around you may have had something to do with it. 

[dreamsfromthesandman]

From old friends to new acquaintances

A/N: I have been working on than for a while and @imaginationofacrazyfangirl has been helping me along the way. It is no where near dine but I wanted to get it posted. So I’m posting this from my phone so I apologize for any discrepancies. Let me know what y’all think! More to come on this story!

Gif not mine- wanted a little something for all you fans in the middle.

Warnings: smut, fluff, not good with warnings. —————————————————————-

Leave it to your best friend, Holland, to drag you to a dive bar to see one of her friends in his band. She has known him for quite a while ,and while they never were together, they have this odd sibling bond with each other. You thought it was weird.

“Look, Holl, I am not ready for the dating scene again,” you sulked, “ I haven’t dated since Tyler and I broke up. And quite frankly, I still am bitter.”

Tyler was your high school sweetheart. You guys dated on and off throughout and thought it was meant to be. But when you went off to college across the nation, he decided to stay in state and live it up. You met Holland in your biology class. She was smart, beautiful, and people seemed to flock to her. You didn’t think someone who was A-list material would even look at you. Being she was 2 years older than you at the age of 25 you thought she was a senior ready to graduate with her Bachelors. You were wrong. She was in college getting her PhD in physics. Considered she skipped all of the pre req’s. You were just getting fine with your bachelor degree and you planned to never come back.

“Oh, c’mon, (Y/N). That was 5 years ago! That was before college! Can’t you just trust me on this?”

You rolled your eyes and smiled, “Ok then. Let’s go.”

She let out a little squeal and yanked your arm basically dragging you behind her as she flung the bar door open. It wasnt busy yet as you both headed to the front of the stage. You didn’t really know who you were looking for as you have always made up excuses to not come to shows. You heard stories and seen a photo or two but never met in person.

“Dylan! Where are you?” Called Holland. While she called for her friend you wandered around the stage and bar admiring the drums and guitars. You dabbled in percussion in middle school and freshman year of high school but never got into it. You preferred to take photographs. Holland didn’t know this part as she would have never let it go about you never coming. You took your phone out and snapped a photo or two of the stage. You couldn’t resist the fire red drumset or the icy blue guitar.

“Excuse me, Miss,” someone tapped my shoulder.

Spinning around you came face to face with chocolate brown eyes, a scruffy face, and a smile that made your heart race.

“Oh! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to be in your way—uh—,” you rushed, “I’ll move out of your way—...” you scurried away, facepalming and blushing. You haven’t seen such a cute boy in a while and he kind of caught you off guard. You sat on one of the barstools by the front door, face in your hands. You wanted to leave. You’ve made a fool of yourself.

“(Y/N)? Are you ok?,” Asked a very worried Holland. She didn’t see you embarrass yourself but considering you had your bright red face in your hands she had thought you were crying.

“Oh, Holl, I made a complete fool of myself. Can we just go?” You mumble.

“Go? We just got here. Just have a drink and relax. You need to let loose a little. I’m sure no one noticed, whatever happened.”

“Ok. Let loose. Sir? Can I have an applepie shot?” You motioned to the older bartender.

“See? You’ll be fine soon. Once the music starts and the liquor is flowing the dancing will begin and you can dance your worries away,” Holland motioned the bartender for two shots. He brought them over and you both downed them. You felt the alcohol burn it’s way down and warm your belly. Feeling determined, you got up and went back towards the stage as you wanted one more photo. Hearing the click of Holland’s boots on the floor a voice shouted from behind the stage.

“Holland! You made it!” As the boy from earlier enveloped her into a bear hug.

“Dyl! Put me down! You’re making me wrinkle!” She scolded as he put her down she started smoothing her top.

“Wrinkle sminkle,” he said flipping his hand in a dismissive manner.

“Hey. You’re the chick that was taking pictures. I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself,” walking over to you and sticking out his hand, “I’m Dylan. I’m the drummer for the band.”

“I’m (Y/N). Holland’s told me a lot about you.”

“(Y/N). I like that name.” Shaking his hand, It seems like he has already forgotten about earlier. He looked familiar but it must have been his eyes. His laugh was contagious. The scruff on his face highlighted his cheekbones and his pink lips. You couldn’t help but notice that his teeth were perfectly straight. You had a nagging in the back of your head that you have met this person before. It’s not possible you told yourself. You have never gone to a show of his and you’ve only seen pictures in Holland’s house. That has to be where you know him from. You convince yourself that you have never met and that your mind is pulling from the memories at Holland’s house. The nagging wouldn’t go away so you decided to get another shot. “Can I have another shot, sir?” You leaned on the bar to wave him over, unaware of the monstrosity behind you as more people show up. The bar tender is making his way over to you grumbling, “did you both want one?”

“Holl, did you—,” turning around to ask your red headed friend. The sentence didn’t even come all the way out as Tyler was standing close to Dylan. You couldn’t believe your eyes. How could the one person you didn’t want to see, that you left behind in Washington state, be in the same exact bar as you in New Jersey? No it couldn’t be him. He was in Washington. He wasn’t a traveler. You motion for just one shot to the bartender and he gives it to you. Slinging your head back, you let the alcohol run through your system. In your head you just keep saying it isn’t him. Even if it is you can just ignore him, you told yourself. That ship has sailed and it will never be like it was before. He has no power over you here. This is your domain.

“When are you guys starting? I wanna dance!,” you exclaim, booty bumping Holland in the process.

“Very soon. I should probably go help the guys set up so we can start sound check,” Dylan chimed. “See you guys later!”

And with that he hopped up on stage and started to put the microphone together. You couldn’t help but notice that his butt looked great in his jeans. The two shots were making you feel loosy goosey.

“Looks like someone is finally ready to relax,” Holland smirked.

Blushing, you give her a shove. “I don’t need a guy right now. I have to graduate first and start my career.”

Tyler blew out a long breath and swigged his beer. You totally forgot about him being there. The realization that he was not a figment of your imagine hit you like a ton of bricks. Frustrated by this you approach him.

“Can I help you with something? Why are you here?,” hitting the table with your hand, “ you never wanted to travel but yet, here you sit. What the fuck are you doing here?”

“(Y/N), calm down. If I wanted to find you sooner I would have. I’m not here for you. Let’s not forget who broke up with who here,” Tyler shrugged and flattened his lips into a line that only said believe what you want.

“You never answered my question, Posey,” you seethed through gritted teeth.

“Watching my best friend play in his band, (Y/L/N). This really isn’t your scene, now is it? Why do you care anyways? You left me, not the other way around,” he was being very matter of fact and that irked you. The two shots you had weren’t helping the extremely short fuse you already had with him. True, you left him. True, you’re the one with broke it off. You didn’t want him anymore but yet you ached for his kisses. The outside smell of his hair mixed with his shampoo. It all brought back memories. You softened a little, taking a sit by Holland, “whatever, Posey.”

Sweat coated your body as you danced, the beat of the drums coursing throughout, vibrating your rib cage. You haven’t had this much fun in a long time and you are grateful for your red headed friend for dragging you out of your apartment. As the song ended, you stumble towards a chair, wanting to rest your feet. Heeled boots were a great fashion choice but horrible for dancing so long.

“Hey, who wants another round?,” Tyler shouted, “I’m gonna get another.” You waved the empty beer bottle towards him. You took inventory of how you were feeling, even though you knew you were fine considering you were still standing in your heels. Typically, heels and drinking don’t mix for you, having fallen several times in the past. The decision was made that you were fine and in control. The band announced their short break and the bars lights came up a bit while they played some other music over the speakers. Your mind wandered back to earlier when Tyler said his best friend is in the band. Who would he know that’s all the way out here? Your brow furrowed, lost in thought, wracking your brain for who he could know.

“Earth to (Y/N). Your beer is here,” Tyler shoves the cold bottle on your arm, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“That’s feels good. It’s so hot in here,” you waved you hand in front of your face in an attempt to cool down with a breeze.

“By your dance moves I’m not surprised. You were really moving those hips,” Tyler raised his eyebrows at you and gave you a wink. Yanking the beer from his hand you take a deep swig, still annoyed that you have to share your night out with him.

“Nobody asked Tyler,” Holland chimed sensing your attitude rising. He leaned back in his chair, legs slightly agape, and swigging that beer.

“I know that look,” he mumbled.

He does look good, you thought. He wasn’t the scrawny, long haired wanna be he was in high school. Instead he had these shoulders and biceps that seemed to burst from his t-shirt. A tattoo on his bicep caught your eye. His hair was fluffy on the top and short on the sides. It got a deeper brown color with age, almost like melted milk chocolate mixed with peanut butter.

“You guys enjoying the show?,” an out of breath voice asked. It was Dylan.

“Dude you are amazing on the drums. Better than last time I seen you,” Tyler gushed.

“It’s called practice you hobo,” Dylan fires back, “besides, I have people to impress.” His eyes flicked towards you.

“And who, exactly, are you trying to impress, Mister O’Brien?,” a sarcastic question from the tipsy red head, “ the only girl you have to impress here is (Y/N).”

“I know,” is all he said with a wink. You felt your face flush.

“O’Brien!? Let’s go you lazy ass!” Another boy shouted. Must have been a member of the band wanting to get back to playing.

“Alright!” He shouted back, “looks like I’ve gotta get back,” He ran and hopped on the stage just like earlier. His ass looked great in jeans. Especially when he did that little hop-jump onto the stage. The music started back up and you were ready to keep dancing. Feeling someone grab your hips from behind you spun around to see who the creep was. Tyler stood with his hands still on your hips but now facing him you could see the hunger in his eyes.

“What’s one more night with me?” He asked, leaning in your ear. He led you into a grind. The sex wasn’t bad with him. In fact it was great sex. That was something neither of you lacked. There was an ache between your legs as you remember the fun times.

“Is that your way of getting me to grind with you?”

“If I said yes would you stay?”

You pushed your butt into his crotch and grinded away. His bands staying on your hips the whole time, guiding you to keep rhythm with him.

“I knew you would stay. You’re a whore for grinding,” he teased.

“You know it baby. It still doesn’t change the fact that I’m not sleeping with you.”

“You don’t have too.” After hours of dancing you felt a yawn tug at your lips.

“Hey, Holl, I’m going to get going. I am super tired and a long way home,” coming to your friend.

“Yeah, why don’t I come with you. Let’s just say good night and leave.” And with that you both said your goodbyes to the band and Tyler.

“Hey, (Y/N), do you have a ride home? I can always drive you,” the intoxicated Tyler said.

“No, thank you, Tyler. Holland and I came together and she’s my ride,” pointing a thumb at the red head.

“Looks like she’s got other plans in her mind,” Tyler made a gesture of sexual nature with his pointer finger and thumb making an “O” shape and his other pointer going in and out of it. Glancing back at her, he is right. She’s flirting away with another guy by the door. No doubt making plans to hook up. Leave it to her to always get a guy in bed with her long fiery hair, green Emerald eyes, and a body that can stop traffic.

“(Y/N), is there anyway either Dylan or Tyler can take you home? I forgot about about other plans I had tonight,” raising her eyebrows, eyes pleading.

“Sure, Holland, I can drive her,” Tyler said pudding out his chest like a proud bird.

“Ugh. Fine,” you sulked. That was the last thing you wanted. He pulled into the parking lot of the apartment. While it was nice of him to drive you home, he unfortunately had to drive the opposite direction of the bar leading him to be an hour from his hotel.

“Thank you for the ride. It’s a long way back to your hotel right? Why don’t you just stay? You can have my couch.

“Thanks, (Y/N). Tell me where visitor parking is so I don’t get the rental car towed,” he yawned.

“Here is good.”

Pulling house keys from your clutch you motioned for him to follow as you started towards the door. The morning glow of the sun peeked into the bedroom. Glancing at the clock it read 10:00AM. Getting home at 2 was definitely not the norm but given that it was also the first time you’ve actually gone out with friends you decide to let the late start to your day slide. Flipping the blankets off you head to the kitchen to make some coffee.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” a voice from the couch said. You let out a shocked yelp, not realizing there was someone else here with you.

“What the actual fuck, Tyler! You gave me a near heart attack,” you scolded, clutching your heart. “What are you doing here anyways?”

“You let me stay the night, remember?”

Last night was flooding back. Tyler got you home and he was right. You did invite him to stay since his hotel was on the other side of town.

“Ugh,” growling in anger at your self.

“I believe the words are ‘did you want to stay for breakfast’ and I would love to stay,” Tyler teased. He moseyed into the kitchen and started rummaging through the cupboards. He pulled out pancake mix and shook the box.

“Yep that’s plenty,” with one more good shake.

“I’m not cooking.”

“You don’t have to, (Y/N). I’ll cook. It’ll be like old times. You know I was a baller at pancake flipping.” He flexed. The memory of him flipping a pancake and completely missing the pan came back to you.

“As long as you don’t miss the pan and make a mess of my stove,” you giggled like a little school girl.

“Oh my gosh... you can smile! I never thought I would get a smile out of you,” gushed an excited boy, “I guess you’re still into Champion Pancake Flippers, huh?”

“Make the damn breakfast, Master Pancake Flipper.”

“As you wish and that is Champion Pancake Flipper to you.”

And with that he got to work measuring and mixing. Both of you made small talk with one another. You have to admit it was nice being able to reminisce without having to explain back stories. Moments later, a stack of hot cakes got slid over to you with all the fixings.

“Wait,” he stated, “I didn’t forget that you prefer honey and jam over syrup and butter.” Sliding the jam and honey on the counter he took the syrup and butter for him. You had to admit he wasn’t a bad guy. The mere fact that he remembered such a small detail made your heart swell. You guess you were to mean to him. still doesn’t excuse the fact that he cheated. You caught him red handed with another girl at his house. You seen them on the couch together, lipstick on his face and she was fixing her top. You couldn’t believe that he would do that to you. His shirt was ripped open and the look of horror was planted on him. You stalked out of his place and never talked to him again. You ghosted him. You didn’t want excuses so you decided that night to pack up your stuff and head off for college without so much as a good bye. But talking and laughing with him now is different than before. Maybe because that all happened years ago. Maybe because you never really told how you felt. “You know I never got to apologize,” he said sheepishly.

“For what?”

“You finding me like that with her that one night.”

“Tyler, just don’t,” you pleded, “don’t ruin what we have right now.”

“You have to know that it wasn’t my fault,” he groaned, “she pushed herself on me. I pushed her away. She ended up ripping my shirt in the process. I asked her to leave. She wouldn’t take no for answer—“

“You expect me to believe that load of shit?” You were flabbergasted.

“Yes— I mean no— I mean...,” he couldn’t even grasp words while you had you’re hands on your hips and your brow furrowed.

“Well? Which is it?”

“You know, I came to explain. To apologize to you for having that happen. I don’t know what else to do. You’re being stubborn and not listening-“

“I’m being stubborn!? I trusted you, Tyler. She’s just a friend. She’s not as pretty as you. I’m not into her. Was it all a lie?” Your voice was slightly raised and quivering with tears. He looked defeated.

“It wasn’t a lie. I felt- no feel- nothing for her. At all. I never did.”

You desperately wanted to believe him. He seemed so sorry and seemed to be telling the truth. It was silent for a solid 5 minutes while you pondered what he said.

“I forgive you.”

“Thank you, (Y/N).”

“I will probably never trust you again, but I forgive you.”

He reached for your hand that lay still clenched on the counter. His touch felt comforting.

“Thank you for breakfast. I can do the dishes,” you motioned to the stove and your plates as his touch made you want to be with him again. He was still warm from standing over the hot stove.

“Thank you, my dear, for letting me cook.”

“I think if we were to reconnect then I wouldn’t want to be more than friends, Tyler. I want you to know that.”

“Fair enough.”

Cleaning the kitchen wasn’t as bad as it used to be with him. Tyler would make a huge mess and leave you to clean it. There was minimal batter on the counter and stove.

‘I reek of sweat, alcohol, and Tyler,’ you thought to yourself. Hitting the dishwasher door with your hip, you grabbed some towels from the linen closet and headed for the bathroom.

“Ty, I’m going to shower. Did you want to shower after me? I have some jammies that might fit you while your stuff washes.”

“Can I go with you?” He was smirking and wiggling his brows.

“Uh— absolutely not. Pervert.” Shutting the door behind and locking it behind you. ‘That is the last thing you need, (Y/N).’ You felt a flutter in your stomach and a flush to your cheeks. The hot shower helped release the pressure building in your head. Tyler just walked back into your life without any sort of notice. Why wait so long? It wasn’t a secret that you came here for college, however you did unfriend him on social media. Maybe his guilt kept him from coming sooner? Shutting the water off, you dried quickly.

“Ty? Are you gonna shower?”

No answer.

“Tyler?” You shouted in the tiny apartment. Nothing.

You heard your phone chime with a new text message.

From: Dylan

Hey! Thanks for coming last night! The band really appreciates all the support we can get. We got asked to come back in 2 weeks! Anyway, just wanted to thank you. See you later!

Now Dylan seemed nice. You would probably give him a chance if asked on a date. You quickly typed a you’re welcome reply and sent it. Wait, how did he get my number? And how do you have his?

To: Dylan

Hey, odd question. How do you have my number?

From: Dylan

Holland.

To: Dylan

Figures. Lol. You wanna grab coffee or a drink some time?

From: Dylan

Lol that Holland XD I would love to grab coffee with you. Let me know when you are free.

To: Dylan

I’m free Sunday.

From: Dylan

Tomorrow Sunday? Sure :) Starbucks on Broadway at 10?

To: Dylan

Works for me. See you then :)

And just like that you have a date with mister Dylan O’Brien himself. Now what to wear? Walking around to grab some clothes you spot a note on your coffee table.

(Y/N), thank you for letting me spend the night and having breakfast with me. I hope we can reconnect as friends. It would mean a lot to me to have you in my life again. I’ll be in town for the next month. Hopefully we can see each other again before I go back home. Yours truly, Tyler

Placing the note back on the table you dress quickly into some comfortable sweats. No plans for today meant you could recharge for tomorrow’s date. The chocolately brown eyes and hair along with lean muscular arms of Dylan made you giddy with excitement. Not having officially dated since coming here, you were pretty excited and nervous. You’ve hooked up and gone to parties but not an actual date. With someone that is, hopefully, interesting.

‘What to wear?’ You thought, ‘dress, skirt or pants?’

“Hey, Google, what’s the weather going to be like tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow will be partly cloudy with a high of 76 degrees,” the tiny assistant answered.

‘Not helping,’ you thought.

Rummaging through the closet, trying to find something to wear, you come across a nice sun dress. It had pops of blue and green. That paired with a pair of cork wedges and it would be nice and casual. With the outfit picked out you decide that was enough for the day and nestled on the couch to binge watch some television. It has been awhile since you have sat and did nothing. Between classes and working part time as a cocktail waitress at a high scale club was exhausting. Tips were fantastic there but you hated the catcalling and the sleazy men that would come in. You are pretty sure you work for either the mafia or pimps. Your phone chimed.

From: Holland

Soooo I heard u have a d8 tomorrow

To: Holland

Yea. I’m excited.

From: Holland

And that sum1 spent the nite :P

To: Holland

Yes but nothing happened. I actually forgot he was here this morning. He scared me shitless

From: Holland

Sssuuurrrreeeee. I’ll ttyl

Shaking your head you had to smile. Your best friend could make you smile all the time. She had her quirks and you didn’t agree with her all the time but she was gold. You really hope that Holland wasn’t going to try and force a relationship on you if you didn’t want it or there was no real connection. However, you were physically attracted to him as he was lean and muscular. The veins on his arms seemed to come to the surface every once in a while. The day seemed to slip by as you emerged yourself with your favorite movies and shows. Mug of hot cocoa in hand you gathered up the soft blanket that has been draped over you. The cocoa was heating you up a little too well. Just then you heard the doorbell ring. It made you jump as you weren’t expecting visitors. Not wearing any undergarments you put the blanket around you to hide anything poking through the thin shirt. Peeking through the peephole, Holland was standing on the other side. Unlocking the door she let herself in while you plopped back on the couch.

“You look tired,” she stated.

“Not surprised. I’ve been sitting here all day relaxing. Not to mention I went to bed at 2AM,” you snapped.

“No need to be feisty,” she tisked.

“What’s in the bag?” You asked. Seemed heavy and, quite frankly you hoped it was food. All you had to eat was the pancakes Tyler made. That was at 10:30 and it was now creeping onto 7.

“I know you well enough to get some Chinese before coming here,” and with that she pulled out dumplings and lo mein.

“Oooo. I’m starving,” jumping off the couch to grab some plates.

“Just eat out of the container. I already ate,” she waved the plate off.

“More for me then,” you quipped, fork in hand.

You ate in silence for a few moments. She was looking at her phone and you acted like you haven’t eaten in days. The Chinese food was hitting the spot in your empty stomach.

“Thanks for the food,” you said inbetween bites of lo mein.

“Don’t mention it. I figured you hadn’t eaten yet,” she waved it off.

“So tell me about last night,” she wiggles her eyebrows.

“Honestly, nothing happened. He stayed on the couch and I went to my room. He made breakfast this morning. I showered and came back and he was gone,” you recalled the days events with a shrug, not sure what she was looking for.

“So no kissing or anything?” She clarified.

“Nope.”

“And what about this date tomorrow?”

“What about it? It’s just coffee. Nothing special.”

“It’s never ‘just coffee’. Besides, I seen the way you both were looking at each other last night.”

“Please don’t try to play matchmaker with me, Holland. I really am not interested in a relationship. Just new friends.”

“With benefits,” she laughed.

“Probably not. But we will see.”

She stuck around for a while watching movies and bad television with you. It was nearing 9:30 when she left as she had to work the next morning and you had a date. With a few hugs and “I love you”’s you waited until she got to her car and started it before shutting and locking your apartment door. You crawled into your queen size bed anxious for tomorrow’s date. The sun came poking through and you checked the time on your phone. You still had a little bit of time so a light breakfast was in your near future. Padding to the kitchen you scrounged up some yogurt and granola skipping your morning cup of coffee for some lemon water instead since you will have the coffee later. Rinsing the dishes, you head to the bathroom to get ready. Since the dress has pops of blue and green you decide on subtle makeup. Slipping into your cork wedges you grab the keys and head out to starbucks. From: Dylan I’m here. I’ll wait for you inside. To: Dylan Ok. I’m parking now. Nervousness washed over you as you were walking into the coffee shop. This would only be the second time you’ve met him. Knot in your stomach or not you wanted to get to know him. The door dinged signaling your arrival. He waved you over.

“Hey, you made it!” He stood for a hug.

“I wouldn’t miss a chance to hang out with the semi famous Dylan,” you teased.

“Funny. I like funny girls,” he motioned to get in line.

“So, what do you do for fun?”

“Well I play in the band. That takes up most of my time. But when I’m not with them I enjoy video games or cooking.”

“Sounds like typical boy stuff,” you giggled, “except the cooking. I wouldn’t take you as a cook.”

“Yeah, that’s my hidden talent. What about you?”

Finally it was your turn to order.

“What can I make you today,” asked the chipper barista.

“White chocolate mocha, a large please,” you answered.

“You guys together or separate?”

“We’re sepa—“

“Together,” Dylan interrupted.

“What can I get you?”

“Triple espresso.”

“You total is $10.95,” the barista was getting inpatient. Taking out you debit card to hand to her but Dylan beat you to the punch with cash. She hands him his change and both of you head to the pick up section.

“I work at a night club as a cocktail waitress and go to school. I don’t go out often,” finally answering his question.

“Make good money doing that?”

“Decent. It pays the bills,” you shrug. The coffees come up and he grabs both, taking them to a nearby table.

“You’re pretty cute,” he states. It was a random thing to say to someone you barely know.

“Uh— thanks? I’m sorry, but you hardly know me.”

“I know that you’re cute in the outside. My hope is that you are beautiful on the inside as well.”

Your cheeks flush and begin to fill with color. You’re flattered but taken aback at how ballsy he is. Maybe he’s nervous too and that’s what’s causing the outbursts?

Time ticks by as small talk is made. You found out several things about the brown haired boy. His favorite color is red, he enjoys sushi, and he has a bachelor’s degree in film. Sounds of hunger came from your stomach. You tried to ignore them saying that you’ll have food when you get home. Not wanting to impose on Dylan, you didn’t say anything. It was getting harder and harder to ignore though.

“Your stomach has been growling for some time now. If you’re hungry, we can eat,” he stated.

“I didn’t want to impose. It was only supposed to be a coffee date,” you hug yourself a little wanting to feel small.

“I’m pretty hungry myself. Why don’t we turn this coffee date into a lunch date?” He asked while pushing his chair from the table. He gathered up the empty cups, tossing them into the garbage, and stuck out his hand.

“Let’s go fill your belly,” he stated, “what are you in the mood for?”

“I don’t know. Maybe just a salad.”

“A salad is not going to fill that hole in your stomach. How about a sandwich?”

“Are you telling me what I can and cannot eat?” The sarcastic response left your lips and you just laughed.

“Not at all. But I can say that you need more than a salad. Don’t want you passing out on me from hunger. That’s no way to treat my date.” He said as he slung his arm around your shoulders bringing you closer to his side.

“A sandwich it is then,” you giggled.

He led you to a deli that you’ve been to before. The food was good there and you’ve actually been dying for a roast beef sandwich.

“What’s food from here? I’ve never been.” He asked.

“I’m dying for a roast beef sandwich,” you said.

“Then that’s what I’ll get too.”

