#i gave up halfway but like. it's still a cute scribble

[ebitenpura]

yutorin doodle. /drops and runs away

[lokis-army-77]

Pretty Girl and her Hoodie Guy

Modern!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 2.4k

It was supposed to be a sunny day until it wasn't, but that's okay because maybe love is right around the corner... or the bus stop.

Warning: E for everyone!! This is just really cute and if you don't read it I'll be very mad at yall >:(.

The first part of this is based on some pictures I saw on tiktok but I totally forgot to save it so I could give credit for the idea that it gave me.

Masterlist

It has rained almost every day in Chicago for nearly a week. So, the one day the weather forecast called for bright sunny skies and nearly eighty-degree weather, you decided to leave your umbrella in your apartment along with your umbrella. 

The bus ride to campus was dry as could be, the weather was perfect and the slight breeze tickled as it made your skirt flutter around your thighs. The walk to class after getting off the bus was also crystal clear, not a single cloud in sight and the sun beat down brightly, you were thankful for the shade of the trees. 

Three hours later, as you exit the English building, you notice it has gotten darker, clouds have begun to roll in. You sigh as you begin walking to the bus stop, hopeful that the weatherman was still correct about having no rain. 

You and the meteorologist were both proven wrong when, halfway to the bus, the bottom fell out. Big, heavy droplets of rain started pouring down out of nowhere, almost instantly soaking you to the bone. 

You begin to run as fast as your bag full of books and laptop will allow. You can only pray that the rain hasn't seeped through your backpack and ruined your things. 

The bus stop is only a couple more feet away and when you make it under the awning you have a breath and set your backpack down on the bench. Today was such a bad day to wear a white shirt. The water had made it nearly see-through. Your white bra practically shining through the thin cotton fabric like a spotlight was on it. 

As you try to squeeze the water out of your clothes you hear a deep cough, like someone clearing their throat. You look up. To your left is a guy, he's tall with shaggy hair and bangs almost covering his eyes. He's wearing a black hoodie and black jeans even though it had been almost eighty-three degrees mere hours ago. Your eyes catch on the glint of piercings in his ears before they wander to the peak of a tattoo showing just above the collar of his hoodie. 

He looks at you with impossibly big, brown eyes, something you'd imagine only a puppy or a newborn baby to have. 

"Here." He says before tugging the hoodie off. The way he reaches up and grabs the back of the garment to take it off has the shirt under it riding up. You can see an expanse of ivory skin covered in charcoal-black lines, tattoos. They cover almost every inch of skin and you suspect they go farther down, past the waistband of his jeans. 

He shakes the hoodie out in front of you and you hesitate to grab it so he forces it into your shivering hands. The rain and the sudden drop in temperature are making you freeze. 

"Put that on. It'll keep you warm and away from prying eyes." His smile is big and bright as he watches you put his clothes on. 

It's big on you, more than big, enormous. What was a perfect fit on him, swallowed you whole. The hem came down almost to the back of your knees and the sleeves might as well have been a mile long. 

"Thank you," you say softly with an even softer smile back at him. 

"No worries." He then points at your hand and motions for you to reach it out to him. So, you do, without hesitation. 

He grasps your hand in his and with the other, rolls up the sleeve. He then produces a pen from seemingly thin air and scribbles something down. 

When he lets go of your arm, you hold it up. 10 scratchy numbers are etched over your forearm as well as a name. Eddie. 

You go to ask him why he's given you his number when he beats you to it. 

"Call me. I'll be needing that back." He grins, holding his fingers like a phone to his ear. You can't help the shy giggle that leaves you. 

The guy, Eddie as you have just learned, then sprints through the rain and into the bus you hadn't even realized had stopped moments before. 

He leaves you speechless and giddy. Butterflies are fluttering around in your stomach, making you dizzy. You have to sit down or else you think you might faint. 

Never have you had an interaction like this. Something so simple and sweet. He drew you in front the first second you laid eyes on him. 

It only takes you a few minutes to remember to come back to reality. Quickly you put his number in your phone under "hoodie guy (Eddie)" 

.... 

It's a few days later when you finally work up the courage to call hoodie guy. It’s maybe three in the afternoon and as the other line rings and rings your nerves begin to eat at you as you wonder if he did really want you to call him, maybe a text would have been better. 

Your thoughts are cut short when a rather chipper voice answers. “Y’ello?”

“Hi, is this Eddie?” You swear your anxiousness can be heard in your voice. 

“Yeah… and who is this?” He questions. 

“Oh, um. This is the girl you gave your hoodie to the other day, remember?” 

“I remember you.” You could almost hear the smile stretching across his face. “Was beginning to think you wouldn’t call.”

You had it bad. Really bad. Just speaking to him for these few seconds had your heart racing. “Sorry about that. I wanted to wash it before I called.” You give him your name then, shyly introducing yourself. 

He chuckles in response, “Pretty name for a very pretty girl.” 

You’re glad this is a phone call, otherwise, Eddie would see how badly you are blushing. Your face is white hot and beet red, a dead giveaway to how this stranger has totally smitten you with two limited interactions.

You don’t realize you have been quiet this whole time until Eddie speaks up once more. “Hello? You there pretty girl?"

