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sorikkung · 2 years ago

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what goes on in neverland. ⇝ ch. 3: conversations, conversations, camboys?

word count: 9.8k

pairings: transmasc!reader x Everyone, everyone x everyone (its literally too convoluted for me to try type them out here anymore just see the masterlist for full pairings LOL)

genre: fluff, smut and lots of assorted shenanigans. hijinks, if you will

au:��battle of the bands!au but make it gay and horny

warnings: adults talking abt their feelings, mutual masturbation, camming, bondage, remote controlled toys, edging, ruined orgasms, boys crying, cum swallowing but its realistic

a/n: the jump between me taking half a year to update to months to two within the same months??? progress is real guys. anyway we're finally delving into another pov this chapter how exciting!! a lot goin on, a lot of set up here i hope you guys are as excited as i am for what it leads to 🤭

please reblog and leave feedback if you enjoyed, it’s what keeps us writers going :’) (for every comment i get i open up a wip and write a few sentences. thats not bribery but literally just how motivating it is.)

tags: @honeybyunnies @syunderful @absentcaryatid @mingirn (lmk if you want to be added/removed!)

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>you: i got some mad fucking tea to spill are you ready

>mingi’s bitch: omg bet come over

>you: aight @energeric where r u

>you: ???

Figuring you’d just meet him at the couple’s apartment, you slip some shoes on and grab your keys from the hooks in your doorway to leave, only to find the very man you were pinging grabbing his to do the same.

“Oh, did you see the texts then?” you ask, figuring he’d be going too, but then it strikes you that he probably would’ve started pestering you for details already before you even made it to their apartment.

“No, I’m– I’m heading out. Gonna hit the gym with a buddy.” He pauses mid-way through slipping on his shoes and tying the laces to look up at you. “What happened? Dude, your cheek is bruising, are you becoming the same kinda painslut as Wooyoung is or did you get into a fight?”

“Got clocked in the face by Changbin at the food court with Wooyo today, but it’s what his boyfriend texted me afterward that I’m gonna go discuss with him– you should come, the tea is piping hot.”

He shakes his head, hastily finishing tying off his laces and getting up. “Nah, I don’t wanna leave my friend waiting, he’s already there. If you can’t brief it in a maximum of maybe four and a half sentences, it’s gotta wait.”

You snort. “What the fuck is half a sentence meant to look like?”

“And you just used one. Three and a half, go.”

“Changbin’s boyfriend is hot and Felix is still definitely in love with you.”

For a moment, Eric doesn’t say anything at all. He just stares at you, unblinking, and you expect his eyes to widen or his brows to raise or show any inkling of surprise after a few seconds, but he doesn’t. For once you can’t read the dark clouds in his eyes, though you know he’s definitely having some sort of emotional reaction to the news, but he simply turns to grab his keys as if you didn’t say a thing.

“Cool.”

“Cool?” It stumps you, how normal he’s acting when you’re positive he’s feeling anything but. He’s a man who wears his heart on his sleeve and doesn’t hide how he feels, so the way he’s been acting in regards to Felix raises a few questions. Granted, you didn’t expect him to go running back to him – or maybe you did, just partially – but you certainly expected more than that. “That’s it? I thought you still liked him.”

He sighs deeply through his mouth and twirls his keys around his finger idly while standing in the doorway. “Why would I? Yes, I still like him. Maybe a part of me always will. But he’s the one who broke up with me because he didn’t have time for me. Now I see where that time went, and frankly, I don’t think I have time for him either. I too would rather focus on the people I care about. I don’t care if he still loves me. If he really, truly did, as much as I loved him? He’d do a better job at showing it.”

“That��s… fair,” you sound out slowly, nodding. It makes perfect sense, and in hindsight if he’d jumped at the opportunity first you might have even warned him for being too hasty for that very reason. “Don’t worry, he’ll see what he’s missing. We’ll wipe the floor with him and all of his friends.”

Eric gives you a nod and a half smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, then bids you goodbye and heads off. How abrupt, you think. You’ll probably come back to that one later.

There are many benefits to dating Jung Wooyoung, Mingi finds. One of them is that it can never really get boring. Everything about Wooyoung is exciting, and he tries to share that with Mingi as much as possible, whether that be spicing up what they try out in the bedroom or taking him on all sorts of wild adventures for dates, or just always having something going on exciting enough to talk about even on their lazy days.

Today is no exception; he sits on their couch in just his sweatpants, while Wooyoung lies draped across his lap in only his t-shirt. Not his own, but Mingi’s, naturally, and he’s already accepted he won’t get it back until it stops smelling like him. When today’s excitement – you, of course – strolls in and gives them a knowing look, he shakes his head before even greeting you.

“We weren’t fucking this time. Though if you took any longer we might’ve!”

It certainly wouldn’t be the first time you’ve walked in on them in more provocative positions, if that were the case – most times these days, they don’t bother to stop at the interruption, and more often than not you’re quick to join in on the fun anyway. It’s not unheard of, however, for you – or any of the other band members, for that matter – to pass on joining in and merely scroll on their phone or read a book or snack while in the very same room as the deed is being done, but nobody really minds. It’s just a thing that happens, at this point, just as normal as eating or playing video games. You all prefer it that way.

Hell, Mingi is a huge fan of the concept. It didn’t take Wooyoung very long to figure out how much he enjoys showing off, so as soon as his days of being a little shyer and more self-conscious fell behind him in favour of his newfound confidence in his sex appeal and comfort with the band, he became quite the tease when he has an audience. Perhaps that’s why he was all too keen to let Wooyoung drag him down the corridor Changbin went down at the battle of the bands and start making out with him on the spot, knowing – no, even better, hoping – the other man would be watching.

“Without me? How cruel.” You’re quick to join them on the couch, cuddling into Mingi’s side and allowing Wooyoung to sprawl across your lap as well. They both silently appreciate how you fit so easily into their lives as to not even need so much as a greeting when you arrive at their apartment. It’s your home as much as theirs, probably helped by how the whole band lives in the same apartment complex, albeit different floors. At this point, you might as well all be roommates. “Though I suppose I’ll be the crueller one, considering I’m gonna be having a threesome with Changbin and his hot boyfriend and you’re not invited.”

“What?!” Wooyoung jolts up off your laps, staring at you like you just grew a second head. “Why the fuck not? After I sucked the soul out of him that one time? Damn, he has no idea what he’s missing, I’ve only gotten better since.”

“Actually, he kinda does,” you chuckle, taking his place across his and Mingi’s laps so you can cheerily grin up at him and poke your tongue out. “Little birdy told me it was, to this day, the best head he’s ever had. Not that he’d ever admit it.”

“Wait a second, who was the little birdy? Changbin or Minho?” Mingi asks, idly tapping his fingers on your back while the gears turn in his head. Truly, excitement follows Wooyoung wherever he goes — he doesn’t even need to try.

“Minho. We’re Instagram mutuals now, apparently. He had soooo much juicy tea for me. Like how the reason Changbin is gonna deny all your advances is because he’s been in love with you since high school but doesn’t wanna admit it, even to himself.”

Wooyoung freezes, and Mingi freezes at Wooyoung freezing. Mingi doesn’t know the full details of Wooyoung and Changbin’s history beyond being best friends in high school with another friend who went back to Korea — Yeonjun, Mingi thinks his name was — and that the three of them helped each other experiment and realise that they all liked boys. It sounded very casual, and Mingi figured that makes sense; Wooyoung was one of the key players in opening the band up with each other more physically, and, by extension, his relationship with Mingi. Wooyoung is just the kinda guy who likes being physically and sexually affectionate with his friends, and that didn’t bother him. Not when he enjoyed it almost just as much. In many ways, Wooyoung was the reason Mingi could come so far outside his shell. He’d forever be grateful to him for that.

It takes Wooyoung a good, long moment to remember to breathe again before he bursts out laughing, loud and wide and unfiltered in all the ways Mingi just can’t help but fall for. He isn’t sure what is so inherently hilarious about Changbin’s feelings for him, but he doesn’t realise he’s grinning goofily until you give him a very particular smirk that he’s awfully familiar with. The ‘You’re so damn whipped it’s written all over your face’ smirk. But who in their right mind can blame him? At least, that’s what he thinks to himself while his lover takes a moment to recover.

“No way,” he says at last, “Changbin? In love with me after all these years? Oh, that’s rich. You don’t think- you don’t think that’s the real reason they joined the battle of the bands, is it? To see me again?”

“You and your massive ego,” Mingi huffs, nudging him in the shoulder. “I mean, possibly? I feel like it’s more likely that they’re tryna suck JYP’s dick. But that and Felix possibly holding some resentment for Eric and doing it out of spite might be part of it too.”

“Nah, Felix doesn’t resent Eric,” you inform him, “He’s still in love with him. Did Wooyoung not fill you in? That’s why Changbin was all like, ‘just because Felix still likes Eric doesn’t mean you can use him like that!’ It’s kinda the whole reason I got clocked in the face, which was lucky for your boyfriend’s pretty face because if I wasn’t there, it would’ve been him.”

“He didn’t really fill me in, no,” Mingi pouts, shouldering him again, but Wooyoung only scoffs and shoulders him back. “He was too busy telling me all about how hot Changbin was in a fitted t-shirt and how you went flying across a table to really elaborate on the why. Also how hot that Minho guy is and how he seemed down for the double date, so I’m wondering why all of a sudden we’re not invited to the gangbang!”

“Pfft. It’s- Just read the texts.” You unlock your phone and shove it in his hands to save yourself more explaining. Wooyoung snatches it from you before Mingi can grab it, so he simply leans over his shoulder to read without further complaint.

>lino.ooo: i wish he’d understand that being attracted to other people doesn’t mean i love him any less

>lino.ooo: but him accepting that would mean accepting he has feelings for people who aren’t me either 🤭

Mingi reads this and his first instinct is to look at Wooyoung’s face. Wooyoung, eyes adorably wide and almost trying to shove his face into the screen with how invested into these texts he is. The puzzle starts to piece itself together in Mingi’s brain, sneaking suspicions he hasn’t accepted enough to address yet, but he can’t help but feel for Minho’s situation.

>lino.ooo: but i’ve been dating him for a couple years now, and i’ve been his friend even longer, i know the signs. i know what he looks like when hes in love with someone, because he’s like that with me, too

That makes him look at Wooyoung once again, analysing every detail on his stupidly perfect face, and that’s when it really clicks. Mingi feels for Minho because it’s too easy for him to imagine himself in similar shoes – possibly because he’s already standing in them. And possibly has been for a long time now.

He thinks back to how their open relationship all started; how you and Sunwoo had been best friends with benefits since your last year of high school before you dropped out and ran away without him, anyway, and Eric since not long after, jokingly justifying your relationship with there being ‘nothing wrong with kissing the homies goodnight.’ It was an inside joke at first, one followed by obnoxious PDA between your trio or Mingi and Wooyoung calling themselves ‘totally platonic homies’ despite having been dating for a while, but somewhere down the line you had all started actually giving each other goodnight kisses.

He thinks about San, who used to blush such a pretty pink at the gesture, and how he couldn’t help himself turning a chaste peck on the lips to a kiss that lingered, hands that wandered – next thing he knows, Wooyoung is running to him saying he fucked up, genuine fear in his eyes, quick to confess how his goodnight kiss with San escalated to making out against a wall and how it all happened so fast and he stopped it as soon as she realised he was enjoying it too much for a goodnight kiss and ran to Mingi first thing to come clean. He had apologised so vehemently that day, like he was really, truly scared he would lose his lover for such a careless mistake; Mingi then wonders how much of that fear lies beyond the simple kiss.

How much of it was the feelings San made him feel that scared him so.

He decides to keep these thoughts to himself for the time being. After all, maybe he’s simply overthinking again, comparing himself to the other rapper now that he’s come and changed up the scene. Wooyoung has a type, it seems. Thick lips, broad shoulders, reckless confidence, and spits fire on the mic. He wonders how long it’ll be before he inevitably falls for Sunwoo, too. He fits the type to a T. Maybe he already has, actually, he isn’t too sure – but he’s far surer that the way he looks at you, San and Changbin, isn’t the way people usually look at their platonic friends. Or their former friends who they haven’t seen in years and desperately want to get in the pants of and show off to.

Mingi remains quiet.

“Well, I think our next plan of attack is rather obvious,” Wooyoung hums, barely concealing his excitement. However, neither you nor Mingi seem to follow, so you wait for him to realise and elaborate. “Like… if he doesn’t even realise he’s in love with me, we gotta make sure he does.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?” Mingi ponders aloud, raising an inquisitive eye at Wooyoung. He stares back at him.

“Exactly what it sounds like? We need to make Changbin realise he’s in love with me whether he likes it or not. Like, he’s in love with me, that’s so exciting? This whole time? I was literally his gay awakening, I gotta remind him how he got to this point in the first place.” Wooyoung states it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but Mingi simply blinks, then cuts you off before you can say anything.

“Why?”

That renders both of you silent, and it’s only then when Wooyoung and you seem to finally notice the seriousness of Mingi’s expression, the atmosphere sobering up so quickly it gives him whiplash.

“B-Because… come on, it’ll be fun! What’re you looking so serious for, I'm not the one in love with him! I think I just get a sick sense of satisfaction from it. Plus, he’s hot, you’ve already agreed with me that much, do you not want to make him squirm a little?”

Mingi only frowns harder. It’s true, they already discussed bringing Changbin and even Minho into the bedroom if the opportunity presented itself, but this wasn’t quite the opportunity he was thinking about. If Wooyoung sleeps with someone who he knows likes him like that, wouldn’t that be more than just a casual fling? Why would he want to engage when he knows feelings are involved already? Mingi thinks he knows the answer.

It begs the question, considering when it was brought up they never defined what ‘messing with’ other people implied. Mingi figured they were on the same page in it meaning just having sex or touching or kissing, but now he wonders if he missed something. “How far does our ethical non-monogamy go?”

“What are you–“

“Wooyoung, you’re really excited to hear that your old best friend likes you like that… what’s so exciting about it? You have me already.”

“What? I’m not excited, I just–” Wooyoung flounders at the accusation, bumping you out of the way so he can crawl half on top of Mingi, so he sees just how serious he is. Like the physical closeness would bridge the gap slowly forming. “Jagiya, that’s not what this is at all. I haven’t felt like that about Changbin since I was like, seventeen–“

“So you admit you did once have feelings for him, then?”

“Woah, woah! What is with that accusatory tone? Mingi, I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours, only yours.” He grabs both of his boyfriend’s hands in his, clasping them tightly while he looks in his eyes, wavering. It’s almost uncomfortable to watch. “There’s no competition. Whatever feelings I had for him back then are long gone now, it’s really just a sex thing, like we have with the band, that’s all it is! You know you’re the only one for me, you know I wasn’t even interested in settling down before you, that’s how much you mean to me. I’m yours, first and foremost, no one else’s. However else I get my dick wet doesn’t matter, it– it doesn’t change that. What we have is so much more than that.”

It’s definitely uncomfortable for you to watch now, evident in the way you try to awkwardly shuffle away from them. If Wooyoung notices anything off he doesn’t mention it, gazing almost unblinkingly into Mingi’s eyes in hopes it’ll make him feel his sincerity, but the only sincerity Mingi feels in that moment is Wooyoung’s sincerity to himself. Like he’s trying to convince himself of this just as much as him.

He can’t just tell him that, though. Who is he to tell his boyfriend which of his feelings are real or not? Who is he to say he’s deluding himself? That would be borderline gaslighting if he did, but he can’t ignore the signs that are becoming increasingly obvious the longer he stews on them. He speaks in Korean next in hopes that you won’t catch the meaning of his words.

“Your ears go red when you lie, Wooyoung.”

His mouth opens to say something, then shuts, then again, soundlessly appearing almost like a gaping fish. You don’t stay to hear more, quickly and wordlessly grabbing your phone back from where it had fallen to the couch in Wooyoung’s surprise and trying to make as little noise as possible on your way out to not disturb them. Mingi doesn’t blame you; all of a sudden the air in the room feels awfully stuffy and borderline suffocating, but he has to face this head-on, or else Wooyoung will be lightly dancing around the topic until it escalates.

“I’m not lying,” Wooyoung mumbles, his voice small and caught in his throat. “Is that really what you think I’m like?”

“I– Look, Wooyoung, I’m not going to tell you how you do or don’t feel, I just… Minho’s texts felt kind of relatable when he was talking about how he noticed how his boyfriend looks at other men because he knows what his in love look, looks like. I saw the way you look at Changbin and it just… reminded me of that. But I also see the way you look at them, too,” he gestures towards the door where you just made your escape, “and San. Honestly, I can argue for all of the band, but those two in particular, you look at them the exact same way you look at me. And I just… don’t know what I’m supposed to do about that. How I’m supposed to feel about that.”

Wooyoung shakes his head slowly, almost in disbelief. “There’s nothing to feel about. I meant what I said–“

It’s the denial that gets him. Maybe it wouldn’t sting so much if he just came clean and confessed it, admitted to feeling things for other people, and maybe they could talk about it and what it meant for their relationship, but if he can’t realise it himself they won’t get anywhere. And the more he tries to deny it, the more he digs himself into a hole that only highlights Mingi’s very suspicions.

“No you didn’t. Is that really all the band is to you? Just another way to get your dick wet?”

He pauses, settling back down on his legs as the weight of his words finally sink in. “No, I… of course they’re more than that, they’re... I probably shouldn’t’ve said that in front of him, I’ll– I’ll have to apologise to him later.”

Mingi nods. “Yeah, you should. Like, aren’t we constantly going on about how platonic love is just as meaningful as romantic love? Isn’t that why we’re as close with the band as we are? Saying that what we have is so much more than that just because its romantic is so diminishing. That’s how I know you don’t mean it – you don’t believe that, do you? That’s against everything we both believe in.”

“Well, yes, but–“ he gnaws on the inside of his cheek, trying to formulate a response. “I guess I panicked? I just don’t want you thinking after all we’ve been through together that I’m gonna be into Changbin now all of a sudden just because he likes me. As far as romantic love goes, I just want you. I don’t want anything to change that, to change what we have.”

“We don’t have to change anything,” Mingi reminds him calmly, hands smoothing over the smaller man’s thighs in a soothing motion. “I just want you to be honest with me, and honest with yourself. I won’t be mad at you if you like other people because I know you love me, I just… want you to be able to tell me. To trust me.”

Wooyoung nods silently, slowly at first, then frantically. “I-I will. I’m sorry, Mingi.”

“What are you apologising for?”

“I–“ He falls flat. “I don’t know.”

“Then don’t apologise,” Mingi reassures him with the faintest of smiles, cupping his face and pulling him in for a gentle kiss. “Well, maybe do apologise, just not to me. I apologise for putting you on the spot like that.”

Wooyoung chases his lips after the first kiss, hands slipping around the back of his neck and pulling him in, kissing him deeply and sending tingles down Mingi’s spine. They’re both just so handsy, grabbing at whatever they can reach, Wooyoung drawing closer into Mingi’s lap to close the distance between them, so they can hold each other while they kiss like this. Mingi is honestly content to simply kiss him like that for hours on end, but Wooyoung seems to have other plans as their kisses grow hotter and their hands wander further, teeth digging into lips and nails digging into skin.

When he breaks apart, it’s to slip down Mingi’s lap and onto the floor on his knees, spreading Mingi’s legs apart and reaching for the band of his sweatpants. On his knees for him in nothing but his shirt, Mingi knows he’ll never not be affected by such a sight – if it isn’t old by now it probably never will be, and Mingi finds comfort in that. He likes knowing his boyfriend has him wrapped around his pinkie finger, and that he’ll never fail to drive him wild. It’s safe, secure, how his heart beats for him.

“Let me show you exactly how much you mean to me,” Wooyoung murmurs, low and sultry, but it has the opposite of the intended effect. Mingi tenses up, grabbing both of Wooyoung’s wrists on instinct, then pushes them away from him. The flash of distress on Wooyoung’s face doesn’t slide past him, but he doesn’t have it in him to feel too guilty about it.

“Wooyoung,” he breathes out, not letting go of his wrists. “How is this any different? How is having sex with me proving how much I mean to you when you just said all your relationships with other men are just about sex? What kind of message are you giving me with this?”

How Mingi’s heart beats for Wooyoung is safe. He knows that no matter what happens, that will never change – it will always beat for him. That much he is sure of.

Whether Wooyoung is the same, however, he is not.

His mistake seems to crash down on him all at once, and he slips his hands free and back to his sides as he scrambles to his feet in panic. “No, no, I didn’t mean–“

“Just… stop,” Mingi sighs, running a hand through his hair. He’s tired. He doesn’t want to wrestle with – whatever this is that they’re wrestling with – any longer. “I don’t wanna go in circles again, can we just… cuddle?”

Wooyoung is eager to oblige, grabbing a throw blanket off the couch and curling up to Mingi’s side with a quickness he only ever really sees from him on-stage, but he's visibly relieved at the change of topic though guilt still lingers on his features. Mingi turns on the tv; white noise at this point, to leave him alone with his thoughts. Well, not too alone, with Wooyoung in his arms, but he likes it that way. Maybe a small part of him fears that if he lets go, he’ll lose him – but mostly, he just enjoys having him close, even when they’re not the happiest with each other. They’ll get through this.

He leans his head atop the crown of his lover’s, not before pressing a quick kiss to the top. Wooyoung buries his face in his shoulder, returning the kiss to his bare skin, and in that moment, that is all Mingi needs.

That’s enough excitement for one day.

It’s only when you finally get back to your apartment and shut the door behind you do you finally feel like you can breathe again, far away from the stuffiness of the couple’s apartment and the thick tension between them as they fought right in front of you. Not the first time they had done so, and you are usually comfortable enough in their home to just scroll on your phone on their couch until they’re done, but you’re not sure you’ve witnessed a fight quite so personal between them before. Besides, it’s not like you had anything planned for staying longer, so it felt easier to get out of there as soon as you can rather than wait it out as a spectator and hope they’d feel up to sex or video games or going for a cheeky fast-food run in the aftermath.

Sunwoo is sprawled across the couch when you arrive, and he raises his eyebrow at you over his shoulder when he notices the loud exhale at finally arriving home.

“What, did your gossip sesh with Woogi not go so well?” he jokes, but when you plop yourself across his lap, staring up at the ceiling with a humourless chuckle back, he figures he’s probably exactly right.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“Wanna talk about it?” He turns off his phone and slips it back into his hoodie pocket to give you his full attention, so you sigh.

“So the goss is that Felix is in love with Eric still, which I already told him and he doesn’t wanna do anything about it, which is fine, and then the other part was that Changbin has been pining over Wooyoung since high school. Which is like, a long ass time to be pining over someone you’ve barely seen since, but it’s enough that his boyfriend noticed – oh yeah, I’m leaving out details again. So Changbin ran into me and Wooyoung at the food court and punched me in the face–“

“–he what?! –“

“–yeah full-on sent me falling over a table, it was hot– yeah and then in a last ditch attempt for him to not like, literally knock my lights out in the middle of the plaza, I complimented his muscles and fed his ego enough for him to be too busy preening to deck me, and then his boyfriend came in. Lee Minho, or Lino apparently is his stage name, and he grabbed my ass, put a metaphorical leash on his boyfriend and basically said we had a point and then plugged Stray Kids’ Instagram, to which obviously I had to stalk, and then I followed his account because he has three really cute cats and we started dm-ing and– here I’ll just show you the messages.”