Placing your orders he beat you to the punch again at the cashiers stand, using his cash over your plastic. Lunch was pretty quiet.

“You were right about this roast beef,” he said in between huge bites of sandwich, “delicious.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty good here. One of my favorite spots.”

After lunch was done, you really didn’t want to leave but again you didn’t want to impose. He must’ve read your mind because he suggested continuing the date.

“Want to go play mini golf?” He asked.

“Sure but only if you let me pay this time. It’s not fair that you’re paying for everything.”

“I appreciate that you are willing to help pay. Usually, I’m expected to pay for everything since I am a guy.”

“I only expected you to pay for coffee. Not for my lunch and coffee. Definitely not for mini golf. We both decided to go so it’s only fair.”

Mini golf was fun with him. He ended up hitting the ball to hard, sending it into the water. It was a lot of fun being with him.

“Yay a hole in 1!” You exclaimed.

“Lucky,” Dylan mumbled as he hit his ball for the 3rd time.

“Aw, c’mon, it was a lucky shot. Besides, you’re currently winning this game.”

The score card read that he had a 20 and you had a 43. You had horrible aim and between that and your awesome ability to hit the ball to hard and it going into the water. Both of you are not professional but it was fun. His goofy antics distracting you most of the time. He was dancing with the club while wait for you to putt or he would use the club as a pool cue. You just had to laugh at him. He was so carefree and didn’t care what anyone thought of him. Maybe that was the kind of person you needed in life.

“Dylan can you help me this time?” You asked. You didn’t need the help but his touch was welcomed.

“Absolutely, cutie.”

He stood behind you and held your hands in his on the club. He was close enough that you could smell his cologne and aftershave. It was a soothing smell. You could feel his muscles tighten as he helped you swing the club. His breathing was labored but you think it’s from him goofing around.

“You smell good, cutie,” he stated.

Thanks. It’s my new shampoo,” as soon as you said it, you mentally face palmed. Really? That was the best you could come up with?

“I didn’t think you naturally smelled like flowers, cutie,” he chuckled.

After hitting the final hole, the tally is twin to see who won the game. Of course he did, only hitting the ball a total of 33 times while you had well over 40. Talk about bad aim.

“That was fun. Thank you,” you said as you were return the club to the desk clerk.

“Thank you for coming along.”

“I don’t want to lie but I don’t want to leave you quiet yet. Maybe come to my place?” You asked.

“I would love too.”

Back at your place, you pour each of you some water. Giving him a brief tour of the tiny apartment was quick and painless. Talking about everything under the sun with him was easy to do and you can’t believe you’ve made it a whole day with him. You thought a few hours at most and he would get tired of you but it seemed like he was just more intrigued.

“(Y/N), I know this is going to be fast and you can say no but I would like to kiss you,” he stuttered, his cheeks were getting slightly rosy. Your mouth gaped like a fish out of water unsure of what to say. You wanted to kiss him but wasn’t it too soon? You guess it wouldn’t hurt since it was just a kiss. You’ve kissed before but none were this cute.

“Uh— that’s an odd questions but sure. Why not?”

It was awkward at first. Both of you unsure on how to continue and bumping noses instead of it being a smooth transition.

“Here why don’t I help you,” he sat up a bit on the couch, coming towards you closing the gap. Cupping your face he leaned in. Your lips trembled with nervousness and butterflies were in your stomach.

“I’m sorry Dylan, I don’t think this is a good idea,” you say abruptly, “I’m sorry. I’m just not comfortable yet.”

You know you ruined the mood and felt bad about leading him on a little. You wanted to kiss him but you were not that comfortable yet. It’s only been one date and second meeting.

“I’m sorry for coming in so strong,” he apologized, “that wasn’t fair of me.”

“Thank you for understanding. Do I still get that second date?” You smiled and laughed, shoulder bumping him. Of course you do, cutie. I’m gotta get going. I’ll text you,” he said standing up and stretching. You could see the little hairs leading a trail down his stomach into his pants.

“Thank you for today. I had fun. Hope you did too. Let me walk you out.”

“I had so much fun with you, cutie. Thank you for letting me come over for a bit.”

He leaned in for a hug this time which you eagerly accepted. You wanted one more whiff of his scent before he left. You watched him walk to his car and start it before heading back inside, smiling all the way. The mere thought of him made you smile and giggle like a school girl. He was perfect. That is what made you worry though. No one was perfect. Not ever. Figuring it was time to get ready bed you padded to the bathroom. You had school in the morning and work tomorrow afternoon/ night and it has been an exhausting weekend. School was very uneventful the next morning. Classes were filled with lectures, group projects, and notes. Lots of notes. Checking the time, there wasn’t a lot left for you to change and get to work. Throwing on the uniform in the school bathroom, if that’s what you even call it, you hustle to your car. The uniform was just a body suit with a plunging neckline that had black and red sequins with a white lapel and black bow tie. It wasn’t the most comfortable seeing as the sequins are always scratching your arms and legs. You hated it. The job itself wasn’t bad but the uniform was horrible. Slipping on black yoga pants and a hoodie so you can walk without being self conscious through school, you trot to your car. Slamming the car into park you notice the usual cars out front. Needing to hit the back area before hitting the floor, to shed the comfortable layers and change shoes. Gym shoes would definitely not bring the tips that were so desperately needed. “(Y/L/N)!! Let’s go! You’re late and your usual table has been waiting for you,” the Boss Man shouts. He was a round guy with a deep voice think with Italian. All the girls referred to him as the B-Man or if he was being an ass he was Ass Hat. “Yes, sir! I’m on my way,” you respond picking up a drink tray. “Every week with you,” he motions with his fingers, “what is it with you?” “Sorry, sir. Class ran late,” apologizing to B-Man, “ now my tables are waiting.” Strutting out on the floor was extremely different from the back room. There was lights, red velvet covering the booths, chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and pounding music. Before heading over to your table you knew their order by heart. “Good afternoon, Mr. Paul! Will it be the usual today?”

[1230pa]

long time no see. chubby!bucky x reader

summary: chubby!bucky and you used to go to the same high school, all the students of their old class had received a invitation to a high school reunion. bucky and y/n finally meet again and they both had a crush on each other back then, but never told each other, let’s see what happens next….

warning: smut 18+, body shaming, bully.

you finally had gotten back from work, tired of everything especially your boss, you parked your car right outside your house, while getting out your car to went to check your mailbox to see if you had gotten any mail. looking inside the mailbox you saw two magazines and an invitation, you barely look at when exactly you had gotten, so you went inside your house to sit on your couch while grabbing the remote to your tv to watch your favorite show, you took a look at what you had gotten in mail. modeling magazines and the invitation you looked at it with shock, an invitation to your old high school reunion, you then remember bucky. buck was an old crush of yours, he was very muscular of course he was a football player, all the ladies at school adored him, he was so kind to everyone, he helped out when help was needed, he gave a smile to everyone and even you. your heart melts just of the thought of seeing him again.

you checked the date it would be for your high school reunion, it was August 27th on a friday night at 7. you were excited yet a little nervous what to wear, so you immediately turned off your tv and got your bag and decided to go shopping for an outfit. once you got to the store and had already found the perfect dress, it was black, the fabric was silky, it hugged your curves, it was a little long, but you loved it. you had gotten home excited with the dress you had bought, at home you had already had some jewelry and some black shoes that would match the dress.

once the day finally came, you had already gotten your outfit ready and putting on some natural makeup look, while your hair was soft wavy look, you had gotten to the high school a little late making an entrance, some of the people didn’t even recognize you, back then in high school you were a little chubby, most of the guys didn’t pay attention to you, but now they can’t keep their eyes off of you. you were glancing around to see if you saw bucky, but sadly you couldn’t find him, so you just stood there like an absolute lost puppy, until one of the members of the old football players asked you to dance, you politely said no, but the man insisted while grabbing your hand not letting go, you had told him to let go of you’re hand. “hey, didn’t you hear her, let her go!” a familiar voice said from behind you, you turned your head to face the person, and you couldn’t believe who it was, it was bucky. “fine, but don’t get your hopes up with her, you pig.” the man said letting go of your hand, bucky then looked at his round stomach, feeling embarrassed and insecure. you hadn’t seen bucky in a long time, he had changed, he was no longer muscular like you use to, now he’s rather chubby, having chubby cheeks as well, but yet he still looked cute. “sorry about that, men can be jerks sometimes” bucky said. “oh my god, bucky?” you said with excitement giving him a hug, bucky then left your body touch his, and giving you a hug back. “yeah, it’s me.” he said giving a soft smile.

“i haven’t seen you in a long time.” you said letting go of the hug. “haven’t seen you too, you look absolutely stunning y/n.” he said looking down to you’re figure of your body, and looking up at your face. “oh my god, you actually remember me?” you said with a shocked face. “well of course, how could i forget miss lovely y/n.” bucky said letting out a little chuckle making his round cheeks blush looking down to his shoes. after that you two had caught up with each other, and how life had been going, once you two graduated from high school, and what you guys missed. you then decided to confess your feelings you used to have. “hey bucky, you know i used to have a huge crush on you back in high school.” you said while drinking some wine from the tables where some volunteers were serving. “wow, really? i used to have a crush on you too.” bucky said a little drunk. you both then looked in each other’s eyes then lips getting closer and closer, you couldn’t help, but kiss bucky, he could said the same he had been wanting that kiss as much as you did.

you pulled away from the kiss and asked bucky. “wanna take this back to my place.” bucky then nodded his head in agreement, you two arrived to your house, you finally unlocked the door, bucky grew impatient and opened the door, carried you in his arms trying to figure out where your bedroom was, once he found it, he threw you on your bed, bucky got on top of you kiss your neck, while you let out soft moans of pleasure. bucky then stopped for a second “you sure you wanna do this? with me?” he said looking down to his round belly rubbing against you. you cupped on of his cheek with your hand and said. “bucky, i’m 100% sure i wanna do this with you.” you said giving a smile. “but look at me, you really wanna do this with a fat guy?” he said feelings insecure of his body. “yes, and it’s actually a bit of a turn on for me, i like this chubby you.” you said looking at his round belly. “now do mama a favor, and be a good boy.” you said to bucky. the words that just come out of your mouth immediately made bucky hard. “was you wish.” he said as he continues kissing and worshiping your body, he then guides his hand down to your vagina and starts to curl his two fingers inside you, you moan at the way he curls his fingers. “uhhh… bucky.” you moan rolling your eyes to the back of your head, bucky then curls his fingers faster and faster. “BUCKY!” you can’t help to yell out his name, bucky stops and his fingers come out of you. “why’d you stop?” you said wanting more. “beg for me doll.” he said giving a smirk. “damn it bucky, please.. i want you so bad.” you begged him. “you want big daddy cock doll?” bucky said unzipping his pants and taking off his shirt leave him naked. “yes yes i want daddy cock.” you yelled.

bucky then smirked and his shaft slowly got in you, he thrusted his hips in and out, while grabbing one of your breasts, his round belly rubbed against you in every thrust, he noticed how you loved it. “you wanna ride it don’t you?” bucky said as you nodded your head biting your button lip. he pulled out of you and simply flipped you over leave you on top on him. “go ahead ride it.” he said looking down to his belly. you got on top of it and started to ride it, this was rather new to you, but you like it, i’m every thrust you gave you could feel bucky’s belly giggle touching your clit. you felt yourself getting wet. “feels good doesn’t it doll.” bucky said loving the view of you having pleasure. “ i want your cock bucky.” you moaned. bucky flipped you over having you on all fours pushing his shaft inside you once again, he grabs your hair for balance, as he thrusts faster and faster. “bucky?” you moaned. “yes, doll?” he said while going even harder. “i-i think i’m g-getting close to climax.” you studded moaning once again rolled your eyes up the the back of your head. “so am i doll.” bucky moans looking up. “cum on daddy cock, doll.” he moans giving faster thrusts. you finally cum on bucky’s cock. “that’s a good girl, uhhh i feel it coming doll, i’m so clos-.” he stoped his sentence with a moan as he cums inside your walls filling them up mixing both your juices together, bucky pulls out and lays by you side. “you have no idea how long i wanted to do that doll.” bucky said giving you a kiss on your cheek.





[wings-flames-and-thirium]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Word Count: 1,610

Genre: fluff & smut 

Warning(s): swearing, 18+ scene

A/N: Had this idea for a 4+1 fic (i know it’s usuylly 5+1, don’t @ me!) with Bakugou for a long time now, so here you go! 

The first time you said thank you to Bakugou was when you walked out after class one day. Finding new friends was hard, given that you just transferred from another school in the middle of the year. Apart from Kirishima and Mina, you hardly talked to anyone, except for that one blond boy who casually started to hang out with you more often. First at lunch break, sitting quietly beside you, then demanding you’ll be in a team together after he saw you fight during training, and later when you had moved into the dorms. He eventually sat next to you on the couch or hung out with you and Kirishima in the evenings. 

Bakugou was usually only just tagging along, but there was something about his body language that said “You’re not as shittty as all those other nerds”. How your occasional sessions on the couch turned into a full blown friendship was never clear to you, but you were thankful that it happened. Over time, he spent more time with you, occasionally crashing at your room to help you study. 

One day at the end of class, when you two were walking back to the dorms, you just dropped it. “Thank you, Bakugou.”

His eyes shot up at you for a moment out of shock and confusion. He wasn’t used to people treating him like this, with so much acceptance like you did. He was a harsh person, but he couldn’t deny that he seemed to have found a soft spot for you.  

“For what?” He questioned, eyes focusing back on the concrete.

“For being… my friend I guess,” you responded, your eyes darting off to look onto the ground as well.

What you missed when you did that was a ghostly smile that spread on his lips for a quick moment before falling into his usual gruff. “Whatever, dumbass”. 

His cheeks felt warm that day, and it wasn’t because of the weather.

---

The second time you said thank you to Bakugou was after he helped you out when Denki and Mineta played a “prank” on you. They decided to sneak into the locker rooms and steal your clothes without you noticing. They snuck in during training session and took them, thinking they can get away and have you going home in your undies. However, they seem to have miscalculated the timing and were surprised when you suddenly entered the changing rooms, and found them digging through your locker.

“Denki? Mineta? What the hell are you doing?!”

“She caught us! Mission abort, I repeat mission abort!” Mineta screamed and sprinted past you.The other boy followed suit with an embarrassed shriek. 

You tried to pursue the thieves but judging by the scream and an explosive sound nearby, it seemed that their escape was short lived. You ran down the corridor and around the corner only to see the two students faced by Bakugou and he was livid. 

Bakugou got Mineta by the collar, yelling “What the hell you dipshits think you’re doing?!”

Denki tried to crawl away, but not without the other blocking his way with another threatening blast.

They returned your clothes and were let off my Bakugou and you smiled. “Thank you, Bakugou”

“It was nothing,” he brushed off and slung his bag over his shoulder casually, walking away.

---

The third time you thanked Bakugou was after a fight with a villain. That time you were happy to join him at the internship, Best Jeanist chose both of you to do yours at his agency. It took a while to get used to his customs and rules, especially the hair, but Bakugou’s bickering was quite amusing and it definitely made the time more fun than exhausting. 

It was the first time you fought side by side too, when you went to stop a villain that robbed a jewelry store. You pursed her right away but ended up cornered when she  managed to get a grip on you. 

Bakugou followed you as fast as he could but he was too late and instead met by seeing you in the villain's hands, a blade held against your throat. 

“Let her go!” Were his first words. “You have the diamonds you wanted, you don’t fucking need to take a hostage too.”

The villain grinned and moved the knife closer to your skin, making tears stream down your eyes. “But this beautiful heroine isn’t any hostage, right?” She eyed  Bakugou, deviously knowing exactly how he struggled to launch in for an attack because he knew he could hurt you in the process.

If you weren’t there he would have blasted her a long time ago, but instead he gritted his teeth and went for a defensive approach. He managed to free you, the villain getting arrested by Best Jeanist. 

While the pro hero handed her over to the police, Bakugou stayed by your side. He couldn’t exactly go anywhere else since you were clinging to him, quietly sobbing a weak “thank you” into his neck.

And maybe it was the situation that you were put into danger, or maybe something else, but after this night his view on you fundamentally changed. 

---

The fourth time you said thank you to Bakugou was after you had sex for the first time. After he had been hiding and denying  his feelings for you so long, he finally gave in and confessed. 

Soon one thing led to the other and before you knew it, you laid on his bed on your back, his cock deep inside you and marks decorating your neck down to your shoulders. Bakugou grabbed your thighs harshly, hooking them over his shoulders to get a better angle. His hands roamed your body, moving them to squeeze your hard nipples from time to time. His head was buried in your neck, teeth grazing along your skin as he left another trail of marks. He didn’t care if someone saw them through your shirt. You were his and his alone.

Bakugou continued his rough pace, hitting your g-spot while his leaking tip nudged against your cervix with every thrust. You were sprawled out so submissive and obedient beneath him after just a few teasing touches, your skin beaming with his love bites and filled by his cock.

You were a moaning mess when you neard your oragsm, but Bakugou held your hips down, his teeth ghosting along your collarbone, only for him to bite down on it, leaving another bite mark there. 

His lewd sounds combined with his movements were finally enough to push you over the edge. You saw stars as your orgasm washed over you and Bakugou growled. He followed soon after, being drawn into your tight wet cunt and spurred on by your ecstatic expression. 

“Thank you,” you breathed while he slowly released his grip on you, holding himself up as he tried to catch his breath.

“Huh?” 

“For… doing this with me. For exploring these new things with me” You looked away, a blush on your cheeks. “You were my first.”

Bakugou took your chin in between his fingers, making you look up at him. He held this position for a while before, wanting to say words that wouldn’t come out. He turned red and kissed the top of your head quickly. “You were my first too.” He quietly mumbled into your hair.

---

The one time Bakugou thanked you happened long after that. You were further along in your relationship, had graduated and were now working as a successful hero duo.  You knew by now that thanking him so often is a nuisance, he knew you appreciated him and the things he did for you, even if it wasn’t many.

Bakugou was never one to say thank you, being with him for so many years, you knew, but the one time he said thank you, it took you by surprise. 

It happened when he proposed to you.

It was amidst the sparkling lights and the flowers and the waves as they danced on the ocean in the background. His friends helped him to set up the picnic, it was the perfect summer night and Bakugou finally felt ready after months of debating with himself to take this next step.

When you looked at him and your eyes sparkled the same way they did when you first thanked him, he felt his mouth going dry, his hands were trembling slightly when he took yours and got down on one knee. After all this time, your eyes never lost their spark when he looked into them. He lost himself  as he tried to convey the words he meant to say but ended up tripping over them. 

You giggled but knew what he wanted to say and you nodded, happy tears glistening in the corner of your eyes. The grin he gave you was not menacing like you were used to when you were back in school. It was genuine, relieved, happy. And after he slipped the ring on your finger and kissed you softly, the words left his mouth for the first time.  

“Thank you.” 

You stared at him with your eyes wide open, not being to believe what you just heard.

��“For accepting, I mean and… for loving me for who I am,” he mumbled as he grabbed your waist, pulling you close once again.

You knew Bakugou didn’t show gratitude often, you asked yourself if you would ever hear these two words from him in the first place, but now you just did. You guessed that there were still sides to him you didn't know of. Thankfully you would now have time to explore them with him together.

[rulerofstars]

do you write in modern!au? i have an idea about an angst of him confessing/proposing to his s/o but because they were too shocked, he thought he was being rejected and he left them, (cutting their contacts off and such) then they meet again after some time coincidentally and they got to talk about it and his s/o got to finally answer him (sorry if its too long!)

Le quattro Stagioni

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x (Fem) Reader

Genre & Warnings: Modern AU, angst, fluff, swearing, mentions of alcohol

Word count: 4,950 words

Angel: I am so sorry this took so long, anon. Thank you so much for requesting, I hope you enjoy this one. Play the songs in order upon seeing the little hearts (♡) that I’ll put, but only if you guys want. All the love.

Songs:

Two is Better than One by Boys Like Girls

Back to December by Jake Coco (or TS)

You and Me by Lifehouse

The tepidity of June danced along the slightly cool breeze that blew a few strands of your hair away from your face. Numerous messages from Hanji made your phone go almost crazy and overwhelmed by the bombardment of notifications. Several questions about what would you wear, what time will you go, or should they pick you up.

A sigh escaped your lips upon opening your apartment door, the cold feeling of being alone grazed your cheek, sending shivers down your spine even though it was summer. Walking to your room, you grabbed the makeup pouch on top of the dining table along the way, replying to your friend’s messages.

Tonight is a special one. After five long years, a highschool reunion is initiated and organized by a few of your batchmates, and the venue is at a small garden event place—where everyone experienced their first prom when in third year. Your lips formed a smile upon the memories brought by the sudden reminisce, it was your first everything.

♡

Highschool is a period where people often experience every kind of shit an individual has to go through to enjoy their teenage years. We get drunk, we smoke—well not everyone, but a majority has tried taking one drag and regretting it afterwards, we lie to our parents, we cut classes. It doesn’t always happen to everyone, and not every single person can relate, but the point is, highschool brought us to situations we never knew we could get through. It introduced us to unfamiliar feelings, it gave us the chance to quench the curiosity that formed within the depths of our minds.

It doesn’t always happen to everyone in high school, but in your case, you fell in love.

Being friends with Hanji allowed you to become one with their own circle, too. The ever so responsible Erwin, Mike, Nanaba, Moblit—Hanji’s best friend, and you didn’t know if they noticed but there’s something else in the man’s eyes whenever he stares at Hanji, and of course, Levi. . . Every single one of them had their own idiosyncrasies, and it wasn’t hard to get along with them, especially with the man with the jet-black hair and slanted eyes.

As a transferee from another school, you chose to go along their group, because being with them makes you feel at ease. They weren’t intimidating at all, Levi was, at first, but their warmth and how they welcomed you in their circle will never be forgotten by your heart.

Everyone has their own “partner in crime”, except for Erwin who could ace high school on his own, but he did help anyone who needed a hand, and because of his duties as a class president, he doesn’t always have the chance to mingle with you guys. And so every time you had afterschool shenanigans, Mike and Nanaba would have their own little world, Hanji would be blabbering their rants to Moblit, sometimes Erwin too, if he’s not too busy with his responsibilities, and you are often left with Levi. It’s not that you hated it—you never hated it.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” He asked, one day. It was three months after being friends with you when he first held your hand, just because an over-speeding car almost hit you while you were walking your way towards our house. His hand felt nice on yours, and the concern that dwelled in his eyes was enough to make your frail heart dance with the crispy, orange leaves.

It was in the final term of first year when the attraction towards him grew into a little crush and little did you know how he became more fond of you than he did with the others, too.

“Do you want me to get you soup?” The busy cafeteria was filled with hungry students, lunch time only allows you to have your break within an hour. Yes, fuck school, but thank God the canteen wasn’t so far away.

“Yep,” You answered, while waiting outside of the line as you waited for Levi to finish ordering your food while you held his bag, and the utensils.

“Go find us a chair, I’ll come to you.” His bored eyes darted onto yours, nodding his head, insisting that you should go and sit. Hanji and the others found you soon after being separated for a while, they sat anywhere but the seat in front of you. Because, it’s Levi’s spot if it is across yours, and nobody can change that.

The unexpected bond of you and him had grew into a light sense of puppy love, and you really didn’t have a clue about what you were feeling, but it did feel right, he felt right.

“Do you like Levi?” Nanaba interrogated you one time when she and Hanji had a sleepover at your house, and a sleepover isn’t one if you would not talk about crushes and such. Apparently, something is really going on in between her and Mike, and she talked about how it all began in middle school. Hanji, apparently, is too caught up with fictional creatures like Titans, and they spoke about not having time for crushes.

“Yeah, do you like him? Because he liiiikes you,” They teased and you brushed it off, avoiding the question by changing the topic immediately.

“Don’t be silly.” You laughed.

Of course, of course you did.

He is the snowflakes of your winters.

It was the autumn of sophomore, when you first went into Levi’s house, along with your friends, of course. You met his lovely mom who welcomed you warmly and cooked the nicest food you’ve ever tasted outside of your house, and then you met his uncle who acts as if he’s always drunk and calls Levi a little runt.

“Tch,” Kuchel showed you his baby pictures, and you stared at his annoyed face, picturing if he had not cut his long, dark hair. Maybe he could tie it into a manbun? “Mom, stop that.” You laughed, amused how he managed to snatch the album away from the grip of his mother as he ran towards his room while everyone giggled because of his reaction.

“That brat was never the friendly type, we’re glad you were able to adopt him to your group,” Kenny snorted. Behind his harsh words were a sense of gratitude, you knew that Levi’s uncle may appear as harsh at first, but he was kind, and you were pretty sure where Levi got his attitude from.

Kuchel patted the top of your heads before sending you off that day, thanking you for how well you treated Levi, “You take care of my son, okay?” She said, and it might have appeared as usual to others, but not to you. You’d never forget how she looked into your eyes the moment she spoke, as if she was pertaining to you.

What you thought was puppy love had bloomed into something deeper, something stronger, more serious, and bigger than the both of you.

-----

It was the spring of junior year when you first made out. His room was dimly lit, the curtains were closed, his bed was soft, his tongue on yours—and how you wrapped your arms around his neck just to pull him closer to your body.

The seasons flew by quickly, you knew how well your heart and mind begs for him, and he is well aware about how a single touch of you could make him falter. You weren’t dumb, and it wasn’t that hard to figure it out, what was hard was to admit.