"Y-yeah," you stutter. "I'm here." You blush impossibly harder. 

"Would you like to meet me at the coffee shop by the bus stop we met at? It'll be my treat." There's a hopefulness to his question. 

You nod only to realize he obviously can't see you. "Yes," you answer. "I'd love to."

"Great! Can you be there in thirty?" 

"Sure. I'll head that way now."

Excitedly you begin to get ready, putting way too much effort into your outfit, but hey it's not wrong to want to look good for the guy you find insanely attractive.

… 

Thirty minutes later you are walking into the coffee shop dressed up in a cute, green corduroy pinafore dress, perfect for the upcoming fall weather, and a giant hoodie in your grasp. 

You don't notice the large guy coming up to your side until he's poking a finger into your shoulder to grab your attention. 

You jump at the sudden poke and turn to face the culprit. 

"Oh'" you say surprised. "Hi."

"Hi." He smiles back. "I'm sitting over there if you want to take a seat. What do you want to drink?"

You're quick to shake your head. "You really don't have to do that. I can pay for my part." You start fumbling for your card in the back of your phone case. 

He places a hand over yours. "I insist. What would you like?”

It doesn’t take much for you to give in and tell him your go-to order. After he repeats it back to you, you head to the table by the window Eddie had pointed to. His denim jacket was hung over the back of the chair, leaving you the booth seat to settle into. 

The cafe is relatively empty, save for the two baristas behind the counter and the older man seated at the corner table reading a book, so it doesn’t take long for Eddie to come back with two coffees carefully balanced in one large hand and a plate with a warm croissant. 

You try to help him but he tuts you away, quickly saying, “I got it, I got it.” He sets the plate down first before placing your glass in front of you and his before him. Then, he sits. 

You both take slow sips from your coffee and as he looks intently at you with those eyes, you try and avoid them. 

“This is for you.” He pushes the bread in your direction with the knuckle of his forefinger. 

“I- thank you.” A fierce blush starts to creep up your neck and you busy yourself by drinking some more.

You know that Eddie can tell you’re nervous. Who wouldn’t be able to tell with your seldom eye contact and soft, stuttering words? He starts the conversation off slow, easing you into a more comfortable state, you’re grateful for it. 

Questions like “How’s your day going” to his only little version of twenty questions finally get you to break out of your shell. He makes you laugh, a lot, to the point your stomach hurts and your muscles ache. 

Conversation flows easily after the initial bump in the road. You’ve talked about college and life after; he’s studying in the music department with plans to eventually become a professional musician. He tells you about his dreams and ambitions and you can’t help but feel inspired. You tell him about the book you would love to write one day and he listens intently. He even asks questions and refers to things you stated previously in the conversation. Never have you had such a connection with anyone, not even your closest friends. 

Eddie is so charming and witty that it barely even registers when both of your hands meet in the middle of the table. His larger fingers play with your smaller ones and you converse in your own little world. 

You’re only broken from your state of enchantment with the other when a cafe worker approaches you.

“I’m sorry guys but we close at four on Sundays and it’s ten till.” The worker gives you a strained smile, the underlying message, “Please leave.”

You gasp in shock. “How have we been here for three hours?”

Eddie looked at you, just as surprised. “Well, time does fly when you’re having fun, pretty girl.” 

You shake your head. The complement turned pet name making you blush every time he said it but not as hard as when your name rolled off his tongue. 

“Come on,” he says, standing to his feet. “I’ll take you home.”  He reaches for your hand and pulls you up after you quickly gather up your purse and his hoodie. 

As you walk out, you both apologize profusely to the two workers for staying right until closing. 

“How are you gonna take me home?” You ask. “You took the bus the day we met.” You really didn’t want him spending an extra bus fare just to escort you home.

He gives you a lopsided grin. “I took the bus 'cause I had an inkling not to listen to the weather. This is my usual ride.” Eddie arcs his hand out in front of you both, gesturing to the sleek black motorcycle resting by the curb. 

“Woah. That is actually really cool.” You gush. You had always wondered what it would be like to ride on a motorcycle. 

Eddie reaches out and grabs the helmet strapped to the seat and hands it to you. “Wear this.” 

“What about you?”

“You’re precious cargo, far more important than me.” He answers before helping place it over your head and buckle it under your chin. Then he takes his hoody from your arms and ties it around your waist. “That should cover you up enough.” He gestures to your dress. You hadn't even thought about that detail and his mindfulness had you swooning. 

He gives you a small but thorough lesson on what you do as a passenger before getting on and then helping you on after. 

He drives slowly, taking less busy streets to the address you gave him, and the whole time you cling to him. Your heart beats wildly in your chest at the feeling of freedom as the wind whips around you. Every so often, Eddie will reach for your hand at his waist, or when you are stopped at a red light he automatically reaches back to cup your legs, fingers dragging up the back of your calves. 

You’re sad when the ride comes to a stop outside your apartment building. You are slow you follow him off the bike and even slower to let him remove the helmet. This amazing time was coming to an end and you desperately didn’t want it to. 