Sunwoo is straight-up laughing by the time you finish your tale, grabbing your phone from you as you pull up the direct messages with the eccentric man. “You know, just because you’re a rapper doesn’t mean you have to exercise that breath control when telling a story, take it from me.”

“This is how I normally talk!” That draws an exasperated giggle from you, and that’s enough to ease some of the tension that was weighing on your shoulders from the argument. “Basically, you’ll see what I’m talking about when you scroll down to it, but basically I told all this to Wooyoung and he was like, ‘If Changbin has feelings for me and doesn’t even notice I gotta make him notice,’ which for obvious reasons made Mingi a little uncomfortable, because why would he care about his crush on him if he’s already happily taken anyway? So he asked how far their ethical non-monogamy is meant to go and Wooyoung got all defensive and basically said that Mingi is his everything and everyone else is just how he gets his dick wet but doesn’t compare to him, and honestly… that one kinda stung a little.”

Sunwoo visibly winces at that, looking away from the messages to make sure you are okay. “Ouch.”

“Yeah.” You huff, sinking further into the couch and mentally hoping it absorbs you completely. “I dunno it was just so… tense for that moment there. Felt like there was a lot to unpack. Mingi seemed to think so, too, because then he just switched to speaking in Korean and I took that as my cue to leave.”

“Do you remember what he said?” Sunwoo offers helpfully; you aren’t fluent in Korean by any means, but being friends with a whole band of Korean speakers and roommates with two of them forces you to pick some basics up over the years. Especially with Sunwoo practically acting as Eric’s personal tutor, as the latter didn’t learn to speak it growing up but was familiar enough with it for it to be easier for him to learn. Similarly, Kevin never learned it at home either, but was a lot better at self-studying than you were and had also been learning for a lot longer – you had only decided to really commit to it after moving in with the boys and hearing how much they would practice at home.

“I recognised the main words, I think. ‘You’, ‘red’, ‘ears’, and ‘lie’. Lying maybe? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where that was going, though.”

Sunwoo nods, reaching down to play with your hair in a motion you think is supposed to be comforting. It does help. “That’s pretty awkward. How do you feel about it? What are you thinking?”

It’s in times like these when Sunwoo’s maturity shines through; while usually he’s one of the first to goof off and tease or get fired up and in his feelings, in contrast, he can often be very objective with other people’s issues.

“I feel… weird. Like I saw something I probably wasn’t meant to see,” you start with a sigh. It’s hard to place exactly what you’re feeling at first. “It was kind of… disheartening? The way Wooyoung talked about him and Mingi. I don’t know how to explain it, it was just so… uncomfortable. How he kept saying Mingi is basically like, above the rest of us, when I thought we all agreed that romantic relationships shouldn’t be the be-all-or-end-all of human connection because other bonds can be just as strong, but he kept emphasizing how what they have is so special and how he’s Mingi’s and no one else’s, and it’s like… what does that make us? I know he’s not our boyfriend, but I like to think we’re a lot more to him than just friends who get his dick wet.”

Sunwoo mulls it over for a moment, then stills the movements of his hands to give you a steadfast look.

“Do you want us to be more than friends?”

The question kicks your heartbeat into overdrive, suddenly picking up like you’re being chased by an unseen beast that could snuff you out at a moment’s notice. You try not to let that alarm show, but you have the gut feeling that Sunwoo picks up on it, at least on your hesitance to respond, so you open your mouth to say something before it looks like your silence has more meaning to it.

“No– yes? I mean, aren’t we already more than friends, in a way? Friends don’t usually do what we do. Is there not an in between friendship and dating? Since when were we the types to be stuck in singular boxes and labels, huh?”

Sunwoo doesn’t seem to buy it, shifting beneath your weight so you sit up to let him adjust his position and get more comfortable. What you don’t expect, is for him to instead swiftly cage you between him and the couch, towering over you with his eyes boring into yours. He doesn’t touch you, his hands placed firmly on either side of your head, but the proximity makes it feel like his whole weight is pushing down on you.

He says your name unwaveringly. “If friendship is just as strong and important as romance, why do you not want to consider us just as friends?”

Your voice gets caught in your throat. You want to ask why he has to be so, so close to ask you such a question, but the time it takes to gather your wits to reply is probably exactly the reason. You can’t lie to him like this, you can’t bluff or flounder or get anything past him. When he looks into your eyes like this, he sees everything beneath him, and in that moment, you feel more naked before him than you ever have been even without the presence of clothes.

“I… because it feels weird to call you guys my friends. Cause I have other friends, I’ve had close friends with benefits, too, but you guys are just… different. It feels different. You guys aren’t on the same level as people I call my friends,” you explain, hoping that it makes even a lick of sense, but you fear now that you’ve said it out loud it only serves to prove Sunwoo’s point.

Do you want to date them? You’ve been bouncing the idea around in your mind for a few years now, and you still don’t have a clear answer. When you first met San and Kevin, the answer was yes. For Wooyoung and Mingi, it was an ‘if only,’ but they were fresh in their relationship at the time, so you figured they were off-limits. Eric and Sunwoo you had figured any attraction to them was just physical and a result of you messing around with them while also developing a meaningful friendship beyond being an experiment or a booty call, but that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted to date them.

But as the band formed and you all grew closer, they quickly became the most important people in your lives by a long shot, people you’re closer with than you ever have been with anyone else, and that’s uncharted waters. Throwing sexual attraction into the mix only further muddies them, because is it that you’re attracted to them as a person in a romantic sense, or you’re attracted to them and the fact that you’re close to them as people and care for them deeply seem inherently romantic through that lens? Is it possible to be attracted to someone physically and love them platonically? Your logic tells you yes, of course, queerplatonic relationships of all kinds exist, but you’ve gotten to the point where you don’t know the difference anymore. Not when this type of relationship is all you’ve ever known, and you’ve enjoyed them too much to bother trying to pursue anything romantic with anyone. After all, explaining to any possible romantic interest that you don’t plan on stopping sleeping with your entire band and whoever else strikes your fancy, and that you and your band are so incredibly close and live together and spend basically all your spare time together, doesn’t usually score you any second dates.

It's not like that has bothered you much, though, perfectly content with what you have with them – they know you far better than any romantic interests ever have, so why would you bother when you already have almost everything you could ask for in a connection? But that only sounds like you’re already dating them, or at least treating it like you are but dodging the big scary ‘label’ question to not frighten them off and burst your bubble.

“You’re thinking really hard right now,” Sunwoo comments, smirking as he analyses your face. Why is he smirking? What does he think he just won? You can’t read his at all. What you do know is if he doesn’t just close the distance and kiss you already you might just explode, but he’s determined on running his mouth and for once in your life you feel helpless to stop him. He’d see right through your attempts at distraction. “Are you finally putting two and two together? Because what I see, is that Wooyoung talking about Mingi as the only one for him made you uncomfortable because you don’t want Mingi to be the only one for him. You want him to be ours, isn’t that right? You want him to be yours, too.”

You feel like the slightest slip of the tongue will end in instant regret, your last coherent thought fizzling out. “Are you trying to tease me right now, Sunwoo? I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” He moves one hand to pinch your chin between his thumb and index finger, making sure you can’t look away from his steadfast gaze. “Dead serious. Do you want to date us? Be romantic with us, tell us those three words you’ve been too scared to say for too long, take us on dates that are explicitly dates, call us yours? Is that what you want?”

How are you even meant to answer such a question? Do you? Don’t you? What would happen if you said yes? Or no? Your head is swimming – if the energy at Wooyoung and Mingi’s apartment felt suffocating, the tension now felt like walking a tightrope with a blindfold on. One wrong step, one wrong breath and you plummet to your untimely demise, but the tightrope you tread on is merely a thread and may snap at any moment regardless.

He says your name again, calling your attention back to him, awaiting an answer.

You don’t have one for him.

The door swings open so violently it bangs against the wall, San bursting in with a shout and his laptop in hand, screen facing toward you, and the most positively mind-blown expression on his face.

“You guys won’t fucking believe what I just found–! Oh. Uh.” His voice is booming until it’s not, dropping to the lowest of volumes once he sees you and Sunwoo’s position on the couch and the seriousness on your faces. Both you and Sunwoo break that contact to look at him in surprise, his equally surprised face staring right back at you. It’s laughable, even, how San has walked in on far less innocent interactions between you guys before, but it seems that even at a moments notice he can feel the thickness of the tension in the room. “Should I uh. Should I come back later? Am I interrupting something?”

You want to say yes, but it’s not like you had an answer for Sunwoo anyway. You suspect Sunwoo will tell him to leave so he can continue drilling you in private, but instead his attention catches on to whatever’s on San’s laptop. It’s porn, which isn’t very surprising, but Sunwoo cuts off whatever he was about to reply and narrows his eyes.

“Is that… Hyunjin?”

San is thrilled to launch into his story about how he was looking into camming as a potential source of income as he may or may not be about to get fired from the Snack Falcon he worked at after one too many shifts of just clocking on and leaving whenever he felt like it because hardly anyone shows up to that store anyway – “Ham Panther is literally right across the street,” he argued, “And they just sell the same shit, and more shit, for cheaper! Anyone who wants good food would have a better time at like, any other store that actually exists.” – but the final straw may or may not have been him and Eric smashing their old lights in the carpark at the back of the store when he was supposed to be closing.

“Jesus Christ, San,” you wheeze, “I’m honestly surprised it took them this long. Wait, but, wasn’t the reason they hadn’t fired you yet was because you were like, the only other employee they had?”

Sunwoo had given you a long, hard look before removing himself from you and letting San come in and go on about his story, which spoke all the words it needed to say. ‘We’ll come back to this later.’ You’re not sure you want to, but you’re happy indulge in San’s shenanigans for the time being and catch your breath again, even if it’s a struggle to shake off the heaviness of everything all at once so suddenly.

“Yeah, well, I was, but then this new guy joined, I think his name is Jeongin or something? I dunno, but it probably doesn’t matter since if he can take my shifts I’m probably done for. I’m at least gonna see a cut in my shifts, but also, I think the night shift guy is leaving, so there might be hope for me yet.”

“But not for your sleep schedule,” you joke, and San nods solemnly.

“Yup, no hope for that one. But anyway! Either way I was like, this probably won’t bode over well, and I’m hot as fuck so I might as well give a shot at being a camboy on the side? Like, seems easier than being a stripper, since I don’t have to learn how to dance or work a pole, and we have enough sex that I probably wouldn’t need to change much of my routine as much as just like, chucking on a camera every now and then. I could make sure your faces aren’t included in the shot, or I could just go solo. Helps to have an apartment to myself.”

“Keep flexing that on us, why don’t you?” Sunwoo huffs, rolling his eyes. He’s quieter than usual, but not enough for it to look like anything more than just being tired, but he’s no less sassy. “I’m less shocked you still have a job and more shocked that you can still pay for an apartment on your own.”

“Well, it helps that I don’t spend much on food,” San reasons, “Considering Wooyoung cooks enough to feed a small country and gets offended when we don’t eat it, and the rest of you guys don’t mind me raiding the fridge every other night or so.”

You snort. “Who said we don’t mind? You know the rule, if there’s only one left it’s not yours – take the last slice of pizza again and I will fucking end you, Choi San.”

He guiltily covers his hand with his mouth. “Oops! Enough of that though, so long story short I heard this site was pretty safe and pays well so I take a look to see what my competition would be like, and lo and behold… the one and only Stray Kids’ Hwang Hyunjin’s cock, balls and ass, first thing on my laptop screen. Viola!”

Placing himself on the couch next to you two with his laptop on his knees for you to see, he clicks play. You only recognise the man after your thorough Instagram stalking from earlier, but it’s definitely him – he doesn’t cover his face at all, the side of it pressed to the mattress with his ass up in the air, stuffed with a pink toy, hands tied behind his back and hard, leaking cock on full display for the camera, trapped in a cock ring that keeps vibrating around him. You wonder how he’s planning to untie himself after he finishes – or how he tied his own wrists behind his back anyway, and if he did that on camera or before turning it on, because there doesn’t seem to be anyone else with him. He must’ve been live for a while now because he looks on the brink of tears as the buzzing stops, brokenly whining and writhing on the bed.

“Please,” he whimpers, shamelessly shoving his hips down on the mattress where he’s stained it with his pre-cum already in an attempt to get any kind of stimulation while bound, “Please let me come. I’ve been so good for you guys, please, I was so, so close…!”

You can’t deny that the visual – hell, the audio too – is hot. Anyone with eyes, ears and a sexual attraction to men would agree on that much. While you thought you’d probably end up zoning out and overthinking your interactions with your bandmates the whole time, you find yourself instead transfixed with the performer on the screen and his alternative form of performance. Does his band know about this, you wonder? If not, it could be quite the juicy secret to leverage later. Regardless, heat simmers beneath your skin with every one of Hyunjin’s whiny pleas.

The chat is moving so fast you almost can’t keep up with it. But you do notice the sudden influx of donations, and suddenly the buzzing resumes again and Hyunjin’s whole body jolts as he squirms to get back on his knees so the camera can see his dick again. He doesn’t seem like he’s acting or playing much up, eyes glazed over and breathing heavy in between his honey-sweet moans. He’s so unfathomably pretty that even fucked out like this, he looks picturesque.

“Don’t come…? Guys please, please just let me come, haah, I’ll- I’ll put on such a pretty show for you I p-promise!”

San shamelessly adjusts the raging hard-on in his pants as you watch, hand hovering over the tracking pad. “So he’s managed to hook up both a cock ring and a vibrator to the site’s donations, but there’s options both to make it vibrate but also to make it stop, which I’ve never really seen before. It’s like a bidding war between the ones who want to edge him and the ones who want to make him come, which might be hell for him but holy hell is he raking in mad cash that way.”

“That’s actually so smart,” you hum thoughtfully, “Leveraging control freaks’ need for control to make even more money. Guess the orgasm denial enthusiasts are winning tonight, huh?”

“Do you think this is how they afforded all that fancy shit for their stage? Look, that guy just donated a hundred bucks to edge him again. If I can make this much money off camming, I can quit Snack Falcon for good and get like a day’s worth of pay in an hour or two!”

Sunwoo isn’t even paying attention to what he’s saying, fixated on the view on the screen and the sounds of Hyunjin’s whimpering filtering from the speakers. He slips a hand down the waistband of his pants and boxers to stroke himself languidly, wetting his lips. “He’s fucking hot.”

Jerking off to porn together isn’t exactly the most common activity between the renegades, but it’s not unheard of, either, if one of you happen to stumble across something hot enough to be worth sharing. It’s just that most of the time, with so many options readily available, you don’t really need to look for porn when the group chat’s attachments are full of it, and you could create an equally hot or even hotter scenario yourselves.

It’s still normal enough that you all just fall into it naturally without talking about it, San also tugging his cock free to jerk it a lot hastier than Sunwoo, obviously riled up from the moment he entered the apartment, shamelessly letting his head fall back and a groan filter from his lips at the sight. “He’s so fucking hot it’s unfair.”

Unfair to who? You think San is arguably just as breathtaking, but it doesn’t seem like the right time to voice that thought, especially after everything that just happened, so you keep that part to yourself and simply take in the sight of him, jaw clenched and almost fucking into his fist before turning back to the screen.

“Yeah, no kidding. Perfect face, perfect body, I can’t really say I’m surprised people are paying hundreds just to have their way with him,” you mutter in awe, working your fly undone because that visual is enough to make you throb but the sounds just make it maddening. Is that how desperate he usually sounds, or is that just him on camera? You’re itching to find out, already having decided on your next target for your borderline malicious flirting.

To your surprise, Sunwoo slaps your hands away with his free one before you can slip them down your underwear, but before you can protest or ask why he replaces it with his own, quick to rub at your enlarged clit without any of his usual teasing. You’re not sure if he just feels like it, or if it has anything to do with the conversation you were having before San interrupted, but if that is the case you’re not exactly sure what the message he’s trying to give is supposed to be. You don’t oppose to it though, happy to reach over and grab his dick instead, but he doesn’t let you do that either, clearly insistent on you not doing any of the work and him getting both of you off. You’re almost shocked that San doesn’t complain at being left out, but he’s not even looking at you two, just at Hyunjin’s trembling form on his laptop.

“O-Oh fuck, my love– my loves, I’m close, please, please let me come, d-don’t you think I deserve it? Ha-ah… please…!”

He desperately glances somewhere beyond the camera, and that answers your question from earlier; someone lucky is in the room with him – you wonder who, whether it’s a partner, a bandmate, or some else, but the thought doesn’t occupy you for long as much as the thought of him liking an audience even without a camera – watching as Hyunjin’s mouth falls open in a silent plea; please. He must be truly at his limit if he’s asking someone to interfere with his viewer’s wishes just for the sake of his orgasm, but the beautiful distress on his face tells you that whoever is on the other side of the camera isn’t budging. You like seeing him a mess like this, rather than the pretty and powerful man you saw on stage and talking to Felix at the Prism, and knowing that he’s your competition has you hoping they prolong his suffering just a bit longer; the thought of seeing him break and cry along with the feeling of Sunwoo’s skilled fingers between your legs has you almost dizzy.

“San, make him turn it off.”

“Wait, what?” San finally looks at you, hands balled into fists by your side as Sunwoo continues working his magic. “Like, turn off the stream or–“

“No, donate like twenty bucks to turn it off, I’ll pay you back later– I just hope no one pays higher to keep it on…”

“You’re cruel,” San scoffs, but he’s grinning just as sadistically as you as he sets up the donation to turn off the cock ring and the vibrator at the same time, and to your luck, as soon as the donation goes through, Hyunjin’s body goes limp as both toys immediately turn off.

“No, no, no, please let me come!” Hyunjin borderline screams, voice cracking under the strain as tears stain his pretty cheeks. His hips twitch in search of the stimulation he just lost, but within seconds he’s spurting cum all over his stomach and the sheets beneath him completely untouched, gasping and thrashing around on the bed. “No, fuck, no, please…”

He sobs into the sheets, the muscles in his arms bulging with effort to free himself from his restraints, but the moment passes and his dick is still achingly hard and an angry red from his ruined orgasm. His ruined orgasm after being edged for possibly hours by strangers, the orgasm that you decided to ruin just to see him squirm.

The rush of power hits you all at once, and with the addition of Sunwoo rubbing at your clit with vigour, you follow after Hyunjin, hips bucking up into Sunwoo’s warm hand as your high rolls through you in waves. You don’t make much noise beyond a brief groan, wanting to hear Hyunjin continue to plead, higher-pitched this time as the toys turn on again to overstimulate him after having his orgasm ruined. He’s an absolute wreck, covered in sweat, tears and cum, hair sticking to his face and framing his head on the mattress like a crown, and you find yourself coming harder than you usually would just from rubbing one out with someone’s fingers.

Sunwoo smirks, retracting his hand and licking them clean, moaning at the taste as he finishes in his own fist, grunting lowly at the feeling. Wanting to repay his generosity, you lean over and take his dick in your mouth, sucking it clean and making him twitch wildly at the oversensitivity, but you move to suck his fingers clean instead before it becomes too much, and he strokes your hair affectionately with his free hand as a silent thank you.

San is a lot louder as he gets closer, moaning and biting his lip, face scrunched up in pleasure. “Me next, please, I’m so close, just–“ He gently holds the back of your head, and you allow him to lead you to his cock and take the tip in your mouth, wrapping your hand around the base while you suck. “Fuck! Yes, just like that, thank you, fuck, I’m gonna come– can you– can I–“

You hum in confirmation, swirling your tongue around him and making sure to drag the ball of your piercing along the underside of the sensitive head just the way he likes it, and he comes within seconds, emptying his load on your tongue. As hot as the action is, it doesn’t taste great, probably due to the amount of americanos he’s been drinking as of late – so, feeling a little cheeky, you lean up to kiss him in his post-orgasm glow, and make sure to shove your tongue in his mouth and give you a taste of himself.

“Mmh–!” He makes a cutely disgruntled noise as you, for all practical purposes, spit his cum back in his mouth, but he doesn’t push you off him right away. When he does, he clicks his tongue a few times with a scrunched nose, tasting himself, then sticks his tongue out. “Okay, loud and clear, you don’t have to say it.”

You snicker at that, happy with your petty revenge and his endearingly peeved expression. “Less coming in my mouth till you lessen your coffee intake, ya nasty.”

San chuckles, covering his face with his arm in mild embarrassment. Only mild – it would probably be far more embarrassing with a partner or a hook-up, but the runaways unique closeness shines through once more as it doesn’t seem to bother him or ruin the moment. There wasn’t much of a moment to ruin, really – it was simply a casual release between friends. Bandmates. Whatever. It was casual, is the point, and comfortable enough to pick on each other like this and for him to dismiss it. “Yeah, yeah. Maybe I’ll invest in some pineapple juice or something.”

Sunwoo simply snorts at the exchange, tucking himself back into his pants and getting up. “Alright, I’m gonna go get us dinner, San are you staying?”

He beams, dimples on full display, charming as can be. “If you would be so kind, yes please.”

The other man simply rolls his eyes as he grabs his keys and goes to slip his shoes on. “I’m only so generous to you because you effectively pay for all our snacks by not looking while on duty.” He turns to you just as he’s about to head out the door. “Give some thought to what we were talking about earlier.”

San glances at you in confusion at you at that, but you don’t pay him any mind. “I think I wanna hear your answer first, mister.”

Sunwoo quirks a brow, the slightest of smirks pulling at his plush lips. That damn infuriating smirk that you usually love but is now driving you an entirely foreign kind of crazy that you are not equipped to deal with.

“Hm. I think that in itself tells me yours.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to elaborate or respond, stepping out into the hallway and shutting the door behind him, leaving you feeling as exposed as Hyunjin was on the screen moments earlier. Of course he has to get the last word in, that ass – but the implications of it haunt you all the way to your bed that night, staring at the ceiling, while Sunwoo sleeps with an arm around you like nothing – or maybe everything? – ever happened.

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folkloreguk · 3 years ago

Text

French Class [7]

A/N: AAAH I apologize in advance for this part bc I feel like it's kinda messy :/ I hope you still like it though?? Lmk what you think! x

genre: optional bias (m) x reader (f), fwb, f2l?, college!au, fuckboy!bias, nerd!reader, angst, H/N is a jealous and drunk fool :/

words: ~ 3.7 k

✽series masterlist✽

taglist (lmk if u wanna be added!): @lovely-ateez, @runaway-fics, @mainexiii, @awfullytiredbuthealing, @erikyoong, @etherealuv, @yeostars, @staysuki, @justcuz-ican, @hyuckthangs, @teenloves, @mexious18-blog, @sunghoonied, @mailobjaeyoon, @tr-wemoon, @prismwon

couldn’t tag: @chorizoek, @r-eadings

H/N’s POV:

Maybe I’ll come ‘round, your text had said. How did you expect him to enjoy the party if you wouldn’t be there? H/N used to make fun of guys who ran after girls like lap dogs. And yet, over time he had become one of them, if not worse. Every text, every possibility of seeing you had him on the edge of his seat in excitement. There was nothing he cared about more than spending time with you. When at first it had been sexual attraction – an obsession with your body and the way you turned him on with the most subtle words and touches – it had changed into something entirely different. The relentless hunger was now occasional, ever so often interrupted by a dire wish to see you smile. A wish to hold you, and to kiss you out of the blue – something he wasn’t allowed to do if it wasn’t for the two of you hooking up. The stupid agreement you had made was starting to feel like torture instead of heaven. He was lucky his poker face was professional, and he had years of practice in flirting and sounding casual even if his heart was beating up to his neck. There was no other way he could have concealed how infatuated he was with you, otherwise.