“What do you feel about me?” You asked, staring into his eyes and getting lost within the ardor the dwells upon his irises whenever he looks at you. “Do you love me, Levi?”

You would never forget how his ears turned red at that moment, placing soft kisses on your face while holding you in his arms, never ready to let go. “Tch, what do you think?”

“I think you do, too.” You smiled, pressing your lips against his and closing your eyes, feeling his warm breath on your face, his long eye lashes against your skin, and the scent you’ve grown fond of for years.

His eyes trailed to the necklace he gave you at prom, tracing the cold silver chain that rested upon the smoothness of your neck, “Then why’d you ask?”

And he would never forget how your eyes gleamed when he told you that, as if every star in the universe exploded and the smithereens fell onto your face. “I’m right, then?”

“Mhm.”

“I just want to hear you say it,” You pouted, kissing on his forehead and studying the cosmos in his eyes. You have always wondered how his eyes looked so pretty whenever you stare at them, never had you noticed how it only dazzles that way just because he is looking at you.

“I am in love with you.”

And it’s just a matter of time when the both of you realized that “you and me” was meant to be an “us.”

Everyone knew about your relationship when you were in high school, you were a power couple, lowkey but sweet. You never fail to capture almost everyone’s attention whenever you do the slightest things, hold each other’s bags, when you give him your food, when you share food, when you share a smile, most especially when you took every breath away at your first dance in prom. The relationship was private, but it shook everyone’s world. You kept things to the both of you, leaving people extremely curious about it.

The graduation was emotional, almost everyone was crying while they hugged their friends. And tears were flowing from your face, too, while Hanji and the others enveloped you into a group hug.

“I’m going to miss you all, oh my God.” They cried.

“There, there, it’s okay.” Erwin shushed them, earning a glare from your brunette friend.

“Shut up! You’re lucky you’d be going to the same university as Levi and Mike!”

You shook your head at them, spotting your boyfriend and walking towards where he is. A small smile formed on his lips upon seeing you approaching.

“Hey,” You smiled, kissing his cheek. Good thing, the lipstick you’ve used is waterproof.

“We made it, huh?” He kissed your forehead, and seldom are the times that he is willing to be affectionate in public. You closed your eyes for a while and caressed his cheek gently.

“We did,” You grinned, reaching out to his palm and intertwining your fingers together. “Hold my hand?”

He let out a light chuckle, and you swore, you fell in love a bit more. “Always.”

While you are the flowers of his spring.

♡

Just like how high school was, college flew by quickly. After years of being emotionally, physically, and mentally drained, you couldn’t believe how you managed to reach the last year of suffering. You wouldn’t lie, but the pressure and the amount of knowledge you’ve compressed into your brain made you doubt yourself. The path towards reality was extremely horrifying, and you felt like you couldn’t take it. You doubted your own capabilities to the point wherein you almost didn’t believe in yourself anymore.

It was the winter of senior year when Levi asked you one question that almost made your heart stop.

The snow fell from the empyrean that day, the heater felt useless because of the extreme cold that crept upon the spaces of your apartment. Your boyfriend was there while you burned your eyebrows trying to work on your final requirement.

You wouldn’t lie if you would say that the stress that had been introduced to the both of you didn’t put a space between him and you. Numerous quarrels have made you stronger, but this. . . it was as if you’re aware that you are drifting apart, and you weren’t doing anything about it, and fuck how it scared you. You wouldn’t lie if you were to say that the love wasn’t as warm as it used to, it wasn’t as fluttery as before, and you understood that it could be because of college. But the thought of letting go of the man that you love just because you are so damn scared of opening up teared your heart to pieces, and so you made your mind.

“C-can we talk?” You asked, approaching Levi who sat on your couch while scrolling through his phone. He nodded, standing up and following you to the dining table where all of your papers and laptop sat, while you shivered underneath the sweater that you stole from him.

“I have to tell you something,” Your hands gripped the hem of the sweater tight, while your boyfriend lean against the backrest of the chair.

“Yeah, me too.” The coldness of his voice added to the ice that formed because of the freezing weather. Was he this cold or were you not used to anymore?

“I-”

“Marry me.”

The ice struck your core like a billow enraged with fury and no mercy. You couldn’t speak nor react as your stared at him while time remained suspended in the frost. Your mind could not process his question, and confusion glazed your eyes while your heart pounded like crazy. The grip of your hand against the hem of the sweater weakened while you couldn’t believe what you just heard.

You thought he’s calling it off. You thought he was going to break up with you, you fucking thought you were done. But you are so taken aback that you can’t even talk. You sat frozen until seconds turned into minutes. You were sandwiched in the conundrum of stress, pressure, anxiety, and doubt.

“I see,” The words that left his mouth struck you in a different way as you watched his body walk out of your apartment. You wanted to scream, to punch yourself, to hurt yourself for not being able to function. You are trembling, but not because of the cold. A part of your soul shivered upon trying to understand what just happened.

“O-oh, my God.” You whispered, rushing outside without even bothering to put on more clothing. Winter’s kiss felt like a ghost on your skin as you sat in the middle of your snow-coated staircase, seeing how he had already gone.

Trepidation slowly crushed your heart as hot tears trickled from your eyes, down your face. Realization crept in the depths of your system as you understood that what caused you to be terrified never involved anything about the future, you’re not crying because he left, because whenever he does, he always comes back to you. What scared you the most, was how he felt before leaving. It felt like goodbye.

-----

The summer dress fitted your body perfectly, putting on a small smile while staring at yourself in the mirror. After some time, you finally finished getting ready. Pink stained your juicy lips, and you topped it off with a gloss. A spritz of perfume, earrings, mascara, everything felt like complete but deep inside, you knew that something was missing.

Your eyes darted on your neck, that is why, feeling nothing around your neck was weird, because you were so used to wearing the necklace that he gave you back when you were in high school. Sighing, you found yourself opening one of your drawers and taking out the necklace once again, you never threw it away, how could you? You just stopped wearing it. Cold and pretty, it sat on your skin. It never looked weary despite how old it was, because you took good care of it. You took good care of the presents Levi gave you.

Memories of how you broke down and how Hanji and Nanaba hugged you so tight while you sat in the middle of Levi’s empty apartment tore a piece of your heart once again. How you begged Erwin and Mike to help you with finding Levi, but they were clueless, too. It hurt so much, he left without a word, cut everything off, he was gone in the wind, and never in your life had you been so confused, so hurt, desperate for answers, desperate for chances.

Before thoughts of him could fill your mind, you forced yourself to think of something else. It has been six months since then, but you would be lying if you were to say that you don’t miss him. Because in reality, you fucking do.

A doorbell woke you out of your daze, “Coming!” You shouted, double-checking everything before heading out the door. Various thoughts filled your mind upon seeing the staircase that was once buried in deep, white, snow.

“Come in, girl!” Nanaba shouted from the backseat, and you smiled upon seeing their bright faces. In the front was Mike, and Moblit’s in the passenger seat, Hanji and Nanaba sat next to each other in the backseat, squishing you in a tight hug once you got in. You missed this so much, it has been so long. You never imagined that you could cherish a friendship like this, one that could last long. One that is worthwhile.

The garden is filled with various decorations inspired by the summer. Flowers of different kinds greeted your vision, every decoration turned the same, old, and boring venue into a decent one. You smiled at every familiar face you’ve encountered with, grinning awkwardly whenever they asked you about Levi, and your heart ache. You sought for answers, and they were never given to you.

“Where’s Erwin?” You were curious about the blonde man’s whereabouts, he’s probably busy with work. He immediately got into a company after graduating. You were in their graduation, and Levi wasn’t there. Thoughts of how you panicked that day filled your mind once again, how you cried to Erwin and Mike, telling them how you’ve ruined Levi’s life. But they were comforting, telling you how the man could have transferred when in the final semester in the last minute. Still, everything’s just a possibility, you didn’t know.

Hanji scrolled through their phone, “Probably late because he’s busy,” They answered, looking at you to check if you are okay. Their hand caressed  the exposed skin of your shoulder, sending comforting warmth to fight against the cold of the night. “I’m sorry if everyone’s asking about. . .” They trailed off, and you smiled at them, assuring them that it is okay, even though it’s not. How the fuck will it be okay?

Nanaba hugged you from the side while you were sitting, you leaned your head against their shoulder, letting a few tears fall from your pretty eyes.

“I’m sorry, it’s just how they knew you. . .” She whispered, caressing your back, “You’re (Y/N) of Levi.” A bitter laugh escaped your mouth as you chewed on your bottom lip.

“Hey, don’t talk like that,” You giggled, forcing the tears to stop. Mike handed you a glass of water that he fetched from the mobile bar, and you thanked him, carefully drinking from the cup. “Thank you, for being with me.”

“Always.”

Everyone had fun with games and such, the food was great, you had to go back to the buffet table two times, not minding your diet for the night. It was in the middle of the program when Erwin came, nodding at the men and hugging you girls.

“What did I miss?”

“Everything, dude. Where the fuck did you came from? Narnia?”

The spotlight is suddenly on Erwin, shocking the man who is currently eating the food Moblit got for him while he was gone, the Microphone person, Oluo, decided to interrogate Erwin, being the class valedictorian of your batch. People laughed when he was forced to take one shot of pure tequila before making a short speech first. You weren’t sure if Erwin was one of those who organized the event, but he did told you that he was added into a groupchat by a person from another section—you think Nile was the name.

Erwin was indeed, super late when you realized that it is time to for the most fun part of every prom you had in high school—the party portion. The man ate first before he joined your group’s rowdy-ass partying, you had fun as if you were back in your teenage years, except, you had unlimited alcohol this time. You’re pretty sure that either Hanji or Mike would come home late because those two doesn’t know the word limit.

Amidst the part where everyone’s being wild, from disco music to cheesy ones that you actually danced to when you were. . .

♡

A few couples filled the dancefloor, as others went to the mobile bar, ready to get drunk. It was one of your favorite love songs which played, as if it’s mocking you for not having your long-time partner. It’s mocking you for being single, fuck, you don’t even know if you are single or not.

Your boys formed a circle, they always do this every time a sweet song plays from the blasting speakers, mimicking a cotilion, but jumping to the part where everyone switches partners by forming a circle. You get partnered with Mike first, making funny faces to him like how you used to when you were young, and as he twirled you around, you found your self in the gentleman’s arms—Moblit, he told you how pretty you looked as he let you spin, passing you onto Erwin.

His eyes darted on the necklace on your neck, smiling upon the sight of the familiar jewelry, “You look beautiful tonight,” He told you, swaying you along the rhythm of the music. Your lips formed a slight smile, knowing that the reason of his stare is because of the necklace. “Don’t even think about teasing me, Erwin I swear I’ll punch-”

“Woah, easy there, I won’t do that to you.” He laughs at your glare, this man is probably drunk, you thought. While the two never knew their limits, Erwin’s a fucking weakling when it comes to alcohol. He twirled you around with so much force that you ended up not being catched by Mike and so you closed your eyes and braced yourself for the impact, but you didn’t fall.

Warm hands caught your frail body, whoever it was wrapped their hands around you, and between the the searing touches of this stranger, you felt yourself froze, feeling the familiarity of the unfamiliar touch. The clean, musk scent that had you enticed and whipped for years is recognized by your system.

There’s something about you now. . .

His warm hands embraced you like he used to while you get lost within the music that you first danced to.

I can’t quite figure out.

“I missed you.” He whispered, and you couldn’t open your eyes. You buried your faces within his chest, and how you also fucking missed it.

While various emotions filled your core, the tears that failed to escape your eyes before the party started, found their way back into your tear ducts. You didn’t know what to feel, how to feel, what to think, you are once again clueless while you let yourself drown within his touch.

Everything she does is beautiful.

But one thing is for sure.

Everything she does is right.

You are glad that he’s back.

He is the chill that makes you shiver when autumn comes by.

“F-fuck you. . .” You cried, sobbing onto his shirt and gripping onto the fabric. Levi’s hands caressed your back, pressing you closer, harder onto his chest. Fury crept upon every crevice of your heart, but you can’t let him go, you’re scared to let him go.

The love that you have for this man is so tremendous, that you can’t stand to hate him. Slowly, you felt yourself being pulled away from the crowd of dancing couples, distance made the music sound so soft, and the only sound that blasted you to bits was the sound of your heart beats with his.

“I hate you, I fucking hate you, how dare you—how fucking dare you!” Your fists came in contact with his hard chest, the feelings you have kept to yourself for six fucking months blasted like a waterfall. The force was too much, and you let yourself get carried out. Just this once.

His soft eyes never left your tipsy state, you were perfect. Still perfect.

Levi gladly took every punch you threw, every curse you spat, every slap you gave, because nothing could ever deny the fact that he deserved it. He was so fucking dumb, as Erwin and Mike told him.

“Leaving after proposing? Are you a sick fuck? Who does that?”

He received words from his friends after knowing what happened between the both of you. Curses, advices from Erwin, words from Hanji, the disapproval of Moblit, Mike’s punches, Nanaba’s disbelief.

“How d-dare you leave me! Y-you told me you won’t leave me. Fuck you, I-I love you. . .why did you leave me. . . Y-you know that I hate it when you leave me.” You sobbed, not knowing if you should continue hurting him or if you should go and hug him.

Levi’s lips pressed softly against your forehead, holding you tight, under the unforgiving solstice of the night.

“I almost failed my major. . .” He whispers, hugging the vulnerable you, while he buried half of his face onto the crook of your neck. And fuck, how he had missed this, how he fucking missed everything about you. “I never told you, because I know how anxious you were. . . I don’t want to become a burden.”

Your breathing was unsteady as you choked on words you could never say because of what he just said, your grip on his shirt tightened as you felt more tears streaming down your pretty face.

“I felt us drifting apart. . .and fuck, it scared me, (Y/N),” He paused, breathing deeply and running his fingers through your hair. “And when you asked if we could talk, I thought you wanted us done. So I asked you to marry me.”

His warm hands found their way to caress your tear-soaked face as he brought his face closer to yours, staring deeply into your eyes. “And I really wanted to marry you, baby. Fuck, I even had the shitty ring with me that time. . .” He gulped, biting his lip upon seeing the pain in your eyes. He could feel how fast your heart beats, he could feel the ache you’ve gone through for six months. “But I freaked out, And I really thought I. . . I already lost you.” He closed his eyes, he couldn’t bare seeing you cry because of him again.

“Erwin told me that I don’t deserve you, and I realized that really fucking don’t.” The cold wind kissed your skin, contrasting the heat that his body radiates. Steel grey eyes you have fell in love with years ago and until now darted on the silver necklace that sat pretty on your skin, and how it made his heart pound faster that it does. “But I am in love with you. . . The six fucking months, I’ve spent all of it trying to make myself a better man for you.”

His eyes, the gloss that reflected the beauty of the moon stared into yours once again. It’s been a while since you’ve seen the way his eyes look more pretty whenever you stare at him, because it has been a while since he last saw you.

“And whatever decision you are going to make, I will accept.” He whispered, pressing a soft kiss on your tear-stained face once again. “I am in love with you.” A small smile formed on his lips, as if he was already assuming that you’d leave him, and you hated that smile, you hated everything.

As if you fucking could.

“Marry me.” You muttered.

Gone was the fragility that dwelled upon your starry eyes, every doubt, every question, every ounce of fear that once settled deep inside your heart vanished along every meteor that crashed into the abyss of nothingness. Gone was the hate, gone was everything else except for the both of you.

‘Cause it’s you and me, and all of the people, and I don’t know why, I can’t keep my eyes off of you.

He nodded at you, speechless upon your sudden question. And he knew that this is right, he is sure. He is sure of you.

“I’m sorry.” His kisses sent butterflies and made you grew flowers on every inch of your body as he carefully slipped a ring on your ring finger. “I will make it up to you.” His words are coated with finality, and your heavy-lidded eyes felt warm once again, his slender fingers wiped the corner of your eyes before the tears could stain your face once more.

“D-don’t you leave me again.” You choked, admiring the ring that he got you. It fitted perfectly on your finger, just like how your hand fits perfectly with his.

“I’ll stay with you, always.”

“I never stopped loving you, Levi.” Your soft voice was melody to his ears, as the summer night reminded you both of how everything started. How you first met, how you first held hands, how you slowly fell in love, how you first made love, how you both thanked the cosmos for leading you to each other’s arms.

“I’ll never not love you.”

And you will always be the warmth that completes his every summer.

[asterroidd]

sho the todorki

↬ pairing: shouto todoroki x reader

↬ synopsis: you like him, he likes you. the problem? sho's in the friend zone and so it's up to mina, the resident match maker, and company to give you guys a lil push.

alternatively: sho being a dork, hence the title

↬ warning/s: profanity lol, a lot of second hand embarrassment, two insufferable idiots, idk if this is too ooc of shouto but just take this dorky version of him

↬ note: a fic dedicated to @puredivinity​ that serves as a welcome gift for joining the sho simp club. luv u mara despite all the cursed images i send

    Class 3-A has four unspoken rules:

    Number one: never play music out loud beyond 8 pm (tried and tested by Denki himself, got blown up by Bakugo)

    Number two: don't leave your room at 2 am or a certain grape pervert would harass you

    Number three: refrain from mentioning crocs to Kirishima. Just don’t.

    And number four: never tell you or Shouto that both of you like each other (just for the sake of entertainment)

    It had become customary to not break these four rules or those who dare break it is rumored to have a thousand year duration of bad luck to be passed down generation after generation.

    That said, Mina was fed up with the mutual pining you and Shouto clearly exhibit. For two years she watched both of you shy and fluster with one another. His face beet red while you a fumbling mess. Truly a sight to behold. It was like watching a romance movie in real time, but without the stupid opening track. 

    At first she thought it was cute, it all started one morning during her first year in U.A. You forgot your jacket that day after waking up late and thus have to rush to get on time. Aizawa would have your head if you weren't there in homeroom. So in your idiocy and frantic state, you forgot most of the essential stuff and that includes, of course, a warm jacket.

    Mina watched as Shouto stared at you from across the room.  With tense shoulders as his gaze constantly drift from your form to his jacket. Her mouth curled upwards, interested with the current situation. It was not every day one could see the infamous Todoroki Shouto so nervous.

    She eagerly kept her attention on him, watching as Shouto got up from his seat and slowly made his way to you with shaky legs. Shouto, barely uttering a word, shoved his jacket to you and rushed back to his seat. At that moment, Mina already knew something was blossoming between you and him.

    And so it basically became her life mission to make sure you and Shouto end up with one another. She made the promise two years ago, and yet here you both were, two dorks that has a crush on each other but couldn't confess even if the world ends that very moment.

    Was it difficult to watch? Yes.

   It took all of Mina's entire being to not push his head into yours. She knows the consequences if one breaks the fourth rule. Two years had already pass and graduation is around the corner, she refuses to accept that both of you aren't a couple. As Class 3-A's resident cupid and match maker, she is more than determined to make sure you and him both end up together. Mina would not be inherently breaking rule number four, just gonna give you guys a lil' push with the help of a friend. And that friend is one that possesses an electrification quirk.

    "Okay, what do we tell (____) tomorrow?" Denki asked.

    Shouto looked over his written notes one last time before nodding and giving his answer, "I'll ask them if they want to have coffee."

    "Good! Make sure to?"

    "I'll make sure to keep eye contact and. . ." he halted, going over his notes once more. "And make sure that I'm smiling."

    Denki flashed him a grin. Clasping a hand around his shoulder and lightly patting it afterwards. "Now, don't forget the lesson I've taught you today. It is important that your date goes smoothly with (____)."

    Shouto eagerly nodded, stars dancing in his eyes. His heart clamored inside his chest, beating in a quick tempo comparable to that of allegro. Sweat accumulated on his palm, in which Shouto then hastily wiped it on his shirt. Despite nervousness bubbling inside his stomach, Shouto admits that he is excited to ask you out.  "Do you really think (____) and I would be a great couple?"

    "Of course, dude! Right, Mina?" Denki turned to his friend. She gave him two thumbs-up, giving fuel to Shouto's confidence for tomorrow's event.

    Now that Denki is done giving him an hour-long lesson about asking you out and things to do in a date, Mina was sure everything would go smooth as butter. Like, what could go wrong? Despite Shouto being a dork and foreign to the concept of love, he still has that natural charm that had some swooning for him.

    Though, she spoke all too soon.

    Mina facepalmed, dragging her palm across her face as Shouto stood frozen before you. She and Denki should've seen this coming.

    "(____)," he started, his voice cracking at the end. Suddenly the discoloration and grime in between the cracks of the wall looks interesting. He kept looking everywhere but you.

    You tilted your head to the side, "What's up, Sho?"

    Heavens above, Shouto loves that nickname.

    The male fiddles with the ends of his shirt, his tongue twisting and throat closing which makes it hard to speak. After class had ended, Shouto came up to you asking if he could talk to you somewhere private. He led you to the area behind the gym where no students are on sight. Well, that is except for Mina and Denki who closely followed behind to make sure Shouto wouldn't mess up his chance. The two stayed low, making sure they are well hidden behind the bush nearby.

   This was now the moment; the perfect chance for Shouto to ask you out after practicing his lines over and over again. It was a simple question: ‘Do you want to have coffee with me this weekend if you are free?”

   Should be easy enough right?

    "I- well- uhh. . ." he scratched the area behind his ear. "D-do you maybe want to free?"

    Shouto paled, he'd done messed up.

    "Wait that's wrong—" he took a deep breath. "Are you coffee this weekend?"

    Really? Really Shouto?

    "Shit— wait! Coffee this free??"

    Can someone take this lost child away?

    Denki bit his inner cheek, hands tugging his hair from second hand embarrassment. He had fate on him; had fate that Shouto had rehearsed enough the night before in asking you out. Guess he was wrong.

    "What do you mean by that?" you voiced out. You were beyond puzzled, unsure what to make of the situation. First he asks to speak with you in private, now he's a stuttering mess. Could it be that he's confessing? Asking you out?

    Your heart quickened at the thought. You were ready to say 'yes'.

    "What I mean is uhh. . ." Shouto wished he has his written notes. "Are you weekend for this coffee?"

    "YES!!" you shout without thinking.

    Wait, what? Hold up.

    "Aight, I'm forcing these two to kiss each other." Mina announced. That’s it. She lost hope for the both of you. You and Shouto need professional help. She adjusted her position, ready to get up and intervene. That is until Denki lay a heavy hand on her shoulder.

    "Wait," he motioned his head to you. Mina huffed, sitting down once more.

    "Sho. . ." you start, a soft smile on your face.

    "Y-yes?" damn, Shouto is such a stuttering mess.

    "Do you want to grab a coffee this weekend? I mean, if you are free?"

    He blinked, your words slowly being registered in his brain. There was a buffer, like an old computer processing 10 kilobyte worth of data. His brain was stuck on 78% in the progress bar. Then, it dawned on him; the cogs and gears turning. It took a full minute for Shouto to understand. "I-. . .I’d love to!" he managed to stutter out.

    Welp, at least that did the job. Denki and Mina released a sigh of relief. High-fiving each other despite the obvious fact that Shouto failed his task.

    But hey, beggars can't be choosers. All's well, ends well.

    You can't believe it.

    You have a date with Shouto. THE Todoroki Shouto. The guy you've had a crush on since your first year in UA. The one that swept you right off your feet the moment you laid your eyes on him. The friend that always had your back. With him struggling to ask you earlier, could it mean that he likes you more than a friend?

    You let out a squeal, pressing the pillow flush against your chest. In total, you've replayed the scene from memory for over fifty times already. You couldn't even concentrate in doing your homework. So you thought instead of doing your responsibilities, you opted to celebrate by screaming and running around your room in glee.

   It wasn't everyday you'd get a douse of serotonin.

   You’ve waited for this day since forever. Day dreaming about Shouto being your significant other; holding hands with him, wrapping your arms around his torso, and kissing his lips.

   The thought brought forth another pterodactyl squeal from you.

   Oh gods, what would you wear? Should it be casual? Semi-formal? Formal?

   A wedding dress??

   No one told you a date was this stressful. You groaned, prying opening your wardrobe cabinet to quickly plan out an outfit. You can’t afford to look stupid and, dare you say, cheap when you’re on a date with the most sought after male in UA.

   Meanwhile, Shouto is also panicking.

   “Look man, you messed up once but that’s okay!” Denki cheered him up. “Experience is the best teacher.”

   “I know but. . .” Shouto took one deep breath, burying his face in his hands. “I-. . .I just froze up the moment I was in front of them.”

   “And that’s normal!”

   The moment you and Shouto parted ways, the male immediately went to Denki for some follow up consultation. Sure, he can fight villains face-to-face without batting an eye. Could freeze half of his enemies without a drop of sweat. Unleash an inferno of fire to defeat his oponent. Tolerate a bunch of fans shoving cameras up his face to get a close-up picture.

   But Todoroki Shouto, for the love of god, couldn’t ask you out without freezing in place and become a stuttering mess.

   “Lighten up man!” Denki nudged his shoulder. “Unleash the tiger inside you.”

   “But I don’t have a tiger inside me. That would be anatomically incorrect.”

   “Look—that’s not the—. . .what I mean is—uhh. . .nevermind. . .” the blond struggled with his words. He had to be careful with what advice he throw at Shouto. That man takes things way too literately. “What I mean is, toughen up. Have confidence on yourself. You’ll have (____) falling for you before you knew it.”

   Which will be easy since (____) is a simp for him, Denki thought.

   Shouto raised his fist then clenched it, determination washing over him. He gave one brief nod to his mentor (that is the personification of Pikachu).