You can feel his calloused fingers tickle your chin as he undoes the strap. He’s careful to pull the protective gear off, fixing the strands of hair that fall out of place when he’s done. You cherish the warmth coming from his palm and it really feels like he’s about to kiss you. And you wouldn’t mind if he did. No matter if you only just met him or if this seemed to be moving fast, you wanted to know what those plump lips felt like on your own. 

He leans in and your breath hitches in your lungs, your eyes close as you prepare with the one thing you need at this moment. Only, Eddie doesn’t kiss your lips, instead, he places a gentle peck on your cheek. You deflate, sad his target was somewhere else. 

“Eddie?” You ask softly.

“Yeah?” He mutters your name, eyes staring into yours. 

“I had a great time.” 

“Me too, pretty girl.”

“Thank you for bringing me home.” 

“You’re welcome.” He backs away from you and you frown just a bit. “You should get inside.” 

“I should… I’ll text you?”

“Nothing I’d want more.” He slides his leg back over onto his bike and you turn to walk away.

“By Eddie.” You only get a few feet before you pause. “Oh, wait.” You untie his hoodie from your waist and rush back to Eddie’s side. “Here.”

He shakes his head. “You keep it. Looks better on you than it ever will on me. Plus, it’ll give me a reason to come see you again.” 

You become shy again and the mention of seeing him again, hopeful that this wasn’t just a one-time thing to get his clothes back and that he will answer when you text or call him.

“Bye, pretty girl.” He grins and you watch him put his helmet on but he doesn’t leave just yet. No, he only leaves after he sees you enter your building and you waive to him from beyond the glass door. 

[devildomwriter]

One Little Thing, a Ring Part I | Mammon x Reader

.7K Words | GN Reader | CW: none | Established relationship

Mammon never snooped in your room—normally that is. Unlike with his brothers when he checked through your room it wasn’t for nefarious reasons.

He needed a good idea for your Christmas gift but first, he wanted to know what you got him, that way he could show you up.

He chuckled to himself as he looked through your bookshelf.

“Did any sequels come out…” he asked himself and began checking his D.D.D. He gave up halfway through, “I’ll just ask Satan,” he decided and continued searching.

He threw open your wardrobe doors. The wardrobe was crowded, maybe he should get you a new one. He typed it into his notes as a potential idea. “If I get them a new wardrobe they’re gonna need s’more awesome clothes to fill it.” He thought aloud.

He continued to hum and search through your drawers giddily. He couldn’t wait to see what he was getting.

“I’ve been asking for a new D.D.D., maybe they’re workin’ extra to splurge on one?”

You were away working, that’s why Mammon felt safe searching your room. He skipped around the room for the next few minutes when he tripped on a corner of your upturned rug.

He landed with a thud, avoiding smashing his face on the side of the table.

“Yikes!” He huffed and scrambled to his feet when he heard heavy footsteps approaching the door.

He hid behind your couch and Leviathan burst into the room looking around suspiciously. He held a game device in one hand and a bag of chips in the other as he quickly searched the room. Mammon silently slid under your bed when Levi got too close to the couch.

“All clear,” he said robotically and stuffed a chip in his mouth. He proceeded to leave as quickly as he’d come in and shut the door behind him.

Mammon let out the breath he’d been holding and rolled out from under the bed. He looked to the side and noticed a small envelope.

On it were the words scribbled, “Private.”

He grinned, “Here it is. You’re so obvious ___.” He thought it was cute and blushed as he quickly opened the envelope.

“A list! Bingo!” He cheered and the door to your room burst back open.

“Intruder sighted!” Leviathan shouted at him and Mammon yelped and jumped back, shoving the paper into his pocket.

Leviathan chased Mammon around the room as Mammon tried to explain why he was there. Leviathan finally calmed down and had Mammon pinned on the floor, hands above his head as he pleaded for Levi not to tell you.

“Their Christmas gift?” He asked skeptically.

“Yes, I swear. You know I’d never steal from them! Now seriously get offa me!” Mammon shouted, becoming irritated.

“I’ll accept your answer for now but if I hear anything from ___—“

“Ya won’t! Now get off!” Mammon shouted again and Leviathan finally complied and sat at your table waiting for Mammon to get up.

“What’re ya still doin’ here? Leave.”

Leviathan shook his head, “I can’t do that.”

“And why not!?”

“I was asked to guard this room so you wouldn’t try and find your gift early again.”

“Huh!? They knew!” Mammon gasped, shocked you’d found out.

Leviathan rolled his eyes, stressed by his brother’s lack of awareness, “It was so obvious…”

“Was not!” Mammon blushed. “Anyway, I only came in for this!” He revealed and pulled the paper from his pocket. He was relieved it wasn’t crinkled enough for you to notice he’d messed with it.

“What’s that?” Levi asked, also curious.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Mammon grinned and held it above his head.

“Lotan—“

“No, shit! Don’t be stupid!” Mammon panicked and Levi snatched the paper away from him.

Leviathan’s eyes went wide and suddenly his demon form burst forth. His face grew red and he covered it with his sleeve.

“Wh-wh-what’s this!? Huh!” He shrieked. He gave Mammon a cold glare and shoved the paper against Mammon’s chest. “Bastard,” he mumbled and left quickly.