“H/N, come help me set up the snacks!” Korain shouted from the kitchen. H/N’s friends were throwing a party at their place, and he had shown up early to assist them in preparing everything. With you on his mind – as always – he trotted into the kitchen where a row of bowls was standing out on the counter.

“Just open and pour the bags into the bowls, will you? I still need to get ready,” Korain said. “Chohee said she might be here a bit earlier, and I don’t want to look like this when she’s going to look amazing.”

Korain gestured to his bed hair he probably hadn’t brushed once since getting up and then tweaked the fabric of his sweatpants and his old, baggy tee. H/N wanted to argue that if Chohee really liked Korain, she wouldn’t mind seeing him this way. H/N, for one, couldn’t care less what you wore tonight. As long as you showed up at all, he would be beaming. Strictly speaking, at times when he got to see you wake up, sleep in your eyes and your clothes in a disarray, it spun his head in ways no little black dress could ever do. When he saw you make breakfast in his kitchen, in his shirt, he could barely contain himself.

His daydreams of you were once naughty and gave him boners at random times of the day – and don’t get me wrong, they still were, sometimes – but it was when the domestic dreams had begun, that he realized he was screwed. He didn’t need anybody to tell him how he felt, nor did he have some crazy moment of clarity. There came a point in his days where he didn’t just notice his non-sexual daydreams of you, he invited them. His brain was imagining things like setting up a shared table for dinner or kissing the back of your hand in the dark of a movie theater or playing you a cheesy song that reminded him of you. He wanted to hold your hands from across the library table and have his arm around your shoulders to show you off to the entire campus. But none of it could be real. It all went against the rules.

“Will Y/N be here too?” Korain asked and pulled H/N out of his daydreams. God, I hope so, he thought.

“She said she might be here,” H/N answered.

“Chohee’s always talking about her. And you. About how she thinks Y/N has a crush on you, but she always denies it, saying you’re just friends. Maybe you could try and bring that up tonight?” Korain said, as if discussing your feelings for someone was as easy at conversing about the weather. “Alright, I really have to go get ready now.”

“I’ve been thinking, I might- “ said H/N, but Korain only pat his shoulder.

“Let’s talk later, at the party, okay?” he said, and walked out the kitchen. I might like her, H/N had been meaning to say. I might like Y/N. No. I’m in love with her. No maybes. He could bet all his money on it, that’s how sure he was. But his friend had disappeared and now it was on him to wait until the party began. Left alone with his thoughts.

Of course, you would deny having a crush on him. Because you probably didn’t, he thought. Wouldn’t you search for a smart guy, someone your mother would approve of, and someone who understood your endless talks of nerdy topics? Although sometimes he had no idea what you were on about, H/N was captivated whenever you gave him a lecture about something you had learned. And when he asked you to explain something one more time, you never hesitated, or judged him for it. Your kindness made his heart swell, and only when the first crowd of party guests arrived did he realize he had spent half an hour daydreaming about you. Again.

With the way he kept the front door in his sight at all times, one could have wondered if he was a highly wanted criminal on the run, afraid the cops could barge in at any moment. Some of the girls who tried to flirt with him even asked him about it, but he wasn’t going to confess he was waiting for the love of his life to walk through that very door. With little conviction he returned their flirting. He hated himself for the thoughts he had. Thinking that should you not arrive, he could console himself by taking one of the other girls home instead. They didn’t deserve to be used like that, but he was bitter and so, so in love with you. It was hard to pay any attention to the other girls at all, no matter how sweet they were being.

Flirting back at them, however, came to him as easily as the words to his favorite songs. It posed no challenge, like it did with you. When he had to try hard to make your cheeks heat up, or to lure out a shy smile instead of your genius, quick-witted remarks. There was nothing more exciting to him than to invent new ways in which he could make you flustered.

Right now, it was his turn to be flustered. Because his ex had approached him and was reciting some of her favorite memories she had of their relationship. “Remember our third date…the one that ended with us squished in that tiny dressing room at Victoria’s Secret?” she asked and blinked at him expectantly. He went along with her words and replied something not too direct, but still enough to make her giggle like a little girl.

It was his own fault she was so intent on talking to him. While you had been on your date with the economy-major-guy, H/N had tried to contact his ex again. In hindsight, he thought it pathetic and extremely stupid at that. Nothing would have come of it, anyway. Not while he felt the way he did about you. So it was only lucky his ex hadn’t been free that night. Then he had gotten dangerously close to drowning his feelings in the vodka in his kitchen. Thankfully he had refrained from this, too, because you had shown up afterwards and you had ended up having mind-blowing sex, and he knew for a fact that had he been drunk, he would have blurted out some crazy sentiments he would have regretted saying in the morning.

Sometimes he tried to signal you his emotions, ever so subtly. Waving off your claims when you called him the campus fuckboy or telling you he wasn’t really hooking up with anyone else besides you, it all was an attempt at making you see what he felt for you. He would tell you that you looked pretty, not just so you would understand he liked you, but simply because it had to be said. When he regarded you fixing your hair in the mirror with a frown, he could barely believe you didn’t know how beautiful you were. And he had gotten closer to you during sex. Whether it was voluntary or an instinct that came with being in love, he wasn’t certain. There was nothing like kissing away your moans while he fucked you into a mattress.

He was about to text you – the urge to see you getting unbearable – but didn’t want to sound clingy when you strut through the door. No slow motion or fan blowing your hair around dramatically would have made you look more perfect. The ridiculous pang he felt in his heart when he saw you hug another guy only reminded him of how whipped he was. He reminded himself that he had no right to be jealous. You weren’t his girlfriend, after all. When you then made eye contact with him and made a beeline for him, he was worried he’d be short of words. He needed to pull himself together.

“Hi,” you said, and your smile was magical enough to stir up the butterflies in H/N’s stomach. You pointed at the empty spot on the sofa between H/N and another guy you didn’t know. “Is this seat taken?”

“No,” the guy said, before H/N had time to speak, and the stranger smiled at you in a way that could only mean he wanted to get to know you. But H/N caught your attention by swiftly putting his arm around your shoulder, making the stranger back up and divert his eyes the other way. He had never meant to be the jealous type. It was just that you were finally here, and he was so happy to see you, he couldn’t bare the thought of you running off again. Only when you gave him a funny look H/N realized he needed to calm down if he didn’t want you to get annoyed.

“So, what did I miss?” you asked.

His ex was approaching from across the room again, and before he could have stopped his mouth, he said the stupidest thing. “Kiss me.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, but he was intent on it. “Please. Kiss me. Quick.”

There was a strange emotion that crept over your face, and you seemed to have no clue why he was so set on it. Nevertheless, you did as he asked. Your mouth tasted of watermelon bubblegum, so sweet, so perfect, and he was flying on cloud nine for the short while it lasted. It wasn’t real, though. The thought stabbed his brain like a dagger. When you pulled apart you were grinning, and his ex wasn’t in the room anymore.

“Care to explain why we just did that?” you asked. “You’re diminishing your chances with the ladies in the room.”

He rolled his eyes. “My ex has been trying to get with me again, and I hoped she’d let off if she saw us kiss. And she did.” Then his eyebrows raised. “What do you mean by my chances with the ladies? I was hoping we could go home together.”

“I can’t tonight,” you said, and he had to fight to keep his face straight. “I’ve got to get back to studying first thing tomorrow morning. I just came here to hang out, for a while.”

“Oh,” was all he could muster without sounding like you were ripping out his heart. It wasn’t even your fault. He would never try and get between you and your studies. But what if he could be there? What if he could be the one staying in bed, watching as you climbed up early to bury your head in books? He’d watch you through tired eyelashes, and you’d ridicule him for being so starry-eyed when looking at you. Later he’d bring you tea or coffee and remind you to take a break to eat. Was it ludicrous to obsess over something so domestic? He didn’t feel guilty for it.

All at once, your laugh pulled him out of his daydream, and into a funny story you told him. Over-consciously, he noted how your arm went around his shoulder lazily. And for a while you sat and talked. Occasionally a flirty remark slipped over your lips, and he would always return it. It was idiotic, but he was already worrying about how much he would miss you once you went home. Perhaps his plan of consoling himself with another girl hadn’t been so bad, after all. Just as he had finished the thought, a familiar face walked by and noticed him. The alcohol in his veins made her seem perfectly inviting as a distraction, for later.

“Oh, hey. Y/N, this is Minji,” he said, pointing at the girl. “Minji, this is Y/N. She’s…just a friend.”

Instantly, you removed your arm from his shoulder. There was hidden pain in your gesture, or was it merely wishful thinking on his side? Minji nodded and greeted you, but you only waved her off with a polite smile.

“I’m going to get a drink from the kitchen,” you announced, and before he could have stopped you, you had walked off. For a while he chatted with Minji, because he had no good reason to run after you that wouldn’t create awkwardness. His patience lasted approximately ten minutes. Luckily, a friend waved at Minji from across the room and she excused herself. Although he would never wish her ill, he was glad she was leaving.

Quickly, he made his way to the kitchen, where he found you talking to a guy. Without thinking, H/N smiled at you as he came up to you and wrapped his arm around your waist. He hadn’t meant to look so intimidating, and he hadn’t meant to be an asshole either. Yet, the guy across from you appeared scared and when you turned your attention to H/N, the guy slowly retracted into another circle of chatting people. Guilt crept in on H/N. He was tipsy, and although he knew his drunkenness wasn’t an excuse, it made him want you so much more. Perhaps it was also insecurity making him act crazy. There was always a glimmer of hope in the back of his mind, that you might just like him back. So long as you hadn’t confirmed the opposite, he would live in constant terror that someone else could steal your attention and make you theirs before he could.

“Come with me,” you muttered in his ear. Your hand was around his wrist, and he had no choice but to trot after you like a child. At first, he thought you were going to take him out the front door, but then you made a turn for the stairs. He didn’t need to be a fuckboy to know what it meant when a girl walked him up the stairs. From one second to the other, his mood changed into gleefulness. Had you changed your mind? The mere thoughts of what could happen upstairs could have given him a boner, had he pondered on them for longer. You said nothing, only driving him more insane by the second. The first open door was good enough for you, so you pulled him inside and closed it behind you. Smirking, he reached for your waist, ready to pull you into a kiss.

“Don’t,” you hissed, and he flinched at your angry tone. He kept his hands to himself, kneading them nervously. Shit. This was the clear opposite of what he had anticipated. The two of you had never fought, and hearing your voice, sounding so deeply upset, scared him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you asked.

“I’m sorry, I thought you wanted to make out- “ he said.

“I don’t mean just now. I mean…what is it you’re trying to achieve by acting all possessive over me in front of random guys? Pretending I belong to you? But the second a pretty girl is in front of you I’m just a friend, aren’t I? What’s that about?”

There was no explaining this, and he knew it. Yet, he would try, pathetically. “I just thought you didn’t want those guys bothering you.”

“I can handle a guy by myself, thank you,” you snapped. “If I needed help, I’d ask. Like you did. Apparently, I’m good enough to be used as an escape from your ex, but when hot Minji came around you wouldn’t even blink when I got up and left.”

“Usedas an escape?” he asked in disbelief. “You didn’t have to kiss me, but you did anyway.”

“That’s because I was trying to be a good fucking friend!” you yelled now, sounding over the music from the party.

“You used me too, don’t you remember?” he countered. “Or did you not show up on my doorstep after your terrible date so I would fuck you and make you feel better?”

You looked taken aback for a moment, knowing he was right, in a way.

“It’s like you’re always trying to get away from me, but you can’t,” he said.

“Oh, fuck you!” you said, every trace of guilt washed away. “Get off your high horse! Isn’t that the whole point of us? That we’re using each other for sex? Nothing more than that, right? If I walked out now, you could go and find the next girl in line to take over instead of me. Didn’t you try to see someone while I was chatting to the guy I went on a date with? It’s all about using people, isn’t it? If things with the guy had gotten more serious for me, you’d have her, ready for you. Don’t you think that’s a little messed up? Leading someone on like that?”

There was truth to your words. He had tried to find someone to date, should you have found someone too and your friends-with-benefits relationship had been over. But he hadn’t led her on. He had been honest in letting the girl know he wasn’t sure if he wanted anything serious. His chest was hurting, and the pain was only making him more furious.

“Yeah, I could have switched you for her,” he said coldly. Was he only trying to hurt you now? Perhaps, but you had hurt him first.

“Right, because that’s all I am to you,” you said, quieter than before.

“That was our plan! You’re my fuck buddy, nothing more!” he raised his voice now, tired of your empty words and signs. “You have no right to accuse me of anything when I’m playing by the rules. The rules you made. Maybe we should go back to the beginning. Start the game over. I don’t even know what we’re arguing about right now.”

“Start over?”

“Go back to when we were just horny for each other and nothing else,” he said, as if that would be possible. As if he could ignore the way your eyes shined, even in the dim light coming from the streetlamps outside. Like he could pretend he didn’t want to hold you and make you forget all about this terrible fight.

“Fine, let’s try,” you said, and he watched in astonishment, as you closed the gap between the two of you. When you tilted your head, he gave you permission by doing the same. When you kissed, with teeth clashing and exhausted sighs mixing up, he swore there were bombs going off somewhere in his head. Alarm bells, too. This was by no means a great idea. But what could have stopped him and his hungry mouth? He backed you against the wall and pressed you into it, hard. Before he had registered it, his hands were pushing up the fabric of your dress and you moaned, sounding so beautiful he could barely believe it. One of his thighs forced its way between your legs while he gripped your waist like his life depended on it.

But then, just as rapidly you had begun to kiss him, you pushed him away. His lungs felt tight when he noticed the affliction and confusion on your face. He wished he could make it go away. But he had caused it, so now his presence only made things worse.

“No- no, I change my mind. This is fucking stupid,” you said. “I can’t do this right now.”

“Y/N,” he said in a gentle tone. Somehow, it seemed that his careful voice hurt you most of all.

“I think we should stop. All of this,” you said. He was beginning to shake his head in disbelief, but you cut him off. “We said there wouldn’t be jealousy, but there obviously is. We should have stopped long ago.”

“But what about starting the game again, from the beginning?” he asked, too afraid of what you would say to even look at you. If you were going to rip out his heart you should have done so quickly, when he wasn’t paying too close attention.

“The game’s over. This is going over both of our heads,” you said. “I- I’m going to go home now.”

So this was heartbreak. H/N had never considered that it could be meant so literally. But he could swear that the muscle inside his chest was convulsing and shriveling as if you had stolen the blood that kept him alive right from his arteries. The pain was sharp like a thousand cuts had been inflicted on his skin, and he struggled for words like your words had taken every of his most elemental abilities.

“I’ll walk you home,” he said.

“No,” you said. “You’re drunk. You’re the one who could need someone to walk you home. And I don’t want you around me right now. Get home safely.”

That was it. No hug. No last, longing look. Just your words stabbing like knives and your ethereal beauty as you turned on your heel and walked from the room, leaving him behind, bleeding out by himself. What had he done?

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1kook · 4 years ago

Text

commercial break: twelve

this is part of my netflix & chill series a prelude to part 10 <3

SUMMARY Anyway, if it was up to Jungkook, Kim Doyeon would not be a member of the Engagement Ring Committee. WARNING none !! we r safe MISC jk and doyeon mortal enemies, nearly everyone is mentioned, thank u namjoon, jk loves oc, the end <3 jimin makes his first appearance O_O WC 1.4k

NOTES we just having fun with it!!! jk’s friendship with everyone else <3

Doyeon says you have fat fingers, and Jungkook takes great offense at that. “Who cares about the size— __ has pretty hands, idiot,” he mutters, and almost wants to feel bad about being so childish in the middle of this jewelry store. But Kim Doyeon is a pest— a fly who just won’t stop buzzing by his ear with each ring they look at, and she has the audacity to look disgusted with him now. Jungkook very much regrets inviting her along. She exudes very similar energy to the popular girls he used to go to high school, the ones that would only talk to him because he was friends with Namjoon and wanted Jungkook to help them into his pants. Lo and behold, Kim Doyeon is very acquainted with whatever’s inside Namjoon’s pants. She hits the mark perfectly.

“Oh, definitely get her a rock. Like, one of those obnoxiously bing and shiny rings, maybe?” And she never stops talking.

Jungkook hasn’t had to spend this much time with her in months, the last time being Namjoon’s birthday when you had tasked the two of them to go pick up the cake together. Not only was Doyeon adamant on passenger-seat driving — “Turn here,” she says a moment too late, “no wait, here — but she had been an absolute heathen outside in the bakery parking lot.

(“Okay, now take a picture of me by this wall,” she says, artfully holding up the box of cake in two hands, dark hair flipped over her shoulder. Jungkook doesn’t know how to tell her that there is no significant difference between this brick wall and the brick wall they just took a picture by two minutes before.)

Anyway, if it was up to Jungkook, Kim Doyeon would not be a member of the Engagement Ring Committee. It would be him and Namjoon, and maybe Namjoon’s blunt roommate Jimin if he was feeling down for it, but that was pretty much it. Even Taehyung, a very close and dearly cherished friend, had not made the cut. He was too lazy, didn’t offer much concrete advice other than the occasional, “that one looks cool” comment.

The great thing about Namjoon is that he’s highly educated on just about every aspect of life; he knows the best hairstylists — “You can always ask Hobi,” Namjoon offers, “he’s married.” — and the best lawyers — “Oh, and Yoongi can help with your prenup.” — for no reason other than the fact he is Namjoon.

The bad thing about Namjoon is that he’s dead set on including Doyeon. “Doyeon is ___’s best friend,” he says calmly one night after dinner. You’re at your friend’s house this weekend, something about a midnight revenge plot against a shitty ex-boyfriend. He isn’t too clear on the details. “You have to let her in on it.” It’s been decades since Jungkook last stomped his foot in annoyance, but the urge wells up strongly in him now.

Jimin is on the couch. “Oooh, you don’t like her?” he asks, flipping his platinum hair away from his eyes. Jungkook doesn’t answer, only because it would be rude to confirm it in front of Namjoon. Jimin presses on. “Is she, like, an evil best friend?”

“Yes,” Jungkook says at the same time Namjoon says, “no.” Jimin’s got this highly intrigued smirk on his face, and Jungkook hates how similar it is to your own mischievous grins. He’s glad you haven’t met Jimin, mostly because he knows you have your mean moments and meeting Park Jimin would only exacerbate them. Namjoon frowns anyway.

Jimin says, “oh, you guys should duel. Like, whoever knows __ the best gets to keep her.”

Namjoon jumps to stop that thought. “No— they’re not gonna duel, Jimin. ___ isn’t an object to win,” he scolds, and Jungkook nods along agreeingly, pretends he hadn’t seriously considered Jimin’s idea for a solid ten seconds.

Long story short, Doyeon has tagged along to this jeweler and the past two jewelers to make sure Jungkook doesn’t give you “an ugly ring,” as she claims.

“Wait, what if you get her this one,” she says, on the other side of the store. Jungkook sighs, but hurries over anyway. Hey, he’s here to see some rings, okay?

Doyeon is looking at the most ugly ring Jungkook has ever seen, a mix of a braid and a snake, that is just too… not you. “This is hideous,” he says, disregarding all and any notions of being polite because at this point, she had to be pulling his leg. “___ would hate this.”

At his side, Doyeon huffs. “Oh, ‘cause you know ___ sooo well, don’t you?” she snarks.

Jungkook levels her with a glare. “I do, actually,” he says, “that’s literally what made me want to marry her.” And because Kim Doyeon sparks a very immature flame within him, he feels the need to add, “I probably know ___ better than you,” to top it off.

Doyeon scoffs. “No, you don’t— you will never know her like I do, you overgrown fungus,” she spits. “Me and ___ have exceeded any level of trust you could ever hope to have, a friendship forged on the grounds of love and equal values. A nerd like you can’t even begin to fathom the absolutely crazy shit we’ve shared with each other.”

If he was eight years younger, Jungkook is certain he would have gone home and cried. Mid-twenties Jungkook, on the other hand, has had one too many rodeos with mean girls — he’s dating a retired high school cheerleader, for goodness sake, an apex predator if he’s ever seen one — and will not stand for it. Besides, Jungkook has received your blessing to check Doyeon into place if ever she crosses the line.

(“Sometimes you just gotta knock her down, maybe call her a dumbass if necessary,” you had said one night after Doyeon had unceremoniously barged into your apartment to monopolize your evening plans with Jungkook. Now it’s nearing midnight and as much as Jungkook wants to spend time with you, he’s deathly tired. “Just tell her off.”

Jungkook frowns, snuggles closer until he’s so tightly pressed against your body that he can’t tell whose heartbeat is whose. He likes it like that.

There’s just something about your annoying best friend that activates this feeling in Jungkook’s chest. If anything, Jungkook imagines it is similar to that of having a bratty little sister. But Doyeon as his sister? He rolls his eyes so far back he swears he sees his own brain.

It’s childish and petty and unlike Jungkook — or at least, unlike the Jungkook he knows you think he is. Which is flattering, to be thought of so highly, but sometimes Jungkook wonders where on earth you got that idea from. Because whenever he’s around you, Jungkook becomes increasingly immature, grows so greedy and needy, desperate for anything you have to give him.

And because he’s so immature, he settles on tattling to you instead, “she called me a sweaty meat bag,” to which you snort in amusement.)

For now, he calls on the spirit of the most mature person he knows (Namjoon). Jungkook takes one last look at his millionth silver band of the day before turning to address the Wicked Witch of the West. “I might not know ___ like you do, but that’s fine,” he says calmly. “We’re gonna spend the rest of our lives together anyway.”

In front of him, Doyeon’s eye twitches and Jungkook senses he has won. For now. See, the thing is, Jungkook knows that using Namjoon-level logic against her is foolproof. For one, Namjoon’s logic is always solid. But also, as much as Jungkook despises Kim Doyeon with nearly every fiber in his being… ultimately, they share a common interest: cherishing you.

Had it not been for your existence in their lives, Jungkook doubts he would have ever spent his Saturday morning at a jeweler with the likes of Kim Doyeon, especially not after she had spent ten minutes in the Starbucks drive-thru ordering the most bizarrely complicated drink. But deep in his heart Jungkook knows that she loves you, though not as much as him, and he respects the fact she is willing to accompany him in the name of buying you a beautiful engagement ring. It’s a friendship solidarity he admires, and for that he stomps down his childish pride to answer in a way that would impress, well, you.

(Even when you’re not here, Jungkook always wants to impress you.)

At his side, Doyeon huffs. “I should’ve never taken ___ to that party.”

#networkbangtan #jungkook #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook fic #jjk fic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fic #bts x reader #mine

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rinkrats · 4 years ago

Note

🥺 that mike lange story. But also those tags #sid loooves christmas #he loves giving presents #looks good in red #piles on the pounds fast #post hockey career as santa 😂😂👌🏽👌🏽

he loves his mementos and presents and is COMMITTED to them. scrapbooking. matching jackets. little pills with hidden motivational messages~*~ his love language is gifts and neck smooches and stalking geno. relevant right now are some anecdotes i sent a friend earlier this year for dorky sid gifts fic fodder:

1. Crosby's constant thoughtfulness would be impressive from anyone, much less someone of his stature.

"Sid always texts me happy birthday, he's always asking me like, how's Russia?" Evgeni Malkin said. "We talk and message all summer. He asks me how my skates are. He knows, like, everything. He follows my Instagram, I think (laughs)."