   He can do it. Todoroki Shouto could do it.

   He’d go over his lines a thousand times before the date. He’d make sure he is 110% prepared before the weekend. Denki had made a dent in his schedule just to tutor him how to make you fall in love with him. Shouto wouldn’t let this go to waste.

   Yes, this man is prepared and is on a mission he couldn't possibly fail.

   Scratch that, Shouto’s a mess.

   He pulled the end of his sleeves, his legs bouncing up and down. The male bit the inside of his cheeks, was the weather hot or was it just his insides burning up. Shouto couldn’t sleep the night before, his mind kept him up. It was like 17 browser tabs are open, with three of them frozen, and he doesn’t know where the music is coming from.

   Due to the jitters getting the best of him, Shouto arrived at the agreed destination. . .two hours earlier than what was expected.

   Which wasn’t a problem anyway, since you did the same.

   You huffed, doubling over and placing your hands on your knees. You had ran from your house all the way to the cafe just to make sure you weren't late this time. In attempts to catch your breath, you’ve failed to notice your date standing just a few feet away from you. The minute Shouto laid his eyes on you, fire sparked deep within his heart. Someone pinch him and tell this wasn’t a dream.

   “(____),” he walked close to which startled you.

   “Sho! You-. . . you’re early!”

   “So are you. . .”

   Then silence fell between both of you. Talk about awkward. Who’s idea was it to get these two idiots in a date? If anything, both of you should’ve just left it on mutual pining and save it as a story for the grandchildren.

   Shouto cleared his throat, hands scratching the back of his neck. “Well, since we’re both early. Why won’t we enter the café?”

   You nodded, your voice box failing you. Inwardly, you were screaming your heart out. The embarrassment was just too much for you to handle. You doubt that Shouto would want a second date at this point.

   And so you lagged behind him, keeping a feet distance away from the male. You have a hard time looking at him without making a mess for yourself. Blood rushing your cheeks, it was hard to ignore the butterflies fluttering inside your stomach.

   The café was quite small. A handful of potted plants hung outside, the store’s name written in calligraphy, and a few customers visible from the window. The establishment was newly built, Ochako introduced it to you about a week ago. The cheesecake they sell is to die for—it was definitely worth the hefty price.

   A small chime went off as Shouto opened the door. Then it hit you; the strong smell of coffee. You were not a big fan of the beverage, but you’ve got to admit that the scent was pleasant. Without prior warning, Shouto lightly held your hand in his. His thumb gliding over the back of your hand a few times. You took in a sharp inhale, eyes widening at his gesture.

   This is what they do in dates right? Shouto recalled his notes.

   So this is like a DATE date?? Not a friendly date? Somebody pinch me right now, you thought.

   “We should find a table,” he spoke, eyes refusing to make contact with yours. You’ve managed to stutter out an agreement, too occupied with the feeling of his hands. It was so warm—just the way you imagined it throughout the years.

   You could finally die now in peace. Goodbye cruel world.

   Soon enough, you and he are situated on a table near the window. Neither of you dare start a conversation, because god forbid another awkward interaction. Years worth of watching romance series could have never prepared you for such an instance. You wished you should’ve consulted some of your classmates—especially those who have experience in the topic of dating—before coming here yourself. You could try and message them, but you wondered if it would be rude to pull out your phone and ignore Shouto. No, you wouldn’t take the chance.

   “Uh- So how are you, (____)?” he asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

   “Oh, uhhh—. . .” how does one even speak again? “I’m doing well, I guess. . .?”

   That was lame, (____). Lame.

   “How about you?”

   Shouto was silent, you figured he didn’t hear you so you repeated yourself once again. All the while not looking at his direction. It would be better if you don’t see his face or you’ll turn into a puddle of mess.

   But seconds seem to drag to minutes, and that got you concerned.

   “Sho—“ you cut yourself short, realizing that he was staring at you with a lovestruck expression. He looks at you rather softly, like how one would look at a small pet one happens to cross by while walking. The way Shouto kept his gaze at you made you insecure. Was there something on your face? Hair? Shirt? Oh gods, did you smell?

   You wished that, right then and there, the earth would swallow you whole.

   “Sorry I was just. . .” he faltered in his sentence, gulping down his saliva. Shouto then turned his head to the side, a blush ever so present on his cheeks as well as the tips of his ears.

   "Sorry, you're just—just so cute in that outfit that I can’t help but stare."

   His voice was quiet, barely a whisper but you heard it, ironically, loud and clear. Your hand found its way on your mouth, blood rushing to your cheeks as a result of his compliment.

   “Tha-thank you. . .” you’ve managed to croak out, looking down and fiddling with your nails.

   Just. WOW. You can’t believe it. Never once did Shouto commented on your appearance throughout the duration of your friendship with him. What he did was just. . .just so unexpected from him. You find it hard to believe yourself.

   All these years, you’ve hidden your feelings for him. Trapped it inside a chest and swallowed the key yourself. Him falling for you is comparable to that of pigs flying; it was impossible to happen. Yet both of you sat there, like two dorks, a blushing mess while refusing to make eye contact with one another. For once, maybe this time, you could tell him how you feel.

   “I like you. . .” you voiced out your thoughts. It took you a minute to realize what you've done. You let out a small gasp and directed your attention to Shouto. He was also looking at you, baffled. He went silent, his jaw went slack, and eyes wide open, trying to find the words to reply.

   Oh boi, did you made a mistake?

   “(__—“

   “BECAUSE YOU’RE MY FRIEND!” Your jaw tightened, declaring it all too loudly just in case he rejects you. “I like you because you’ve been a good friend to me.”

   You hope you were doing this right.

   Unbeknownst to you, Shouto felt his heart break into two after hearing your added comment. His shoulders slumped down, sadness clouded his features.

   “I. . .I see. . .” he muttered. “I like you too,” he said after a pregnant pause.

   Your whole face lit up. Now it was your turn to look at him with a baffled expression. There was a twinkle in your eye, is this it? The moment of your life?

   “Because you’re my precious friend.” Shouto plastered a smile on his face.

   Oh. Welp, Mina and Denki tried.

   RIP to both of you, forever pushing the other in the friend zone.

ya’ll want a bakugo version of this? (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) ✧

[thran-duils]

Was Ich Liebe (P.3, Final)

Title: Was Ich Liebe (Part Three, Final) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Tony Stark.  Tony becomes enamored with a stripper at a club his hedonistic friend Thor owns. A casual sexual relationship quickly becomes possessive and the reader sees more of the underground mafia life than she would like to. The cherry on top is that Tony is married and so is she. Him to a woman who has no intention of losing her throne at any cost and the reader to a deadbeat alcoholic. Feeling trapped by both her previous life and the suffocating hold Tony is trying to put on her, the reader steals away in the night, which is not going to go over well. Words: 4,647 Warnings (for whole fic, more may be added): Dub-con, smut, infidelity, stripping, vaginal fingering, public sex, possessive behavior, angst, degradation kink, violence, physical abuse, domestic violence, language, drug use, alcoholism, death Warnings for this chapter: Mention of abortion! Author’s Note: As usual, this is 18+.

Part Two || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Tony was calling. He must have gone to the apartment and found you gone by now, especially since you had not been answering him via text or by phone. You sent him to voicemail letting your music start again. You had rented a car to drive away from the city.

The jewelry he had given you came in handy to get cash that you were using for gas and hopefully a down payment on an apartment somewhere. Stripping joints were abundant, and you were sure if you found a sizable city, you would find work without an issue. You were thinking about Milwaukee. It was far enough away from NYC and there was a college there too.

Your phone beeped with another voicemail from him. Signing, against your better judgment, you reached forward to press play, it coming over the car’s speakers.

He was pissed. Unsurprisingly. He had been tight on the last one he had left, wound up that you were not answering him. But this was a whole different level. He was practically shouting.

“This better be a goddamn joke, Y/N. My patience is already up with it though. Did you think I wouldn’t notice you had snuck out? Where the fuck is all the jewelry? Huh? Your clothes? If I find out you left and you’re cheating on me, I’m gonna kill them.”

You did not doubt him when he said that. And he confirmed he was at the apartment if he noticed your stuff was gone.

“And were you planning on telling me about the pregnancy?” Your eyes widened and then you swore remembering you had not emptied the trash in the bathroom. “Or were you just gonna keep that to yourself? Listen very carefully to me, if you do something drastic, I’m not gonna be nice about it. Not in the fucking slightest. You best believe that and take that to heart! Don’t be fucking stupid! Call. Me. Back.”

The voicemail ended.

Yes. The pregnancy. You were already thinking about which office you could go to. You had left a note for Thor about quitting and you wondered how quickly your health insurance was going to stay in place. Before after leaving a job, it had stayed on until the end of the month, but you were unsure, and you were not about to call him and ask. An appointment at a clinic though, that was something you needed to deal with quickly. You were sure there was a facility you could find when you got yourself established.

<><><>

“You’re a psychopath,” Carol said to Tony, smirking.

She was watching him put up security cameras around Y/N’s apartment, hidden from the normal eye with his technology. And when he had taken the lock apart on her door to install tech he could control himself from his cell, she had shook her head.

“I prefer creative,” Tony responded, as he tested it out. It worked perfectly. “Little bitch isn’t going to be leaving without trying extra hard.”

<><><>

You found a hotel in Columbus. You made sure to put a chair underneath the door handle on top of using both locks. It was scary to be traveling alone. And especially when you did not know the area.

The next morning, you woke up to another voicemail from Tony. You had reached over to silence it while you were sleeping, knowing damn well who would be calling you at 2:30am.

He sounded sloshed.

“Do you remember me telling you I was never going to let you go? Cause I said it multiple times. That hasn’t changed, Y/N. It’s been almost 24 hours since you answered to me!” Slip up there with that ‘to’ added in. “It’s really fucking frustrating, and you know goddamn well I don’t like being frustrated. It’s…you’re being disrespectful!” There was a slight pause and you heard him take a drink. He let out a humorless laugh. “You won’t run away from me. I’m going to find you.”

He hung up.

Hearing how mad he was, your stomach was twisting. He was not a man that liked to be thwarted or feel like he was being disrespected. Not to mention that he was a fucking mafia member. If he got his hands back on you, he was not going to be kind. And the time he told you he would never hurt you would be tested, you worried.

Why did you let yourself get so far involved with such a dangerous, jealous man? Again?

Forcing yourself to get up from the bed, you went to take a shower to try to relax in the hot water. Afterward, you walked across the street to the coffee shop. You wanted to get on the road again to put some more distance between you and NYC and ultimately between you and him.

<><><>

You drove around the edge of UW-Milwaukee, stealing glances at the campus. A city like this with a college surely had good clientele for the clubs.

Pulling over and parking, you opened your phone beginning to search for an apartment and a job. There had to be an abundance of apartments available around the college since it was summer and a class had just graduated.

<><><>

He kept calling and kept calling. He was not going to stop. It had been two weeks. You had been trying to convince yourself to answer him and tell him to leave you alone and that it was over. You thought about changing your number and you would, but after the conversation you needed to have.

Piqued, you answered, “Tony, I’m busy—"

“Oh, you’re busy? So busy you couldn’t fucking answer me? Over the last two weeks, you’ve been ‘busy’. Too busy for me? That’s hilarious! You should have your own fucking stand up show.” His tone was dripping with condescension.

Sighing, you said, “I’m getting ready for work! This needs to be quick.”

“Work?” Tony chuckled darkly. “Now you care about work? You fucked Thor over by quitting on the spot. How were you even able to get a reference?”

“I danced. That was reference enough.”

“Of course you did. Of course you’re stripping. Where are you?”

“I’m not going to tell you, Tony!”

“Y/N, baby,” he started, sounding like it was taking everything in him to keep his voice even. “If you just apologize and tell me where you are or just come back, I’ll be able to let this go easier. You can come back to me, and it’ll all be okay.”

You mustered out a strong, “No! I am not going to do that.”

His leash was back off. “Why are we playing this stupid game, Y/N? I can handle you being bratty — cause I love fucking it out of you — but this is really pushing me over the edge!”

“I’m not being a brat! You were suffocating me!”

“Suffocating you? I worship you!” He was so easily able to confuse his possession with love. He continued on irritated, “I shower you with gifts! I make sure you’re well taken care of! I’ve treated you better than anyone else has! And you’re coming at me like this? What is your fucking problem, Y/N? What? Is being on the phone instead of in person giving you some fake confidence? Don’t think I’m not keeping track of this ungrateful bullshit just because you’re not standing in front of me!”

He was quickly losing his temper. You had never made him this mad, had never pushed back.

You were shaking as you tried to stand up for yourself, “I’m not the one with a problem! I didn’t force you to move anywhere or—"

Tony interrupted you furiously. “Do you understand how much that apartment cost? How much that car cost? You barely drove it!”

Frustrated he was steam rolling you as usual. you said fighting to keep tears back, “Sell it then!”

“If that was supposed to be a joke, it was an awful one. This shit isn’t fucking funny, Y/N! When I find out where you are, I’m gonna drag you back by your goddamn hair!”

“Good luck!” you spat, it slipping out before you really thought about it. Your eyes widened at what you had just done, and you quickly hung up as he started to snarl something back.

He was immediately calling you back and you sent him to voicemail again.

<><><>

Tony let out an aggravated shout, throwing his phone down on the desk when she did not answer him back.

Good luck was right.

She had stayed on the line long enough to give him time to trace her down to the general area. Milwaukee. Near the university. He would find her, and he was gonna find her quick with getting eyes on the ground to spot her leaving her place wherever that was in the area. And she was not going to like it when he came knocking to collect her.

<><><>

The bag from the closest grocery store was heavy with groceries for the week. You had returned the rental car when you signed your lease, able to use the bus system until you bought your own car.

You noticed there was a man watching you across the street and you slowed in your pace, narrowing your eyes. He did not look away and you swallowed sharply before resuming your pace. You felt like you could still feel his eyes on the back of your head. You had felt like there had been eyes on you earlier this morning too. A foreboding feeling was creeping; you wanted to get inside and quick.

Entering your apartment, you kicked the door closed and struggled to lock it immediately. The bag crunched as you walked over to the kitchen and placed it on the counter.

You put the few groceries away and walked around the counter, tearing your shirt off and tossing it on the back of one of your chairs. It was hot since you were on the third floor and you had not been able to buy an air conditioner yet.

“This place is a shithole.”

You screamed, startled at the voice, whipping around, your eyes searching wildly.

Tony was sitting in the end of your bed in your room.

He had surprisingly not called you for the last few days, not after the conversation the two of you had. Not hearing from him had set you on edge just as much as him calling you did. You knew he was not going to give up easily and the silence was a trap if you fell into it thinking that it was done.

Your eyes flicked to the door, and he chastised you in low, dangerous tones, “Y/N, you’re already in enough trouble. Don’t make this worse for yourself. Carols outside. So is Rhodey. And a handful of other people I brought along in case you were gonna cause more trouble.”

The man outside. So, you had been being watched.

Tony stood up from the bed and came out of the bedroom, and up to you. You took a few steps back and he tsked you. You stopped immediately, knowing what he wanted. He closed the rest of the space and raked his eyes up and down you.

“Why did you have to go and cause trouble in the first place? You think I was suffocating you? That’ll seem like a cakewalk compared to when you come back with me. See, we’ve lost trust. I can’t have you running around when you know as much as you do. And you running off looks like you were going to squeal.” You opened your mouth to protest but he rose his voice, shutting you up. “And I can’t have that. Not when I have other people to answer to on the team. I will not be the weak link in the chain, which means you are not going to be running off in the middle of the night. Even if it’s not what you planned to do, it looks bad.”

His hands came to rest on your biceps, squeezing in tight, causing you to flinch slightly. His eyes were hard. “You could have had the world and you threw it away.” His thumbs caressed, his tongue slipping between his lips. “But I can be a forgiving man if you make me believe that you’re sorry. Just do that for me, beg for forgiveness, and I’ll take care of you and that baby.”

You gulped at the mention of the baby, and he noticed. His eyes narrowed. He leaned in, searching your face and you looked away, but he forced you to look back at him, his hand holding your jaw tight.

“Y/N, baby… you got something to tell me?”

You were silent, your heart starting to hammer.

“Y/N, you know I don’t like repeating myself.”

His grip tightened and you felt tears pricking, apprehensive of how he was going to react.

Your voice warbled, “I…I had an abortion.”

Tony was frozen, his eyes wide and incendiary. His grip on your jaw loosened and you took a step back away from him. His jaw clicked, eyes not leaving you. You saw he was going to explode.

Raising your hand shakily, as if that was going to hold him off, you started, “Now, Tony—"

His backhand sent you stumbling. He caught you before you could do it yourself and slammed you up against the wall.

“You’re lucky I didn’t cold clock you!” He snarled, his fingers digging in painfully to your arms.

“Tony, don’t—”

“Don’t? Don’t what? Be fucking furious that I told you not to do anything drastic and then you went and did just that? Without even consulting me? I have a goddamn right to be furious! How fucking dare you!”

You were sniffling now, terrified.

He gave you a rough shake before demanding, “What’s the lease on this place?” You took too long to answer. “Answer me!”

“Month to month,” you whimpered.

“Smart. Makes this easier.” His nose was practically brushing yours. “Look, you’re gonna be good and listen to me about exactly what is going to happen—"

“You can’t—"

“Did I tell you that you could talk? No! I told you you were going to listen. Keep your fucking mouth shut!” Tony lashed out. You closed your mouth, your lip warbling. “You’re coming with me. And I haven’t decided yet if I want them all to listen to you beg for forgiveness on the plane or if I’m waiting until we are alone. Not doing it here. Don’t wanna alarm your neighbors and have to injure any of them if they try to interfere. I don’t want, nor need that type of mess.”

He shoved you as he let you go, and you wiped at your eyes.

“I can’t fucking believe you. Can’t even follow simple goddamn directions. What are you? A child?” he snorted angrily. He snapped his fingers at you and pointed at your room. “Get your shit. We are leaving and going home. The jets at the airport.”

<><><>

He had not punished you on the plane. You instead had sat, curled in as tightly as you could to yourself in the chair across from him under a blanket, looking out the window as much as possible. You felt him watching you intensely the whole two hours. You could only imagine the deranged ideas going through his head about what he was going to do to you when he got you alone.

The moment you stepped into your apartment, he ordered you, “Get yourself done up. I want you to look nice for me. I’ll be out here watching the game.”

His goons brought in your suitcases and put them next to the kitchen table before leaving at his order. Tony grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. He saw you were still standing there, and he glared.

“Y/N…” he said dangerously. “I don’t see you moving.”

You grabbed your suitcase with your clothes and trudged down the hall, feeling his hard stare at your back until you disappeared into the bedroom. You had left a lot of your clothes here but there was a dress you had brought with you, one that he liked specifically. Which shocked you a little bit because it was loose and free; still short though.

Taking the time to shower, blow dry, do your makeup, and dress, you felt the anxiety rising about what he was going to do. You thought the extra time would calm you down, but it was doing the opposite because it was giving you more time to think.

When you walked back down the hall, your black wedges announcing your arrival, Tony looked over the back of the couch. You saw the bottle on the coffee table. He had been drinking, not a surprise. He gestured you over and you walked around the couch, coming over to him. He ran his eyes up and down you, taking you in.

“Well, don’t you look just perfect?” he asked, an edge underlying his tone.

He stood up from the couch and you stayed still. He pulled his phone out and took a picture of you without giving you time to prepare. He turned his phone around and you looked dumbstruck in the photo.

But he complimented, “Look at that. Pristine. That’s what good girls look like.” A cruel smile flashed across his features, and he tossed his phone down on the couch. “But you’re not a good girl are you, baby?”

You only had a moment to react before he was forcing you down to your knees. You hissed in pain as your knees slammed against the hardwood.

“You brought this on yourself. You think I like punishing you?” Tony asked, working on his belt with one hand as the other held you by the back of the neck. Your hands came up to grip his thighs, pressing back against the hold he had on your neck. “Ah ah, stay where you are.” He stroked himself with purpose, his hand moving at a steady pace. “Look at you. A pretty little slut that needs to be taught a lesson.”

He was hard now, the head of his cock pressing against your lips.

“Open your damn mouth!” You clenched your teeth, knowing he was gonna be rough and not wanting to choke. He let go of you to slap your cheek and sneered, “Don’t make me ask you again!”

You opened your mouth reluctantly, and he grabbed you by the back of your neck again and shoved his dick in all the way, your nose brushing his pubes. You gagged before he pulled back out, running his head around your lips. He groaned at the sight, slipping back in and using your mouth.

“Tell me you love me!”

“I love you!” you got out around his width.

“Look at me!” You forced your gaze up to meet his and he thrusted faster, hitting the back of your throat. Your hands gripped tight onto his thighs, eyes begging for him to slow down. But he was not relenting, and your throat was aching. Another groan left his lips as he demanded, “Tell me you love me, you little bitch.”

It was hard to say it, you choking now, tears stinging your eyes. “I love you!”

He pulled away roughly, his hand wrapped around your hair tightly, keeping you in place. Your saliva was stringing messily between him and your lips. Your chin as well as his pubes were glistening with your drool. You gasped for air, thankful for the reprieve from your jaw aching from being open so wide.

The reprieve was short lived though and you cried out in pain as he began walking, dragging you by your hair.

“Forgive me that I don’t quite believe you. But I’m gonna make sure I do believe you. I’m gonna get a genuine one out of you before I’m through.”

Tony sat on the edge of the bed and held you tight. “Give me a show. Take that dress off and let me see you. Let me see what I’m going to take.”

Shakily, you stood up as his grip laxed and he was watching you like a hawk. You wiped at your lips, knowing there was little to do about your eye makeup since he had made tears come with how hard he had been choking you. You started to sway your hips, trying to find a rhythm amongst the excitement. You turned away from him so he could not see your face as you struggled to calm down enough to dance.

It was sloppy, unconfident. But that did not seem to bother him. He pulled you into his lip and his hands slipped up your dress and into your underwear.

“Don’t get to tell me now that I can’t touch,” he husked against your cheek, his fingers slipping into your pussy. “All mine.”

He was stroking you, getting you worked up, making you lose focus on grinding. You bit your bottom lip, a strangled moan escaping.

Tony chuckled, nuzzling your cheek. “I know you like that. Gonna get you good and wet for me, sweetheart. Spread your legs further.”

You were falling so easily into his touch, your core wanting more. You were getting wound up and he was loving it. He worked quicker, his breath heavy as he felt how aroused you were, wetting his fingers.

“Maybe you are a good girl. Look how well you are behaving for me. Is this you apologizing?” He pulled away just to lay a hard smack on your cunt. You bucked, crying out and he did it again. You whimpered as his fingers entered again, focusing on your bud. “You’re a needy little slut, aren’t you baby?” You nodded and he sucked at your neck. “You’re repenting so well… but you’ve got a long way to fucking go.”

You were so close, but he suddenly shoved you away roughly, causing you to stumble in your heels.

“Strip.”

You did as he asked, pulling the dress up and tossing it behind you, leaving you in just your underwear. He rose his brows expectantly and you turned around, bending over slowly. You pulled your underwear down, feeling how wet they were at the crotch. You heard him hum at the sight of them and your glistening pussy. They fell to your ankles, and you turned around, kicking them off.

Tony stood up and pointed at the bed. “On your stomach.” You did as he asked and heard him getting undressed. You peeked over your shoulder at him undoing his tie as he walked towards your closet. He emerged again with a scarf, his eyes fixated on you. “Did I tell you you could look at me?” You turned back around quickly, butterflies swarming.

He grabbed one of your ankles and yanked you down the bed. You felt his tie around your ankle, and you tensed as he tied you to the bed frame. He was at your opposite ankle and tied your other leg with your scarf tightly.

“Tony…” you said hoarsely.

He did not answer you and you laid there, spread wide. The bed creaked with his weight and his thick thighs straddled you, holding you even tighter in place. You felt him pressing in and your fingers dug into your quilt. Each inch filled you up more and he exhaled as he reached his base.

“That’s the gentlest thrust you’re going to get, sweetheart. Enjoy it.”

Tony was not lying; he was pounding you into the mattress and you were not being quiet about the intrusion. You were already so wet, and he was adding to the sensation the way he was working you.

“You’re gonna remember who you loves you the most,” he groaned. The bed was shaking with how hard he was driving into you. “You’re gonna remember to behave!”

Pulling out of you, he smacked you hard against your ass. “Get up on your knees. Now!”

You obeyed, maneuvering with the restraints and his fingers replaced his dick, rubbing your clit. You keened, your back arching at the intense contact. You were ashamed that as usual you fell to the arousal, letting him take you over completely even when he was being as mean as he was.

“Fuck, you little whore. Look at you. So needy for cock. Why did you leave me in the first place? You were never going to find anyone that would love you like I do. You hurt my feelings, baby. And I don’t like having my feelings hurt.”

“I’m sorry,” you gasped without any prompting.

Tony’s fingers fell from your sex, and he was up, holding you by the throat. His breath was hot on your ear. “I might just leave you here on the bed right now. Tie those delicate wrists up too. Keep you on display for me. I’ll just walk by and see you stuck here, just dependent on me to come back to release you.”

You shook your head, begging pathetically, “No, p-please.”

“You want me to finish?”

“Yes!”

“Do you deserve it? Cause I don’t think you fucking do.”

You shook your head, “No. I don’t. But, please!” He brushed your pussy lightly with his fingers, teasing and you broke down even further. “I love you! I love you! Please!”