“What the fuck was that!?” Mammon yelled at him and finally scanned his eyes over the paper.

“Just a wish list…” he mumbled when suddenly his words were caught in his throat and beads of sweat formed on his brow.

“Wh…what is this!?” He yelled in surprise equal to Leviathan’s. You’d been dating a long time now and you’d been friends even longer but he certainly wasn’t exacting to see, of all things, a ring on your wishlist.

Part II • Part III • Part IV • Part V

[amazingmsme]

Part Time Actor

AN: I’m so close to getting caught up, I’m really trying y’all! I’ve wanted to write something with Phoenix & Edgeworth watching legally blonde for forever now, & I finally got around to it! Hope y’all enjoy day 23!

Phoenix had been begging Edgeworth to watch this movie for what felt like ages now. Of course, he'd held off for as long as he could, convinced it was another run of the mill 2000's romcom. But after the last film in their horror movie marathon, they both agreed that perhaps a pallet cleanser was in order.

So there they were, sitting in a cozy, dimly lit living room on the couch buried beneath a fluffy blanket as Legally Blonde played on the TV. They idly picked at the half empty popcorn bowl, a few empty candy wrappers littered around them.

The movie wasn't as bad as he thought. Still a little too feminine for his taste, but he was surprisingly invested in the plot. Well, it would be easier to pay attention if Phoenix wasn't reciting the whole damn movie in his ear.

Any witty quip or weighted dialogue was overshadowed by his performance. Which was a little cute at first, sweet even, but now it was getting on his last nerve.

"Thanks for inviting me girls! This party is super fun!" he spoke in sync with Elle, now dressed as a pink bunny. Why she would even trust those snobby girls in the first place was beyond him, and he really was trying to sympathize with her plight.

"Nice outfit!" Oh yeah, he wasn't only sticking to one character. He recited whole scenes with himself. "Oh, I like your outfit too, except when I dress up as a frigid bitch, I try not to look so constipated."  He snorted in amusement at that one, but he might have even chuckled if Wright would just shut up for five minutes...

"Perhaps you should've been an actor, seeing as you know the whole script," he quipped. Phoenix grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Sorry, I'll be quiet," he apologized.

"Mhmm," Edgeworth hummed, not believing him for a second.

He gave him credit, he lasted longer than he thought he would.

"Smell this. What's that? Her resume." Phoenix paused to look him directly in the eyes- okay so it was intentional- "Smells good."

"That's it," he huffed, moving the bowl of popcorn to the coffee table as he paused the movie because he didn't want to miss anything, damnit!

"Okay, I'll stop! I promise!" he bargained, a smile already twitching at his lips as he backed himself into the corner of the couch.

"No, we're well past that point," Edgeworth growled, a rare playfulness seeping into his tone. He grabbed Phoenix just above the knees, and he immediately barked out a giddy, nervous laugh.

"Wahait, don't!" But that's all he managed to get out before snorting cackles filled the air.

"I think it's sweet of you to want to share your favorite movie with me, but honestly, you don't have to recite every line!" he teased, sounding more fond than annoyed.

"Ihihi'm sohohorryyyy!" Phoenix shrieked as he squeezed up his thighs. His own hands shot down, desperately trying to defend himself from the attack. Edgeworth easily dodged his attempts, managing to reach his hips.

He bucked and squealed, tangling himself in the blanket and making himself an easier target.

"I really am enjoying the movie, but I could go without your rendition," he taunted, allowing a smirk to tug at his lips. Phoenix caught a glimpse of it and felt his heart skip a beat. Or maybe it was just racing because of the tickling, he wasn't sure.

"Ohohokahay, I gehehet ihihit!" he cried, bucking wildly as he pinched and scribbled up his sides, folding in on himself when the target shifted to his stomach. He let out another snort, grabbing onto Edgeworth's wrist, but notably not pushing away.

"Really?"

"Yehehes!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yehehes!"

"Hm. I don't believe you," he squeezed from his hips all the way up to his ribs. Phoenix continued to giggle and shriek, leaning halfway over the arm of the couch. He screamed when he felt himself get grabbed by the waist and yanked back onto the couch.

He stared down at Phoenix, hair messy and cheeks flushed pink, a bright, carefree smile stretched across his face. He could cherish this moment forever...

Perhaps the movie could wait.

[spookyscarydemonbabe]

Eddie x Reader at a metal concert, but it's a cinderella situation. They party together but the band announces it's time for an encore and reader suddenly has to leave right now immediately 👀👀👀 (thank you if you get to this!!!!)

omg this is such a cute idea!! and i had so much fun with it too 🥰 thank you for the request my love 🫶

Eddie had been dying to go to this concert for WEEKS

The other guys couldn’t make it, but nothing was going to keep him from going to see Exodus, even if it meant he had to go alone

He didn’t mind it, and it’s not like he hasn’t gone to shows alone before

But the moment he stepped into the venue he knew it would be different

He had bumped into you while making his way up closer to the stage, and unfortunately one of the pins on his jacket got caught on one of the loose threads from yours

You laughed it off, knowing that he didn’t do it on purpose, and once you got to talking he found out you were also there by yourself