In addition to having a handle on those little details, Crosby is constantly providing those around him with memories and mementos. If the team is on the road and goes, say, sightseeing or to a sporting event and takes a group photo, Crosby will later send a framed copy to everyone.

When Ron Hextall and Brian Burke watched their first Penguins game in person, Crosby is the one who approached head equipment manager Dana Heinze and asked for two used game pucks to give to the new GM and president of hockey ops.

After the Penguins won in 2009, Crosby had jackets made for the three players on the team who had scored a Cup-clinching goal in Game 7: Talbot (Pittsburgh), Ruslan Fedotenko (Tampa Bay) and Mike Rupp (New Jersey).

"They were blue jackets with gold buttons, and each one had a patch on it that said 'GWG Game 7,'" Talbot said. "At one of our first team meals the next season, he presented us with the jackets and did a big ceremony with the music and stuff. We had a private room in the restaurant. I still have the jacket."

-The Consummate Teammate, Captain and Ambassador, Feb 2021

2. Merz: My first interaction with Sid was when we were on the bench, guys were talking about a teammate, and the first thing this 15-year-old says is, “Hey, guys. Let’s keep everything positive. Don’t talk about your teammates that way.”

Salcido: When we were getting ready for nationals, he found these little pills that you could put a hidden message inside. They unscrewed, and inside was a tiny scroll. He gave one to every teammate. … He had everyone fill one out. He didn’t tell anyone what to write, but he made it known that we all knew what the goal was: winning nationals. So we wrote on our scrolls, rolled them up and put them in the pill thing. We kept them with us everywhere we went.

-‘Is this real?’: Stories of Sidney Crosby’s year at a Minnesota prep school, May 2020

3. On “Butterfly Boy” Jonathan Pitre:

Though the Senators are his team, Sidney Crosby has always been Jonny’s favourite player. After the TSN documentary airs, Tina gets a call from the Penguins. Sid needs Jonny’s measurements. He wants to have a suit made for him by his personal tailor, Domenico Vacca.

“It’s the kindest, sweetest gesture,” Tina says. “Sid heard that Jonny went to a lot of games, so he wants him to look like he’s one of the guys.”

“I want him to feel like a pro,” Crosby says. “Here’s a guy who is going through something so painful, and his first thought is always, ‘How can I help others?’ When I was young, I’d watch on TV the players coming to the rink in their suits. That was a cool part of being an NHL player. I want him to feel that, to make it as real as possible for him.”

Tina tries to discreetly measure Jonny while she’s changing his dressings. But he’s way too smart for that.

“Um, Mom, why are you measuring me? Am I going for surgery again?” he asks.

“No, no!” Tina replies, trying to reassure him and come up with a good lie, all in the same breath. “The doctor needs them just to make sure they have proper dressings next time you are in.”

A few weeks later, the sharp navy blue suit shows up at their front door, along with a couple of ties, an autographed stick and a handwritten letter from Sid.

“His eyes just light up,” Tina says. “Jonny always liked to be well-dressed, and he just loves having his own suit. It fits perfectly. He looks so good in it.”

-Beauties by James Duthie (2020)

4. Pascal Dupuis inspired his Pittsburgh Penguins teammates on their run to the Stanley Cup, and Sidney Crosby found a special way of driving that message home.

Dupuis retired in December with lingering health concerns because of blood clots. Despite his NHL playing days coming to an end, the veteran forward remained an integral part of the Penguins and was in uniform to hoist the Cup after Pittsburgh's six-game win against the San Jose Sharks in the Stanley Cup Final.

On Sunday, Dupuis brought the Cup home one last time as a player to share a special day with his family, friends and hometown fans.

"Yes, it does feel bittersweet a little bit," Dupuis said. "You get the Cup, you want to celebrate. But at the same time I got a gift by the mail [Saturday]. Basically, it's a book of all the pictures of all the good stuff we went through. It came from Nova Scotia, so you guys can figure out who it came from (Crosby), but he couldn't give it to me during the season, he saw me skating a little bit.

"And he sent it [Saturday], before my day with the Cup, so he knew what he was doing to get me right here," Dupuis said, putting his fist over his heart.

-Pascal Dupuis shares Stanley Cup with family, friends, Aug 2016

5. In 2011, Crosby was out of the lineup with a concussion, and the Penguins made their annual visit to Children’s Hospital.

Crosby got along so well with one boy there and was so touched that he later asked Bullano to go back... just the two of them, no cameras, no attention.

When Bullano and Crosby met for the follow-up visit, Crosby appeared clutching a pair of Toys “R” Us bags, filled with a Transformer toy the two had discussed.

“He literally bought every type of this toy they make,” Bullano said. “[Crosby] had never seen it before and thought it was so cool.

“There are no pictures of this. There’s no video. He was laying in the bed with the kid. They were just playing. We were there for over two hours. I got to know the mom really well because we were just sitting there.

“The kid had no idea. Didn’t expect it. They had no idea he was coming. We got there and he said, ‘Hey buddy. hope you don’t mind that I came back.’ The kid couldn’t believe it.

“[Crosby’s] crazy cool about stuff like that.”

What’s crazy is trying to recount the many times stuff like this has happened with Crosby:

• The Little Penguins Learn to Play program has been around for nine seasons, outfitting now 1,200 kids with free head-to-toe hockey equipment. Not only does Crosby serve as the face of the program — which the NHL has now adopted — but he helps fund it, too.

“There’s an awareness of what a person in his position can bring,” Penguins vice president of communications Tom McMillan said. “I think he activates that as much as anybody I’ve seen during his playing career.”

• After a recent practice, Crosby noticed a local family in the Penguins dressing room, approached them, introduced himself, learned their story and wound up giving them a signed stick.

Nobody asked Crosby to do that, and he wanted zero credit when discussing it a couple days later.

“For people who have the opportunity to come in here, people dealing with certain things, if you can brighten their day a bit or spend some time with them, it’s something that’s special for all of us,” Crosby said.

• A few years ago, through a team charity event, Crosby befriended a 4-year-old Amish boy with cancer. Crosby remarked to Bullano how much he loved talking to the boy because of how engaging the boy was and how he wasn’t consumed with technology. Crosby even tried to visit the boy but learned he had passed away.

• He learns the first and last names of the kids who attend his hockey school in Cole Harbour, Nova Scotia.

“Two kids came from Japan its first year,” Bullano recalled. “He was so blown away by that. He couldn’t wait to meet them.”

• Earlier this season, the Penguins welcomed Grant Chupinka, 24-year-old cancer patient, into the dressing room. Crosby chatted up Grant and his parents, Steve and Kim.

He spent his usual time — about two or three times the requirement. Gave the tour. Then found out the Chupinkas didn’t have tickets for that night’s game and decided he would pay for them to go.

“I’m sure he could just give them an autographed puck or something, but he takes his time to go out and see them and talk to them and get to know them,” Brian Dumoulin said. “It speaks volumes for him and who he is as a person.”

Spend any length of time with Crosby during his visits with those less fortunate, and a few things become obvious.

One, Crosby is really good at these. Smooth but not in a slimy way. Sweet. You know how when you’re around someone talking and they go out of their way to make eye contact with everyone around? That’s Crosby.

He’s also humble, always introducing himself like those he’s meeting don’t already know. Holding a hand is no issue. And Crosby is the rare 20-something pro athlete without kids who acts every bit like he does.

“It is not an easy situation to talk to someone with terminal cancer,” McMillan said. “A lot of people couldn’t do that. He has an amazing ability to do that and make that person feel good.”

Crosby has welcomed several Make-a-Wish kids and tries, if at all possible, to schedule such events for practice days — to maximize the time he’s able to spend.

He’s developed a special friendship with Patrick McIlvain, a soldier who nearly died when he took a bullet to the head in Afghanistan. McIlvain actually does physical therapy with one of Crosby’s sticks.

A former club hockey player at Cal U, McIlvain comes by every year, and the Penguins don’t even bother to tell Crosby. Either he already knows or immediately stops what he’s doing to come say hello.

“He’s not doing it to leave a legacy,” said Terry Kalna, Penguins vice president of sales and broadcasting. “His numbers leave the legacy. He’s just a down-to-Earth, good guy.”

Before a visit, Crosby has Bullano email him what is essentially a scouting report on who he’s going to meet. He likes to learn about them, their situation and what they’ve been through. As much information as he can ingest. Crosby never just swoops in, shake a hand and leave.

“As much as anyone has ever seen, he accepts the responsibilities of being not just a professional athlete but a star professional athlete,” McMillan said. “He views it as part of the job. Like coming to the morning skate. That’s just what you do.”

Put another way, “he owns those moments,” says Kalna.

Said Bullano, “He’s just a good human being.”

-When it comes to giving, Sidney Crosby does as much as he can, Feb 2017

6. When Crosby received a generous signing bonus on his Reebok deal, he wanted to share it with everyone.

“He gave everyone on the bus gifts,” says Oceanic radio commentator Michel Germain. “Him sharing his bonus with all the people he’d been travelling with for two years, that impresses me greatly. I think the most important thing about Sidney Crosby is his personality and the kind of human being he is. What he exuded. The inner richness he’d already developed.”

-Superstitious and generous, Dec 2006

7. also this simply because it makes me ;w;

Even in defeat — no, especially in defeat — Sidney Crosby proved why he wears the "C" for the Penguins.

After the game, with his heart sinking and his season over, the Penguins’ captain bent over, sank to the ice to pick up the puck, took it to linesman Tony Sericolo and then skated to his team’s handshake line.

I immediately thought of a View from Ice Level I’d written on Crosby making sure a retiring official was sent away from PPG Paints Arena properly. I knew picking up the puck wasn’t for the same reason that was, but I also knew, in some way, it was connected to Crosby’s awareness and respect of the game.

“It was for the Islanders,” Crosby told me after the game, his eyes swollen from a first round exit – by way of a sweep to make it worse. He told me how the winning team always wanted the puck, and it was his way of providing it for the Islanders.

Crosby looked me right in the eye as he told me this, just as he did with every other member of the media to come to him after the loss.

I could tell from those swollen eyes and the way he sat at his stall, by himself with his hands folded as he stared blankly, that Sidney Crosby is much more used to being on the receiving end of a puck when a series ends than he is at retrieving it for the winning team.

That scene. His swollen eyes. Staying in the locker room until most had left – talking to anyone who needed him. Most of all, though, picking up the puck that prompted my question in the first place and making sure the right people got their piece of their own history.

It all adds up to one thing: In victory and in defeat, Crosby respects the game above all else – just as he’s always done.

-Even in defeat, Crosby shines, April 2019

#anyway this was a nice walk down memory lane after the disastrous game rip #sidney crosby #pittsburgh penguins #hockey #text

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mayaflowerxs · 3 years ago

Note

hi there! can you do nsfw a-z for hendery? thank you! <3

NSFW Alphabet w/ Hendery

Warning: Smutty!

A/N: Thank u for the request hope you enjoy!

Aftercare:

He’s alllll for aftercare. Even if he’s not there with you and are doing phone sex he still does it. He’s asking you if you’re okay, to go get cleaned up, get some rest, eat and take a few minutes to yourself. If he went too hard on you he tends to stay with you whether it’s on the bed cuddling or just flat out following you to make sure you’re not having a hard time walking or doing any other activities that’s requiring you to move. Your safety means the world to him so even when you tell him you’re fine he won’t stop budging. At one point I can see him brushing you off and sending you to the couch or bed while he cleans and fixes the place up.

Body Part:

Not really a body part but he loves your hair. He loves tugging your hair just as much as he loves his being tugged.

Cum:

In any hole really. Hendery is just a sucker to see you full of him. He doesn’t like it splattered on you because he’s convinced it’s being wasteful and he may or may not have a breeding kink 😶

Dirty secret:

He has an oral fixation. Like the dude is literally in love with eating you out and sometimes it can get too much for you when you two get intimate. He can’t help it he loves it so much but won’t show it because he thinks you might get annoy of him constantly attacking your pussy :( so when you two do get handsy he seriously does not hold back at all. If he gets to a point where he has you practically sobbing then so be it but he’s not going to back off until he’s for sure done with you (if that’s what you’re into)

Experience:

I see him as experienced. Had a partner here and there and definitely went past making out. But oh boy they just didn’t hit the way you do. Everything he always wanted to try out was with you which is why it’s all the more special. Because you’re so accepting that he grows more and more confident in pleasuring you.

Favorite position:

Definitely doggy and cowgirl. He needs to be in charge. Now when you’re in cowgirl he never once has you think you’re in charge. I see him as one who’s very dominant behind all that goofiness. He’ll have you leaned down on his chest, an arm around your neck and the other around your waist as he relentlessly pounded into your fucked out cunt. Not holding back until every last drop is deeply stuffed in.

Goofy:

Okay he’s definitely goofy in the beginning. He’ll crack a hole here and there and overall just make it all the more comfortable. But as soon as the first moan leaves one of your guys mouth he’s inner dom comes out and no more Hendery now you’re face with Kunhang.

Hair:

Honestly it’s one or the other. No I’m between he’s a pretty confident man so he won’t worry whether he still keep it nice and trimmed to bare. If he wants to leave it as is he will and same goes for you. He literally does not mind what you do with your girl down there as long as he’s stilling tapping it it’s literally all that matters to him smh.

Intimacy:

The only time there’s real intimacy is if you two have been away for a long time. Missing you so much just as has him wrapped around you the entire time. And when you two are climaxing he’s pressing kisses to your shoulder, temple, lips anywhere silencing telling you, you did a good job and he loves you so so much.

Jerk off:

Oh yeah. He does it quite often. The boy literally is a puppy who grew attachment issues. He tends to miss your touch and presence and eventually that longing turns into sexual frustration that he just can’t tame. Kinda surprised how he still hasn’t been caught cuz of how often he does it especially since he shares his room. He loves to jerk off with you, so phone sex is a must.

Kink:

The biggest breeding kinker. Bondage. Those are his go to but he’s up for anything. Nothing is ever a routine when it comes to him he always has to try something new, nothing to big of a new but just something to spice things up. So things like choking, he grew fond of that as well. He also tried using ice but it only irritated him because the ice wouldn’t stop sliding down so that was a big turn off for him which only resulted in him taking out his frustration on you, annoyed that it didn’t work out to well but hey you didn’t mind. You got fucked by a frustrated Hendery that’s a pretty win win for you.

Location:

Okay hear me out, Hendery is literally in denial when it comes to this. But the man can literally do it ANYWHERE. Just with the right amount of edging and or sexual tension is why gets him to snap. Usually when his mind isn’t going fuzzy and he’s not in a lustful state he won’t even think to the idea of taking you in a public restroom. Or fucking you in the car in a parking lot filled with other cars. But as soon as you begin to tease him or whisper him how much you need him he slowly starts turning into the dommy man you oh so love just like his regular self and before you know it you’re coming back home with a slight limp.

Motivation:

How lost you get. You will be minding your own business but won’t notice how every move you’re making is a bit more seductive to Hendery’s eyes. He snaps as soon as you flash him that ‘innocent’ smile at him and that’s when he has you pinned. He also loves how confident you get, when you’re in the mood you don’t hold back. Already on a mission to tag Hendery’s whereabouts and pounce on him. Seriously ends up falling more in love with you when he’s all of a sudden gets dragged away from his activities and pushed onto a surface to lay or sit on. Biting his lip as you begin to attack him in kisses. Yeah he’s a goner right then and there.

No:

Honestly Hendery says no to anything he considers not that fun or interesting. Like the ice, won’t ever do that again what a waste of time and ice.

Oral:

My god YES. He loves you sucking him but usually he gets impatient because he’s the one who wants to eat you out. Might get a bit selfish because you like oral too so he might take up your time just so that he gets to work on you. The boy literally loves eating pussy he can go for hours and not get tired. Though eventually it gets too much your hands are pushing at his head and legs desperately trying to shut, hot tears running down your cheek by how sensitive you’re getting. Close to seeing spots.

Pace:

He has a good pace. Not too fast or slow, doesn’t stop often nor does he pound into you continuously without break. He knows exactly what pace to go which is right in the middle of it all which is what gets you to cum hard. His pace reflects on his thrusts and stamina and when all three come together he gets his baby happily pleasured which is all that matters to him.

Quickies:

Into it definitely. Hendery is overall a sex addict. That’s the truth. And the thing is he does good when you’re not around, for some time. But once your in view, in arms length or just the mention of your name is an instant click in his brain to desperately fuck you to tomorrow. Always before practice, after concerts, before grocery shopping. Hell he might even drag you to the bathroom and fuck you while you two were in the middle of shopping. He’s all for it and he’s not ashamed of it.

Risk:

Doesn’t give a fuck. Quite frankly he wishes someone catches you two in the act. Just the mere thought already has him climaxing so hard. Just seeing the shocked face of someone catching him fucking you balls deep is probably a deep desire of his. Like I said earlier this man can fuck you anywhere and won’t care who can see.

Stamina:

This boy has such a high sex drive he’s learned how to keep a high stamina. Hell even after you two are finished he still might have some energy he still needs to let off but never acts upon it because he sees how tired and worn out you are he just no longer has the heart to keep you going. You already did so much for him his needs can wait.

Toys:

Yes! I see Hendery as secretly kinky so using toys is a must for him. He’ll mostly use them to edge you on, yes he might like using them but he will never have a toy make you cum. If anything only he can, not even a toy shall do that to you. I also see him as the type to have lots of phone sex with you and have you use them but as soon as you’re close to cumming he’ll demand you to get rid of em and use your fingers to finish you off.

Unfair:

It’s a 50/50 for him. Usually he likes to tease you but not for long. He’s not the biggest fan of not giving you what you want.

Volume:

I feel like he’s one who’s kinda shy to show you his sounds of pleasure when you first go out but the more he gets comfortable and the more you reassure him he gets more vocal. Now that doesn’t mean he’s the loudest mf, I feel like he is only ever loud when he hits the spot to the point where his fingers are practically leaving a bruise on you by how good it feels. But other than that he’ll most likely grunt and have heavy breathing. Sweat running down his forehead which is what gets you going and have you get him to grunt louder when you either ride him faster or squeeze around him.

Wildcard:

When he plays video games with the boys he tends to have you on his lap throughout the game. Cock warming is his absolute favorite. He treats it like a challenge. How long can he have you on his lap without fucking you and usually it lasts around four rounds until he’s saying goodbye and fucking you from behind. Letting all his sexual needs on to you who is currently shaking his desk top like crazy.

X-ray:

Feel like he’s a bit over average. I feel like he’s more long than girthier but doesn’t mean it’s skinny as hell. Don’t get it twisted the boy be packing no doubt.

Yearning:

The man craves for you literally all the time. The only time he doesn’t yearn for you is if scheduling is kicking his ass and he’s too sleep deprived to even eat properly. Even then he might make it up by having lazy sex with you as soon as he wakes up. You guys have sex pretty regularly, if anything it’s a lot than regularly. You must have some nice working birth control because man with all these rounds and you’re still not knocked up. Only making it a challenge for Hendery to succeed in. And let me tell you once he challenges himself he most definitely succeeds.

Zzz:

Hendery is either or. It’s either he’s so worn out of his energy he falls asleep or he still has some energy left and uses that to clean up and yourselves. Usually because of how much he puts you through you’ll be the one knocked out so he’ll probably distract himself by playing the drums or doing what Hendery usually does.

#nct scenarios #nct x reader #nct reactions #nct smut #nct imagines #hendery #wayv imagines #wayv smut #wayv hendery #hendery nct #nct hendery #wong kunhang

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getofy · 4 years ago

Text

bakugo as your boyfriend would include...

request: what would dating bakugo be like?

gn!reader (but there are slight fem themes if you squint); fluff; headcanons; no spoilers

character: bakugo katsuki

a/n: this goes out to my one & only <333. ilysm deku kinnie pls enjoy! also, @ bakugo simps i hope this feeds u well. he’s sm fun to write for. headcanons + a short playlist are under the cut.

*ty to my bakugo kinnie/simp friend for helping me write this. i appreciate u. A LOT of these ideas r hers!!

FALLING IN LOVE WITH HIM SOUNDS LIKE:

01. TEENAGE DIRTBAG by WHEATUS

02. GUTTER GIRL by HFHW

03. BOYFREN by LOVE LEO

04. IN TOO DEEP by SUM 41

05. TOUNGES by THE FRIGHTS

06. R U MINE? by ARCTIC MONKEYS

katsuki is a very emotional person. he feels incredibly deep and profound things, but has trouble expressing it in a healthy manner. this being so, him as your s/o would consist of a lot of subtle displays of affection! such as...

-> SHOWING YOU HOW TO DO STUFF:

he’ll teach you small things about his hobbies. will 100% show you how to play the drums, mountain climb, etc.

literally you learn so much with him it’s insane. he claims it’s because he couldn’t stand dating an incapable person, but in reality it’s just because he likes feeling useful/needed HAHA.

-> TOUCHING YOU:

this man is lowkey super clingy...so he will always find a way to be physically close to you.

a BIG fan of putting his arm around your shoulder fs. don’t mention it to him though because he’ll IMMEDIATELY stop doing it.

-> LETTING YOU SIT ON HIS LAP:

if you’re comfortable with it, he’d adore it if you sat on his lap!! like fr if you walked up to him when he was lounging on the couch and did it this is how it would go...

“what’re you doing?”

“sitting down, why?”

he just stares and then grunts before going back to whatever he was doing

don’t let his indifference fool you, he is very pleased.

probably looked up at the ceiling and thought about it for an hour once you left

he thinks about you a lot

-> ALWAYS COOKING FOR YOU:

he pretends like it’s a nuisance, but it genuinely makes his day when you eat the stuff he prepares. literally if you’re hungry just ask him to make you smth and he’ll do it. he actually gets angry if you decide to cook without him.

one time, katsuki seemed really tired because of training and school. so you tried to make something for the both of you guys to enjoy together. it uh...didn’t go well...

“what are you doing?!”

“cutting vegetables...”

“no. you’re doing it all wrong. give me the knife.”

“excuse me??”

“GIVE ME THE KNIFE.”

you ended up giving him the knife

the meal was great!?? but he scolded you for like 30 minutes after PLS.

-> SHOWING YOU OFF:

he’s proud that you’re his s/o, so of course he’s gonna brag about you to EVERYONE.

it’s not overbearing or in an annoying way either. it’s moreso him talking about your accomplishments and stuff like that.

he literally only shows you off for his own benefit. NEEDS everyone to know how cool you and him both are.

it’s an ego thing.

i take back what i said abt it not being annoying. it’s a nuisance to everyone who ain’t you.

-> SITTING NEXT TO YOU:

like i said before, he needs to be close to you at all times. sooo he always sits next to you. no questions asked.

expect to see a pouting, petty katsuki if you decide to sit next to somebody that isn’t him.

“are you seriously mad that i sat next to deku and not you on the bus?!”

“‘COURSE IM MAD.”

“you’re impossible.”

“HUH??????”

-> LETTING YOU WEAR HIS CLOTHES:

PRACTICALLY CHUCKS HIS SHIRTS AND HOODIES AT YOU. LITERALLY JUST- PELTS YOU WITH HIS CLOTHES UNTIL YOU PUT THEM ON.

you took his hoodie without asking ONE TIME and now he’s hooked on seeing you in his clothing.

he’ll always pretend like he’s doing you a favor though.

gotta love how annoying he is!