“You’re not gonna leave me again.” It was a statement, not a question.

You shook your head furiously again, gasping, “No! No, I won’t leave you!”

He yanked you up painfully by your hair again and new tears stung your eyes.

“I’m gonna make fucking sure of it. You’re gonna be on house arrest until I see fit to let you out! Face down,” Tony snarled, pushing you roughly down by the shoulders. He was behind you again. “You’re gonna be full of my seed when I’m done.”

Your chest hit the bed as the room filled with skin slapping skin loudly as he ravaged you. It did not take long for your body to tense up and a shriek left you as your pussy clenched around him. Tony’s breath was erratic as his pace lost control, his fingers digging into your hips. Broken husks were falling from his mouth, you could not make it out over the buzz in your ears. You felt the warmth though when he filled you up, his cock buried deep. He was making sure it was up against your cervix. His groan was long and loud, his hands squeezing your ass tight.

When he pulled away, you laid out flat, feeling worn. You heard him leave the room, the hardwood in the hall creaking with his footfalls. Your body was covered in sweat, heavy pants leaving your lips. For a moment, you forgot you were tied and tried to adjust and let out a sigh of disappointment when you felt the tug of the restraint on your ankle.

Tony was back with his phone. He cooed, “Oh, sweetheart. You’re so tired. Look up at me.” You lifted your head and saw him snap a picture of you. His lips curled into a smirk at the photo, and he turned it around to show you. Your makeup was ruined, tear trails on your cheeks, mascara and eyeliner smudged. You looked like a mess.

“Look at this lovely sight,” he purred. He flipped to the last photo of you looking made up and then back again. “Look how dirty you got pleasing me compared to before. I’m going to keep these.” A malicious glint flashed in his eyes, and he said, “I’ll give you a few to recover. But baby, there’s gonna be round two and no, I’m not going to let you clean up. Let’s see how much dirtier I can get you.”

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney  @biiskuitx @buttercupfangirl

Fic tags: @buttercandy16

[softomi]

now accepting boyfriend applications: literature

synopsis: phone dead, laptop gone, guess it’s an old fashioned having to sit down and talk to the boys who apparently are interested in the position of being your boyfriend. first; you just have to make it to your literature class. 

series: now accepting boyfriend applications

previous: now accepting boyfriend applications

next up: intro to business 

series taglist: @kyomihann @chesley-cant-deal @bluearmufs @your-consulting-fangirl @itsmeaudrieee @winunk @aegiseterna @katelyns-stuff @mochipk @3rachachoo @kyuudere

*bold means I wasn’t able to tag you*

general taglist: @graykageyama @tsumue @thesorebae @micasaessakusa @alouphen @waitforitillwritemywayout

Your phone was still charging, it’s in your bag plugged into a power bank and you’re hoping it’ll charge enough soon. You’ve made it to campus with five minutes to spare, you can already see Akaashi through the windows of the class. He’s absolutely cute and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about what it would be like to date him, but you were so blissfully in love with your ex that you never took the chance to fully indulge yourself to fantasize.

And while he’s in class looking like he just walked right out of a manga in a university setting; you look exactly as it would sound like, as if you just woke up and ran to campus. Your hair is a mess, you tried running through campus attempting to put it up in a bun, it’s lopsided and you’re using the hood of your sweatshirt to try and cover up the mess of a mop it is. It doesn’t help that the only reason you’re wearing a sweatshirt is because you didn’t have time to put on a bra so yeah, you’re walking around campus with no bra on and the ugly sweatpants with wine stains on it doesn’t do you justice either. You’re even decked out with a pair of sandals.

Honestly, how were you going to walk into class, look at Akaashi in the face, and just act as if he didn’t send you a boyfriend application. When he sees you, he’ll definitely retract his resume.

There’s two minutes left and you’re awkwardly poking your head in. No one is giving you the time of day but it feels like all eyes are on you when you step in. Perhaps you shouldn’t be too ashamed of your looks as you’re nearing the end of the semester and most girls have switched out their cute skirts for tracksuit pants.

You’re slowly going towards your seat, Akaashi diligently writing in his notebook and he finally looks up. Through his glasses, he meets your gaze, his lips slowly part and he’s blinking as if wondering if you were really you. As you pull into your seat, he stares down at his notebook, he’s stopped writing and everything in you is just screaming at you to not scream out loud because there was no going back on this weird friendship type relationship that you two have developed.

Akaashi shuffles in his seat, his body is turned to face you and he’s so close to opening his mouth when the teacher’s voice makes his thoughts stop. He turns back to face the front, no words exchanged as you pull out your notebook, pencil, and charging cell phone that’s just reached fifteen percent. For the first time since the beginning of the semester, you’re going to take notes and listen intently to this hour and fifteen-minute long lecture.

Only ten minutes have passed and your professor has done nothing but decided to review on what the difference between a primary article and a secondary article is because some people just don’t understand why Wikipedia is not an official source. You peek a look over at Akaashi. He, too, seems incredibly bored but his hardworking nature has him at least trying to focus on the professor despite the pen in his hand drawing circles on his notepad.

When he looks over at you, a small smile on his lips, you’re quick to turn away with a blush on your cheeks.

At thirty minutes, your phone is dancing on the edge of thirty percent. It’s enough to get you to start looking through your phone and you find yourself once again clicking on Akaashi’s email. You lean your arm onto the desk, tilting your body just enough that you think he wouldn’t be able to see that you’re looking at his boyfriend application.

You’re skipping passed official details, instead ceasing the scrolling when you reach his skillset. It’s all very professional sounding despite him referring to relationship and dating. It makes you crack a smile, you want to laugh out loud and not because it’s funny but because it’s actually really cute.

One of my skillsets is my height, considering your shorter height, I will be able to provide assistance whenever needed. While I may once in a while enjoy your smaller stature, I will try not to bring it up repeatedly to spare you of your feelings.

You bite down on your lower lip, suppressing the immense grin that wants to grow on your face. Through the strands of your hair, you peek another glance at him. This time he’s removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes slowly, a small yawn falling through his lips.

My biggest weakness is my busy schedule. I spend most of my days working part-time at the campus library and studying. As a literature major, I have multiple readings, essays, and assignments which may hinder my time to have a steady relationship but I believe that this weakness will later play a role as a strength in how devoted I am to what I love.

Well, that just made your heart skip ten beats.

My future goals include working as an editor, but right now my shorter-term goal would be to graduate with my literature degree on time. Another short-term goal I had developed over the semester was to ask you out on a date.

Your stomach spirals, you’re internally groaning at how cute this actually was.

“There’s twenty minutes left of class, during this time I’d like you to discuss with your revision partner about your last draft.”

Shit. You’re screaming in your head because this was not happening. Now you had to talk to Akaashi. The voices of students have now taken over the classroom, when you turn to look at Akaashi, a meek smile on you as he’s staring with his head tilted.

“Are you alright?” He’s asking so nicely, his voice soft and genuine. It feels like forever since someone has been so sweet to you.

Your hand reaches to scratch the back of your neck, a weak curve on your lips, “It’s been a pretty hectic twenty-four hours.”

Akaashi leans on his desk, cheek pressed against his palm and he’s asking, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Your lips fall into a small pout because he’s just so sincere. He’s always been. Maybe that was why you had just the teeniest of crush on him earlier in the semester because he remembered the small details. When he noticed you switched from coffee to tea, you ranted to him for five minutes about how your boyfriend was adamant on you changing your lifestyle by switching to healthier options. The next class time you had together, Akaashi brought you coffee because as long as your boyfriend didn’t know then it was alright.

“Are you sure you want to listen to me?” You quirk a brow at him, “Because I’ll talk for the rest of the time.”

Akaashi sits up straight, flipping his notebook, pen ready in hand, “I must have forgotten to list listening as one of my strengths.” Your face burns all of a sudden, he has the smallest smirk on his face when he turns back to you, “I’ll take notes, tell me what’s wrong.”

You’re not used to someone listening to you, you’re used to someone interrupting you. It felt awkward at first, just letting everything roll off your tongue, and your eyes keep darting to the way his pen moves against his notebook. Was he actually taking notes of your rant? When you finish, he’s smiling, there’s a warmth to his grin that has you internally groaning.

“What did you write down?” You’re leaning over now, trying to get a good look at his notebook and you don’t even notice that the embarrassment in you has lifted. You’re no longer plagued with awkwardness like you were an hour ago.

Akaashi tilts his notebook for you to clearly see his handwriting. A wide smile taking over your expression. She’s cute when she’s talking. He was indeed more straightforward than you had imagined, you pictured him as shy and cute, while he was definitely the latter, he came off boldly.

“If I have to be honest.” He states suddenly, “My friend threw together that application and then sent it to you and then messaged you.” Your expression falters but he’s adverting his eyes just slightly, “I was too shy to try and message to ask if you were alright and well, my friend tends to get a little out of hand.” He’s grinning once more, rubbing the back of his neck, “I guess it sort of worked out in the end.”

The professor’s voice draws your attention, “Once you’re done discussing with your partner, you’re free to leave.”

You look at the time, sparing a glance to Akaashi, “I’m sorry, I have to get to my next class.” You’re shoving your stuff into your backpack and he also quickly packs up.

“I’ll walk you.” He’s so eager that he almost knocks over his coffee cup, “I mean if it’s alright with you?”

“Sure, my next class is.”

Akaashi interjects, “Intro to Business, across campus.”

You’re surprised he remembers, a little impressed that it feels like he’s leading the way to your next class. For a moment it’s silent, you can tell he’s a little nervous but heck you’re also very nervous.

“You said two other guys sent you an application?”

Slowly you nod, “I mean one’s definitely a no, he’s just so cocky, definitely not my type. The other?” You think for a moment, “He’s really nice, funny, and we’ve kind of built up a friendship over the semester.” You notice how silent Akaashi has suddenly fallen.

“So.” Akaashi is quiet, “Then you would say that I’m up against him?” The two of you have stopped in front of your class, Akaashi staring down at you; the look in his eyes suddenly changes. He was getting competitive, “I’ll make sure to win you over.”

Your cheeks dust with a blush. He’s suddenly digging in his bag; he pulls out a baseball style cap. His hand tugging back your hood, undoing your sloppy bun to let your hair fall down. Your heart races at the way he sneaks in a stroke through your hair before fitting the cap onto your head. It’s loosely hanging until he leans into you, he smells of a deep forest and you’re tempted to just wrap your fingers on his t-shirt and pull him in a little bit more.

“You’ll probably be more comfortable with a hat than a hood.” He pulls away once he’s fixed the strap but his scent lingers momentarily, “You should get to class.” He states sweetly, taking in the cute way you’re trying to hide your face with his hat.

“I’ll message you.” You say as you slowly hang around the doorway to your class, “To return the hat.” And possibly more. You think.

The moment you turn away, a blushing grin on you with your heart beating rapidly; everything stops when you come face to face with Kuroo Tetsuro. He’s got a cheeky look on him, slightly eyeing the man still lingering outside of the classroom. The two men meet gazes and there’s a sharp sting between the two; an acknowledgement of an opponent.

[siriuslyobsessedwith]

Re-introducing!Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger

After the war, they (of course) went back for their unofficial eighth year of instruction, but they were far from unencumbered, and they weren’t ready to meet each other again. They were haunted by the past, only barely settling into the present, and absolutely refused to even hope for a future.

Hermione was head girl, and she dove into her duties, perhaps to an obsessive and excessive degree, to distract herself. From her growing feeling of isolation, from her fear of the future, from how much she missed Ron and Harry. He watched her, but only from a distance. Disinterest turned into curiosity turned into...something he wasn’t ready or willing to acknowledge. And that was perfectly fine.

Draco was in a perpetual state of guilt. He tried his best to melt into the shadows, to keep his head down and his eyes averted and his shoulders slouched, so that no one mentioned how bloody ridiculous and ironic it was that he got to be here at all. He still excelled in all of his classes, but he kept to himself, kept himself away, anywhere outside of the classroom. Hermione watched, but only from a distance. Pity turned into curiosity turned into fascination turned into a desire to know the person he was hiding. She never approached. Maybe she was afraid too.

They graduated, they left, they went their separate ways. Draco pursued a potions and arithmancy double mastery, which required him to travel back and forth from Egypt to Germany to Italy for upwards of four years. He tried to keep himself locked up, still convinced of his unworthiness, until his classmates (who didn’t recognize the name Malfoy) forced him to open up. And, slowly, gradually, he got to learn who he was.

Hermione let herself tumble (ceremoniously and properly, of course) into the Ministry pipeline. She started as an aide to a wealthy representative to the Wizenagamot, jumped to Head of the Department of Magical Creatures, hopscotched to Assistant Advisor to the Minister. She had expected to be full of joy, of purpose at the Ministry, but every day she went home feeling empty and doubtful and used. Ron and Harry were off taking the DMLE by storm. She just didn’t have that type of fight in her anymore.

She flirts with friendships and boys and even, sometimes, men (if she’s lucky); he engages in flings and encounters and dances with women. They skirt around the edges of normalcy, almost watching from a distance, both wondering what’s holding them back.

Draco returns to England four years later after receiving a job offer from an up-and-coming potions company that is searching for a cost-effective Wolfsbane alternative. He’s a new man, full of purpose, having shed the weight of the past, even though he knows how much his history defines him.

Hermione had quit her job four months earlier, having been sought quite ardently by the head of Zabini Development to head up his research and development team. She’d gotten tired and disillusioned with her dreams of becoming Minister. She saw Zabini Development as a chance to make change now, to be in power now rather than wait 20 more years to make change while fighting against centuries of traditions and misogyny.

Had they thought of each other in those years apart? Maybe, they’d tell each other later, secret smiles on their lips whisper “yes, of course I did”. But when they reconnected at a seminar for rehabilitative potions in London another two years later, having only read about each other’s career, they were loath to admit such a weakness to their largest competitor.

Surnames, exchanged. Glances, chanced. They’re both battling within themselves, trying to decide between honesty and the protective coldness they both adopt. Of course, they choose to be idiotically stubborn and spend the entire conference arguing about the merits of using crushed vs. finely chopped dragon scale in Wolfsbane as a means of long-term preservation.

A dance, perhaps, that they both are secretly enjoying. “No, Malfoy, that’s preposterous” countered by “But of course you would think that, Granger, no need to be embarrassed.” They exchange sneers instead of smiles and curses instead of kindnesses. Just like they always used to do. But their eyes cannot lie, do not lie. They are locked into each other now, on a collision course after years of being permanently and distantly separated.

One month later, Hermione receives an owl. When she reads it, she turns bright red, tosses the crumpled paper into the fire, and grabs her Floo powder. Moments later, she is storming into Draco Malfoy’s lab at Magix Pharmaceuticals.

“How. Dare. You.” She puffs, her anger coating every feature, every movement. He’s shocked, speechless and terrified by the burning queen in front of him. Of course, he doesn’t let that fear show.

She’s storming back and forth in front of his desk now, eyes wild and ranting, hands moving everywhere and at her hips and through her hair and he is absolutely transfixed. But of course he can’t let that show.

She comes to an abrupt halt. “Are you even listening, Malfoy?! You just dropped a bloody job offer on me, a PERSONALLY SIGNED job offer, practically trying to pawn me off your best mate, and you’ve put me in a terribly unprofessional situation!”

Swallow, he reminds himself. Breathe, he thinks. “What is unprofessional about it, Granger? Zabini knows all’s fair in love and war. I don’t see—“

“That’s it, though, you do see. We both know Magix is far ahead of Zabini in almost everything and I’d be a fool to turn you down, but if Zabini finds out I’m switching he will never ever stop with the teasing and I can’t poss——“

She stops. She pauses. Breath, Hermione, he didn’t hear, he isn’t listening, he won’t understand. She looks up to see the most terrible, beautiful, self-amazed smirk on his lips, and she knows it is all over now.

“Granger, whatever would Zabini tease you about?” He knows, she thinks. He knows, he knows, he knows, goddammit.

She purses her lips at him. He licks his lips. She tucks a curl behind her ear. He loops his fingers through his belt and cocks his head back.

They’re dancing again, but they know they are right up against the edge. On step, wrong or right, and they will tumble over together.

“You, Malfoy. You know bloody well he’s going to tease me about you. I can’t possibly understand how I am the only one subjected to his mockery but I gu—“

He’s across his deck in a moment, up next to her in a blink.

“You know something, Granger? He’s been teasing me for almost 10 years now. Every time he saw you in the Ministry, I’d receive a owl with a crudely depicted image of your outfit that day. Every letter he wrote me, you’d somehow work your way in.”

“Blaise is a legilmens, isn’t he?,” she breathes, terrified by his proximity and the way her body is responding.

“Yes, and an extremely invasive and devious one at that. He’s a devil, and I don’t know why we’re friends with him.”

“So.”

“So.”

Unspoken, they come to agreement. Their eyes are still tethered, but when Hermione finishes blinking, their lips are tethered too, moving in tandem through the dance they both knew too well. She gasps, a tiny sound that disappears between them, and his hands are at her waist and in her hair and on her stomach all at once and she can’t even think except for “what had they been waiting for?”

They pull apart, and it’s the first time she has ever seen him remotely embarrassed.

“You know, Mr. Malfoy, we’ve spent an awful long time waiting and not a bit of time living. I think we ought to be introduced, yes?”

She smiles at the way she can turn him speechless, but she’s nervous all the same. Maybe she’s read him wrong. Maybe she was an object of lust rather than everything that comes along with love.

“Alright,” he nods, sticking out his hand. “Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. And you are?”

“Hermione Granger. Pleased to meet you, Draco.”

He smirks. She called him Draco. It sounds so...foreign. She slips her hand into his. And they walk off to inform their mutual best friend that, after years of harassment and mockery, they’ve finally decided to listen to him and get together.

Oh, and for Hermione to give her two weeks notice to her boss. And for Draco to request two weeks off. They have seven years of “getting to know each other” to fit into whatever spurts of time they can make for each other. They’ve spent too long dancing around the truth and their feelings and what they want. They don’t have another second to waste.

[egyptsblackrose]

Dancing with Strangers

There will be one more part to this story after this then I think this story is complete. I have other projects in the works and other passions I want to devote some time to. Hope your all doing well and please enjoy.

No actual smut in this one, but reference to intimacy probably still 18+ though so minors please do not read

Part 4- https://egyptsblackrose.tumblr.com/post/652018121062989824/dancing-with-strangers-more-filth-for-this-story

Part 5-

Your senses slowly brought you out of your peaceful, heavy slumber, though your mind was not ready to open your eyes just yet. First thing you felt was comfort, soft, warm, heavy sheets keeping you safe and cozy. When you focused more, however, you realised that part of your arm that was not in your little cocoon, was radiating the kind of heat only the sunlight could bring. So it was clearly day time, maybe even afternoon. No matter, you did’t have any classes today, that was why you agreed to going out to the clubs with your friends.

Your friends… You gasped and sat up with a jolt, only to groan and hiss. Rubbing your lower stomach and back.

Oh… right… you had gone home with not just one but TWO strangers and had a THREESOME!

Your cheeks set on fire as the events of last night played out in your head. The pleasure, the desire. More had happened after they had each taken a turn with you. Kakashi had been painfully hard again watching your brains get fucked out by Gojo, so you had rolled over and sucked him off lazily, taking your time to tease. That had lead to the boys getting revenge, Satoru holding your hands hostage as he fucked your mouth, while Hatake ravaged you again, harder and more forceful till you squirted for him as well.

Then you had been carried to the shower, Kakashi tenderly, lovingly holding you bridal style in the walk in shower as Gojo massaged your entire body with wonderful smelling shower gel. Only your moans had turned the men on again. Gojo took you this time, having you pressed against the wall with him on his knees, Hatake standing and receiving another blow job from you. Kakashi had to wash your face and hair when he tried to pull out too late, but you had been quick to defend him when Satoru’s teasing went too far.

By the time you were all dried, your legs had stopped working and you could barely keep your eyes open, the sun was peaking through the curtains gently to hint as the beginning of sunrise, and you all settled into bed. Never before had you been so comfortable, resting your head against someone’s chest while being spooned from behind, wearing a really comfy large hoodie and boxer shorts for bed while the two men only wore old shorts.

But glancing around at the bed, you found your companions gone and the bed cold. Nibbling on your bottom lip in thought, you quickly did a body check. Toes were wiggling; but it took effort and there was still a little pain, your stomach felt a little uncomfortable and sore but nothing you couldn’t handle. You smelled good- to your relief- though you needed to brush your teeth immediately. Your hair felt smooth and smelled great as well, your make up had clearly been removed, your cloths were at the end of the bed; freshly washed and folded.

You had clearly been well taken care of, their after care game was obviously on par with their A game. And yet the niggling doubt set into your mind.

Why take such good care of you and then leave you alone? And there was no sounds in the whole apartment from what you could hear. Had they left? There was no note from what you could see. Maybe they’d gone out or to work and hoped you’d be gone by the time they got back. Why else leave your cloths close by, in obvious view and clean to wear. This was their hint to get out. They’d had their fun, so had you, now it was time to leave.

The thought made you a lot sadder than you would like to admit. But then again, the two men were clearly experienced, your friends had even said so last night, that’s why they encouraged you to go through with it. You were not the first girl they did this too, and chances are you weren’t the last. How many other girls out there had woken up exactly like this? With a pout and painful groan, you slipped out of bed and started getting changed on wobbly legs.

This was for the best anyway, you told yourself. They were policemen, they were successful men, there was TWO of them. And you were just a Uni student, you weren’t even half way through your final year, you had yet to successfully land an interview. You didn’t even know if you wanted to stay in Japan after you graduated, if you wanted to graduate here or go back home to your family… There was still so much you needed to figure out, you were just beginning. And successful men like that would want a successful woman, or women rather.

Once presentable, borrowing some mouth wash from the bathroom seen as you did not have your own toothbrush, you took a few deep breaths to sike yourself up. The fact that not just one, but TWO god level men had chosen you to spend the night with them meant something, even if it was short lived. THEY had picked YOU, called you beautiful, whispered sweet nothings into your ear, taken care of you. And now it would be a nice memory, and you could wear this win like a badge of honour as you leave. Just think of how many women would kill to be you.

Opening the bedroom door, your heart sank a little more at not seeing even one of the handsome men. A little part of you had hoped that maybe they were up, and that little part of you made your eyes scan the living room and kitchen desperately for a note or a sign that you hadn’t been left behind. But all you found was a clock above the cooker that read 10:20 am.

Hu… earlier than you thought, but not an unpleasant surprise.

Thankfully the door was unlock-able from the inside, but you weren’t sure about the elevator, seen as they had used a key card to activate it last night. It seemed luck was on your side, however, because pressing the down button meant the elevator was automatically called to you, opened, and a frigging bell boy was waiting with a smile and a polite nod. How rich are these guys?!

“Ground floor Miss?” The young man asked. You nodded numbly, stepping in and moved to the back of the elevator. It seemed the new face could tell you didn’t want to talk, so the journey down was gratefully a silent one as you stared at the floor. How many young women has this man escorted down and out of the building for these two men?

You frowned at yourself. Why were you so hung up on that? You had no right to the answer and no right to even ask the question. They weren’t yours. You weren’t theirs. And it didn’t even matter. But you couldn’t free yourself from the feeling of being used.

Raising your head at the ding, as soon as the doors started opening you dashed out, wanting to quickly get away from this place and move on. The quicker this…mind blowing experience became a fond memory, the better.

Following your memory from last night of being in the taxi, you knew that you had passed your street on the way, and it didn’t seem like such a long ways away. You started walking without hesitation, head down as you messaged your friends that you were on the way home. They replied excitedly, clearly wanting to talk about the events of last night, but you quickly shut them down. Miku seemed to get the hint immediately that you weren’t feeling like yourself and something was wrong, promising movies and home made goodies from her mum who was visiting.

The thought made you smile. Miku and Sakura’s parents had basically adopted you as soon as you got back to Japan, all four insisting on introducing you to as many of their friends and neighbours as possible, promising you and your worried parents that they were only a call away. Miku’s mother was particularly affectionate, a little unusual for Japanese culture, but she often cured your home sickness with gentle hugs and head pats, pinching your cheeks and promising a nice warm home cooked meal and a few wise words. And such parental affections was too good to pass up right now.

Raising your head with slightly watery eyes, you quickened your pace. Only for your wrist to be grabbed in a unyielding hold.

“Y/N!”

“Beautiful?”

The voices made to freeze, eyes widening as you slowly turned and gasped. It was them.

“Kakashi? Gojo?” Your voice was nothing but a whisper from how surprised you were.

“Baby, why are you leaving already?” Hatake asked worriedly, frown in place.

Satoru wagged a disapproving figure at you. “I thought I said we were staying in bed today to have fun.”

“But…” Swallowing thickly, you turned more towards them, wide eyed and confused. “I woke up in bed alone, you were both gone, my cloths were clean and folded beside me…I thought you wanted to me to go…”

“What?!” Gojo yelled in an exaggerated tone, quickly moving to wrap his arms around you from behind and rubbing his face into your hair. “What a silly little head our beautiful girl has Kakashi!”

“Y/N…” Hatake soothed quickly, seeing you frown at Gojo. “Baby I wasn’t there when you woke up because I left to do a little shop of things me and Gojo were out of, and also pick you up a toothbrush for when you woke up. And our idiot here wasn’t with you because I sent him to pick up some breakfast for us all. You said at the club that your favourite thing to wake up to was _____, so we thought we’d treat you. We both went so we could be back as fast as possible, we didn’t think you would wake up so soon, let alone think we wanted you to go. So imagine our surprise when we pull into our usual parking spot across the street and see a figure and outfit all to familiar walking away from us? We were worried you decided that YOU wanted to go.”