Similar situation to his, you were supposed to go with your friends but they unfortunately weren’t able to get the money together for the tickets

You even had a few of the same patches on your vests and though Eddie knew he shouldn’t have gotten a crush so quickly on some random girl he met at a concert, he really couldn’t help himself

You were absolutely beautiful, clearly had the same taste in music, and you weren’t immediately drawn away from him when he talked to you

He asked if he could stay with you during the concert, you know just cause you’re both alone and he doesn’t want you to get pulled away by some creeps or shoved into the pit when you’re not expecting it

Or whatever excuse he gave you to stay close to you the whole night

He had asked your name but unfortunately as soon as you told him the band started and the music was too loud for him to hear you

All he saw was you mouthing your name, but he had only shrugged it off, hoping he would hear it again later

The show was AMAZING

You and Eddie sang your hearts out to every song they played, he made sure to stand behind you if he knew there was a pit opening up, and he even was able to get you onto his shoulders for a song or two

Not to mention he got to spend the whole night with a gorgeous girl like you enjoying a band that he loved

By the time the concert was over, he didn’t want the night with you to end, but as you walked out of the venue you saw the time and panicked

Your parents hadn’t known you were out by yourself and knew they would be pissed if they just so happened to check your room and you weren’t there

Before running off to your car Eddie grabbed your hand and asked if he’d see you again, and you promised you would, grabbing a pen from your pocket and scribbling down your number on the back of his hand and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before running off once more

He was upset he still didn’t know your name, but at least he had your number to go off of

The area code was just off of Hawkins’, meaning you probably lived just outside of town, but unfortunately the last two numbers were accidentally smudged

He wasn’t phased by it though, there was only… 100 numbers it could be

The very next day he wrote every one of them onto a notepad to try every single one of them until he finally found the right one

But he didn’t realize it would probably take all day

He called and called, asking if the person on the other end went to an Exodus concert last night any time he heard a female voice, but by the time he had gotten halfway through he was starting to lose hope

It was only after asking the same question almost 40 times that the voice on the other end said they went, and he perked up immediately

He was even more surprised to hear that you remembered him too, but he couldn’t be sure if it actually was you…

He asked if you wanted to meet up, just so he could make sure he got the right girl, and you were happy to!

You decided on just meeting up at a local record shop and once he got there and saw you he couldn’t be sure it really was you

You were wearing ‘normal’ clothes and looked almost nothing like you did at the show, but the moment he heard your voice he knew it was you

You apologized for the way you looked, you had only just gotten home from work when he called, but he needed to do one last thing to really make sure it was the mystery girl he saw at the show

He covered his ears to block out any noise and asked you to say your name to him, and though it was a strange request, you giggled it off and did as he said

Once he saw you mouth the same name his eyes lit up and he almost jumped with excitement

He was so happy to finally find his dream girl from the concert and was happily surprised to find out you lived so close to one another

He finally had a chance with a girl he knew he would get along with, and he was excited to get to know more about you and learn about all the other things you loved that weren’t just heavy metal music

He just needed to finally know your name first

[intheticklecloset]

heya!! if you’re doing requests for tickle-tober, what about 29 (scary movie) with lee noya and ler asahi?? thanks :)