-> GIFT GIVING

i wouldn’t go as far to say that gift giving is his love language, but he’ll buy things that you bring up in causal conversation a whole lot.

he just kinda bashfully shoves the gift in your hands and watches as you fawn over it.

“awww! how’d you know??”

“you wouldn’t shut up about it.”

he loves seeing your pleased expression!! +100 boost to katsuki’s confidence.

-> HELPING YOU WITH ACADEMICS:

we ALL know how smart this man is.

he will 100% help you study for school if you’re struggling!

don’t expect him to go easy on you though.

if anything, he’ll probably be harder on you because he really wants to see you succeed.

he basically carries you through math

-> KNOWING MUNDANE FACTS ABOUT YOU:

i can see him knowing EVERYTHING about you. your birthday, your morning routine, your favorite snacks, your favorite songs, etc.

it doesn’t take a lot for him to remember this stuff either???

like, he thinks you’re unforgettable, so he just knows

-> WANTING TO IMPRESS YOU:

he wants you to know how cool he is so bad it’s laughable.

he’ll show off during training exercises FOR SUREEEE

bakusquad teases him abt it when he does lol they ALLL know how whipped he is for you

kirishima: wow, you’re really into it today bakugo!

denki: well (y/n) IS watching

bakugo: SHUT UP.

MISC HEADCANONS!

-> you enable him so much...like way too much. please get on that. someone needs to hold this stupid man accountable. he probably likes it when you scold him despite his protests so don’t be afraid to tell him off baby.

-> your approval makes his heart go $$/!/?!!!error??77776. like, even before you two started dating, he would ALWAYS feel flustered whenever you would compliment his outfits, fighting style, etc. now that you guys are dating, he still feels extremely dazed when you dote on him.

he’ll probably act super cocky about it though

“ ‘course i look good, idiot.”

he’s trying his best to suppress the stupid smile trying to take over his face. eventually, he lets it out, and tbh everyone in 1A knows that it’s because of smth cheesy you told him.

he is SUCH a softie for you it HURTTSSSS GAHHHH!!

-> katsuki is a very protective boyfriend.

this goes for everything, but especially applies during intense situations.

will literally lay his life down for you without thinking twice about it. don’t fight me on this. it’s canon.

if you’re going on a dangerous mission, you BEST believe this man is tagging along with you.

if for some reason he can’t go, he’ll make it a point to stay up way past his bed time waiting for you to come back.

when katsuki chooses you over sleep just know that you’ve won at life.

he doesn’t see you as inferior in any way. he knows you can handle yourself, but he really wants to keep you safe bc if something bad happened to the love of his life he would be in shambles.

on a lighter note, if mineta bugs you, he’ll absolutely wreck him. will literally punt that grape boy into the next stratosphere.

also!! he’s not the type to care about what you wear. if you’re wearing smth a bit more revealing, the most he’ll say is that you look hot. literally is so unbothered.

he trusts you a lot so it’s like 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

protective ≠ possessive

-> dates w/ him are super all over the place! one weekend, you guys will just chill in his dorm and the next he’ll be laughing maniacally as he chases you down during an intense round of laser tag.

-> he’s big fan of competition, so he’ll turn everything into one.

let him win.

-> his hands are really sensitive because of his quirk, so if you kissed them he’d turn to mush.

im literally begging you to touch this man. help him. he is so touch-starved it’s not funny.

-> he runs hot so cuddles w him are so nice and comforting :(. will pull you in close and tight and NEVER let go.

in short, while dating katsuki definitely comes with it’s quirks, it’s a beautiful relationship. he respects you endlessly and will do anything to ensure your happiness. treat him right and he’ll do the same!!

have fun dating explosion boy!

*do not repost my work without proper credit and my explicit permission

back to navigation -> click here

masterlist -> click here

#my hero academia #anime #bakugo fluff #bakugo x you #bakugo x reader #mha headcanons #boyfriend bakugo #bakugo x y/n #bakugo katsuki #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x y/n #bakugo katsuki x you #bnha #mha x reader

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fictional-lvr · 4 years ago

Text

Code

A/N: Yo! Sorry this req took me so long to fulfill, I hope you all enjoy it. Remember to drink water and reblog writers!

-----------

I awoke to the sound of my phone pinging, signaling a text from my best friend, Emma.

Emma: ‘Yo, if you wanna play Among Us with us, the code is ______’

She knew that I hadn’t been talking to anyone recently. Compulsive self isolation amirite? I figured that I should at least try. I slowly sat up, rubbing my eyes with my fists. I checked the time, 2:00 pm. I groaned, sick of being unhealthy, but unable to become healthy. I padded over to my setup on the other side of my small bedroom. I turned on my pc, wincing at the bright screen, a contrast to the dark surroundings of my room. I quickly opened up Among Us, typing in the code that Emma sent me. I watched as my finger hit the wrong key, but I hit enter before I could react. My mouse hovered over the exit button, that was, until I saw the names of the people in the lobby. Corpse, Spedicey, Rae, Sykkuno, Toast, Pewds, This could not be happening. I did nOt just somehow, accidentally, join my favorite streamers and youtubers lobby. The little red dot popping up on the chat icon pulled me from my thoughts.

Corpse: ‘Uh, who r u’

My fingers crashed across my keyboard, desperate to not make it look like I somehow searched out, and found, this one specific code.

Y/A/N: ‘sorry. i think i typed in my friends code wrong’

I quickly typed out, slamming enter with my pinkie. I took a deep breath, trying to not freak the fuck out. I anxiously stared at the chat icon, waiting for someone to say something.

Rae: ‘I mean, we do need a filler,’

Spedicey: ‘Wanna play?’

Yo. What the fuck? Was this happening? Was this real? I shook the thoughts out of my head, starting to frantically type.

Y/A/N: ‘fuck it. sure’

I buried my face in my hoodie sleeve covered hands, letting out a muffled screech. Alright. I needed to calm the fuck down. I took a couple deep breaths before seeing the red dot appear once again on the chat icon.

Corpse: ‘whats ur discord’

-------------------------------------

After putting my discord in the chat, I waited. Staring at my discord, waiting to be invited to a server or something. Then I got a notification from Corpse, a friend request and an invite to the Among Us server, in that order. The way I slAmmed my finger onto the mouse button the accept the friend request was almost sinful. “Jesus christ” I muttered to myself, accepting the invite to the server, much more calmly this time. I saw that everyone has already joined the call. I adjusted my mic, cleared my throat, and joined the call. I heard all of them laughing at what someone had said “Wait guys they’re here!” I heard Sean's voice cut through. “Uh, yeah, hi” My voice sounded quiet and small. I cringed a little bit at it before I heard Rae say, “Oh my god I love your voice it’s so cute!” In an excited tone. I chuckled a bit. “Thank you, I just woke up so it’s a little wonky right now but that's fine” I stated, rubbing my eyes a bit, still tired. I never got enough sleep. “What time is it for you?” I heard Corpses voice say. His voice sounded even better on call than in videos, and probably even better in person. But his voice is not him, it’s not why we love him. It’s just a feature of him. Nevertheless, it gave me butterflies. “Uh like 2:15 I think” I replied, checking my phone for the time as I did so. “Oh, cool, same for me” Corpse said, he didn’t sound anxious per say, but he sounded a bit nervous. But, to be fair, I sounded more than a bit nervous. “So, what’s your name?” Sykkuno asked. “Y/N” I stated, smiling a little. “Nice to meet you Y/N’ Sykkuno replied. “Pretty name,,” I heard Corpse mumble. “Uh, I- Thank you” I stuttered out. God, why did I sound so damn nervous? These people are just people. They’re the same as me. I heard Corpse let out a small nervous giggle.

------------

We all talked for a bit, just them asking me simple questions and me answering. “Yo, who wants to wear the cat ears with me?” Corpse asked, I replied without a thought “I gotchu, Corpsey” I heard him laugh a little bit. His laugh was so nice. “WELL I WANNA WEAR THEM TOO” Sean scrEamed. You don’t realize how much he turns the volume down in editing until you’re actually talking to the man. “Goddamn that was loud” I laughed. “Oh yeah, Sean is very loud. All the time. You can’t escape it.” Felix warned, I giggled at his statement. “Oh I know, I know” I responded, receiving a laugh from Sean and Felix. “Y/N! Put on the fUcking cat ears” Corpses voice boomed through the call. I jumped a bit at the sudden sound. “Woah, a little close to the mic there aren’t we?” I laughed out, moving my littol bean character to the customization thing, putting the cat ears on. “How else was I supposed to get your attention?” Corpse asked, still very, very close to the mic. I laughed, and before I could open my mouth to respond, Sean cut in “Literally just talk. You have a voice like fuckin shortwave radio.” I started laughing even harder, attempting to put my head down on the desk, but instead, FULLY bOnking it. “ow” I muttered, laughing quietly. “yo was that your fucking head?” Sean asked, I laughed a little louder before answering, “look, I have like zero control over my body at any given time” earning a chuckle from Corpse. I smiled, making him laugh made me smile.

----------------

After a few games, Corpse and I got imposter together. I hate being imposter. We were doing alright until fUcking Rae just hAd to see me vent. “ITS Y/N SHE VENTED I SAW HER”

so naturally we lost that round

---------

After we had played quite a few games, everyone was pretty tired, except for me and Corpse. “Alright bye you guys! Thank you so so much for letting me play, it was fun” You could literally hear the smile in my voice. Everyone had left the discord call other than me and Corpse at this point. “So, uhh, can I get your Instagram real quick? I just realized I don’t even know what you look like” Corpse spoke somewhat awkwardly, almost as if he was nervous for some reason. “Well, to be fair, I don’t know what you look like either” I retorted, laughing. He gave me a chuckle in response and hesitated before saying; “I mean, we could change that, yknow, if you like, wanted to,,or something”

-----------

Tag List:

@amaikitsune

@into-the-end

@corpsesimpp

#corpse #corpse husband #corpse x reader #corpse imagine #corpse fanfic #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband imagine #corpse_husband #among us #fanfic #imagine

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binniesthighs · 4 years ago

Note

hi!! i rly liked your first writing it was so cute and you described jisung so well too! can i request a friends to lovers with han? kinda slow burn like they're really good friends but jisung gets jealous of her close friend and reader secretly likes him too but she doesnt wanna ruin the things between them so... one day they get into a fight and they end up making out😳 bc shes like "wtf we're friends" smut is ok but just a make out would be fine too the details r up to u💗

why yes you can! Thank you for requesting hehe you are my first ask ever ♡ I hope that you like it, here’s some best friend ‘sungie for ya :)

all yours | reader x jisung |

Paring: self-insert, female reader x han jisung

Genre: fluff ‘n a lil bit of smut & angst

Tags: student!reader, bestfriend!jisung, lab partner!felix (haha), friends to lovers, mutual pining, best friend au, college au, jealousy, slow-ish burn, mentions of exams, some yelling, reader is secretly whipped for jisung (and jisung for the reader), explicit language, marking, that good good makin’ out

Word count: 2.4k

“Hey!”

The little ball of paper that you had crinkled up bounced off Jisung’s arm with a soft pat.

“What happened to studying together? You said that you were gonna quiz me.”

Jisung’s eyes popped up from his phone screen looking a little bewildered. “Sorry, I just...got a little distracted.

“Distracted? Looking at what?”

“Oh, nothing.” He placed his phone down, clicking it off.

“Is “nothing” code for some girl’s Instagram?” You dished him out a teasing smirk. “I think you forget that I know you better than you know yourself sometimes.”

Jisung shuffled the papers in front of him pretending like he had something to do. “Psh. I was not.”

“--Does she go to school here?”

“I told you, I said no.” He furrowed his brow trying to look as serious as possible, but that was nearly impossible for someone as naturally adorable as him. “Why are you drilling me? Aren’t you supposed to be doing some work right now?”

“~So are you~” You teasingly sang back to him, giving him a kick under the table just for good measure.

Jisung threw your balled up paper ball back to you. “Let’s just get back to what we were doing so we can leave. I don’t wanna end up like him.”

He nodded over to the end of your table where a student had fallen asleep mid-chapter. His nose twitched and he snorted a little bit. You knew exactly what Jisung meant, you didn’t want to be at the library at 11pm on a Tuesday either; it was your better judgement that told you.

“Can we get food after this?” Jisung asked after approximately five minutes of “working.”

“Sounds good to me.” You quipped, barely allowing your eyes to leave your computer screen. You found that you always had to try you best to let him not distract you. He was really good at that.

You slid a stack of index cards in front of him. “Ask me these? I’m having a hard time getting the Latin names down...if you’re not busy?”

“Nope!” He piped, and shoved his notebook away.

“Okay!” He said with determination and a little bounce. He fixed his oversized hoodie before starting, looking adorably lost in the fabric.

He asked you the first question, but it barely met your ears. There you were, getting distracted by him again.

screw you Han Jisung, you thought to yourself.

☆。*。☆。

“I just don’t understand how you make sense of all that crap, I could never be a science major like you are.”

“--And I could never understand production like you do.”

“And this is why we work.” Jisung grinned with smiling eyes while he opened the library door for you. “I’m starving, I can’t stop thinking about--”

“--Y/n??” A voice called from behind the two of you.

The two of you whipped your heads back to see a loveable looking blonde and freckled boy bounding to catch up with you. It was Felix, your lab partner from zoology. The two of you were nothing more than classroom friends, but his friendly kindness was always something that brightened up your terrible 9 am lab.

“Felix!” You beamed, holding the door so it wouldn’t close on him. “Are you here studying for the exam as well?”

“Oh yeah, I just...my brain couldn’t take it any more,” He sarcastically mimed his head pains, “I just need to get some sleep now.”

“I just don’t get how they expect us to know all of those phyla like its nothing.”

“I know right?’ He chuckled.

Next to you, Jisung silently poked at the elevator button to go down.

“Is it alright if I head down with you guys?”

“Of course!” You motioned him in.

Once the doors had closed, the three of you found a different corner of the small box to plant yourselves in.

“shit-sorry, Felix, I didn’t introduce you, this is Jisung.”

“Hi!” Felix shone, and Jisung gave him a curt nod back.

Felix waved to two of you goodbye, leaving you in the nighttime snow. You noticed that as Felix walked away he had a little bounce to his step; and you couldn’t help but crack a little smile.

“Our usual?” Jisung asked you with a little edge to his voice.

You linked your arm around his, letting out a little shrill sound when the fabric of your two coat sleeves met. “Sounds good to me!” You nuzzled up into him while both of your bodies’ heat intermingled.

The two of you walked on under the streetlights which illuminated the falling flakes in streams of light. You never loosened your grip, as had become your habit lately when the two of you walked around. Jisung never seemed to mind; the two of you had been mistaken for a couple more than enough times thanks to it. When it did happen, it didn’t phase you at all. Being close to Jisung was like second nature to you.

The whole walk over Jisung never uttered a word, which was uncharacteristic of his usual boisterous self.

“Is everything okay?”

He sniffled, “Yeah, I think I just got kinda tired out of nowhere.”

“Ah.” You mouthed, and squeezed his arm a little harder.

After a moment’s silence, he somberly announced, “If you’re in the same class as him, maybe you should study with him.”

“Huh.” You tsked. “Yeah, I mean I never thought about that before...I guess that could do me some good.”

You looked slightly up to him: a product of him being slightly taller than you. His brown eyes remained stoic, and you couldn’t figure out why. You hated it when he wouldn’t tell you what was wrong, but he was also stubborn at letting up.

“But thank you for helping me tonight! You know that I reeealy appreciate it.” You turned your tone as cutesy as you could--Jisung hated it, but you knew that it could bring a smile to his face.

His gaze softened a bit. “Anytime. You’d do the same for me.”

☆。*。☆。

Jisung rested his head on your shoulder on the bus ride home with his phone weakly held in his hand. One more bump in the road and you knew that it would go flying so you carefully took it into your own lap where it would be safe. You wouldn’t dare moving an inch because you had a feeling that he had closed his eyes. Time had slipped past 1am, and you had to keep fighting yawns yourself. The bus driver had been blasting the heat, so it wasn’t hard at all for you to feel cozy.

You glanced down at his open hand in his lap. It looked exactly like he was beckoning for you to scoop it up in your own. You wondered what what happen if you did. What would he think of it? Would he think anything of it? You had held hands before, but every time you had it had been under purely platonic pretenses. If you just grabbed it now, what would the pretenses be then? The two of you cozied up on a bus: that was something that couples did.

You shut your eyes closed tightly and tried your best to banish all the thoughts clouding your head.

Jisung’s hand twitched, looking even more inviting.

screw you Han Jisung.

☆。*。☆。

[7:14pm]

jisung: you want to come over? Changbin is cooking and i don’t wanna eat whatever he’s making alone

[7:31pm]

me: sorry, I’m studying with Felix at the library, I think that we are gonna be here late. It’s all the Latin, I’m drowning in the Latin, Sung.

I’m sorry.

see you Friday once I’m out of this hell?

[7:34pm]

jisung: see you friday.

☆。*。☆。

You pounded on the door to Jisung’s apartment with your phone in hand, the white screen showing you the number that you had worked so hard for.

“Open the door!” You called giddily. “Jisung! I know that you’re in here, we need to celebrate! ~I can treat youuu~”

Just as you were about to knock again, the door swung open, revealing a wet haired Jisung in his grey sweats and tee. His brown strands of hair were scattered around his head while he rubbed at them with a towel.

“Shit! Can’t I shower?” He jested.

It took all your will power not to ogle him more. He looked devastatingly handsome, but you swallowed down how utterly flustered he had made you.

You cleared your throat, “Uh...sorry...” then remembered your phone in your hand. “I got a 96! Can you believe it! I’m even surprised too, when I was taking the test I just got so nervous...”

“All that studying paid off huh?” He cockily rose an eyebrow. “You can go ahead and thank me now, without my help...” He shrugged with a grin.

You invited yourself in and threw your bag down at the door like you usually did.

“Thank youuu” You sung. “Oh! And studying with Felix really paid off too.” You took off your shoes, thinking of how nice it had been to finally study with someone who knew your class topics. Not that Jisung wasn’t helpful, but you and Felix were on the same page. “He knew it all way more than I did, so he was super helpful. I forgot to text him--”

Jisung closed the door behind you with a slam that made you jump. He moved away from you, not meeting your eyes. The air around the two of you suddenly became thick with something that did not feel as excited as you just were.

“...do you wanna maybe watch a movie?” You moved closer. “Or we could get some deliv--”

“--Why even bother coming over here?” Jisung suddenly huffed.

“What?”

Jisung’s words flew out of his mouth sharply, “If he was so helpful? What are you doing here, huh?”

“Jisung, I don’t understand...” Your heartbeat quickened in your chest and you felt anxiety swell there as well. Jisung never spoke to you like this. He never sounded like this.

He growled out a little sound in frustration. “I-I just...can’t believe you--”

“--Me? Jisung, what did I do?” You threw your arms up, genuinely confused.

He ran his fingertips over his temples and let out a deep exhale. “Y/n, don’t pretend like you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Your temper started to become seething and you felt your ears get hot. “Tell me Jisung. Tell me what I did. And while you’re at it, what has been up with you these past few days? Being short with me, and distant, yeah-I’ve noticed...what are you doing??”

Jisung heaved breaths in and out of his chest, then ran a hand through his hair. He still couldn’t meet your eyes.

For a moment, a flash of panic surged in your head, making your heart ache with an unexpected pain. You truly didn’t know what he had meant, and if you had made a mistake, you knew it could mean loosing him. God, that was the last thing in the world you wanted. It always was.

“If I did something wrong tell me because clearly I don’t know!!” You yelled back at him, straining your throat.

He walked up to you, then grabbed your shoulders with a firm grip. Finally, you saw his eyes, brown and soft, holding a type of pain that you hadn’t seen in him before.

screw you, Han Jisung.

“Jisung, I--”

You were shoved by the shoulders in milliseconds to the door behind you, the impact nearly knocking the wind out of you. You gasped in your surprise, but your mouth was immediately shut by Jisung ramming his lips into yours. His hands needily took your face into his palms with his mouth blazing with hunger for you.

It took you a moment to realize what had just happened and steady yourself after being so startled. His lips were so soft and warm, your brain had a hard time recognizing that he was really doing this. His haste made no indication of stopping so you let yourself do what you had wanted to do for years: you kissed him back with everything that you had.

As soon as you did so, he let out little desperate moans between your lips in response. You let your arms wrap around his back and he fell into them just right. Naturally you took one of your hands to the back of his head and tangled up your fingers in his hair. God, it all felt so good. Jisung snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you into him with force, crashing your hips together.

The two of you clumsily made your way to the couch where he threw you down and crawled over top of you just as fast. He moved to your neck then traversed around your skin, sending shivers all through your body. Your hands eagerly found his back where you dug into him, wanting to be impossibly close. To your side, he carefully took your hand in his, weaving all of your fingers together.

Jisung pressed down into you and began to suck at your neck without holding himself back. It was such an intense feeling that couldn’t help but moan out something you didn’t know you could. You felt his mouth turn into a grin on your skin while he continued. It stung a little when he removed his lips, but he gently kissed each mark as if he was soothing it once he was done. He stopped to admire the little array of purple bruises he had made.

“I want you all to myself.” Jisung’s voice was hoarse, but still honey-covered in desire.

“What are we doing?” You asked him in breathless disbelief.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” He whispered, and appeared to calm his breaths. “I don’t care.”

"You don’t?”

“Why should I?” He cocked his head and used his free hand to caress your face.

“--That this could change things between us?”

“You don’t want it too?” He looked a little confused.

You felt a warmth rush to your cheeks. “--No! I do, I do...trust me.”

“Then can I kiss you some more?” Jisung grinned down at you as loving as he always had, but this time it meant something slightly different.

“...please.”

He lowered back onto you, connecting your lips once more. Jisung’s tongue languidly smoothed onto yours and you already felt intoxicated by the feeling. You tightened your fingers around his.

I’ve always been yours.

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jackrrabbit · 5 years ago

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it will come back [pt. 2] /// Yandere Shigaraki x f!Reader

Summary: You have a bad habit of picking up strays, and the half-dead villain you find bleeding out in a dumpster is no exception. [Part 1] [Part 3]

A/N: Title from the Hozier song—“don’t let it in with no intention to keep it / jesus christ, don’t be kind to it / oh honey don’t feed it / it will come back.”

Tags/warnings: yandere, violence (not directed toward reader), crying, Shiggy REALLY likes you, reader needs a friend and a good night’s sleep, non-explicit sexual content. [In later parts: 18+, sex, other stuff]

He—Tomura—keeps visiting.

At first you think it’s because of the free medical care, and you wish you had the spine to tell him to suck it up and go see a professional. After a couple weeks turn into a couple months and his wounds fade into ragged purple scars, though, you start to think differently.

Within a short time Tomura has figured out your work schedule, and he does a decent job of not showing up after your long shifts. The unavoidable consequence of this is that he ends up monopolizing your precious days off, but you come to the realization about a month and a half in that you don’t actually mind. You like it. It’s like spending time with a friend.

Mostly you guys talk. It doesn’t seem like Tomura really has anyone to talk to the way the two of you do, but that’s probably just you projecting. It’s usually shallow stuff—TV shows you like, video games he plays, funny stories from patients you treated. Sometimes when you’re cooking for yourself, you make extra for him. (It happens a lot, actually, and at one point you bring up how much his appetite is costing you and the next time you see him he brings a bag of rice and makes you a porridge that crunches between your teeth when you try to eat it. You can’t finish yours, but he eats an entire bowl and insists that you’re being picky.)