The words sunk in slowly and made your eyes water more, especially when you heard Kakashi use the term ‘OUR idiot’ when referring to Gojo. He was including you in their bond. “So… you weren’t trying to give me the hint to leave so you wouldn’t have to see me?”

“Beautiful, are you stupid?” Kakashi sent a glare to Gojo, but the other white haired male continued. “Last night was amazing, and I said that this was the beginning. Do I seem the type to lie to you beautiful? I don’t just say that to anyone, in fact I don’t think I’ve ever said it before. Me and Kakashi want to do so much more to you, with you, and not just in the bedroom…and not just sexual things either.”

The clear implication and teasing was not lost on you, making your cheeks light up a rosy pink. Hatake chuckled sweetly, stroking your cheek as he stepped a little closer. “There’s that blush we love. Y/N, I won’t lie to you. We have had one night stands before, we have had times where we either take the girl home or ask her personally to leave, but neither me or Gojo want this to be one of those times. We don’t want a one night stand with you, your different, special. We actually like you, as a person, and we’d like to see if this…if WE could be something.”

Your mouth fell open in shock. Where…where they SERIOUS? These beautiful, amazing men wanted you in their lives? “But why?”

Kakashi frowned. “Why?”

“Yeah. Why? Why me?”

Gojo chuckled, nuzzling your neck to draw your attention back to him. “Because Kakashi’s right, your different. Most women are flirty with us cause they want some fun. YOU were flirty with us cause WE were fun. You listened to us, you didn’t try to be something or someone your not, you were very real. And the real you is awesome. And we want to know that real you more.”

“Y/N,” Hatake’s hand, that was still on your wrist, moved down to take your hand, stroking the back of it soothingly. “Gojo and I have a strange relationship, we know that. We are more like brothers than friends, and there’s never been any attraction between us. But we have only ever had a functioning, healthy relationship when the two of us put in the effort. We are not perfect, but together we are. And for a long time we have looked for someone who can complete us, who can make us both happy. It’s too early to tell if that’s you, but surely even you had to feel how RIGHT everything felt last night.”

Flashes of charming smiles from the club took over your mind, how easy the flow of conversation was, how natural it felt to have both their hands on you. You had been saddened so much to think that something so good was already over. But here they were, telling you it didn’t have to be. Looking into those amazing dark grey and blue eyes of the two white haired men, you could see how they desperately did not want you to go.

“Ok… we can see where this goes. But, I want to try do this properly, and I want this to be open between the three of us.” Both men looked at each other in confusion, so you continued. “If something happened with just one of you while the other is away, I don’t want it causing fights, I also want to spend time with you, and not just doing…intimate stuff. Dates, together as a three or just as a duo, actually getting to know one another, honesty, proper communication. All of it.” You said firmly. “When I devote myself to a relationship, I do it whole heartedly, and I expect the same from my partner. Just because there’s two of you, doesn’t mean you can put in half the effort. I’m mostly looking at you Satoru.”

The blue eyed man gasped on horror, hand over his heart like it was clutching a fatal wound. “Beautiful, you think I wont treat you like a princess?”

“I don’t want to be treat like a princess.” You shot back firmly, but smiled softly. “I want you to treat me as your equal, like your friend, like your partner, because to me, that’s what a relationship is. I don’t want to be babied or spoilt, I just want to be treat fairly and honestly. And if I find out either of you cheated on me…just remember that BOTH my parents are amazing lawyers and I have another country I can easily move to.” The three of you laughed easily, smiling at each other with warm smiles as you each earliest that this was the start of something. Something beautiful.

Part 6- https://egyptsblackrose.tumblr.com/post/655347185273241600/dancing-with-strangers-this-is-by-far-the-longest

[threecrowsinatrenchcoat]

Plant Your Hope With Good Seeds

Dukeceit Week Day 3: Snakes/Bugs

Remus and Janus break up. But literally everyone knows that's not what they want. Everyone, including their plants.

AO3 Link: [here]

Word Count: 4337

Warnings: n/a

@dukeceitweek <3

-

Unknown Number

hey so i kno i said i wouldnt text u but rupert isnt doin good. can i bring him back? he misses u

Janus stared at the text for several minutes. Rupert was, of course, the Monstera Variegata that he and Remus had raised together all the way from propagation. It had been one of the pride and joys of their plant collection. Losing Rupert in the split had hurt almost as much as losing Remus.

...Almost. 

Janus

Is it getting enough light? Remember it needed the grow light even next to the window. 

Janus texted back against his better judgement. He and Remus were broken up. They’d agreed not to text for a while. They’d agreed to give each other space, get used to being apart. 

It sucked, though. The apartment felt empty without Remus and half their plant collection.

Unknown Number

ya i kno. but i don’t have any south facign windows here. our place is better

Unknown Number

i mean ur place

Janus sighed morosely. Well, if it was for Rupert…

Janus

Fine. Rupert can come back.

Unknown Number

yay! ill be in town this weekend. ill bring him ok?

Janus

Ok.

And then Janus promptly threw his phone across the room.

Because here’s the thing. Janus and Remus were broken up. Remus had moved eight hours away and everything. He’d been accepted into the Nuclear Engineering graduate program a state away, and they had both heard too many horror stories about long-distance relationships to brother trying. So they’d had a very civil and mutual split. Janus kept the apartment. Remus took the TV. And they’d divided their plant family between them: they each kept their favorites, and Remus had taken the hardier plants, while Janus kept the ones that were likely not to survive an interstate move.

And then… Remus left.

And Janus had not immediately wanted him back. Not at all.

(And, of course, Janus was lying to himself.)

Remus texted him Saturday morning that he was on his way, and Janus spent the first few hours of the wait stress-cleaning. He then checked on every single plant in the apartment. Watered the ones that needed it. Rotated some of the more vivacious growers so that they wouldn’t lean full-body toward their light source. Moved his small army of Sansevierias out to the apartment balcony for some extra sun.   

Then, when all that still failed to fill up the entire eight hours of waiting, he started stress-cooking. So by the time Remus texted that he’d just gotten off the highway, Janus had himself a pot of minestrone soup simmering on the stove, a tray of made-from-scratch lasagna in the oven, and was mixing up a batch of double chocolate chip cookies. 

There was no way he was going to eat all this food himself, he realized. He was so used to booking big meals like this, because Remus ate like he was three people. And lasagna was his favorite.

“Oh, Jake, what am I doing?” he groaned to the N’Joy Pothos that cascaded down the side of the refrigerator. And then his doorbell rang. 

Janus opened the door to find Remus, dancing awkwardly from foot to foot, with his face half-hidden behind the green-and-white leaves of Rupert. 

“...Hey,” Remus said, sounding sheepish. Janus’ heart clenched.

“Hi,” he said. They stood there in the doorway for a full minute before Janus stepped back and motioned for Remus to follow. Remus hesitated, but obeyed. 

“Uh… I’ll just…” Remus looked around. Janus hated how uncomfortable he looked. Until about two weeks ago, this had been Remus’ apartment, too. “Can I put him in his old spot?”

“Sure,” Janus replied with a nod. Rupert’s old spot had been in the bedroom, where the big, beautiful south-facing window let in a ton of light. He’d moved Venus de Milos, his Marble Queen Pothos, and La Hoya Jackson, the finicky Hoya Carnosa that Remus had wanted but didn’t expect to make the 8-hour drive without going into shock, to free up Rupert’s spot. Remus hesitated again, before he nodded awkwardly and wandered off to the bedroom, all three feet of plant and two gallons of soil in tow. Janus went to the oven and took out the lasagna. 

“Howl looks good,” Remus said when he came back into the kitchen. Janus glanced up from where he was laying balls of cookie dough out onto baking sheets. 

“Thank you,” he replied. Howl was their dramatic fiddle leaf fig tree, which had decided to throw a fit just before Remus left. “I switched it to a terracotta pot with peat moss and pearlite, and doubled its water intake. It seems to be tolerating it well.”

“Good.” There was a long pause. Then,” How are you?”

Janus looked back to the cookies. “I’m doing well,” he lied. “And you? Do you start class soon?”

“Next week,” Remus answered. “And, uh. Yeah, I’m doin’ good.” Another long pause. “Uh… I’ll just. Head out, I guess.”

“You could stay,” Janus blurted out. Shit. “For dinner, I mean.” He gestured to the tray of lasagna, fresh from the oven. “If you want.”

Remus gave him an uncharacteristically shy smile, then nodded slowly. He didn’t say anything, though, so Janus just gestured for him to take a seat at the table. And then he joined him, a plate of lasagna for each of them.

“So tell me, how’s living with Roman again?” Janus asked, a few bites into the meal, because he could not take the awkward silence a moment longer.

“It’s ok,” Remus answered. He shoveled another forkful of lasagna into his mouth. “This is really good, Jan.”

Janus smiled softly. “Thank you.” A pause. “Roman doesn’t mind all the plants?”

“Nah, he’s dating this guy Patton who apparently loves plants, so the apartment being full of houseplants is a huge plus to him now.”

“Good for him.” The oven timer went off, startling him slightly. He started to get up, but Remus waved him off.

“I got ‘em, you did all the cooking.”

Janus didn’t protest. Remus got up and took the cookies out of the oven. And he even moved them to a cooling rack like Janus had taught him to do. He came back to the table. 

“How’s work?”

Janus sighed. “Oh, terrible as always,” he answered. “I really must start looking for a new job.”

“Finally getting fed up?” Remus teased. Janus rolled his eyes. More seriously, Remus continued, “You deserve better, Jan. You gotta find some place that treats you right and pays you what you’re worth.”

“Thank you, Remus.”

“And hey, just sayin’, I still think you’d make an excellent stripper.”

Janus snorted at that. “I haven’t fully ruled out that particular career change.”

They fell easily back into their usual banter, lingering late into the night over a dessert of milk and cookies. It was pushing 10pm when Remus glanced at his phone and cursed softly. Janus glanced at his phone as well.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so late,” he said. Remus shrugged.

“Nah, it’s cool. Thanks for dinner, Jan. It was real good, as always.”

“Where are you staying?”

“Uh… well, the plan was to stay with Logan, but I guess he had some kind of family emergency, so I don’t wanna trouble him. I’ll probably see if I can find a hotel room.”

Janus’ brow furrowed at that. “Why don’t you just stay here?”

“Oh, uh. I don’t wanna trouble you. I kinda feel like I already overstayed my welcome a bit?”

“Nonsense. A hotel room will cost you at least $100 for the night, and that’s simply ridiculous,” Janus insisted. “You should just stay here.”

Remus worried at his lip, which Janus knew meant he was mulling over his options. Then, he nodded. “If it’s not a bother?”

“Of course not. You’re not a bother, Remus.”

Remus’ eyes softened, and he smiled. “Ok. Thank you. Oh… lemmie go get my overnight back outta my truck.”

When Remus came back inside, Janus had just about finished making up the couch. 

“Hey, you don’t gotta get all fancy,” Remus teased. “You know I can sleep basically anywhere.”

“This is for me,” Janus replied. He fluffed up one of the pillows a bit more. “You take the bed.”

An odd look flashed across Remus’ face. “No way, Jan. I’m good on the couch.”

“Remus, you just drove eight hours, and you’re doing it again tomorrow. I am not letting you fuck up your back.”

‘I don’t-”

“Yes you do, no matter how often you say you can sleep anywhere,” Janus scoffed. “You can’t lie to me.”

Remus’ eyes softened, and after a moment, he sighed. “Ok, Jan. But what about you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You hate sleeping on couches.”

“It’s only one night-”

“And don’t you work tomorrow?”

“Yes, but-”

“You’re going to be so grumpy at work without a proper night’s sleep.”

“I’m usually grumpy at work anyway,” Janus pointed out. Remus snorted.

“Ok, that’s true. But I don’t want you to be even grumpier,” he said. “Let’s just share the bed.”

Janus eyed him for a moment. This was a terrible idea. They should not do this.

“Ok,” Janus said anyway.

They got ready for bed in awkward silence, which just made Janus miss Remus’ long, rambling chatter that much more. When Janus finished in the bathroom, he found Remus sitting gingerly on what used to be his side of the bed. Janus came over and sat down on the other side.

“Hey, uh… thanks,” Remus said. “For lettin’ me stay.”

“Of course,” Janus answered. “I… I still think of you as a friend, Remus.”

At that. Remus grimaced slightly. He didn’t say anything, seeming unable to find the right words. Before he could, Janus pulled back the top blankets on the bed and laid down. After a moment, Remus did the same.

“Good night, Remus,” Janus said quietly.

“...Good night, Janus,” Remus answered. Then he reached over and shut off the light.

-

Remus played that night over and over in his head in the days after he got home, and each and every time, he was just as stumped. 

He knew, in his brain, why he and Janus had broken up. It had been the only thing that made sense at the time, when the facts were just that Remus was moving away to pursue a lifelong dream, and Janus would never ever try to stop him from doing so. So they broke up. It made sense… right? 

But… That morning, he’d woken up to Janus curled up in his arms, face smushed against Remus’ neck, and… Remus had completely forgotten why they had even broken up in the first place.

Remus was back at Roman’s apartment, now. Eight hours away in his own cold bed, arms empty of the man he loved, just staring at the ceiling. A sharp knock on his door snapped him out of his daze.

“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty,” Roman called. “Don’t you have class in like an hour?”

“Fuck!” Remus scrambled to get up, but succeeded only in rolling out of the bed.

“Don’t forget to lock the door when you leave,” Roman added. Clearly he was unconcerned by the loud “thump” of a body hitting the floor. 

“Yup, got it,” Remus groaned in reply. He staggered, successfully this time, to his feet. 

Getting dressed was a rushed affair of ‘grab whatever’s closest,’ and soon he emerged from the bedroom with one shoe on, the other in his hand, and his backpack slung over one shoulder. He rushed into the kitchen to grab the travel mug of coffee Janus always set out for him in the mornings. And then the realization hit: Janus didn’t live here.

Remus dropped his shoe. 

The rest of the day went about as well as it could have gone without any coffee- that is to say, terribly. He got lost trying to get to campus, then he got lost again trying to get to class. Then he got stuck in traffic on the way back to Roman’s apartment. And then, to top it all off, the grocery store had been out of his favorite chips. 

So here he was, mopey and chip-less, and fucking exhausted. He dumped his backpack and collapsed face-first onto the couch. Roman, who happened to be sitting on said couch, made a noise of protest.

“Move, I need to sulk,” Remus mumbled, though his voice was thoroughly muffled by Roman’s thigh, since that was where his face had landed. 

“What on earth do you need to sulk for?” Roman asked incredulously. He moved to shove Remus off of him, but Remus went full ragdoll, and Roman couldn’t do a damn thing. “You are a grown man, you know.”

Remus turned his head just enough to stick his tongue out at Roman. Roman stuck his tongue out back.

“I had a terrible day, I earned a good sulk.”

“Didn’t like your classes?”

“Nah, they were great.”

“Professors?”

“Great.”

“Classmates?”

“Great.”

“Then Zeus Almighty, what are you so mopey-dopey about?” Roman remanded.

Remus squirmed around so he was laying on his back, head still in Roman’s lap, to look up at his brother. “So… uh… you promise not to get all, like. I told you so and shit?” 

“You miss Janus!”

“No! I-”

“You do!” Roman crowed triumphantly. Remus rolled onto his side so he didn’t have to look at his brother’s dumb gloaty face.

“...Maybe,” he groaned. Abruptly, he clamored to his feet and started for the stairs. “I gotta go build a chair.”

“Carpentry won’t solve your relationship problems,” Roman called after him.

“I know,” Remus called back. “Wrong type of wood.” If Roman had a response to that, Remus was already out the door and didn’t have to hear it. 

Patton found him out in front of the apartment building some time later, a jigsaw in hand, and a pile of cut wooden dowels at his feet.

“Hey, kiddo, what are you up to?”

Remus looked up from where he was balancing a plank of wood precariously across a milk crate, because his work table was one of the things he’d had to leave behind at Janus’ place.

“Oh, hey. Ro-bro’s upstairs.”

Patton gave him the sort of smile teachers gave to the kid they caught eating glue for the fourth time. “That doesn’t look super safe. Do you want any help?”

Remus took in Patton’s soft blue sweater and the dad-jeans from the nicer end of his closet, as well as the reusable grocery store bag that smelled suspiciously like some kind of lovely home-cooked meal; he shook his head. “You look dressed for a date night,” he said. “I don’t wanna fuck up two relationships this week.”

Patton’s eyes, impossibly, got even bigger and softer than they normally were, which honestly was quite the feat. He walked over to the stairs but, instead of making his way up to Roman’s apartment, he plopped down on the third step, facing Remus. Remus stared, bewildered.

“Uh, what’chu doin’ there, pops?”

“Well, it just sounded like you needed to talk,” Patton replied cheerfully. “So here I am.”

Remus stared a moment longer, somehow even more bewildered than before. “Uh…”

“I know I haven’t known you very long,” Patton continued. “But something tells me you’re the type of person who busts out the power tools when you’re upset.”

“How the hell can you tell that?”

Patton glanced over his shoulder, then leaned forward slightly. “Because,” he said, voice lowered conspiratorially. “I’m like that too.”

Remus blinked. “You?”

“Yup! I replaced all the tables and chairs in my house with ones I made myself after my last breakup,” Patton giggled. “Only two of them collapsed when I sat in them, too!”

Remus glanced down at the jigsaw in his hands, and then he sighed. He set it down, and went to sit next to Patton on the steps. 

“Ok, well. Yeah, maybe I’m kinda upset.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yeah? No? Maybe?”

“Yup, those are your three options!” Patton teased. Remus rolled his eyes.

“Ok, fine. You win, daddy-o. I’m upset because I miss my boyfriend. Or, well, my ex-boyfriend. I want him to be my boyfriend again.”

“Have you told him that?”

“Of course not,” Remus whined.

“Why not?”

“Because… I mean. It wouldn’t change anything. I still moved away. And I don’t even know if he’d want to be my boyfriend again either. Maybe he’s happier now.”

“You don’t know that,” Patton said gently. “Sure, maybe the circumstances aren’t the best right now, but if you both want it, things have a funny way of working out. But you have to talk to him.”

“I…” Remus paused. And then he sighed deeply. “I guess you’re right. Hey thanks, that did actually sorta help.”

Patton offered him a gentle smile. “Of course, Remus! Any time!”

“Hey!”

They both turned to see Roman standing at the top of the stairs, arms crossed.

“My own brother, hogging my boyfriend like this! The betrayal-”

“Relax, Ro, he’s not my type,” Remus shot back. “I prefer sarcastic little menaces.”

Patton giggled at that. He stood up and patted Remus on the shoulder. “I hope things work out,” he said. Remus smiled back.

“Yeah, I hope so too.”

Really, he just wanted Janus to be happy. Ideally with him, but if Janus was happier without him, well… so be it. 

- - -

Janus was miserable. 

“Dude, c’mon,” Virgil grumbled, immediately upon seeing the state of the apartment. “You’ve been watering your plants and filling the humidifiers, but you can’t be bothered to throw out your gross pizza boxes?” A pause. “Wait, you don’t even like pizza, what the hell.”

Janus just shrugged. After letting Virgil and Logan into the apartment, he’d gone straight back into blanket-burrito-on-the-couch mode. And really, he’d only bothered to get up and let them inside in the first place because Virgil had threatened to axe down the door- and Janus knew for a fact that Virgil owned multiple axes. 

“I believe he is engaging in what is described as ‘emotional eating,’ or using food as a coping mechanism in a time of stress and emotional turmoil,” Logan said helpfully. Virgil just huffed.

“That’s fine and all, but Jesus Christ, dude.” He gestured around the livingroom where… ok, yeah, it was a mess.

“Did you two come here just to insult me?” Janus grumbled. His face was half-mashed into a pillow, though, so who knows how much of that was actually discernible.

“We came to make sure you were still alive,” Virgil snapped, indicating that at least most of what Janus had said was discernible. “You weren’t answering any texts.”

“Yes, and you called out of work three days in a row,” Logan added. “We are concerned for you, Janus.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Janus lied from the comfort of his depression blanket burrito. He was not particularly surprised when neither Virgil or Logan looked even remotely convinced.

“Alright, drastic measure time,” Virgil growled. He walked over to the window, and picked up the young Burgundy Rubber Tree Janus had yet to name. Janus sat bolt upright. 

“Virgil? Don’t you dare-”

Virgil walked past him and vanished down the hall. When he came back, his hands were empty, and he had a smirk on his face.

“Oh, fuck you,” Janus hissed. He dragged himself up off the couch to go rescue the poor thing, finding it stashed in the dark, windowless bathroom. When he came back to the livingroom, Virgil and Logan were sprawled across the couch.

“Ha ha, very funny.” Janus set the rubber tree back on the windowsill alongside the Snake Plant Army. “Ok, I’m up. Are you heathens happy now?”

“I take offense to that,” Logan muttered, while Virgil just crossed his arms and said, curtly, “Spill it.”

“Spill what?”

“Why are you so upset?”

“I’m not upset-”

“Falsehood,” Logan interrupted. “I have known you since high school, Janus, and I have never seen you like this before. It is highly alarming.”

“Is this about Remus?” Virgil asked.

“No,” Janus said immediately. “Of course not.”

Virgil and Logan exchanged a Look. Janus groaned.

“Fuck. Ok, fine. Maybe it is.”

“Was that so hard?” Virgil asked. 

“Yes.”

“You-”

“Janus,” Logan interrupted Virgil’s retort. “It is my understanding that emotional distress is often alleviated through, as they say, ‘talking it out.’ It is clear you are not handling the break-up as well as you initially believed-”

“Of course I’m not!” Janus snapped. He took a deep breath, and turned back to the plants on his windowsill. Kaa, the Sansevieria Moonshine Remus had gotten for Janus as an anniversary present last year, was already leaning slightly toward the window again. He rotated it, and a few of the other snake plants on the sill. And then he realized the others had been quiet for far too long. He turned to find them both watching him with sympathetic expressions. “What?”

“Keep going,” Virgil prompted. Janus sighed. He felt exhausted.

“Of course I’m not,” he said again. “Because I love Remus.”

“And?” Virgil prompted.

“...And I didn’t want us to break up,” he finished, feeling glum. Wordlessly, Virgil stood up, and approached Janus, arms out. Janus stepped into the embrace. Nobody said anything; Janus didn’t cry, but he stood there for a long time. Then, he stepped back.

“Thank you,” he said, and he meant it. Virgil gave him a small smile. Logan cocked his head, seeming confused.

“I don’t understand. You just… needed a hug?”

“Hugs are great, Logan,” Virgil replied. “You should try them sometime- hey, where are you going?”

Janus strode past them both, beelining for his bedroom to find his laptop. Over his shoulder, he answered, “To fill out some job applications.”

- - -

Remus was outside building a new bookshelf- because Patton was moving in, and Roman's teenie-tiny sad little excuse for a bookshelf, which held only Disney DVDs and no actual books, wouldn’t suffice for all of Patton’s cookbooks- when his phone rang. Which was weird, because nobody ever called him, because he never fucking answered.

“Not interested, Mr. Spam Man,” he crooned over the sound of the generic iPhone ringtone. He was learning how to do kerf bending for this bookcase, and goddamn it he wasn’t going to be distracted by-

His phone started ringing again. He swore and ripped off his gloves to silence his phone. But as he did so, he realized the number flashing across his screen was a familiar one. 

“Janus? Are you ok?” he answered the call, half panicked, because Janus hated phone calls almost as much as he did.

“Hi. Yes, everything’s fine.” Janus sounded slightly hysterical, which made Remus feel even more frantic. “Where are you?”

“I’m at Roman’s. Are you sure you’re ok-”

“Great, don’t leave. I’ll be right there.”

“What does that mean-” Remus demanded, but the line was already dead. Remus swore again. He briefly considered calling him back, because what the actual fuck was that all about, but he was only about 30 seconds into that brief consideration before a familiar car tearing through the apartment complex parking lot caught his attention. He quickly brushed as much of the sawdust off his clothes as he could because holy shit Janus had just parked right there in front of Roman’s apartment.

Remus watched, dumbfounded, as Janus scrambled out of his car- dressed in his very nice black suit and pale yellow button-up- and came running across the lawn toward where Remus was working. He had a tiny plant clutched to his chest.

“Uh, Jan, you good?” Remus asked. Janus stopped in front of him and doubled over, breathless, for a few moments. Then, he straightened up, and fixed Remus with a look of sheer determination.

“Remus. I want to get back together.”

Remus’ heart, the traitorous bastard, leaped up into his throat and blocked all his words from coming out. 

“It’s… it’s ok if you don’t want that,” Janus continued. His look of determination faltered slightly. “It’s ok. But I needed to tell you. Because I love you, so much. And I… I didn’t want you to think I didn’t, even if you don't-”

Remus found his words abruptly. “Jan, fuck! I do! I do love you. I never stopped loving you. All I want is to be with you.”

Janus’ eyes softened. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Good, because I’ve just been offered a job here.”

Remus choked. Janus was eyeing him smugly. “You. Just like that, you got a job here?”

“Just like that,” Janus grinned. “I just came from the interview. They offered me a position on the spot.”

Remus couldn't help himself any longer. He lurched forward and pulled Janus tightly into his arms.