TickleTober Day #29: Scary Movie

~~~

“I’d call you a wimp if you weren’t so cute,” Noya said, grinning at his upperclassman.

Asahi looked at him, wide-eyed and slightly panicked. “What? Cute?”

“You’re older and bigger than me! You’re supposed to protect me from these kinds of movies, not the other way around.”

The two of them were spending the night at Asahi’s house. It was the end of October, and in the spirit of the season Noya had suggested watching a horror movie. Asahi didn’t like the idea to begin with, and now that they were halfway through and he was scared out of his mind, he liked it even less.

What he liked least of all, though, was Noya’s cocky attitude about the whole situation.

“Shut up,” he said. “You know I’m a sensitive soul. Why would you make me watch this at all if you knew it would make me freak out?”

“Because it’s funny,” the libero replied with a smirk.

Asahi leveled a glare at him that only made his friend laugh, then snatched up his ankle and scribbled his fingers into the bare sole. “You think this is funny? You want to laugh about something? Take this!”

“Aieeehahahahahaha! Nahahahahaha Asahi!” Noya cried, clutching his stomach while flailing his free leg helplessly. “Dohohohohon’t tihihihihickle me!”

“You seemed in the mood to laugh at me, so I’m only helping you out, Noya,” Asahi replied, feeling mischievously wicked as he grabbed the libero’s other leg and locked both of them under his arm, scratching mercilessly at the arches of his feet. “Besides, this is a good distraction for me. Maybe I can even get through the rest of the movie this way.”

“The rehehehehehehest?!” Noya cried, arching his back off the couch, laughing even harder. “But we’re ohohohohonly hahahahahalfway done!”

“Hmm,” Asahi muttered noncommittally, settling in for the long haul, still tickling. “Too bad for you, then.”

Noya squealed when Asahi honed in on his toes, tossing his head back as crazed giggles spilled out of his lips, pounding the cushions. “Ehehehehehehehehe! You suhuhuhuhuhuck, Asahiehehehehehe!”

Asahi reached up and gave his thigh a threatening squeeze, making Noya shriek and nearly fall off the couch. The movie was long forgotten by both of them at this point. The ace grinned at his friend. “Keep calling me names and I’ll make you scream louder than any of the girls in this movie, Nishinoya.”

Noya’s eyes widened and his cheeks went red, but it was clear that he was enjoying this sudden turn of events if the way his eyes lit up at that threat were any indication. “Not a chahahahahance, you wihihihihimp!”

Asahi threw himself at the smaller boy, tickling him relentlessly and – true to his word – making him scream so loud he put all horror movies on the planet to shame.

[thehalfbloodedwitch]

Cuddling with Draco for the celebration ask

:)))

Once again, congratulations 🎊 ♡♡

I love this idea soo much! And thank you soo much May! Love youu <333

Cuddles

Pairing- Draco x Femreader

Summary- After a writing your charms essay for an hour you needed some rest and for that Draco is always ready to help!| Fluff

Warnings- Fluffiness x 100

Words- 741 words

Navigation Masterlist

Your dorm was deafeningly quiet, with no one talking or laughing. All you can hear is the quill writing on your parchment and your determination to complete your charms essay. Professor Flitwick is not a professor who will let you go without doing your homework; while his assignments were better than Snape's, they were still time-consuming to complete.

"Why does he have to load us with so much homework!" you wondered as you sat at your desk for more than an hour and were barely halfway through the lengthy essay. You grumbled and went back to looking for information for the essay you were working on.

It was a very busy day for you because you had three advanced classes, one of which was Charms, and your work load was enormous; it was impossible to complete so much work in one day, so the professor gave you assignments over the weekend. It was Friday, and while your dorm mates were off having fun in the common room, you were stuck writing a tonne of assignments and long essays.

When a knock came at your door just as you were about to finish your paragraph, you said "Come in" without taking your focus away from the parchment in front of you and continued to scribble down some charms from the library book you borrowed.

You caught a glimpse of a mop of blonde hair near the door, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes over you. "Darling, you've been writing for an hour now," he remarked, "don't you need a break?" "Draco, I appreciate your concern," you said, "but I have to finish this essay by today so that I can do the project Professor McGonagall gave me tomorrow, and then I can finish the-" "Draco, put me down!" you exclaimed as you felt hands grab your waist from behind and yank you up. You objected, but it was in vain as he lifted you up and gently placed you on a nearby bed."Now, you're going to relax with me for a while," he murmured as he got on the bed alongside you. "You need a break, darling, and I need attention."

You sighed in despair, knowing that no matter what you said, he would not let you to finish your essay in peace, so you rolled over to him and buried your head in his chest, inhaling his scent. Draco smiled and put his arms around your head, hugging you tightly and kissing you on the forehead. Draco then began kissing you softly around your face, neck, collarbones, and anywhere else he could reach, while you shuddered at the unexpected contact of his soft lips on your skin.

Even if your eyes were closed, you could feel him smile and cherish the moment he had with you, so you shifted in the bed and kept him closer to you to hear his heartbeat, the only lullaby you needed to sleep in peace. Your best friend had arrived to your dorm as you both slipped off to a deep sleep, and after seeing both of you sleep in such a cute manner, her heart melted and she slowly made her way out of the room to allow the love birds to sleep.

You rose from your bed and stretched your hands and rubbed your eyes as the sunlight peered through the curtains; as you looked around, you noticed that your boyfriend had already woken up and had left you a note on your desk; you missed the warmth of his hand around your waist and awoke from your bed and made your way towards your desk; the note read,

Y/n, I know how many assignments you have, so I decided to help you by finishing your Transfiguration assignment and finishing the remaining of your Charms essay and I charmed it to appear like your handwriting. I believe you only have your Herbology work left, which I had no idea how to write. If you want to thank me, we can have another snuggling session at my dorm tonight, if you want (please) anyways, I had to go grab breakfast for both of us, so get ready and wait for me in your dorm. Love you darling.

D.m.