Sometimes he sleeps over on the couch, but he’s always gone when you wake up.

The two of you skirt around the heavier stuff, and you know it’s intentional on his part. You have to resist the urge to ask him about being a villain—he’s all but confirmed it for you, and it’s human nature to be curious, isn’t it? In the same way you can’t help looking at a car crash, you want to poke and prod and find out what it is, exactly, that Tomura does for a living. That part of his life is suspiciously absent from your discussions—if you didn’t know better, you’d think he spends all of his time sleeping and playing games and breaking into your place.

On the other hand, you don’t want to know. Plausible deniability. You can accept criminality in the abstract, but you’ve treated too many victims of the bullshit hero–villain battle to be comfortable really knowing why Tomura avoids public places.

So you don’t ask about it, and Tomura doesn’t tell, and you don’t look up his name. And it’s easy. It’s nice. You’d forgotten what it’s like to come back to a home that isn’t empty.

And then one day when you get off a few hours early from your shift, you stop by a convenience store to pick up some snacks for yourself (hey, you’ve been working hard, you’re entitled to binge a little on foods that you’re afraid to look at the fat content for), and you think, Hm, I wonder if Tomura wants some.

[You: 7:49 PM] > Are you coming over today? [T: 7:49 PM] > Yeah why [You: 7:51 PM] > Getting snacks > Want some? [T: 7:51 PM] > No

[T: 8:12 PM] > When r u coming back to ur place

[T: 8:58 PM] > Hey where are you

[T: 9:39 PM] > (Y/N)?

There’s a man with a gun in the convenience store.

It takes you a second to process at first. You’re standing in the snack food aisle seeking out Oreos and debating the merits of Double Stuf vs. Mega when you catch the mumbled demand and the metallic clicking noise you’ve only ever heard in movies before. It’s a gun—you know that, but your mind dismisses it because it’s ridiculous. Guns are rare in hero society. People don’t go around robbing bodegas at gunpoint anymore.

(You should know better. You work in a goddamn ER. But you compartmentalize, and the crimes you see written across your patients’ bodies stay out of the realm of your personal life because you need them to.)

It’s only when you see the muzzle of a hunting rifle pushed up to the cashier’s sweaty neck that you really understand what’s happening.

You drop to the ground immediately, looking toward the exit but it’s shut and there’s some kind of metal…thing holding the door closed. The cashier mumbles a denial and you can hear him fumble around with the cash drawer for what feels like ages.

It’s real. This is real. You’re in the middle of a robbery. Where are the heroes? Why isn’t anyone doing anything?

God, you’re a hypocrite, cowering behind the aisle divider and waiting for someone to step up while the robber’s demands get increasingly louder and more frantic. He wants money, and the cashier (who, you remember, is a man in his sixties with hands that shake with Parkinson’s when he holds out your receipt) isn’t being fast enough.

“That’s it? There’s no more? Are you fucking kidding me, there’s gotta be a safe or something—“

“No! No, p-please, I’m sorry, this is all I have!”

You cringe, crushing your eyes closed as if that will make it go away. You’re surprised you can hear at all over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears.

“Don’t fuck with me old man, I know there’s more! Show me the safe or I’ll blow your goddamn brains out!”

No! You have to do something. You can’t just sit here. You’ve heard plenty of death threats from your patients (not to mention that one from Tomura), and you know the difference between a bluff and a serious warning. Maybe you can catch the robber off guard, try to pull the gun away? You stand up quickly, hoping against hope that you won’t regret this, but in a split second you see that the cashier has the same idea and he’s trying to pull the rifle out of the robber’s hand and—

BANG.

Something warm and wet splatters across your face.

///

Tomura is angry when you get back to the apartment. As soon as he hears your key in the lock he rises from your couch so he can grab your collar with three fingers, jerking your head up to force you to look at him. “Where have you been? Do you know how long I’ve been waiting—“

But he cuts short in the middle of his sentence. Maybe because he sees the look on your face. Or maybe he just notices the traces of blood you haven’t been able to wipe off.

“What happened,” Tomura says. It’s not a question. He adjusts his grip slightly so it’s not quite as punishing, but you hold still anyway.

You have to force your mouth open in order to speak, but when your voice comes out it’s more steady than you thought it would be. “It’s not my blood. There was a robbery at the store. The cashier got shot.”

“Oh.” He releases you and frowns. “That’s it?”

“Fuck you.” You push past him into the kitchen to get yourself a drink with trembling hands. Pantry’s out of shōchū, whiskey will just make you sicker—ahh, there it is. Baijiu. The glug glug glug of the liquor into the glass does nothing to put your nerves at ease, but you pour yourself a double anyway.

“Wait—wait.” Tomura’s hands twitch and rub over his arms like he’s trying to stop himself from grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you. “Calm down. Why are you so upset? Don’t you see this stuff every day?”

You do. You’re an ER nurse. There’s no injury you haven’t seen. But it’s not about the blood. “I...I knew him. The cashier. He was nice. He had a grandkid on the way. I—“ You bite your lip and down the baijiu in one gulp. It burns.

Tomura clearly doesn’t know how to comfort you; probably doesn’t even really know why you need to be comforted. What does it mean that death is so meaningless to him? you wonder. But you need someone to listen to you, clueless or not, and Tomura will have to do.

The baijiu is still bitter and hot down your throat when you speak again. “You know something? Know what they asked me when the heroes finally showed up and pulled us out of there, me and the corpse?”

“…What?” Tomura asks warily.

“They stuck a camera in my face and asked me if there was anything I wanted to say to the hero who saved me. Any words of gratitude I wanted to share,” you spit. Now it’s your turn to feel your hands making fists at your sides. Your fingernails scratch into your palms like the pain can be an outlet for the sudden overwhelming fury spilling over you. “They didn’t save him. They were too late.”

Tomura’s eyes widen, and through your curtain of anger you can tell he’s looking at you in a way he’s never looked at you before. It’s unlike him to even look directly at you, and when he does it’s usually in disinterest or half-sincere irritation. This, though…this is different. He’s watching you like a believer watches a prophet. You can tell—or at least some deep, ugly part of you that you hope is wrong can tell—that he’s trying not to smile.

“I hate this,” you say, and the first tear drips out of your eye and runs down your cheek. It’s awful. You don’t want to cry in front of Tomura. You don’t want to show him how weak you are. But before you can wipe it away, Tomura’s hand comes up and does it for you, smearing the tear over your cheek in a gesture that—for him—is oddly tender.

Then he hugs you.

It’s stiff and awkward, like he’s forgotten how to do it, but the intention is clear. His arms fold around your back, pulling you into his chest while his chin makes its way to rest on your shoulder. He’s leaning into you so deeply that your spine is arched back, and you stagger away from him only for him to step closer again to make up the distance.

“It’s not fair, hm,” he murmurs into your hair. His tone is the closest thing to sympathy you’ve ever heard from him, but there’s an undercurrent of excitement you can’t ignore. “They’re always too late, aren’t they? The heroes… And everyone will watch that video of you thanking the heroes, and they’ll think they’re safe too. They’ll keep going about their lives and think that nothing bad can happen to them because a hero will always be around to save them…but you and I know that’s a lie.”

It takes you a second to recognize the emotion that’s raising goosebumps over your arms while Tomura rubs circles into your back, but when it clicks you shiver because it’s fear. You’ve never really been afraid of Tomura before, even when you should’ve been. Does he realize he’s backing you up with how forcefully he’s pushing himself into you? The backs of your knees hit the arm of your couch and you topple onto it with Tomura following.

He holds himself above you on his hands, legs tangled with yours. His eyes are wild and he’s not even trying to suppress his grin now. You’re trapped lying on your back under him—pinned like a butterfly under glass.

“Get off of me,” you say as calmly as you can.

“It’s all a lie, all of it…” A hand comes up and strokes your cheek, rubbing with two fingers at a stray fleck of blood on your neck. “I’m sorry it had to be like this, but I’m so glad you understand…”

“Let me up now, Tomura.”

He holds still for a long moment—waiting, thinking, considering—and then sits up, still straddling you but loosely enough that you can scramble back away from him on the couch. Your heart is racing, but you try to slow your breaths so he doesn’t pick up on how scared you are.

“Don’t freak out. You’re no fun,” Tomura says, and you exhale a sigh of relief at how normal he sounds. You never thought you’d be so happy about him looking at you like you’re nothing.

“I think you should go,” you say carefully.

He rocks back on his heels and runs a hand through his hair. “Are you mad? I thought I could stay here tonight, like usual. Since I waited for so long.”

“I’m not mad. I just…want to be alone.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone tonight. Not after what you’ve been through.”

Oh, now you care. “Fine. Okay? Fine. You can sleep on the couch.” You’re too tired to argue any more, and you’ve never really been good at convincing Tomura to do anything he doesn’t want to. It’s a miracle he listened to you when you told him to get off you. Considering how often he breaks into your apartment, it’s not like you could keep him out anyway.

So he stays the night. He doesn’t bother you when you take a shower and go to bed, he just lies on the couch in his street clothes. When you wake up in the morning he’s disappeared like he always does, and for the first time since you met him you’re truly relieved that he’s gone.

///

You always thought it would take some level of courage you don’t possess to actually bite the bullet and look Tomura up. To do so would mean saying goodbye to whatever strange relationship the two of you have built over the months, and you’re just not brave enough to risk it.

Turns out it’s not courage that makes you type his name into the search bar. It’s cowardice. You’re lying in bed under the covers when you do it, and the blue-white screen of your laptop is the only light in the room. Your comforter is pulled up almost over your head like it’s a wall that can block out reality.

“tomura”, you enter into the search bar, but you don’t hit return. Instead, you look at the search suggestions.

> tomura shigaraki > tomura shigaraki league of villains > tomura shigaraki decay

Something about it sounds familiar. But you’re not ready. Still, after everything, you’d rather keep your eyes closed. You backspace and snap your laptop shut, and when you do your room is so dark that you think the emptiness might swallow you up.

///

[T: 5:52 PM] > Are u going to be at home tn

[T: 6:14 PM] > Hey check ur phone

[T: 6:42 PM] > Stop ignoring me > (Y/N) > (Y/N) > (Y/N) > (Y/N) > (Y/N)

[T: 6:46 PM] 3 MISSED CALLS [You: 6:50 PM] > I’m at work [T: 6:50 PM] > Don’t lie > you finished an hour ago

[T: 7:13 PM] 1 MISSED CALL [T: 7:14 PM] > You said you werent mad [You: 7:15 PM] > I’m not [T: 7:15 PM] > Then stop being a brat > im coming over > ill bring takeout

You’re nervous about seeing him, but in the two weeks since he pushed you down on the couch you’ve found yourself…missing him. Like it or not, he’s made himself a fixture in your life. So when you get home you’re brimming with anticipation, wondering who you’ll get when you open the door—the normal Tomura you’ve come to like over the past few months, or the one from that night. The villain.

But it’s just him. Good old Tomura, laden with plastic bags and containers of greasy fast food for the two of you to gorge yourselves on. You tease him for being cheap and he argues that you’re just a snob and everything seems so normal that you can almost forget the look in his red eyes when he told you that you understood.

Almost.

///

You probably have no idea how good you look when you’re crying.

Of the couple thousand views on the news channel video of your “rescue” from the convenience store robber, at least a tenth are from Tomura. Eventually he just downloads the video onto his computer so he doesn’t have to read the inane comments that the other viewers leave on the webpage. It seems like everyone but him thinks you should feel lucky that you were saved by a hero before the robber could get to you, too.

As always, the public are a bunch of shit-soaked morons. Reading the comments makes him angry, so angry he’s tempted to look into a few of these brainless sheep and see how lucky they feel when they’ve caught the attention of a violent criminal. But that wouldn’t be productive, so he saves the video externally and leaves the news website alone. It’s for the best. Besides, seeing the “views” counter on the website tick up and up by the dozen every time he refreshes is just another reminder that other people are watching this; other people are seeing how delicate and vulnerable and pretty you are with tears spilling out of your eyes and the cashier’s blood sprayed over your clothing.

Thousands of useless fucking NPCs are looking at you just like Tomura is. They’re probably thinking about how sweet you look, just like he is. And they’re probably imagining all the ways they can take advantage of your fragile emotional state, just like him.

You’re too trusting for your own good. Tomura used to think it was a virtue, and it is, but only when it comes to him. Whenever he thinks about how your face is slapped over a dozen different news websites for the whole world to see, he has to dig his fingernails into his neck to keep calm. It’s better when he can just watch the video and pretend he’s the only one seeing it.

And it’s not like not watching the video is an option. Tomura can’t resist your crying face. There’s a point around the three minute mark where your voice breaks in the middle of your statement, and sometimes Tomura skips there in the video just so he can hear that pathetic little sob and replay it over and over and over. Maybe it’s sappy, but Tomura really does feel his heart skip a beat at the way your eyes and nose are rubbed red from your misery.

How fucked up is it that he gets off watching you cry?

Would you be angry if you knew? You probably would, but you put up with so much from him already. Maybe you’d be okay with it if he told you he really and truly tried to hold out. The first dozen times Tomura watched the video, he refused to touch himself no matter how tight his pants got while you choked out your stilted answers to the reporters’ questions, but at this point he barely has to click “play” on the video before he gets hard and takes matters into his own hands.

At the end of the day, it’s your fault. Everything about you is so erotic, from your shaky voice to your pouty, bitten-red lips. Isn’t it completely normal to be aroused while looking at the person you like? And Tomura likes you, he really likes you. He doesn’t have any pictures of you, and with the high definition of the news channel’s video he can see every perfect contour of your cheekbones, every pore in your skin, every glistening wet eyelash.

It’s not that Tomura doesn’t feel sympathy for how upset you are in the video. He does! Not even just sympathy, even—he’s empathetic. He knows exactly how it feels to be let down by the heroes. How dare they tell you you need to be grateful while you’re still trying to wipe brain matter off your shirt? Always too little, too late. It’s not fair.

But if he’s being honest? As miserable as you are, Tomura is happy that you were in the store when that robber came in and that you had to watch a man you knew get his brains blown out in front of you. You need a wake-up call to lose faith in hero society. If you have to suffer some emotional trauma in the process, that seems like a fair price to pay.

And the fact that Tomura gets to jerk off to it? It’s almost like destiny.

➠ [Part 3]

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lala-ladybug · 4 years ago

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Healing Hands: Chapter 2

I promise I’m not this fast at writing, I’ve just had the first few chapters laying around for a while lmao. Reblogs are appreciated!!

Jasonette Sword Art Online AU

Read here on AO3

Tag list: @iloontjeboontje

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Chapter 2: u guys r moding my night :(

There was chaos in the Wayne Manor. This was nothing unusual, of course, and today it even seemed to be surprisingly tame. But it was chaos nonetheless.

Timothy Drake-Wayne careened down the spiral staircase, catching himself with a well-timed front flip handspring, and skidded to a halt in the kitchen. Alfred briefly paused to look up from where he was preparing dough for a batch of homemade pasta, then offered the boy a smile and a greeting.

“Good evening, Master Drake. Dinner won’t be ready for another half-hour, I’m afraid.” Tim had opened his mouth to reply when a growl echoed from the nearby ballroom.

Jason Todd-Wayne sprinted into the kitchen brandishing a nerf gun. “There you are, replacement. You won’t get away with beating me this time.” He pulled back the reloader of the play-gun, making a threatening click ring through the kitchen.

“I’m afraid you are both late to the party,” Alfred calmly announced as he mixed ingredients together. “Miss Cain has been here for the past five minutes.”

Cass Cain-Wayne indeed poked her head out from where she had been perched beneath the bar. She gave her brothers a shit-eating grin and wiggled her fingers as way of a cheeky greeting.

Tim gave a groan as he and Jason begrudgingly handed some money over to their sister. “She cheats.” Cass stuck her tongue out at that. “Besides, racing you here was just an excuse to get my mind off waiting for midnight.”

“And because Alfred is the only one polite enough to actually listen to you rave about that stupid game,” Jason scoffed, sitting down at the bar to watch Alfred work.

“--thought I heard voices in the kitchen, oh there you are, little wing!” Dick Grayson-Wayne’s cheery voice came from the foyer, increasing in pitch as he spotted Jason and swept him up into a tight hug.

Barbara Gordon wheeled herself in not too long after, chuckling at the squirming Jason and delighted older brother.

Meanwhile Tim, who had taken offense to Jason’s insinuation, was reassuring Alfred that if he wanted the boys to leave him be he only ever had to ask. “It’s just that I’m so excited for the launch tonight, and you know B is too busy to hear about it.”

Jason had finally muscled his way out of Dick’s embrace as the latter’s attention focused on his youngest brother. “What launch are you talking about?” Dick asked, giving Cass a side hug.

“Oh, tonight is the release of this new VRMMORPG game called Mindscape!” Tim practically bounced as Dick came over to give him his hug too.

Dick gave Barbara a confused glance. “I know some of those words,” he nodded slowly. “So what’s got you so excited? Video games come out all the time.”

Tim rolled his eyes as he sat down beside Jason on the barstools. “Well yeah, but this game has groundbreaking virtual reality tech. Supposedly, the textures took five years and a team of almost 1000 artists.”

Jason put Tim into a headlock and said casually, “I’m surprised you haven’t heard replacement talking about this yet. He kinda won’t shut up about it.”

Cass nodded her head in solemn agreement while Tim struggled to get out of Jason’s grasp.

“Such are the woes of moving out.” Dick shrugged. “Sounds crash though, got room for one more?”

Tim finally shoved Jason off. “I actually bought enough passes that we can all play if you want,” he gave each of his siblings the biggest puppy-dog eyes he could manage.

Barbara snorted even as Dick pumped his fist in the air beside her. She wheeled herself up to the bar to pinch Jason, who was poised to jab his fingers into Tim’s sides. Jason yelped and glared at her as she said, “Sorry Timmy, I’d rather let someone else be the guinea pig for this new kind of tech. Besides, Dad will worry if I let myself get sucked into pouring too many hours into this.”

“Papa Gordon is a force to be reckoned with,” Dick attested earnestly. “Jay?” he prompted.

“Absolutely not,” Jason answered immediately. Tim was quick to protest. “But why? We could spend more time together! It’ll be good team-building.” Jason’s face soured at that.

Dick leaned in and stage-whispered, “Do I have to tell B to force you into family bonding? You know he’ll make you do it.”

Cass covered her silently laughing mouth with one hand as Jason threw his hands up in the air. “Fine, don’t get Bruce involved. I’ll play your stupid game,” he finally relented. Tim grinned at his win, then cast a hopeful look at Cass.

She pulled a face and signed No thank you. Better things to do than watch VR pornos.

Tim’s face blushed profusely as he opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by Jason’s cackling. Even Alfred cracked a smile while he rolled the dough onto the ravioli press.

Once Jason quieted down, Tim crossed his arms and said, “Suit yourself. Looks like it’ll be no-girls-allowed anyway.”

“Guess we’d better tell Cassie that, Timbo,” Dick wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, which Tim elected to ignore.

“Speaking of suits,” Alfred said while seamlessly spreading filling in the ravioli and placing another sheet on top of the press, “aren’t you boys going to miss the premiere if it is indeed at midnight?”

Tim looked imploringly at the two girls. “You wouldn’t be willing to trade shifts for your favorite brother, would you?”

* * *

Wally West strolled out of the zeta tube and into the Justice League’s satellite, known to himself and the other heroes as The Watchtower. He was dressed in a casual NASA t-shirt and jeans, slurping a smoothie, and playing a game on his phone.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made him look up. He was greeted with the sight of his old team, Aqualad, Superboy, Miss Martian, Rocket, Zatanna, and Artemis, waiting impatiently. They were dressed in full hero attire-- he didn’t even realize Artemis still had her costume-- and looked to him expectantly.

“Hey guys, what’s poppin’?” Wally grinned and gave his friends a lazy chin jerk.

“‘What’s poppin’?’ Babe, are you serious? You told us to meet here ASAP for an emergency. So you can tell us what exactly is ‘poppin’.” Ah yes, his Spitfire. Artemis Crock still wasn’t afraid to give him a piece of her mind. But this time it looked like everyone else was on her side too, as they nodded in agreement with her emphatic air quotes.

“Oh, uh yeah, Mindscape is coming out tonight!” He set his smoothie down on the table. “I got us all passes and I’m super stoked for the launch. It’s got this super cool new VR tech that’s basically being released for the first time ever. I got the equipment through my internship, so we’re all set! You guys are totally coming right?” He made finger guns at his increasingly exasperated friends.

Artemis facepalmed. Kaldur’ahm raised his eyebrows in that I’m disappointed in you but I’m not going to say it way of his and said, “Wally, with you and Artemis retired from the life, understand that we took this to be a literal emergency and rushed to your aid. Do not abuse our good intentions.”

“Seriously West, I have a lot on my plate right now!” Rochelle Ervin was also, apparently, a little upset with him. “You could’ve said it was about a dumb game.”

The speedster tried to do damage control with some lighthearted humor. “Hey guys, stay whelmed. I get it, I probably should have given a few more deets about this very-much-not-dumb game, but do you know how many candy bars I had to eat to win these passes?”

“This is why you’ve been spending so much on junk food?” Oh, he was in big trouble with Artemis now. “You probably didn’t have to eat all of them, babe.”

M’gann M’orzz, Connor Kent, and Zatanna Zatara looked similarly annoyed. Well, the girls did. Connor just looked like his usual brand of annoyed, which was honestly a small victory.

“So...” Wally felt a little sheepish now, “who wants in?”

The rest of the group exchanged a look. Artemis was the first to speak up. “Well, you’ve already invested too much of our money in this to turn back now.” She walked up to him and poked a finger at his chest. “But you owe me so many dinners for this.”

He grinned triumphantly. “Deal!”

Rochelle spoke up next. “Me and my plate don’t need any more helpings, thank you very much. I’ll see y’all at the next team reunion!” She flew out through the zeta tube.

Kaldur clapped him on the shoulder. “If you need any assistance, I will be there. But for now I am running Atlantis in Aquaman’s stead while he is off-world, and I must return to my duties.” He then bid the rest of the team farewell and stepped through the zeta tube.

“Haha, he said ‘duties.’” Wally said once he’d left, then winced as Artemis smacked his arm lightly. Lightly for her. Rubbing his arm, he looked imploringly at his other friends.

M’gann and Conner looked deep in a telepathic conversation, which was just awkwardly intense eye contact for onlookers. Zatanna crossed her arms and sighed, “Fine, why not. I didn’t have plans for the weekend anyway. Lead the way to your chocolate factory, Charlie.”

Connor, having caught the tail end of the conversation, looked confused at the reference. He shrugged and said, “I’m in, could be fun.”

M’gann gave her friends an apologetic smile. “Sorry guys, my uncle needs help back on Mars. There’s tensions between the white and green martians again, and he really needs me there to get it under control.”

She gave Connor a peck on the cheek and left to board the nearby Bioship.

“And then there were four,” Wally said with a smile. “Now let’s go make you guys some avatars!”

* * *

Bart Allen could hardly contain his excitement. Scratch that, he couldn’t contain his excitement! “Bouncing off the walls” may be an exaggeration for most people, but he was not most people. Being the grandson of The Flash certainly had its perks, and being able to literally bounce off the walls was one of them.