“Hey, be careful,” Janus said, though he made absolutely no effort to get out of Remus’ embrace. “You’ll crush our new son.”

Remus pulled back just enough to look at the small plant Janus held in his hands, and only then did his brain register what it was. 

“Is! Is that-”

“Yes,” Janus replied, holding up the tiny Drosera Capensis seedling. Remus had wanted one of these for ages.

“For me?”

“Well, for us, ideally,” Janus answered, with a shy smile. “But, mostly for you, yes.”

Remus gently plucked the baby octopus plant- their new son!- from Janus’ hands, and placed it carefully on top of the milk crate that was serving as his carpentry workbench. Then, he hoisted Janus up off the ground and spun him around.

“Oh- Re-” Janus exclaimed, though he was laughing. “Put me down!”

“No!” Remus trilled. He spun Janus around once more. Then he just stood there, holding Janus, gazing up at him. Janus’ eyes grew soft. Slowly, he carded his fingers through Remus’ hair.

“Hey,” Janus said.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Remus set Janus down, but kept his arms still wrapped tightly around him. His heart felt warm.

“Hey.”

Janus looked up at him. “Yeah?”

“I love you, too.” 

[justasparkwritings]

Troll In Love: Part 1

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Exes to Lovers, Non-Idol AU

Rating: PG-17

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: What happens when your work nemesis and your ultimate troll team up to flip your world upside down? 

Note: This piece is for the #thebtswritersclub fic exchange! Look out for Part 2 later this week. 

This fic is dedicated to, written for the incomparable @xjoonchildx​, who I have been lucky enough to be paired with. A major fan, this was an intimidating endeavor, and I’m kind of in love with what I’ve created for her. And if she hates it .... it’s trash okay? jk... kind of. 

Banner by me. 

Monday: Pitch Meeting

           “Everyone has an inherent archnemesis,” Claire began her presentation, eyes peering across the conference room, attempting to make thoughtful eye contact with her peers.

          Finally, a staff writer, this pitch marked her first foray into feature writing. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried, in her three years at the company as a freelance writer, it wasn’t that she didn’t draft proposals, complete preliminary research, no, she absolutely did. But there was always someone in front of her, someone who always came around the corner, nicking first place with seconds to spare. Claire hated you from the moment you arrived, bright eyed and excited, a recent college graduate gunning for a position at the magazine. While it took her years to pitch a cover story feature, years to move from an assistant to full-time staff writer, you had done so in a handful of years.

          Today, Claire decided, that would change.  She had prepped and planned for weeks, laid in wait for Marissa to give her the go ahead to pitch her idea to the team. Adjusting her Dior, she shifted from heel to heel before speaking again.

          “We all have that one person who no matter what we post, they find a way to demean it, turn it negative, make it about something completely unrelated. Whether that’s politics, or religion, or sex, there is that one troll we can’t help but root against. My proposal is to use a few members of staff to find their internet trolls, to engage with them over a period of time, and if they’re willing, interview them, both separately and together. I want to discover what it is that makes them keep commenting, why they always seem to gravitate towards certain posts, who their audience is and how it relates to our greater understandings of our enemies.” Claire sighed, the heavy lifting of her presentation just beginning.

           “I like it, who do you want to use?” Marissa asked.

           “Someone from each of our most high-profile teams, or the people in our office that have the largest social media followings. For a few that overlaps,”

           “Who are those people?”

           “Y/N, Jaxson, Hoseok, Emma and Bridgette,” Claire explained. “They have an average Instagram following of ten thousand, and on Twitter it’s twelve thousand.”

           “What do you post that gets you so many followers?” Gillian questioned.

           “My ass,” Jaxson laughed. “But really, it’s Drag Race content,”

           “Good, you have a list. I need written permission from each of you to interview you and your top internet harassers.”

           “I’d like to request that my name be off the list,” You asked, hand still raised.

           Hoseok asked, knowing the answer deep in his bones. “Why?”

           “I just, I don’t think it’d be a –

           “Nonsense, you have a large following, I’m sure there’s someone who pisses you off regularly,” Marissa interrupted.

           “Yes, there is! What’s his name? Jimin?” Claire pretended to scan her page, her cursory glance perfunctory instead of practical.

           You heard the gasp leave Hoseok’s mouth before you registered what was happening.

“Fuck you!” You snapped. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate, but the sentiment remains.”

           “It was, but it also sealed your fate.” Marissa stood. “Start assembling your team and listen to Claire, I’m sure she has a list of things she needs from you.”

           “I do!” Claire chimed.

           “Great, get me the contracts from legal and get it to each of the people you’ve listed before 5PM today, I want signed consent before you leave this building.”

           “What if I don’t want to?” You asked, your final plea.

           “You owe her for the debacle with your last interview,” Marissa reminded you.

           “It’s not my fault they were drunk both times! I got the article done and out. It was one of our biggest issues in the last year and was followed up by two other feature pieces by me that beat that record,” You countered, your success an unnecessary brag in a room full of people who feared and admired your work.

           “I don’t care, Y/N, handle it,” Marissa sauntered out, her assistants following close behind.

           Slouching in your chair, your eyes landed on Claire, glaring daggers into her perfectly straight midnight bob. She was everything you hated, a brown noser, a narcissist, a career driven monster who had been biting at your heels since you arrived. She was jealous, blinded by some lofty goal that she’d be an editor or editor in chief before 28, a feat rare in fashion, unless you were Elaine Welterwroth or Margaret Zhang, of course. They had become editors and editors in chief by ages 29 and 27 respectively. Though Zhang had begun her career blogging at 16, a fact that only infuriated Claire who was too busy popping pimples and trying to lose her virginity to her junior varsity boyfriend.

          Claire could spend days listing everything she hated about you. She hated your easy interactions with coworkers, the ability to have the entire room stop and listen when you spoke, the craft of your written work and relationships maintained with subjects years after interviewing them. She hated how you left work with Hoseok on your arm or went to drinks with the assistants and interns. How you achieved so many bylines, becoming an editor in your own right without so much as breaking a sweat, while she was scraping the barrel to be noticed. You seemingly had everything Claire wanted, and Claire was sick of it.

Monday: Your Office

           “Thank you, for your participation,” Claire said, sitting across from you in your office.

           “You aren’t welcome, I’m actually rather unimpressed with your ability to ambush not only me but the other people you’ve trapped into doing your article,” You crossed your legs, adjusting the waist band of your trousers and continued to scowl at her. Claire had only heard of your less than cheerful personality, though it remained largely rumored, she had never had it confirmed or dared to see it in person.

           “How, charming,” She rolled her eyes.

           “Look, you don’t want to be talking to me, I don’t want to be talking to you. Just tell me what you want so I can send you on your way.”

           Claire watched as you reached across your desk to grab your black and white planner, flipping open to the weeks page and holding your pen at the ready. The inside, covered in stickers and hand lettered phrases, fit the persona Claire so desperately wanted to mimic.

           “I need you to read and sign this,” Claire slid the agreement across your glass desk. “Then, I need you to identify the username of your troll, and I need to borrow an intern from your team.”  

           “You can’t have one,”

           “Marissa said I could have whatever I needed, and I need an intern to comb through your tweets.”

           “I can save you the trouble, I rarely tweet, when I do, it’s addressing the same ass hat,” You explained.

           “Well, I need their handle,”

           “Fine,”

           “And the intern,” Claire was firm.

           You rolled your eyes, before pressing the intercom. “Hey Alexis, can you send Erin to me?”

           “Sure thing,” Alexis replied.

           “Thank you,”

           Claire rolled her eyes.

           “Jealous?” You questioned.

           “Read the contract, sign it and send it back to me along with answering the Form that’s in your inbox,” Claire directed.

           “Great,”

           “I’ll be back on Friday to go over your tweets and exchanges before we decide on a tactic to reach out to them and ask them to come in for an interview,” Claire explained. It didn’t annoy you that she was prepared, but it did piss you off a little to know how much she had thought this through. Maybe you should give her a chance, professionally, not socially, Claire would remain a bottom feeder.

           “Who says they’re in the city?” You questioned.

           “If not, we’ll Zoom with them, okay?”

           “Excuse me, you wanted to see me?” Erin peered through the door; wavy bangs parted slightly to expose her forehead and freckled cheeks.

           “Yes, your projects are on hold. Claire here needs your help with her feature article, and as my intern, you are to report to her for the remainder of the project,” You explained.

           Erin’s eyes widened, never had she been reassigned to a special project, let alone with Claire who was notorious for running interns and assistants into the ground. “Who will take over my work?”

           “Can you make a list of where you’re at and send it to me? I will meet with the team tomorrow to talk about where we need to fill in the gaps,”

           “Okay,”

           “Claire, this is Erin, if you are a bitch to her, I will ensure you don’t ever write a feature piece or move past copy editor here or anywhere,”

           “I don’t know where you get off thinking you can speak to me like –

           “I am your superior, and you will respect my intern or face the consequences,”

           “Fine,” Claire turned and left, leaving Erin wondering what on earth she had been roped into.

Tuesday: Happy Hour

           “You gave the real handle?” Hoseok asked over drinks after work, a little happy hour to celebrate leaving the office before 7PM.

           “What was I going to do? She could easily look at my Twitter and Instagram and find out, why lie?”

           “What happened to preservation?” Hoseok mocked.

           “Either I give in and get Claire off my back, or I get called to Marissa’s and have consequences, like I’m a fucking child.”

           Hoseok eyed you suspiciously. “Did you give her his name?”

           “You saw in that meeting, she already knows. I blame you,”

           “Me?”

           “Yes you, always talking about dance classes with Jimin, the good old days of photographing him and styling him in college. He abandoned me to go to school with you, and you’ve taken it all in stride.” You explained. It wasn’t a new story, a new plea, a new exploration of your tempestuous non-relationship with Jimin. It was sad, really, listening to you express the hurt you’ve never let go of.

           “He didn’t abandon you to come to school with me,” Hoseok laughed.

           “Potato, Tomato,”

           “You should talk-

           “Nope, you made your once monthly ‘you should talk to Jimin’ comment a week ago over margheritas, you don’t get another for ten more days,” You scolded.

           “Fine, fine.”

           “I don’t even know where he is,” You muttered, pink liquid of your Paloma slipping down your throat.

           “That’s a lie,”

           “Can you stop calling me out and let me hate him?” You hadn’t meant to snap, but the constant chatter revolving around Jimin was too much to handle, it was too much in two days, too much in the years since you last saw him. Park Jimin was, and has remained, too much.  

           “Fine,” Hoseok resigned. “Have you looked at your tweets lately?”

           “No, I refuse to go back and read whatever horrors I wrote in 2019,”

           “You should,” He suggested.

           “I guarantee Claire will force me to read them. Probably aloud at some last-minute staff meeting she puts together on Friday to fucking fillet me,” You rolled your eyes again, the last dregs of grapefruit clumping together as they slid down the side of your glass.

           “Maybe if you weren’t so,” He starts.

           “Bitchy?”

           “Your words, then she would like you,”

           “She’s hated me since I got there, I’ve tried being nice. I’ve tried being cordial. Claire and I will never mix,” You explained.

           “He’s gone blonde you know,” Hoseok’s eyes have flittered past you, glancing down the street at the setting sun, glad he brought his latest Gucci jacket to keep him warm in the early spring evening.

           “Didn’t you hit your moratorium on how long you can talk about Jimin in a conversation?”

           “You said his name!” Hoseok argued.

           “He isn’t Trump, Hoseok. I can say his name, sometimes.”  

           Hoseok let the moment simmer, cooling gently before turning it up to a raucous boil. “I’m having a kick back next Wednesday, will you come?”

           “If he’s not there,” You answered.

           “I can’t promise that,”

           “Then I can’t promise either,” Chewing the ice from your glass, you let your mind wander to the possibilities of what might happen should you show up to Hoseok’s party and are greeted by Jimin. Blonde Jimin. Jimin with the sparkling eyes and winning smile. Jimin who harasses you on the internet weekly, Jimin who you haven’t spoken to since you were 22, Jimin whom you hated with every fiber of your being.

           Worst case scenario, you couldn’t avoid him and would be forced to speak words to him. Best case, you time it perfectly and he’s either just left or hasn’t arrived and you can doll out pleasantries before Irish-goodbying and never having to confront him.

           “Y/N, please, you haven’t seen my new place yet and it’s finally furnished,” Hoseok pleaded.

           “I’ll think about it,” You resigned.

           “Great!”

           “I fucking hate you and our friendship,” You scoffed, signaling the waiter to bring you the check. You should’ve ordered food, being buzzed and talking about Jimin was never a good idea.

           “I know you do.” Hoseok winked before picking up the tab for you both.

           “At least tell me you haven’t invited Seokjin,” You asked, slipping your coat over your shoulders.

           “Well-

           “You’re fucking with me, right?” You questioned. “You fucking invited both of my exes to a, I’m sorry, kick back? Hoseok, no.”

           “I love you, and I’m sorry, Seokjin helped me find some great pieces for the place, and you know he’s friends with Namjoon and Jungkook,” He tried to explain.

           “That doesn’t mean I want to stare at them over my tenth flute of champagne and my plate which will be piled high with cheese and crackers and pieces of salami.”

           “You and Seokjin are fine though, you ended-

           “Don’t say amicably,” You cut him off.

           “Well, close to it. Please,” He begged. Begging never looked good on Hoseok.

           Staring into his dark irises, a shade mimicking your own, you couldn’t hold the anger brewing. Being around Seokjin was always a better alternative than Jimin. Though the pity he often felt towards you, at your angered state which has never really subsided, was embarrassing. “I’ll think about it.”

           “I love you,” Hoseok pulled you into a hug.

           “Yeah, yeah, then why do you keep doing this to me?”

           “Because I love you,”

           “Tell Taehyung to call me,” You said, waving to him before stepping into the waiting Lyft you’d called at the bar.

           “I will, can’t make any promises,” Hoseok winked before turning towards the subway, where he’d pull out his head phones and scan through the photos he’d taken throughout the day, waiting to get home to Taehyung to analyze, edit and critique them.

Thursday: Claire’s Makeshift Office

           “Are you ready?” Claire asked, sifting through the papers on her desk.

           “You had me come to your office, after you scheduled a meeting to ask if I’m ready? Yes Claire, I’m fucking ready,” You snapped.

           “Erin,” Claire gestured towards your intern who tried to hold her eye roll.

           “So, I combed through your tweets, sifting through your interactions with Mochimin, which is a very creative username,” Erin began.

           “Yeah, his name and nickname combined,” You rolled your eyes.

           “And we read through them all, well mostly me… and I have to ask, are you sure these are your tweets?” Erin questioned.

           “Yes, and what should be his responses,” You answered reaching forward to grab the printed copies waiting for you. You scanned over the interactions, the subtweets, the blatant tags, the retweets and comments not just by Jimin, but a few of your friends too.

           “Why have you been telling us he’s the troll?” Erin asked.

           Her question caught you off guard, eyes wide, shock echoing in your bones.

           “What the fuck? What do you mean? Look at how he fucking responded!”

           “Y/N, you’re the troll!” Erin laughed. “It’s you, not him,”

           “I am not! This is a fucking joke! It’s not April Fools yet, way to put the cart before the horse!” Your voice radiated throughout the small conference room.

          Claire, not having an office of her own, had requested it to conduct most of her teams work. It was your least favorite of the conference rooms, colder both in décor and temperature than the others, it was situated on the corner leading to the kitchen. Glass on two walls, it was the definition of exposed. Everyone could see your outburst. Everyone could watch you fall to pieces. You guessed Claire had planned it this way, to demonstrate how focused her team was, how dedicated to the project they were, to show everyone her value as a staff writer instead of a freelancer. You also assumed she did this to ensure that whatever break down you were beginning to have, would have at least ten witnesses, ten people to side with her that your behavior was irresponsible and reckless.

           “Oh please, get over yourself,” Claire chuckled. The light in her eyes proved your assumptions, she was enjoying this. “Do you see how you interact with him?”

          “What do you mean how I interact with him? He started this!” You lowered your volume, side glances from colleagues passing by alerting you to the unprofessional decibels you’d began reaching.

          “In almost every interaction, you bait him, hook line and sinker. It’s you, Y/N,” Erin explained.

           “No!”

           “Yes, this poor man, just living his life while you’re purposefully harassing him!” Claire feigned shock, eyes widening, mouth slightly open. It was taking everything in you not to resort to physical violence.  

           “I would never,” You glowered.

           “You have! For years, it’s always you,” Erin said again.

          “I, no, that’s impossible. He started it!”

          “Admitting is the first step,” Claire’s placid smile was demanding to be smacked off.

          “Fuck you! This is ridiculous!”

          “July 10, 2020: Thinking of one man in particular, hoping the bleach in his locks burns in the summer heat.Followed by his comment: thinking of one woman in particular, hoping she knows I wear a hat and use purple shampoo.” Erin read.

          “I, I, no!”

          “October 13: Nothing makes me happier than not being invited to a birthday bash with all my friends. He responded: All you have to do is ask. On your birthday, he tweeted: Happy B-Day to the girl who … oh never mind she hates me. You responded: nobody asked for your half-hearted bullshit, next time I hope you choke on it.”

          “He started it!”

          “Why are you so awful to him?” Erin wanted to know.

          “I am not, he began harassing me first,” You tried to argue.

          “Does Hoseok know?” Claire chided.

          “Know what?”

          “About your vendetta,”

          “It’s not a vendetta!”

          “Then explain why you tweet or subtweet him at least twice a week, and then when he responds, tweet him again! You don’t even tag him, just vaguely mention discernable parts of his personality or appearance,” Erin explained.

          “I do not! How do you know what he looks like?” You tried to counter.

          “His profile picture, and a certain friend of yours doesn’t mind sharing-

          “You asked Jungkook? Or was it Taehyung? Or I’m sorry, both?” Your eyes were wide, breathing labored, anger boiling to inhumane levels.

          “Well, if we asked Hoseok you would’ve kno-

          “You called or texted or DM’ed Jungkook and Taehyung, and asked about Jimin?”

          “Yes,” Erin bowed her head, guilt written into the freckles her blush tried so desperately to hide.

          “I cannot believe you, Erin,” You spat.

          “I’m sorry Claire wanted me to,”

          You turned your gaze to Claire, who had begun to cower in her seat.

          “You did the one thing, the absolute one thing that you knew, you fucking knew, would set me off. You did this on purpose, you fucking bottom feeder, you fucking dillweed you crossed the fucking line, Claire,” You spat. Your volume had lowered into a low growl, far more deadly and intimidating than any yelling you had done.

          “We have the proof, Y/N, you can’t deny it, you attack Jimin regularly,” Claire unskillfully attempted to move the conversation away from Jungkook and Taehyung. Like you would balk at her intrusion.

          “You don’t get to violate my personal life, to violate the lives of the people I care deeply about, to expose sources and put them in danger should this article go south, poking and prodding into the lives of people who are dealing with their own bullshit to push your own fucking agenda, Claire,” You were seething, Te Fiti in Moana, Mrs. Weasley against Bellatrix, Kim Kardashian against the ocean searching for her diamond. Your wrath knows no bounds, and Claire had finally crossed the line into territory she could never come back from.

          “It’s for the job, nothing personal.” Claire shrugged. You could see it in her eyes, she wanted blood and was elated to be getting it.

          “This is entirely personal.”

          “Well, you can ask Jimin about it when we interview him,” She smiled, lips upturning revealing her veneers, red lipstick perfectly matte and shaped against her thin flesh.

          “No, absolutely not,” You shook your head.  

          “Yes, that’s part of the deal you agreed to,”

          “I take it back. I revoke my consent!”

          “It’s non-negotiable,” Marissa said. She had sauntered in during your berating, watching as you tried and failed to continue believing that you weren’t the troll. “You have agreed to this, and you will sit through the interview and cordially answer Claire’s questions.”

          “Marissa, this is crossing a line,” You stated.

          “You have to be held accountable,” Claire said.

          “Fuck you, Claire. Believe it or not, there are somethings that are beyond your understanding and a few that are not appropriate for work,” You continued to scold her.

          “Y/N, why are you being so hostile?” Claire was mocking you, with Marissa by her side, she was invincible.

          “You picked me on purpose. What have you been working with Hoseok? Is this some larger plan to get me to talk to Jimin? I don’t want to talk with Jimin or talk to Jimin, isn’t it bad enough he’s being brought into my work? Oh and let’s not forget you using Erin and Hoseok to gain access to Jungkook and Taehyung, who are beyond off limits.” You listed each of her offenses, careful to leave out indiscretions that occurred before this project of hers began.  

          “You agreed to-

          “No, I was forced to do this by you, Marissa,” You began.

          It wasn’t hard to glower at Marissa, one of the most decorated editors in chief, beloved by Condé Nast, best friend of Anna Wintour… Everyone aspired to be her, but in the last year, through your promotion and growing turbulence within the magazine, her leadership had begun to falter. Her steady hand, guiding each staff writer and editor towards success and elevating everyone’s work, was crumbling at an alarming pace. Yet, no one knew why or if anything was being done to rectify the damage her wake was leaving.

          “I was coerced into this under some pretense that I owe Claire something for a so called fuck up that resulted in the biggest boon in our magazines readership in the last year, which was followed up by not one but two feature bylines and my promotion. I have done more than enough at this company, in this industry, to sit here and be forced to engage with a man who destroyed my world. I will not speak with him, or to him or listen to him. I will not, and if you force me, I will get legal involved. Should this bullshit continue, you can expect my letter of resignation next week.”

          Standing and shoving your chair in, you turned on the heels of your Oxfords and marched straight to your office. Closing your laptop and shoving your planner into your tote, you grabbed your phone.

          “Where are you going?” Hoseok asked. He moved in time with you, following down the many corridors of your office and towards the elevators.

          As you stepped in, you pressed lobby and waited for the doors to be closed before turning to him.

          “Did you tell Erin she could contact Jungkook and Taehyung?” You asked.

          “She did what?” Hoseok yelled, soundwaves bounding off the metal and plastic of the elevator, reverberating in your ears.

          “Did you?”

          “No, I can’t believe she, are you serious?” Hoseok couldn’t lie, a fundamental flaw in his design made it impossible for him to tell the smallest fib.

          “Did you work with Erin and Claire to get me involved in this feature? To get me to talk to Jimin?” You didn’t mince your words or pad your language to make him feel less attacked. You needed the answer, and you needed it now.

          “No, I didn’t know Claire was doing this until she pitched it. You think I would-

          “Hoseok, they called Jungkook and Taehyung. They want Jimin to come in to be interviewed, they won’t stop until I-

          “Until you what?”

          “Marissa has always supported me, championed me. But Claire has her number, she has her locked and loaded, aiming for me and I don’t know why,” You confided.

          “She has been slipping lately,” He agreed. “There’s only one way to stop this,”

          Together you stepped out of the elevator, moving past the turnstiles to the revolving door.

          “Am I crazy?” You asked, the insecurity beginning to overtake your bravery.

          “No, something weird is going on,”

          You clarified, “No, I mean, am I crazy for… for doing this to Jimin?”

          “I don’t know if you’re crazy, but you’ve definitely not been your best self,” Hoseok answered.

          “He makes me so-

“You still love him,” Hoseok interrupted.

          “I-

          “Go talk to him,” Hoseok encouraged. “Call me after, we can get drinks and wallow or pick out an outfit for your hot date.”

          “What if he-

          “Just, talk to him, okay?” Hoseok requested.

          “Okay,”

          “I’ll check in with Jungkookie and Taehyungie,” He assured.

          “Thank you,”

          “I’ll also scope out open positions, we can’t stay here,”

          “I love you, Hobi,” You confided, a statement that flowed so easily past your lips, you didn’t have to think or parse through the emotions that went along with it. You’ve always loved him, always will.

          “I love you too, Y/N,” Hoseok draped his arm around your shoulders before placing a kiss to your forehead, a gentle embrace, a squeeze of confidence, a gesture of love. He moved swiftly from you back into the building, and as you watched him walk away, you took a deep breath.

          Taking your phone out of your pocket, you dialed a number you had tried to forget.

          “To what do I owe this unexpected delight of a call?” He asked. His voice was the same, chipper and cunning in the same breath.

          “I need to speak with you, ASAP,” You told him.

          “Okay, I’m working from home today, come over whenever,” He invited you without hesitation.

          “You still live at the same place?”

          “No, moved up. I’ll send you the address,”

          “You know who this is?” You asked, uncertainty back in your bones.

          “What, Y/N, you thought I deleted your number?” Jimin laughed, one of only a few sounds that shot right to your knees, making any posture unstable in the docile sounds of his joy.

          “I, I don’t know, I guess. Look I’m going to hail a cab, I’ll be there in 20,”

          “I look forward to it, just tell the doorman you’re here for me and he’ll let you up,” Jimin said.

          “Okay, see you soon, I guess,”

          “I can’t wait,” Jimin was smiling, you couldn’t see it, but the lilt in his voice was all the assurance you needed. Bracing yourself for the impact of him, of his voice, of his laugh, of the way he looked at you, you hailed one of the last remaining cabs in the city and prayed for courage.  

Next: Troll in Luv Pt. 2

[one-more-offbeat-anthem]

i only chose this because of you

jimmy novak character study for father’s day, 1.3k. read on ao3 here.

Everybody wants to be a father.

Oh, you don’t need children to be a father--you can parent a dream, you can foster hope, you can say a kind word to a lonely person.

There, you’re a father.

But Jimmy doesn’t believe this.