Tags- @miss-celestial-being @itchywitch33 @pottahishotasf @lilmissquackson @nicofiliac @roguecheneyswife @dracoslittlesunflower @slythermuf @cait2212 @crisppudge @draco-spencers-girl @tsukibaby1 @dracoslittleangel @nottluvr @enchantedforever @gachabella23 @raajali3 @siriusblackstwin @e-m-christina

[storiesforallfandoms]

secret matching tattoos ~ pete davidson

word count: 1148

request?: yes!

“I was hoping you could do a Pete Davidson and Reader story where they pick out tattoos for each other but they can’t see until it’s done kind of like that show with Snooki”

description: when you’re already covered in tattoos it’s nothing to let your significant other pick your next one, especially when you get to pick theirs in return

pairing: pete davidson x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

“If you pick out a dick to be tattooed on my back I’m going to kill you,” you said as you laid down on the tattoo artist’s table.

“I’m not gonna ask them to tattoo a dick on your back,” Pete said as he continued to scroll through the ideas on his phone. “Although that is tempting.”

“I will pick out something far worse to be tattooed on you, but I’ll ask them to put it somewhere that everyone will see it.”

Pete smiled in amusement. He glanced down at his phone again before showing your tattoo artist whatever he had finally chosen to get tattooed on you.

You were both bored one day, neither one of you had work or anything important happening, so you decided to do something fun and go to get new tattoos. However, there was a twist on how it was going to happen. You had suggested picking out secret tattoos for one another, something that neither of you would be able to see until it was tattooed on your bodies. Pete was a bit skeptical but also intrigued by the idea.

You had decided to get one on your back since that was one of the only places you truly had available where you were covered in tattoos. Pete decided to get his on his arm since it was somewhere everyone could see. You had already chosen what his was going to be: the date of your anniversary, all together without any dashes or anything, with a small red heart at the end.

The tattoo artist went to make a stencil for your tattoo while Pete sat next to you. You turned your head to look up at him the best you could while still laying on your stomach.

“Should I go prepare for mine, too?” he asked. “So that we can be done at the same time.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “The one I picked for you is small, it’ll only take like 10 minutes maybe.”

A guilty look crossed his face. “Oh...mine is gonna be a bit longer.”

You nearly jumped up from the table. “What?! How big is it?”

Before he could respond, the tattoo artist walked back in and asked, “So, should I do this with or without color?”

You glared up at Pete again, realizing you’d have to be on this table for a long time.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t gotten big tattoos before. You had a few on your legs and one on your arm, but you preferred smaller tattoos - simple ones. Ones that only took maybe half an hour then they were finished. You weren’t exactly prepared to have a big one tattooed on you, especially since you were sure it was going to hurt like a bitch.

You made yourself comfortable on the table as the tattoo artist positioned the stencil on your back between your shoulder blades. You looked up at Pete once more before the needle touched your back and you had to try and stop yourself from jumping in pain.

The fact that the tattoo was somewhere you couldn’t see made it so much worst. You had no idea if it was nearly finished or halfway or if nothing was done at all. You tried to guess what was being done but you had absolutely no idea. You couldn’t picture anything the lines were creating in your head.

“If this is just a series of scribbly lines I’m changing my idea to a giant dick right on your forehead,” you muttered as you winced again.

Pete chuckled. “It’s not a bunch of scribbles! Just wait, it’ll be done soon.”

You peaked at him. “Are you sure?”

Pete placed a hand on your shoulder and you felt your body relax under his touch. You were glad you had gotten him to stay, even though his tattoo definitely wouldn’t have taken as long.

You nearly sighed in relief when the tattoo artist sprayed the cool water on your back to wash off the tattoo. He applied the protective bandage over the tattoo and officially declared that you were good to look at it.

You had decided to go with the simple black theme you had with all your tattoos, so you saw a bouquet of colorless flowers between your shoulder blades, a colorless bow tying them together.

“Flowers?” you asked Pete.

“Yeah. According to the internet they all mean love in one way or another.”

Upon looking closer, you realized the bouquet was an assortment of roses, daises, and carnations. You knew the meaning behind roses, everyone did, but you had no idea about the others. Knowing how much thought he had put into it filled you with warmth.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, turning to face Pete. “Thank you babe.”

He smiled at you and leaned down to kiss you.

You pulled your t-shirt back on and gestured for him to sit in the chair next. “Okay darling, your turn.”

He chuckled awkwardly as he sat down. “Part of me was hoping you’d forget about that.”

“No way! We’re both getting tattoos, it’s only fair.” You nodded for the tattoo artist to follow you so you could discuss your idea with him.

You were amused by Pete’s nervousness. He genuinely wasn’t sure what you were going to permanently put on his body. You played it up a little like you really had picked something awful to have tattooed, your giggles gave you away.

Wanting the tattoo to be a surprise, you made Pete face you as much as he could the entire time. Every time he’d turn towards the arm getting tattooed, you’d turn his head back to you. When it was finished, Pete had to look at the tattoo for a long time to try and figure out what it was.

“It’s our anniversary,” you finally told him. “With a little heart at the end.”

“So it is,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “That’s so cute.”

“I just thought you needed a permanent reminder that I’m gonna be around for a long time.”

“I’m sure there’s a less painful way you could’ve told me that, but I do really like the idea. Thank you.”

You paid for your tattoos and headed out to Pete’s car. You winced as your back touched the seat. Okay, trying to sit and lay down is going to suck.

Pete chuckled as he started the car. “You really thought I was going to have a dick tattooed on you.”

“Listen, I wouldn’t put it past you, okay?”

“Well, I did think you were going to do something to me too, so I guess we’re even.”

You smiled at him. “But look at us! We chose cute things instead. We’re a mature couple.”

He gave me a look. “Let’s not go too far now.”

You giggled and kissed his cheek.

[wheelsup]

coffee is the sixth love language | part two

Summary: Over three cups of coffee, Spencer realized his feelings for you. And over three cups of coffee, he acts on them. gn!Reader.