The cause of his excitement, his friends Timothy Drake-Wayne and Wally West, had just called to ask if Bart wanted extra passes to the premiere of the biggest video game of the decade. And uh, yeah duh he wanted them! He already had one he’d bought for himself, but bringing four extra friends? So totally crash.

He opened up his phone and pulled up the group chat titled Badass Babes.

CrashBandicoot: hey bitchez n babez (u kno who u r), u ready 4 the best videogame of the yr to drop?!

BlueMenace: ese, do you HAVE to type like that?

WonderBabe: yea it’s super annoying

CrashBandicoot: gtta go fast babez

CrashBandicoot: now answer the question

GreenMenace: oh i heard about that! mindscape, right? isn’t it some vr game

CrashBandicoot: yes! nd i got extra tix, so come ovr to cave

GirlBoss: No can do, got research tomorrow!

MaleWife: you always have research bae. sorry little speedster, gotta drive the lady to work

CrashBandicoot: u guys r moding my night :(

BlueMenace: totally not a word but I’ve got you cariño, be there in an hour

WonderBabe: ah what the heck, I’ve got nothing better to do

GreenMenace: always down to whoop ur ass in video games

CrashBandicoot: u wish

CrashBandicoot: roy?

Ginger1 is typing...

WonderBabe: it’ll be fun! more ~mingling~ with kids our age

Ginger2: Hold on, give him some time

Ginger1 is typing...

BlueMenace: Roy, I can pick you up on my way in if you want

Ginger1 has stopped typing.

Ginger2: Um, he says he’ll meet you guys there

Ginger2: He may have destroyed his phone with his “non-typing” hand

GreenMenace: pog

WonderBabe: see u guys soon!

Bart pumped his fist, then ran at top speed to his boyfriend Jaime’s house, where it looked like he was doing homework. Seriously, on a Friday night? Bart had absolutely no qualms about whisking him into his arms and making for the nearest zeta tube.

“Woah Bart, I said I needed an hour!” Jaime protested.

Bart rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but you definitely don’t have anything due tonight, and we have to make your character online before the launch!”

Jaime just looked resigned as they sped into the zeta tube. He knew what he had signed up for.

#healing hands #jasonette #sword art online au #virtual reality #maribat #maribat fic #batfam #batfam fic #yj #yj fic #young justice #young justice fic

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what-the--curtains · 4 years ago

Text

In A Week

Part 4/4 - This Feeling

(Frankie Morales x f!reader)

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

Summary: With the wedding day finally here will your true feeling be revealed or will you leave the way you started? As nothing more than strangers.

Authors Notes: THE FINALE (for now??), this story was so nice to write and all y’all r angels for just reading it let alone liking/sharing it (really i could cry💕🌻💕) so thank you🥺🥺

Song used in Story: This feeling - Alabama Shakes (highly rec u listen!!)

Tw: swearing, drinking, allusions to sex and past toxic relationships.

Tagged: @agingerindenial @icanbeyourjedi

Words: 2.0k

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

Day 5

A thunk followed by the unmistakable beeping of the snowplows working hard at clearing away the snow from the roads and parking lots wake you. You let out a disappointed sigh when you notice the distinct lack of Frankie beneath you. Almost as if on cue he walks in with a bottle of champagne, orange juice and two glasses.

“Are you ready to get wasted?” he says, as you shift up in bed.

“On one condition.” you offer smacking your lips mouth tasting like morning.

“Which is?” He asks, tilting his head.

“We get fully dressed up for this wedding. I didn't spend hours contemplating outfits to not put one on.” you barter, prepared to fight with him to get what you wanted.

“Absolutely,” he agrees, much to your surprise “that tux was not cheap, and it was supposed to be back two days ago, so not getting that deposit back. Should we call the brides to be before we start drinking?”

“Probably a good call,” After multiple phone calls and various congratulations you found out they were going to be live streaming the ceremony for all the people stranded by the storm. You and Frankie have a lazy morning before it's finally time to get ready, you stand up swaying slightly from the few drinks you'd already downed. Frankie takes the suit into the bathroom giving you the room to change and to do your hair and makeup. You go to pull out your dress and as you do the lingerie you’d packed falls out onto the floor. Your heart drops for a moment before deciding to put it on, not for Jonathan, or even Frankie, but for yourself. You pull on the light pink velvet mini dress you’d settled on, and sling on the black open toe heels. Walking into the kitchen you pour yourself a glass of wine. You hear him clear his throat and you turn around. You're taken aback by how well Frankie cleaned up, no hat, hair styled and a perfectly fitted suit.

When Frankie enters the room, he stops in his tracks, continuing to stare when you turn to face him. If this had been at the wedding, he’s sure he’d have picked you out of the crowd instantly. He’d probably have spent the whole night hoping you'd talk to him only getting upset when you didn't even give him a second glance.

“Cat got your tongue?” he asks, breaking the silence first, beyond pleased at how he’d managed to impress you.

“Something like that” you offer, handing him a beer

“Well, we’re in luck because I was specifically told to provide drinking games for the reception, so” he says pulling out some red solo cups and ping pong balls from his bag.

“Who's bad with their hands now” he asks as he sinks another cup, winning 4 consecutive games.

“No fair! You’re cheating.” you say with a humph.

“I'm not, your technique’s just sloppy and lacking strategy” He mocks.

“I have a strategy” You state defensively, mouth open in faux anger.

“Flashing yourself in an attempt to distract me, isn't a strategy” he says licking his lips as his smile turns into a full blown smirk

“Excuse me.” you say, crossing your arms over your chest shifting your stance and arching an eyebrow, challenging him.

“Oh I'm sorry, is that not what you're doing?” he chides, smirk still prominent.

“Well it use to work” you mutter, embarrassed at having been called out

“Ya on idiots who can't control themselves come here, I'll show you to sink it everytime,” you walk over and he positions himself behind you, he's close enough that you can feel his chest heaving slowly behind you.

“Relax your arms” he says, shaking them out for you. “Okay this arm, drop it, keep it relaxed, only use it for balance if needed. This arm..” he says grabbing your wrist “ this is where the action is, alright keep your elbow locked, none of that wobbly shit I saw earlier. It's all about the flick and the follow through, keep it strong.” He watches as you repeat the motions without his hand guiding you and it goes in. You turn around and lift your arms up victoriously, they quickly find their way around Frankies neck and he lifts you up off the ground, faces dangerously close when he puts you back down on the ground.

“We should order a pizza, I think some places are open” you say quickly turning to your phone and ordering something from wherever it was open.

After watching the ceremony, you're sitting on the counter laughing as Frankie proves to you he can in fact eat an entire piece of pizza in three bites.

“Told you” he says

“Well consider me out witted” your phone beeps, you turn it over assuming its Stella or Santi or Gen but it's not. It's John the second you see his name pop up on your phone your stomach drops. Frankie sees the change in your demeanour, everything about you suddenly appearing small. Frankie grabs the phone from your hands “I swore an oath to prevent shitty guys from ruining the party tonight”

“How did you…? Whose orders? Did Santi tell you?”

“Maybe. Holy ….” Frankie says eyes wide when he accidentally sees the message that has been sent to you.

“What?” you ask, afraid at what he’d just seen.

“Nothing!” he lies, shaking his head blinking hard to get the image out of his head.

“Now you have to tell me!” you say hopping off from the counter and making your way towards him. Reaching for the phone which he's holding over his head. Your place you hand on his shoulder trying to balance yourself as you make another grab for it, but you're not even close. You plant a kiss on his cheek causing his arm to drop immediately allowing you to grab the phone.

“Ha!” you say, failing to notice the dejected look on Frankie's face.

You’re walking towards the counter to reply when something comes over you, maybe it was the way Frankie had made you feel these last few days, maybe it was finally coming to your senses, but you turn back to face him. You stare up at Frankie whose eyes are on the ceiling.

“Can you delete him, from all my shit, and block the number” you ask, offering him your phone.

“Really?” Frankie says

“Ya I can't do it but I want it done,” you say, pushing the phone towards him, more vigorously this time.

“Well it'd be my pleasure, guy sounds like a dick,” he says, taking the phone from you and scrolling through wiping away any remnants of the dude.

“Thanks” you say as he hands the phone back to you.

“What did you see in him? Well actually based on the photo he sent maybe I understand,” he murmurs.

“Francisco Morales” you say, mouth agape.

“I'm not the one who sent it!” he says lifting his hands up in defense.

“You wanna dance?’ he asks “I got the playlist from Pope, may as well have some fun, really forget about Jackson.”

“Jo.. you know it doesn't matter and you’re right,” the both of you dance like idiots for a while, twirling around the room in an embarrassingly cliche way that would be better suited to a John Hughes movie than a makeshift wedding reception. As the next song begins, the slow pacing shifts the tone.

I just kept hoping, I just kept hoping

The way would become clear

You stop your dancing, as does Frankie and a dread akin to that of being at your first middle school dance wondering if you'll be asked to dance or not comes over you. You both stare at each other for a second before Frankie offers you his hand, if he was waiting for a moment, this was it.

I spent all this time

Tryna play nice and fight my way here

See, I've been having me a real hard time

But it feels so nice to know I'm gonna be alright

He pulls you into him and you sway in time to the music. One hand on your lower back, the other one holding your hand as you rest your head against his shoulder. His thumb gently rubs over yours. The sensation comforts you causing a wave of relief which causes your eyes to water.

So, I just kept dreaming, yeah, I just kept dreamin'

It wasn't very hard

I spent all this time

Tryna figure out why

Nobody on my side

“You okay?” he asks, hearing you sniffle, you nod looking up at him and he briefly untangles his hand from yours to wipe away the tear that had fallen

“I'm sorry, if I...” he starts softly, thumb tracing gently over your cheekbone.

“No, it's not you, well it is, but it's not bad” you offer, satisfied with the response he takes your hand in his again and continues swaying.

See, I've been having me a real good time

And it feels so nice to know I'm gonna be alright

So please, don't take my feelings

I have found at last

So please, don't take my feelings

I have found at last

Yeah, if I wanted to, I'd be alright

“why'd you decide to delete him” Frankie whispers, barely audible

“Moment of clarity I suppose” you say into his shoulder.

“Which was?” he presses, not looking down to you.

“Just realized how I could have been being treated in a relationship.”

“Should have been being treated,” Frankie corrects.

“I can't believe I let him do that to me for so long, im so stupid” you mutter

“Blames not on you, blames on him for not realizing what he had, seriously if I had you id….” he stops himself not wanting to take advantage of a vulnerable situation.

So I just kept going, I just kept going

And hoping I'm growing near

Well this good and fine, I spent all this time

Tryna find my way here

And I've been having me a real fun time

And it feels so nice to know I'm gonna be alright

“You’d what” you ask, having mustered up enough courage to finally find out if what you were feeling was reciprocated.

“Id never let you go, at least i'd do everything in my power to make sure you’d want to stay with me”

Please, don't take this feeling

I have found at last

You reach your hands up to his face and pull it down to meet yours, lips colliding for the first time, but the sensation washing over you felt familiar. It felt like you’d finally come home.

Please, don't take my feeling

I have found at last

He slowly moves the two of you back towards the bed never departing from your lips for more than a moment.

“You uh..you sure you want to do this,” he asks, as you run your hands up and down his back.

“Ya, you?” you question looking up at him through your lashes.

“Yes, absolutely.”

If I wanted to, I'd be alright

Yeah, if I wanted to, I'd be alright

The sun from the blinds that had been accidentally left open seeps into the room. The warmth hitting your naked shoulder. You smile when you look down to see Frankies arm wrapped loosely around your waist.

“Well my long con worked, I finally got the side of the bed I wanted,” you tease.

“Mmm” he says as you shift round to come face to face with him kissing his nose. His eyes flutter awake and he smiles, kissing you on the forehead as you snuggle into his chest for a moment before moving to get ready for the day. His arms tighten around you trapping you against him.

“Frankie, we have to get moving” you giggle.

“Nope, I was serious last night. I'm not planning on letting you go”

“So I’m trapped here forever?” you laugh

“Would that be so bad?” he wonders, and you settle back into him knowing that nothing would be better than spending the rest of your days here with him.

#in a week #part 4 #frankie x y/n #frankie x reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #catfish x you #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal characters #triple frontier fic

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georgescatcafe · 4 years ago

Text

heaven can wait (we’re only watching the skies)

rating: t warning/s: slight internalized homophobia pairing/s: dreamnap genres/tags: high school au, friends to lovers word count: 6,639 summary: Dream was initially going to go to prom with him. Not, like, as a date, but… as a friend. Just two guys hanging out together. They’d go together and hang out and make fun of the people there, maybe, and they’d eat food that neither of them trusted to be good and they’d see if the punch was spiked and they’d have fun. Together.

And then Sapnap had checked the school website to find the rules changed. Only students from their school allowed, no exceptions. And Dream was homeschooled in a program completely separate to the school.

It sucked.

And now here Sapnap is, emptily drinking soda and watching a basketball game featuring teams he honestly doesn’t even care about. And thinking about Dream.

+ao3

;;

“Dude,” Sapnap says into the phone, staring blankly at the school’s website, “I have, like, zero interest in prom now that you can’t come. That rule is so stupid.”

“It is, but you’re not sneaking me in and getting suspended,” Dream replies.

“That’s only if I get caught,” Sapnap argues, “which I won’t.”

“Don’t even risk it.” Dream sighs, and Sapnap lets out one of his own in agreement. “Just go, and think about what we can do the next day—ice cream, maybe a drive to the beach, hey! Monday is Skip Day, right? Let’s stay the night at the beach. That’s awesome, right? Prom and then all that?”

“Prom without you, though?” Sapnap isn’t convinced.

He can see Dream’s frown crystal clear in his mind. “Don’t throw away unforgettable experiences just because of me. Besides, aren’t some of your friends going?”

“Our friends,” Sapnap corrects, even though that’s not entirely true. In freshman year, before, they were always more Sapnap’s friends than Dream’s, and even then, there weren’t that many in their group—just Sapnap, Dream, a guy from chess club, and two guys from the egamer group that met once every too many months.

Dream lets out a breath. “Our friends,” he agrees, nonetheless. “So isn’t that enough?”

“It’s just not right,” Sapnap says. “You belong in my unforgettable experiences, Dream.”

“Don’t go waxing poetic on me, Pandas,” Dream scolds, though it’s hard to take him seriously with both the nickname and the fondness creeping into his voice.

“I’ll do it,” Sapnap repeats, “sneak you in. I’ll do it and I’ll get away with it and it’ll be fun. For both of us.”

“Sapnap,” Dream tries one last time, and he sounds so tired, so utterly exhausted, that Sapnap cuts him off.

“Fine,” he says, “you win. You’re not going, and I’m going without,” Sapnap swallows, “without you.”

;;

Come the final day to buy tickets, however, and Sapnap is still without one for himself, and without a suit, and without a date, and without a plan on getting to prom. He eyes the ticket booth warily, knowing if he chooses not to buy one today, it’s over for him.

Janson, one of the guys from the egamer group, takes a seat at the lunch table next to him. “Are you going?”

Sapnap stares at the booth for another second before shrugging. “Not really my scene.”

“Your scene?”

“Loud,” Sapnap replies, poking halfheartedly at his soggy rice, switching to the fruit drowning in juice. “Lots of people. I don’t really care.”

“Is it ‘cause you don’t have a date?” Janson asks. “Because yeah, that sucks, but no one actually cares, dude.”

Sapnap glances over at him for a second before shrugging once more and finally taking a bite of his weird blueberry mush. “I know. It’s not ‘cause of that. I just don’t really want to go.”

Janson studies him before nodding and stirring his own blueberry mush around with a spoon. “Suit yourself. We’ll miss you, though.”

At that, Sapnap laughs. “You don’t have to lie for me. But thanks, man.”

Janson gives him an easy smile. “Any time.”

;;

The hardest part is telling Dream.

But Sapnap wasn’t lying when he told Janson prom isn’t his scene. It is a lot—lots of people, lots of noise, lots going on in general. He doesn’t care about nor want that. He’d rather take a quiet night at home watching basketball with his dad on the couch over getting knocked between sweaty girls and guys while bass shakes the floor beneath him. Maybe, if he doesn’t make him too angry, Sapnap can even convince Dream to come over before their scheduled meeting the next day.

He can only hope Dream understands as he types this all out in a late night Discord message explaining what happened. And then he tries to throw himself into a game of CSGO, and when that doesn’t work, a game of League. When that doesn’t work either, he just rises out of his chair and flops pathetically onto his bed, closing his eyes and praying for sleep to come fast.

When he wakes up, it’s to six new messages from Dream—a rare sight—and two missed calls. Sapnap stares at the notifications until his eyes sting.

Dream: i mean, it’s ur choice, but i rly don’t want u to regret this sap

He won’t.

Dream: and as it turns out, my older sister has something going on this weekend, so we can’t meet up either :( sorry :(

That’s… okay. It’s fine. Sapnap gets it. Just a weekend for himself, then.

Dream: are u sure u don’t want to go? r u sure u’re sure?

Dream: i sound naggy ik i just don’t want u missing out on these things

Dream: ok?

Dream: sap?

Sapnap types his response—he won’t regret it, sucks about this weekend but it’s fine, Dream’s not being naggy, really, and sorry, he was asleep—then hits send and tries not to feel too bad about everything.

Unsurprisingly, “everything” doesn’t include the prom itself. Sapnap really couldn’t care less about the actual prom.

;;

The rest of the week passes by quickly, and before Sapnap knows it, it’s prom night, and he’s sitting on the couch next to his dad, basketball game on the TV and soda can in his hand. And then it’s time for prom to start, and the ball is tossed into the air. Briefly, Sapnap wonders if Janson scored a date—though he consoled Sapnap over his lack of one, he never talked about his own.

Sapnap wonders what Dream is doing, why they didn’t decide to simply meet up tonight. Maybe he was sleeping? Playing Minecraft? Maybe he was thinking about Sapnap?

Maybe he was thinking about Sapnap.

Sapnap blinks, and the score changes from 12-8 to 12-11. From the other side of the couch, his dad leans closer to the TV. Sapnap sends a glance back to the kitchen, wondering if they still have those chips he likes. His dad crunches on cheddar Ruffles.

Dream was initially going to go to prom with him. Not, like, as a date—not like that. That’s weird, but… as a friend. Just two guys hanging out together. Maybe they’d match, probably not, but they’d go together and hang out and make fun of the people there, maybe, and they’d eat food that neither of them trusted to be good and they’d see if the punch was spiked and they’d have fun. Together.

It sucked.

And now here Sapnap is, emptily drinking soda and watching a basketball game featuring teams he honestly doesn’t even care about. And thinking about Dream.

Sapnap downs the rest of his soda. “I think I’m going to go play some League.” He stands and crushes his can in his hand.

His dad doesn’t look away from the TV. “Don’t stay up too late.”

“I won’t,” Sapnap says, but he doesn’t even know if his dad’s heard, since he’s already back in his room, door slammed shut behind him, can tossed into the trash and chair creaking as he falls into it.

Despite his dad’s words, Sapnap games late into the night, and when he wakes, his head hurts from the way he’s had it pressed to the desk, asleep for however many hours. He shakes his computer mouse till the monitor comes on and he stares at it blearily as he realizes he managed to close out of his games before falling asleep. His Discord is empty, no new messages, no missed calls, and he sighs before sending a message to Dream.

Long day?

He closes out of the app before spinning around and heading out of his room to scrounge for breakfast. His dad isn’t in the living room, though the bag of Ruffles he’d been eating from sits there on the coffee table, empty, and the remote still rests on the arm of the couch. Sapnap can only assume he headed to bed after the game ended.

Once in the kitchen, he searches through the fridge before deciding to just eat a bowl or two of cereal. Part of him is still into the fanfare of prom, and he’s filled with a quiet shock at how mundane Sunday morning feels, in comparison to what was likely a crazy night for a bunch of seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds. Sapnap bites back a derisive snort. Last night was so crazy for him. Totally.

But it was his choice, and he doesn’t regret it.

Now if he had gone, he’d regret that he’d gone without doing everything he could to get Dream there. And that’s a regret he just couldn’t live with.

Sapnap sets his now empty bowl in the sink.

Skipping prom? Yeah, he doesn’t regret it.

;;

Come two weeks later, and Dream is sitting next to him on a park bench telling him about a different prom, one they can go to together, one without rules, without limitations.

Sapnap doesn’t even need to hear the rest of it before he’s agreeing, throwing an arm around Dream’s shoulders and talking quickly about how great the night will be.

“It’s actually themed,” Dream finally interrupts him, holding a hand up and stopping Sapnap mid-daydream.

“Oh?”

Dream nods. “Decades. Got any ideas?”

He doesn’t. When he tells Dream as much, Dream sighs, staring out at the empty swingswet, the swings swaying slightly in the summer breeze. Sapnap sighs too, though he watches his friend, not the playground. “We could do, like, Dad Rock. Seventies, y’know?”

At that, Dream laughs, full and loud, and Sapnap smiles by reflex. Dream rests his chin in his palms, elbows digging into the tops of his thighs. “Remember when we read The Outsiders in eighth grade? What were they called? We could be those.”

“Oh,” Sapnap bites back a snort, “uh, greasies? No,” he and Dream speak at the same time, “greasers!” The laugh he’d been keeping down finally breaks free, spilling past his lips as Dream grins. “We could be those. We’re hot.”

“So hot,” Dream agrees, though he’s still giggling slightly, turning away from Sapnap so the other can’t see his smile, but his shaking shoulders give away his amusement.

Sapnap grins, bright, happy. “When is it again?” he asks.

Dream leans back, head tilting back so he can stare up at the clear blue sky. “A month from now. June 7th. Think you can go?”

“Uh, yeah,” Sapnap says, like it’s obvious. (Because it is obvious. Even if he couldn’t, he’d find a way to go. He’s just that loyal. To Dream, specifically, but that’s not important.) He clears his throat at his own thoughts. “I definitely can go.”

Dream looks to him, then, small smile on his face. “Awesome.”

Sapnap smiles back. Awesome.

;;

May trudges on like its stuck in the mud, Sapnap counting down the days until this rule-less prom. Dream was pretty sparing with the details, only saying it’s date and theme, and Sapnap can’t help but itch with the need to know everything. When he questions Dream for more info, however, the other shrugs him off, turning the tables and asking him if he’s settled on a decade yet.

“I thought we were choosing together,” Sapnap tells him over a Discord call one night, prom finally only a week away.

“So nothing?” Dream asks. “Let’s meet up tomorrow; we’ll figure it out then.”

It’s a plan, and come eleven in the morning, he and Dream are meeting outside of the city’s mall. “This feels kind of stupid,” Sapnap admits when they go through the sliding doors leading to Macy’s mens’ department. “Like, wow, we’re really putting effort into it.”

“Says you when there’s only a week left,” Dream replies. “Putting effort into it means having had our costumes in our closets since the day I told you about it.”

“True,” Sapnap replies, picking up a paisley tie from the clearance table. “What is this?”

Dream takes it from him, setting it back down. “Something we definitely don’t want.”

“Yeah,” Sapnap keeps his eyes on it as they walk away, “no shit.”

They don’t buy anything from Macy’s mens’ department. For an hour they wander aimlessly up and down the mall, more time spent talking rather than looking. It’s only until Sapnap’s stomach rumbles that the two of them realize they’ve gotten nothing done. Their feet finally take them to the food court.