He’s unable to understand what his friends feel when they speak of marriage, of fatherhood, of new life in this world. He feels like something’s missing; is there something wrong with him, that prevents him from feeling this way, like he’s supposed to want all of these things?

When Jimmy meets Amelia, he doesn't love her immediately.

He likes her. A lot. But like is not love and so at first they are study partners, friends, each other’s ride homes. Then there are first kisses, first dates, and first fights. A first time, that they are both sure God will condemn.

But fire does not rain down upon them, and they live. Graduate. Marry. Buy a house.

He is not sure who he would have married if not her.

Because the others--no.

He has heard it enough at church, shouted from the pulpit. People like that will burn in the fire of hell.

Jimmy is safe with Amelia, and he is happy with Amelia.

But something is still missing.

------------------------------------

Two years later, Amelia gets pregnant.

For their families, it’s a great source of joy. A grandchild, a niece or nephew, someone to coddle and pin the Novak hopes and dreams onto.

It’s more complicated for them.

What their families do not know is the woe of many doctors appointments, of nurses’ worried expressions during sonograms, of medicine and praying and laying on of hands.

This child could die before they even get to meet her.

Jimmy’s relationship with God is tenuous--they used to be friends, Jimmy thinks, before people started telling him he was going to die in God’s name.

(If they did not know they were speaking to Jimmy--does that make it okay? No, he decides.)

But he needs something to believe in, so he prays anyways, and maybe God is listening at the time, because when their daughter is finally born, she is healthy. More importantly, she is alive, and that was all Jimmy had let himself hope for.

They name her Claire. It means bright and clear, and she is certainly a light in Jimmy’s life. He is beginning to understand those who want to be fathers--because there is no one more precious than Claire. The silence, the cavern inside of him, is deafening, but when he is with his daughter, in the late night hours in her nursery with a bottle, it feels a little bit fuller.

And Amelia is happy, with a child around.

So he has no choice but to smile.

------------------------------------

Amelia gets a job.

It’s at the library, and she loves it, wears cardigans and floral dresses and runs out the door, off to do something very important.

Jimmy sells ad time and he doesn’t love it at all. He feels lonely and like he’s not doing any good in the world by trying to get people to buy things. His God warns of overabundance, but Jimmy is empty most of the time. He lies awake at night, his wife asleep, Claire in the next room murmuring to her stuffed animals as she drifts into slumber.

Amelia’s job is less flexible than Jimmy’s, and so he begins to be the person who takes Claire everywhere. Dance recitals, soccer practice, school, friends’ houses...her car seat takes up permanent residence in the back of his car, the pockets of his trenchcoat filled with candy wrappers, tissues, rocks she found on the playground.

He learns how to dress her, and then how to argue with her about how he’s dressed her, how to plait her long, blonde curls. Claire is developing a personality--stubborn, funny, clever, curious.

Full of heart.

He loves her more each day, even as he slips away from this world, anchored only by her drawings from class on the fridge and her sparkly, light-up sneakers left right in front of the door.

Then the voice comes.

------------------------------------

The voice’s name is Castiel, and Castiel is an angel.

Jimmy hears Castiel only when he is alone--on the radio, in pictures on the television, or just in his head. Castiel tells him to do many things--prove your faith. Prove your strength. And Jimmy does them.

The things his pastors and fellow churchgoers have said must be done to prove one’s faith are far less painful than what Castiel asks of him. Castiel says there’s a task for Jimmy--that Jimmy is the only one who can do it. The hole inside him is starting to fill with echoes of the angel’s voice, night and day.

Claire notices nothing different--she still pulls him to her room to play with dolls, still shows him all her assignments from school. He puts her 100 on a math test on the fridge, stacks up her books for reading class. Bridge to Terabithia. Charlotte’s Web. The Westing Game. Kids sure talk a lot about death.

But Amelia notices, and she tells Jimmy’s doctor, but he doesn’t take the medicine.

Amelia thinks he’s slipping.

Jimmy thinks he’s better than ever.

When Castiel finally asks him if he can borrow Jimmy’s body and use it as a vessel, Jimmy only asks one question.

“Will my family be okay?”

Castiel promises yes.

So Jimmy replies in kind.

------------------------------------

For almost a year, Jimmy watches the world through the angel’s eyes. He hates and loves Castiel at the same time--for wearing his face, for wanting the Righteous Man, for saying to his daughter I am not your father.

He just hopes Claire is safe, like Castiel promised.

From inside his own skin he watches his hands smite and heal and hold and when he finally gets out and as himself meets the Winchesters, those for whom all this trouble was apparently worth, he vows never to go back.

It’s like being strapped to a comet, he tells them.

He gets to have dinner with Claire again.

Amelia is wary, and Jimmy understands. The angel has burned him, carved the hole wider instead of truly filling it, and Jimmy wonders: if this is an angel, what is God like? Where is He, if this is what is happening on His earth? Monsters and Lucifer and the apocalypse impending?

Jimmy cries over dinner, cannot pray. Not to God. Not to anyone. He is ready to return home, to hang up that trenchcoat--he is done traveling--and leave this behind. Leave saving the world to the Winchesters and their friends.

But instead a demon comes.

There is a scuffle, ropes and burning and Jimmy is nearly dead by the end of it all, delirious as his hair is smoothed back by his daughter, but it’s not his daughter.

“Your time is done,” the angel says.

Jimmy shakes his head. This can’t be how it ends--Claire doesn’t deserve to get her soul carved out, but Jimmy does, he’s already halfway there.

“Take me instead,” is what he says to the angel wearing his daughter’s face, but what he means is, let this not all be in vain. Let my last act be saving her. Let her live.

Castiel says Jimmy will die.

Jimmy says he knows this. He knows, deep inside, he was dead from the beginning. It just took some time to accept it.

The angel agrees to the deal, and Jimmy Novak is burned out from the inside, and is no more.

------------------------------------

Years later, in Heaven, a guest arrives, a woman who looks familiar, who has tears in her eyes, who rushes into his arms. His wife. Amelia. All he can ask is how is she? And Amelia tells him, she is beautiful. You would love her.

Jimmy does love her. That is why he did not watch her grow up.

[dragonologist-in-the-making]

You’re Here

Pairing: sirius x fem!reader

Summary: it’s sirius’ birthday, so the reader decides to finally confess their feelings.

a/n: eeeeee I’m back!! Sorry it was such a long break, I can’t promise this is a permanent return but it’s Sirius’ birthday today so I had to do a special fic for him xx hope you enjoy!!

wordcount: 2k

…

He sat in front of the fire, the warm glow from the dying flames flickering on his face, in a way that could easily enchant anybody who happened to be watching the scene. In fact, it already had. y/n was sat on the sofa, pretending to be engaged in the conversation happening around her as she couldn’t help but let her eyesight drift back to the raven haired boy sat in front of her. She’d noticed this starting to happen in their fifth year, and despite knowing what it meant and trying to push the feelings away, here she was in her last year of Hogwarts, still hopelessly in love with her best friend.

“Well, I think I’m going to head upstairs.” His soft voice entered the conversation, as he stretched and dragged himself off the floor, sleep clearly weighing his eyes down. The group of friends all wished him a goodnight and a brief silence settled over the common room as he left, leaving the group of four friends to sit with their thoughts for a second.

y/n sat with her knees pulled up, thinking of her friendship with Sirius, how close they had always been. She’d been part of the Marauders since that first day on the train, and had always loved the four of them, but she couldn’t help the pull she had to Sirius. Maybe how it was despite everything he’d been through with his family, he was never scared to be vulnerable around her. Maybe it was how no matter how many girls he kissed, he would save his brightest smiles for her, and would (and had) drop any of them the second she had said she needed him, no matter how insignificant an outsider might have thought the reason to be. Wrapped up in her thoughts, she felt her cheeks warming, a combination of the warmth from the fire and the warmth from her heart. However, when a voice finally broke through the silence, embarrassment won over, heating her cheeks more than anything had so far.

“Merlin, y/n, you look like a lost puppy. Can you both please just admit your feelings to each other so we can get past this.” She glared at James between her fingers, throwing a pillow with deadly aim, smirking as he squeaked in surprise. “I do mean it though, there’s nothing to lose.”

“He does talk about you constantly. It’s rather sweet, if you forget how annoying it is.” Remus piped up, putting a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. “You both know how the other feels, you’re just too scared to say it out loud, in case you cross a line you can’t go back on.”

“And this middle ground won’t stop things from going south, if you never talk about it.” Peter added as the boys began to collect their things, clearly going to join their dormmate and retire for the evening. As they all said their goodnights, y/n sat alone thinking over their words, a plan forming in her mind as she glanced out the window at the glistening October sky.

…

She sat at her desk, November 2nd, folding the parchment once the ink had dried, sealing it and carefully writing his name on the front. She waited in the common room, heart racing as the fire died beside her, up much later than was healthy, but determined, the anxiety helping to keep her awake as she waited for the elves. Finally they came, and with a kind smile and a little pleading, they promised to take the letter from her and leave it and the end of Sirius’ bed, amongst the pile of presents that was undoubtedly there for when he woke up. She smiled to herself, glad that so far everything had seemed to go smoothly, and went back to her dorm to try and sleep, feeling finally that good things were on their way.

Sirius woke up to the cheers and whoops of the boys, singing a badly harmonised happy birthday tune. He laughed, sitting up and reaching to start opening his presents, knowing the harassment would only end when he had done so. He spotted a letter with his name on it in familiar handwriting, one for sure he knew hadn’t been there when he had gone to sleep the night before, and quickly slipped it under his pillow, deciding to read it when the boys weren’t watching his every move. He flew through the present opening, and soon enough his three friends were preoccupied in getting ready for their classes, giving him the spare few minutes he needed to inspect his most interesting present of all. He carefully unfolded the letter, his heart rate picking up as he spotted y/n’s handwriting and how carefully it had been written, free from the usual scribbles and splotches he saw when she wrote.

Siri,

Happy birthday, love, I know you were worried about today, with it being the first birthday since you moved in with the Potter’s, but today’s about you, and your real family are all here to celebrate with you, and for you, as you turn seventeen and start to think about life past graduation (with all of us by your side, of course). I know this is a slightly unconventional present, and I would appreciate it if you kept this a bit of a secret for the boys, for now at least.

I just wanted to say how proud I am of you. You’ve faced more than I could ever imagine and had to grow up so fast, but you’ve always been unwaveringly loyal to your friends, considerate and kind throughout it all, truly striving to become the opposite of who you were raised to be. I’m so, so, glad that you took my hand that day on the platform, bringing me into your carriage on the train. I couldn’t picture a life without you, and sometimes I forget just how insanely lucky I am to have you around. Believe that, because I know you’re feeling sceptical right now, but I mean it. You’re phenomenal in every way.

Y/n sat at the table in the great hall, eating a pancake and sipping on her tea trying to push down her nerves waiting for the marauders to come and join her as they did every morning. Hopefully, Sirius would have read the letter by now, and she could have some closure either way. Preferably not one way, though. She heard them before she saw them, the loud laughs bouncing through the Entrance Hall, recognisable to anyone in the school. Despite her nerves, she couldn’t help but smile as they walked in, enthusiastically waving to her as they walked over, sitting down in their usual seats. Some of the tension dropped from her shoulders as Sirius sat next to her, gracing her with a smile.

“Happy birthday, Siri.” She smiled, heart catching as his fingers grazed hers under the table. Was it intentional? “Get any nice presents this morning?” She hinted, hoping she could keep up the façade if everything crumbled around her. To her glee, his smile stretched a little wider, a glint in his eye she knew, one that meant he was keeping a secret. Luckily, she was in on it too.

“Couldn’t have asked for anything better.” He smiled, staring straight at her, winking quickly before turning away and filling his plate up with food. She grabbed his hand more firmly under the table, feeling her confidence grow even more when he squeezed it back. She smiled down at her plate, barely believing this could be happening. The rest of breakfast passed in a blur and soon they were heading their separate ways to classes. With one last birthday wish, y/n and Sirius were dragged away from each other, more reluctant than ever before to be anywhere but at each other’s side.

I also wanted to thank you. You’ve never failed to be there for me, whenever I’ve needed you, without having to say a thing. You make me laugh impossibly hard, to the point where I can’t breath and my sides hurt almost constantly. You have a way of twisting anything into something positive and you truly make me believe you when you tell me that things will work out okay. I think in part, I believe they will be okay, because it’s you. With you, everything is okay. In fact, okay is a major understatement. With you, everything is perfect and right.

After dinner, an hour full of more stolen glances and secret hand-holding, y/n had urged the boys upstairs while she carried onto the seventh floor, pacing in front of the tapestry until a door appeared. She walked across the room lightly, trying to focus as she decorated but her thoughts kept drifting back to a certain man, and even though she was fairly sure of the outcome, she couldn’t help but keep the nerves at bay.

You’ve always been the best of friends to me Siri. But if I’m being honest, for a long time now you’ve also been so much more than that. When I’m with you I can feel truly safe, like no matter what happens it can’t touch me because you’re there and you dull everything else. I would be lying if I said I was indifferent to your charms. You’re utterly gorgeous, and my heart flutters when you give me that brilliant smile, the one that I know you save just for me, the one that makes me fall a little harder every time I see it. Your touch is electric, nothing else can be simultaneously so adrenaline-sparking and so comforting. I love the fact that you learned to braid hair for me now that Lily’s all busy with James. Sirius, I love you.

And unless I’m horribly mistaken, I think you love me too. Our friends seem to think so. So tonight, I’ll be in the Room of Requirement with some music, waiting for a dance. If you don’t show, I completely understand, and I won’t bring this up again. But if you feel the same, I hope this was a good enough birthday present for you to.

Yours, if you’ll have me,

Y/n

She finished lighting the last candle, hearing the door handle turn behind her, and the soft creek of the old door opening. She turned, seeing him stood there, the letter in his hand, usual confident aura gone in favour of one that was utterly relaxed. Her face broke out into a breath-taking grin and she bounced forward the few steps that it took to close the gap, straight into his open arms.

“You’re here.” She breathed, finally feeling all the tension and the nerves leave as she admired him, eyes searching his for any trace of doubt and finding none.

“Of course I’m here, there’s no where else I’d want to be.” He smiled, stuttering her heart. “Thank you for the letter, I’ll cherish it forever.” His hand moved to cup her jaw, as the other stayed circled around her waist. She couldn’t do anything but stare at him, completely enthralled in the moment, lost in him. The record playing softly changed to a new tune, and Sirius slowly began to sway the two of them, moving ever so minimally to the beat of the music, neither able to look away from the other.

“I’ll write more.” She broke the silence, “I’ll write them forever as long as you enjoy them. I’ll give you everything I can.”

“I only need your heart. That’s already more than I could imagine.”

“It’s been yours for a long time. Keep it, I like the way you love it.”

“I do,” he breathed out, watching her eyebrows furrow slightly in confusion. “I love it. I love you, y/n.”

He leaned in closer, seeming to hesitate for a moment, looking into her eyes, seeming to ask permission. She nodded, maybe too eagerly, eliciting a laugh from him as her eyes fluttered closed and he pressed his lips to hers, slowly and softly moving together before they broke apart again.

“Happy birthday, love.” She smiled, leaning in again as the dance was all but forgotten.

[missjanjie]

Somewhere in the Crowd There's You | Rosnali

Summary: Denali and Rosé were best friends all through middle and high school, but had to part ways after graduating in 1998. But even years later, the one thing that always connected them were the mixtapes Rosé would make. Ship: Rosnali Word Count: 2174 Rating: T

ao3 | ko-fi

Bonus: Denali's Playlist for Rosé

-

“Denali, so help me god if you’re late to graduation you will not make it to college!” her mother shouted up the stairs.

Denali groaned and rolled her eyes. “I’m coming!” she yelled back down to her. She pressed ‘stop’ on her CD player and popped the cover open, taking the disk out and putting it into its correct sleeve in her CD book. It was a smaller one, as it only contained her most precious ones - the mixtapes Rosé had given her over the years.

The two of them had been best friends since they had both transferred to the same Manhattan school in sixth grade, Denali coming from Alaska and Rosé from Scotland. Both of them had felt out of place and immediately sought refuge in each other and had been inseparable ever since. And one thing that had always been consistent in their friendship was Rosé’s love of burning CDs and giving them to her, whether it was for a special occasion or just because she thought Denali would like it, and she always did.

“And don’t even think about trying to take your walkman!”

She huffed, looking at it waiting for her on her bed. “Fine,” she threw her gown over her dress and grabbed her cap before hustling out the door.

Any attitude she might have had disappeared the second she got out of the car and saw Rosé. she sprinted towards the taller girl, launching herself into her arms. “Rosie!”

Rosé scooped Denali up without hesitation, one arm wrapped around her waist and the opposite hand holding her thigh. “Hi Dee,” she cooed, spinning around with her before eventually setting her back down. “I got something for you.”

Denali giggled as Rosé reached up under her gown because of course, she would manage to get away with wearing pants at graduation. She beamed from ear to ear as Rosé placed a CD in her hand. Written in pink glitter gel pen over masking tape was ‘Denali + Rosé: Class of ‘98’, with a heart over the ‘i’. She looked at the tracklist and smiled when she saw one was highlighted - that meant Rosé had recorded herself singing, and that was her favorite part. “Super Trouper?” she tilted her head, noting it was the only song on the list that hadn’t come out during their time in high school.

She shrugged, a tinge of pink ghosting her cheeks. “I like ABBA and the song made me think of you.”

“I love it,” she quickly assured, hugging her tightly before sliding the mixtape into her macrame crossbody bag. “Come on, we better go take our seats so we can say goodbye to our childhood.”

Rosé arched her brow. “Bit grim when you put it that way, but let’s go.”

After graduation Rosé and Denali went to dinner together with their families, then back to Denali’s house for a sleepover, likely one of the last ones they would have before college. But they didn’t want to think about that, instead focusing on enjoying the time they had together.

It wasn’t easy for either of them, and Denali was left with a difficult decision. When she was twelve, she acknowledged the fact that she was attracted to girls, but decided it was best to not do anything about it. At sixteen, she realized that it wasn’t just girls in general, that would be too easy to ignore. For the past two years, she had accepted the fact that she was in love with Rosé, but too paralyzed with fear to do anything about it.

So, she made a mixtape. Each song one declaration of love after another. And it had been sitting in her closet for a week now while she tried to talk herself into giving it to her best friend. She knew it was now or never, tonight had to be the night.

“Something on your mind?” Rosé gently prompted.

Denali hesitated, then shook her head. “I’m just gonna miss you,” she told her, sitting next to her cross-legged on the bed. “We’re gonna stay in touch, right?”

“Of course,” Rosé assured. “We can call each other and talk on AIM when we can get to the campus libraries,” she suggested, resting her hand on Denali’s thigh and squeezing gently. “I think we can make it work.”

She chewed on her lip and nodded. “If you think so, then I do too.” She glanced back at her closet, thinking, her heart racing. Rosé cared enough about her to want to make their friendship work. Maybe there was a chance…

“Hey,” Rosé prompted to change the subject, “I rented Cinderella with Brandi from Blockbuster, you wanna watch?”

Denali nodded, letting her fear quell her desire to give her the disk. “Yeah, I’ll go make some popcorn.”

Six Years Later

Manhattan felt almost as foreign to Denali as it did when she first moved there. Despite the nostalgia that filled her when she walked past Broadway, recalling seeing RENT there with Rosé for her eighteenth birthday, or the other little things that brought her back to her teenage years, she felt odd, out of place. It made her stomach churn with the way everything seemed to change.

It didn’t help that, despite all of the promises they had made to each other, she had lost touch with Rosé sometime after the start of her sophomore year. Their lives had gotten so busy, so involved, it just dissipated and she had to try her best to move on.

And most days Denali was able to go about her life as normal. She returned to her apartment with lunch for herself and her roommate. Her new normal. “Liv! Come eat!”

Olivia promptly emerged from her room, a piece of paper in her hand. “Check out this flyer I snagged from the café a few blocks over. They’re having a karaoke night tonight, we should go,” at Denali’s hesitation, she jutted out her bottom lip and batted her lashes. “C’mon, please? They’re gonna have alcohol.”

With a jokingly dramatic sigh, she acquiesced. “Okay, fine, but don’t even think about trying to drag me on stage before I’ve had at least three drinks.”

After lunch, the two of them got ready for the night, doing their hair and makeup and picking out just the right outfits for the modern y2k-era nightlife. The walk to the café was about ten minutes and they were able to get a table before the room started to fill up. Her attention faded in and out as people started to perform, nursing her drink and picking at the chips on the table.

“Alright, who’s next?” the event host prompted, scanning the room. “You, in the pink, right this way!” There were some scattered cheers as a woman took the stage, but Denali didn’t look up until she started singing.

Olivia noticed the sudden alertness in her friend. “What, you’re an ABBA fan?”

“No, no I know that voice,” she insisted, shushing her to focus on the stage better. There was no way, it couldn’t be…

“But I won’t feel blue like I always do. ‘Cause somewhere in the crowd there’s-” Rosé looked into the audience, her eyes meeting Denali’s and her breath hitching in her throat, nearly missing the last word, but when she got it out, it was as if she were singing to her once again, “...you.”

Before Denali could decide what to do, Rosé was making a beeline for her, then she was standing right in front of her, looking more beautiful than Denali could’ve ever anticipated. “Rosie?” she asked softly, afraid it was too good to be true.

A broad smile stretched across Rosé’s face as if she were wondering the same thing until that moment. “Denali!” She yanked the smaller woman to her feet and pulled her into a tight embrace, one that neither of them ever wanted to end. “When did you move back to New York?”

“Couple weeks ago officially. My parents moved out to Long Island, so I was staying with them while I was trying to find a place. That’s how I met Olivia, my roommate,” Denali explained, gesturing to the girl still sitting at the table.

Olivia offered a polite wave and smile in response. “It seems like you guys have some catching up to do, I’m gonna go on stage next then, um, keep myself busy,” she decided and scurried off.

“Let’s go outside,” Rosé suggested, the two of them leaving the café and sitting on a bench in front of it. “I’ve missed you so much. What have you been up to?”

Denali shrugged. “Got my BFA in dance, worked with a few different companies either performing or choreographic. And last year I was in Zumanity, which was quite the experience,” she blushed a bit as she recalled that, unsure if Rosé was familiar with the type of show it was, “and now I’m here as a full-time dance teacher and choreographer. What about you?”

Rosé’s eyes did widen at the name, feeling her face start to redden as her mind started to wander, wondering what sort of things Denali had performed on stage. While she hadn’t seen the show, she had seen commercials when watching TV late at night. She’d nearly missed her question, clearing her throat and centering herself. “Oh, well, my life hasn’t been as interesting as yours, I got my BFA in musical theatre, did various off-Broadway gigs, and… you’re going to laugh… I’m the understudy for the lead role in Mamma Mia here on Broadway.”

“Mamma Mia… the ABBA jukebox musical?” She covered her mouth as she tried not to laugh, a bit of giggling slipping through. “A little on the nose, isn’t it Rosie? But I’m very happy for you.”

“Maybe so, but I’m much more interested in this Zumanity stint. I mean, I always knew you had that skill level but that’s a… unique setting,” Rosé retorted, her interest, and perhaps something more, very piqued.

Denali looked down and grinned. “It was. Everyone there was incredibly talented too, it was so freeing, so queer,” she said, then hesitantly looked back up to reaffirm, “which I also am, you know, gay.”

Rosé chuckled softly and nodded. “I kind of suspected as much, just with the way you reacted when we saw RENT,” she recalled, then quickly followed up with, “I am too.”

An eight-year-long weight lifted from Denali’s chest at the confession. “Do you wanna come back to my place? It’s just a couple of blocks over, we can have a sleepover like we used to,” she suggested.

“I’d love that,” she grinned, and as they walked back to the apartment, she had her arm slung around Denali’s shoulders, not passing up the first opportunity in years to keep her close. Even though it was an apartment she’d never been in before, the fact that it was Denali’s made it feel familiar.

Denali toed out of her shoes and set her purse down. “I have something for you,” she said suddenly, disappearing into her bedroom before Rosé to question her. She rifled through her closet, pulling out a box tucked away and grinning when she found the items she was looking for. It was still a risk, but this time she knew it was one worth taking. She took a deep breath, then rejoined Rosé in the living room. “I kept every mixtape you gave me, still listen to them sometimes,” she said, holding up the CD book in one hand.

“You did?” Rosé put her hand over her chest, beaming warmly. “Dee, that’s so sweet.”

She smiled, biting her lip and looking down, trying to fight away the nerves that crept back up. “I, um, I made you one too. I was going to give it to you after graduation but I chickened out,” she confessed as she handed the mixtape she had hidden among her possessions all these years to the woman she made it for. “I think the tracklist will explain why.”

Rosé’s lips parted in surprise as she gently took it from her. “To Rosie, with love,” she read the title before turning it over to see where Denali had written the songs in silver sharpie. And, sure enough, it was one love song after another, songs she knew well, that she knew the shorter woman spent her time carefully picking out each one. “Oh, Dee, this is beautiful. Honestly, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you gave it to me back then.”

Denali swallowed thickly. “I guess more importantly, what are you gonna do now?”

There was only a half-beat of silence before Rosé smirked, setting the disk on the dining room table before cupping Denali’s face and kissing her deeply, moving one hand from her face to wrap her arm around her body and pull her close. “I’ve always loved you, Denali. I’d just resigned myself to seeing you as the one that got away.”

Denali relaxed, arms looping around Rosé’s neck. “I’m not going anywhere.”