“Shopping for a prom outfit is hard,” Sapnap says into his fries, while Dream nods in agreement shoving a chicken nugget into his mouth and staring down at a greasy spot on the table. “I mean, my feet hurt, and we haven’t even bought a t-shirt or something.”

“We haven’t even gone inside a store,” Dream replies.

Sapnap groans, shoving a fry in his mouth. “This is so stupid.”

They walk the mall again, this time going into various stores, pointing out ridiculous gag gifts and Sapnap picking up more hideous ties. Finally, Dream grabs a leather jacket off the Dillard’s clearance rack and tugs it on over his shoulders. It’s military-style, almost, the shoulders strong, and when Dream turns, it stretches broad across his back before tapering off at his waist. Sapnap swallows. It fits Dream well.

When Dream turns back around, Sapnap’s eyes shoot back up to his face, and he hopes his face isn’t as red as it is hot. He grabs the jacket next to it, also a large luckily, and puts it on. Dream gives him a thumbs up when he turns around to show it off.

“Looks good,” Dream says, and his cheeks aren’t red, and Sapnap isn’t disappointed about that.

They buy the jackets, think about what shoes they own, then buy some cheapy black shades.

“I don’t know if I can do my hair like they did,” Sapnap tells Dream when they go back through Macy’s and pass some grooming kits, jars of pomade on the shelf next to them.

“I might be able to,” Dream says, studying his reflection in the mirror on the post next to the grooming kits. He’s always kept his hair cropped pretty close, but Sapnap knows it’s been awhile since he’s gotten it cut, bangs starting to grow in the front, actually almost reaching his brows. Sapnap thinks it suits Dream, but he sees the way Dream always tries to push his hair back, though it always flops back into place.

“Maybe,” Sapnap agrees. “I think the glasses and jacket should be enough if you can’t though, right?”

Dream glances at the jars of pomade before nodding. “Right.”

;;

Dream and him got their licenses at sixteen, but Dream says he can pick Sapnap up Saturday, “don’t worry about gas money.”

“Are you sure?” Sapnap asks Saturday morning, both about the picking-up and the gas money.

“I’m sure,” Dream replies. “Just be out in front of your house before six, okay?”

“Sounds good,” Sapnap says. “You don’t think our parents want any pictures, would they?”

“Of course not,” Dream answers. “Your dad taking pictures of the two of us?”

“My stepmom maybe,” Sapnap laughs, but she left the house that morning, heading to the city to do her own business. She’s not going to get any pictures of them.

Dream laughs too before he finally says, “See you later then,” and Sapnap is left rushing to get dressed.

He feels giddy, almost, heart racing and stomach turning over itself. His hair has grown out much like Dream’s has over the school year, him never bothering to get it cut or trimmed, and he gives up on the pompadour when it comes out a wet looking lump on the top of his head, strings of hair falling in his face. He sighs and rinses out the product in the sink, leaving it to air dry and drip droplets onto his white t-shirt. By 5:45pm, he’s sweating, face flushed and chest tight, stomach still doing flips, and he ties his mostly dry hair back into a low ponytail, hoping it’s not too off-brand. Finally, he pulls on his jacket, though it feels restrictive and hot with the summer air and his nerves, and he has to stare at himself in the mirror for the next ten minutes repeating to himself that it’s just Dream and that it’s not romantic and that he’s acting like a freak, stupid and quite possibly into his best friend. (But he’s not.)

Then he marches himself out to his curb and sits.

Dream pulls up a couple minutes after six, his hair actually done Greaser-style, and damn it, he looks good.

(Sapnap can think that. He’s not blind. Anyone could see that his best friend is attractive. It’s just a general thing. Not a thing.)

When he gets into the passenger seat, Dream grins at him from behind matching dark sunglasses. “Looking good.”

“We look hot, man,” Sapnap says, a lot more casual than he feels.

The grin doesn’t leave Dream’s face as he puts the car in drive and takes off down the road.

Sapnap honestly doesn’t know where his nerves have come from—how is this prom any different from the school one, like, actually? How is Dream and him going to this one any different from them going to the high school’s? They won’t know anyone at this one, he’s pretty sure, but who cares? Isn’t that better for them? He glances over at Dream, who’s got his wrists crossed over the steering wheel as they speed down the highway to their destination.

It’s just Dream. Sapnap is just excited. It’s normal. It’s Dream.

He lets himself relax.

;;

“What the fuck?” Sapnap whispers to Dream when two girls pass by them looking straight out of some period piece. “I thought you said this was decades themed?”

Dream looks just as perturbed, brows furrowed as a girl and a guy dressed like pirates enter after the Victorian girls. “Guess they meant all decades,” he replies.

Sapnap stares at him before they reach the check-in counter where a woman with her face painted like a member of KISS checks their ages and directs them to the room where the prom’s held.

Madonna plays loud over the speakers, and Sapnap eyes a kid who spins his hands around his face while a small group of onlookers watch in awe. He glances over at Dream, who continues to face forward, leading him over to an empty table, undisturbed. When they sit down, Sapnap turns to the dance floor, where the Victorian girls are, twirling and laughing, and where a boy looking straight out of the 80s sways with another who wears a hat like Jamie from Mythbusters and suspenders attached to plaid, fitted pants. Sapnap watches them for another second before turning stiffly to Dream.

“Where are we?” he asks carefully.

“Sapnap,” Dream starts, but a look from Sapnap has his mouth shutting fast. He stares right back before sighing, leaning back in his chair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—I mean, I knew, but I didn’t think it’d—look, we can leave. It’s fine.”

“Well,” Sapnap huffs, dropping his gaze to his lap, where his fingers grip the denim of his jeans tightly, knuckles turning white, “it’s not fine, but—I don’t really want to leave. I like—I wanted to go to prom with you.”

A laugh, and Sapnap looks over quickly to see the 80s boy tugging the Mythbusters hat’s jacket over his shoulders. Sapnap thinks he might be sick.

“Not like that,” he adds.

“Right,” Dream says.

The booming of the bass rattles Sapnap to his core, along with the table. Even the hand Dream has placed on it doesn’t stop it from shaking. Sapnap wonders what would happen if he were to take Dream’s hand. Dream pulls it back and drops it into his lap. Sapnap tightens his hold on his jeans.

“I am sorry,” Dream tells him. “But I didn’t really think you’d mind. We’re friends, Sapnap. Why does where we are have to change that?”

“It doesn’t,” Sapnap replies, but people can misunderstand. People will misunderstand. He tells Dream as much.

Dream frowns, leans forward. Sapnap doesn’t meet his gaze. “Sapnap,” Dream says, “why would they misunderstand?”

Because they match. Because, under the table, their feet knock against each other. Because when Sapnap looks at Dream, the rest of the world disappears, and he’s certain the rest of the world knows it.

“Doesn’t matter,” Sapnap mutters. “They just would.”

Dream says something. It’s lost to the sound of Rihanna, declaring that a bitch better have her money. Sapnap’s foot taps quickly against the floor, and this time, when it brushes up against Dream’s, he readjusts, feet no longer under the table. Dream sighs, resting his chin on his palm.

Finally, he looks to Sapnap again. “Does it bother you that much?”

“Does what bother me?”

Dream stares at him for a second before looking out at the dance floor. “Them misunderstanding?”

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Sapnap asks.

Dream is silent for so long after that Sapnap almost forgets he’s waiting for a response. “No,” Dream says at last. “It doesn’t.”

Sapnap doesn’t know how to reply to that.

They just sit there after that, watching the crowd wax and wane, change based on the song playing. Dream pushes himself up out of his chair when a familiar number starts. He holds out a hand. “Come on.”

Sapnap stares at the hand. “Dude, he says, “what.”

“Dance,” Dream replies. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“What the fuck?” Sapnap lets out a laugh, glancing over at Mythbusters hat and 80s boy. They’re laughing over something on 80s boy’s phone, foreheads resting close together, cheeks flushed pink in the dim light that hangs over their table. He looks back at Dream. “No way.”

“It’s ‘Come on Eileen,’” Dream says, but Sapnap is resolute, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat. They hold a short staring contest before Dream sighs, looking away. Sapnap doesn’t even have the chance to puff up at his W before Dream is reaching forward and taking him by the arm, pulling him out of his seat and to the dance floor.

“Dream!” Sapnap argues, trying to pull away, but Dream’s hold on him is lethal and Sapnap is unwillingly pulled into the circle that’s formed, one arm tugged behind Dream’s back by Dream’s free hand, and the other tossed over a girl’s shoulder. She gives him a bright smile before the circle begins to move, slowly, ever so slowly, then quicker.

It’s like a treadmill, Sapnap thinks, watching his feet and making sure not to step on the girl’s sparkly slippers. Her laugh is loud even with the music blasting and Sapnap starts to gain some of her enthusiasm as the chorus hits. And then a laugh comes from behind him, and he can’t help but look over his shoulder.

Dream is already grinning at him. Sapnap couldn’t stop himself from grinning back even if he tried. The circle speeds up, and soon Dream is a constant cackle in his ear, Sapnap joining in as the group turns this way and that, before they all jump to a stop and kick a foot in the center.

Sapnap is awkward, slightly off-balance the way he holds on to Dream’s back and leans towards the girl, her shorter than him. He’s running out of breath quick too, kicking quicker and quicker before they’re spinning again and again, all smiling, all laughing, some singing, some panting, and Dream brings their heads closer together as they share one more laugh before the song is fading out, and then it’s just them alone, the others retreating back to their seats or to their own friend groups, just Dream and Sapnap breathing in each other’s exhales.

“That was fun,” Sapnap admits, and Dream nods, arm still around Sapnap’s shoulders, his other one eventually coming up to join it. Sapnap still has an arm around Dream, though it’s slipped so his hand rests at the small of Dream’s back. He swallows.

Dream notices his discomfort, and the smile falls from his face. “Sapnap,” he says.

Sapnap shakes his head. “It’s fine.” His fingers curl into the soft leather of Dream’s jacket. “They can misunderstand.”

I want them to misunderstand.

Sapnap looks up at the same time Dream lets go. “What?” he asks. Dream starts to take a step back, but Sapnap doesn’t let go. “No, you don’t get to—Dream, what did you say?”

“I—,” Dream’s eyes are wide, startled, scared, and Sapnap can’t help but think this isn’t fair. He stares Dream down, and eventually, Dream stares back. When he speaks, he can barely be heard over the music, even with the minimal distance between them. “I want them to misunderstand.”

It’s like he took the words straight from Sapnap’s brain, putting them out there for everyone to hear. Sapnap feels sick, and the feeling only grows when his head falls forward to rest on Dream’s chest. “What the fuck,” he says.

“Sorry,” Dream apologizes above him.

“What—no,” Sapnap’s face screws up, even though Dream can’t see, “you don’t get to apologize, dude. What the hell.” Sapnap feels a weight then on his back, hesitant then heavier. Dream’s hands. He closes his eyes. “What the hell,” he repeats.

“Let’s go back to our table,” Dream says. Sapnap nods, standing up straight, but Dream just pulls him into his side then, and Sapnap thinks about resisting, thinks about getting mad, maybe even leaving (but without a car, without Dream, where would he go?), but in the end, he just lets himself fall more into Dream, the other bearing his weight easily, leading them over to the table they had left.

When they sit, Dream stares down at his hands. Sapnap stares at him. “How long have you known?” he asks.

“About what?” Dream replies.

Sapnap shrugs.

Dream studies him for a second before looking back at his hands. “About myself, since maybe always. About you…?” He smiles then, bitter. “Maybe just as long.”

Sapnap sucks in a breath.

Dream looks over. “What about you?”

“I don’t know,” he answers. “I think—I think I didn’t want to know.”

Dream snorts derisively. “With your dad, I wouldn’t want to know either.”

That gets a laugh out of Sapnap, but it’s dry, empty. “Hey,” he defends his dad halfheartedly, “my dad isn’t that bad.”

The bitter smile on Dream’s lips twists into downright acidic.

Sapnap sighs. “I’m glad it’s you.”

Dream looks at him. Sapnap stares back.

“You’re my best friend,” he tells him. “I can tell you anything.”

“Me too,” Dream replies. “I’m glad it’s you too.” And then he frowns, looking out over the crowd. “But I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”

Sapnap is too, but he doesn’t tell the other that. Instead, he shrugs. “Could be worse,” he says. “I could hate you right now. But I don’t. I think I feel about you how you feel about me.” The last sentence is hard to get out, like bile in his throat. He hopes Dream doesn’t realize that.

When Dream smiles at him, then, he guesses he doesn’t. “I,” Dream looks back down at his hands, “like you, Sapnap.”

And that’s the truth, isn’t it? Dream likes Sapnap, and Sapnap likes Dream. Now Sapnap just needs to figure out what to do with that.

“I like you too,” he says, and Dream turns to him, eyes wide, as if they hadn’t established this already—maybe, for Dream, they hadn’t, “but I don’t know—I don’t know if this is good for us, Dream.”

“We’re best friends,” Dream starts to respond, but Sapnap cuts him off.

“Exactly.” He pulls his jacket tighter. “I don’t want to lose that.”

“We don’t have to,” Dream replies. “Why can’t we be both?”

“Why isn’t what we are already enough?” Sapnap argues. “I can’t afford to lose you, Dream. You’re my favorite person.”

“You wouldn’t lose me,” Dream denies. “You’re the one that was willing to cut me from your life for losing.”

“We were ten,” Sapnap scowls. “That’s not the same.”

Dream doesn’t reply. He knows it’s not.

The upbeat ABBA song playing does not match the mood that’s settled over their table. Sapnap drags his shoe along the floor. Dream drums his fingers against the table.

“Should we have not said anything then?” Dream asks. “Do we act like this never happened? Because I don’t know if I can do that.”

Sapnap doesn’t think he can either. Nonetheless, he shrugs.

Dream huffs. “Look,” he says, “you’re my best friend. I like you. If we stay friends, I’ll still like you. If we become more,” he swallows, squaring his shoulders, “and that doesn’t work, we’ll still be friends in the end. Okay?”

Sapnap doesn’t entirely believe him, but when he meets Dream’s gaze, Dream looks so determined, so resolute, that Sapnap finds himself echoing an okay. Then the clouds part, and Dream smiles. Sapnap tries to smile back.

The ABBA song ends and a much more recent pop song begins to play, but neither of them move, choosing instead to sit in a still silence that leaves Sapnap wondering what Dream is thinking.

Sapnap squeezes his eyes shut, shoving his curiosity aside to instead gaze out at the dance floor. The girl that was next to him in the circle bounces around three other teenagers, light-colored hair a kaleidoscope of colors in the everchanging club lights. When she spots Sapnap staring, she smiles, throwing up a peace sign. Sapnap gives her a small wave. Their eyes stay locked for another second before she makes a little motion towards Dream and Sapnap looks at him, only to find Dream already looking back. Sapnap sighs before rising from his chair.

“Your turn,” he says, hand already extended out towards the other.

Dream doesn’t hesitate in grabbing his hand and letting Sapnap pull him up.

Sapnap leads them to the dance floor, fully prepared to halfheartedly bop his head to the song playing, but then—and of course it’s just his luck—the minute he steps onto the wooden panels, the song changes to something mellow… and slow.

So very slow.

He turns to Dream, eyes wide in alarm, but all Dream does is smile.

“Don’t back out now,” he says.

Sapnap glares at him. “You wish.”

Dream laughs before putting a hand on Sapnap’s waist and an arm around his neck. Sapnap lets out a harsh breath but doesn’t pull away, just follows Dream’s lead, pulling him close. The emcee is saying something probably absolutely humiliating, but Sapnap ignores the queen (oh God, the emcee is a drag queen, how did he not realize that upon walking in?) in favor of focusing on Dream, on not stepping on his toes, on not bumping into other dancers, on not getting lost in the other’s eyes, however stereotypical it may be.

Dream lowers his head until their foreheads almost touch, and Sapnap is painfully reminded of 80s boy and Mythbusters hat. He looks down to the floor.

“Pandas,” Dream whispers, and Sapnap curses his heart for jumping.

“What?” he replies, still looking down.

“Look at me,” Dream urges.

Sapnap shakes his head, but then the arm around Sapnap’s neck becomes just a hand, and then that hand is traveling up, up over his neck, to his ear, fingers curling around his jaw, forcing Sapnap’s gaze from the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Dream says.

Sapnap finds himself stuck staring into Dream’s eyes. “Why?”

“You didn’t go to prom because I wouldn’t be there, and now we’re at a prom together, and you’re not having fun because I’m here.” His thumb strokes across Sapnap’s cheek—Sapnap hopes he can’t feel the heat under his skin. “So I’m sorry.”

“I’m having fun,” Sapnap replies, automatic.

“Because having me confess me to you and forcing you to dance with me and taking you to a fucking,” he breaks their gaze only to look around demonstratively, “gay prom is fun for you.”

But even with his reply being automatic, Sapnap finds it true. It’s not conventional, and he’s felt vaguely nauseous this entire time, but the dance circle was fun, and just standing here with Dream, swaying back and forth, it’s fun too. And there’s something nice about having everything out in the open. He and Dream like each other.

Wait.

He and Dream like each other. He and Dream like each other. Dream likes him.

“You like me,” Sapnap whispers.

Dream still hears him. “Yeah,” he replies, easy, “I like you a lot.”

“I think I missed that,” Sapnap says, louder. “You like me.”

Dream stares at him. “Yes,” he replies. “I like you.”

Sapnap stares back before he removes his hand from Dream’s waist to put it on his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of Dream’s t-shirt as Sapnap tugs him down into a kiss. Dream’s lips are surprisingly soft for the amount of times Sapnap has caught Dream biting at them, and Dream himself is surprisingly gentle when he brings his other hand up from Sapnap’s waist to cradle his jaw. Sapnap lets out a quiet exhale when they pull apart.

Dream is looking at him, but his gaze is distant, his mind somewhere far away.

Sapnap lets go of his shirt to shove him slightly. “Dream?” he asks, wondering if he might’ve just ruined everything, despite Dream’s insistence that a change in their relationship wouldn’t affect their friendship.

“I think people might misunderstand us now,” Dream says.

Sapnap can’t help it—he laughs. “You think?” And then Dream is laughing too, pulling him in for another kiss even as the song changes and the floor becomes crowded with everyone else coming to dance.

The tension now broken, neither of them suggest leaving the dance floor.

;;

By the time the prom is ending, Sapnap’s feet hurt, and he’s sure his lips are red from the amount of times Dream has kissed him. They’re both giddy with teenage excitement, and Dream is singing a pathetic rendition of “Bohemian Rhapsody,” words slurring together and pitch way off.

Sapnap laughs as Dream knocks their heads together, pushing him away with one hand while the other wraps around his waist to pull him closer. “You sound so bad.”

“You love it,” Dream murmurs into his ear, and Sapnap grins even as his cheeks flare red.

“You wish,” he replies.

“I most definitely wish,” Dream says, head now tilted to rest atop Sapnap’s own.

“Did you drink?” Sapnap asks, suspicious, though he’s pretty sure he and Dream only got water. “Are you drunk?”

“You know I’d never drink,” Dream replies before the most shit-eating grin takes over his face. “Actually, I’m just drunk on love.”

Sapnap rolls his eyes. “Now you’re just acting stupid.”

“But I mean it.”

Sapnap looks at him. Dream looks back. Sapnap shakes his head as they reach Dream’s car. “Don’t be dumb.”

“Okay, so maybe not like… love love, but I love you, Sapnap.” Dream leans against the door. “And it could turn into love love one day. If you let it.”

Sapnap stares at him. Dream stares back.

“It’s just a possibility,” he says, hand coming up to pat Sapnap’s cheek. Sapnap continues to stare until Dream leans forward to bump their noses together. “I won’t bring it up again.”

“Next month,” Sapnap finally replies. “Bring it up next month.” He pushes himself away from Dream to go to the passenger side. “Now unlock the car. It’s hot as fuck out here.”

;;

The car ride is spent in an easy silence, though Dream keeps glancing over at Sapnap every once in a while, always looking on the verge of saying something.

Finally, Sapnap snaps. “What is it?”

Dream has clearly been waiting to be asked. “You said next month.”

Sapnap frowns. “Uh, yeah? Why wouldn’t I?”

“So we’ll still be together next month?”

Sapnap’s eyes narrow. “Are you assuming we’re together now?”

“Yes.”

Fuck. He’s right to assume that. So much for Dream being the one to forget their friendship in order to pursue a relationship. Dream knows him too well. (It’s perfect.)

“I love you too,” Sapnap says. “As a friend.” He looks out the window. “But it could be love love one day too.”

He doesn’t need to look over to know Dream is grinning, and when a finger brushes his own over the glovebox, not asking for permission but not not asking for permission, Sapnap can’t stop a grin of his own from spreading across his face and lets Dream lock their hands together.

;;

A knock on the door startles Sapnap in the middle of his studying. He looks up from his notes to see Dream leaning in the open doorway.

Sapnap raises a brow. “Since when have you knocked?”

“Since British exchange students started chewing me out whenever I’d come in without knocking.” Dream smiles at him before looking into the room, green eyes searching.

“George isn’t going to jump out at you from behind the door,” Sapnap says, stretching out in his chair before rising to properly greet his boyfriend. “Besides, he likes you; he’s just a bitch.”

“Of course a bitch like you would say that,” George interrupts, his small frame almost invisible behind Dream, who turns around with a guilty look on his face. “Hi, Dream,” George says, shoving past him to toss his bag in his desk chair and collapse onto his bed. “I don’t like you, by the way.” He lifts his head slightly to look between Dream and Sapnap. “Either of you. I hate you guys.”

“We hate you too,” Sapnap replies cheerily before grinning at Dream and pulling him down into a kiss that Dream eagerly returns.

“Can you not?” George asks, even though they all know he doesn’t really care. “I already feel single enough, thanks.”

“Like you could ever feel single,” Dream teases. “You know nearly everyone here is into you.”

George pushes himself up onto his elbows to stick out his tongue. Dream sticks his own out too.

Sapnap laughs before picking his keys up from off his desk and checking that his wallet is in his pocket. “We’re heading out,” he tells George, who hums and nods, flopping back onto the bed. “Let me know if you want us to pick you up dinner.”

“That’s so sweet of you, Sapnap,” George says, “to go out of your way just to get dinner for me. I didn’t realize I mean that much to you.”

“You mean the world to me, George,” Sapnap replies, even as his hand links with Dream’s and George flips him off. “But seriously, we’ll get you something if you want.”

“It’s fine.” George waves a hand. “Go be in love or whatever. Better somewhere else than where I can see it.”

“True, true,” Sapnap says, even though his favorite hobby nowadays is antagonize George, which sits right under spend time with Dream.

They leave the Brit alone to head out to Dream’s car, and it’s there that Sapnap finds them imitating the pose they had the night of prom. He hides his smile in Dream’s neck as Dream wraps his arms around his shoulders.

“Hey, Sap,” Dream says.

“Yeah?”

“Remember how you said ‘next month’?”

Sapnap lifts his head slightly to look through the car window. “Yeah.”

“Well, it’s been next month, and then it was the month after that, and the one after that, and then there was—”

Sapnap barely stops himself from rolling his eyes. “I love you, Dream. Now let go of me; I really am hungry right now.”

“Right, of course. Of course,” Dream releases him, “but for the record, I love you too. Like, love love.”

Sapnap shoves him even as a smile begins to show at the corners of his lips. “Yeah, I love love you too.”

#dreamnap #fic #fanfiction #mcyt

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