A/N: the italicized this time indicates Spencer’s thoughts, not reader’s. part of this story is inspired directly from these comments made by @doctorthreephds on the reblog! thanks for letting me incorporate them :)

category: fluff, sfw

warnings: technically none, but the “profiling” part is kind of a reach.

word count: 3k

     Once Spencer was firmly resolute on asking you out, he knew he wanted it to be special in a way that only the two of you could appreciate. He realized that he had yet to be the one bringing you coffee, and so it felt only right that it should be how he makes his first move. He woke up extra early on a weekday morning to stop by your favorite coffee shop on his way to work because he knew you loved their banana nut muffins and double-brewed coffee. It was an extra twenty-five minutes out of the way for work each way, so you only got to go there on the rare occasion that you had a day off and were not out of town on a case. It might have been ridiculous to drive fifty minutes for a single damn muffin, but Spencer wanted to make this perfect for you by any means necessary. This was one of the special times that Spencer drove his car, needing the extra speed in order to complete his mission.

     He picked up your regular drink order and the muffin and was anxiously on his way back to Quantico. As per his plan he arrived at the office before you did, though not too much earlier because he wanted to make sure your coffee was still hot by the time you got it. If Spencer’s calculations were correct - which they almost always were - you would arrive within a two to four and a half minute window from when he did. Spencer took out a sharpie from his desk drawer and delicately scrawled a message onto the top corner of the pastry bag holding your muffin. He thought it felt like something out of a cheesy romance novel, the kind of novels that you could find in the fifty cent clearance bins, but dammit if Spencer didn’t deserve a little cheesy romance in his life. The other benefit of this was that he thought he would almost certainly choke on his words if he had to ask you himself. He set the two items on your desk and returned to his own to sit and observe. Spencer hoped it would be the first of many coffees he could buy you.

It wasn’t until you had already walked into the bullpen and were halfway to your desk that Spencer realized he had forgotten to sign his name to the bag. How were you supposed to react to him asking you out if you didn’t actually know it was him? And oh God, he left unsealed food on the desk of an FBI agent, with no indication of who had put it there. That is infinitely more suspicious than it is romantic. He wouldn’t be surprised if she took it straight to the trash can. So long for cheesy romance, Dr. Reid.

     But Spencer was absolutely elated when your first reaction was to peek into the bag and gasp out of joy at what was inside. He watched you break off a piece of your beloved banana nut muffin and chew it gleefully, and all he could think of was how cute you looked when you were happy. Shortly followed by concern that a federal agent would so readily eat unmarked food that could have been tampered with. That’s something I should bring up to her on the date. 

     Spencer’s stomach was in knots not knowing if you would pick up on the message. You swallowed that chunk of the muffin and turned the bag over to find an almost illegible black script that you had nearly missed: Would you like to have coffee with me? It just felt like all of the air had been knocked out of your body. 

     It didn’t even take you half a second to know who this was from; there were so many tells it was Spencer. Before you even noticed the note, you knew it was from him when you saw what was inside the bag. The whole team knew what your favorite coffee shop was because you had talked about it enough times. Hell, you even owned a oversized tee with their name on it that you kept in your go bag as a sleep shirt. But nobody knew what your favorite muffin was because you never mentioned it. In fact, if you thought about it there were maybe only a handful of times over the six months you’d been at the BAU that you even elected to eat this pastry in lieu of a real breakfast. But if anyone was going to detect a pattern, it would have been Dr. Reid. Of course he would pick up on the fact that you only picked those out at cafes when you felt like having a sweet treat, or that when Penelope brought in baked goods for the office you would only indulge if you saw your favorite item in the lineup. 

     You already knew it, but in case you had any doubt, the note itself confirmed your theory twice. One indicator was the phrasing choice would you as opposed to will you. Use of would posits a hypothetical, as in hypothetically, would you have an interest in drinking coffee together, rather than a hard, come with me to get coffee. The hesitance in the tone came off as if the sender were testing the waters, wanting to put the idea out there without coming off as too strong. Because it was reserved, it gave you room to think if you would genuinely enjoy doing so as opposed to making you feel like you should oblige. That level of respect screamed Spencer to you. And though it was so glaringly obvious, if you needed some concrete evidence it was the fact that nobody else had such endearingly atrocious handwriting like Dr. Reid. It was something you always found hilariously ironic for a man who often analyzes other people’s writing styles for work. You wondered what his way of scribbling said about him, and hoped he could tell you on that date of yours. 

     You looked straight at him, finding that his eyes were already fixed on you.

     “Yes.” 

     One word was all you had to say to make the lump in Spencer’s throat disappear, replaced by the sensation that his heart was leaping out of his chest. He was going to keep that memory stored in his brain forever, just to replay the moment when the future of your relationship changed with a simple word. Little did he know that when you finished that muffin, you neatly folded the pastry bag and tucked it into your desk drawer, saving it for the exact same purpose. 

_____

     Spencer had gotten to see your favorite coffee spot already, so for your date you requested that he take you to his to make it even. It was small, but incredibly cozy under the soft ambiance provided by string lights and charm of their mismatched furniture. There was one exposed brick wall adjacent to another that was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf; it housed copies that loyal patrons left behind for others to pick up. All of those books had different colors of post-its peeking out from the pages. It was almost too eclectic and disorganized for what you would expect Dr. Reid to be into, but at the same time it made perfect sense to you.

     “You know, I think I just learned something about you.” You leaned gently into his side to tell him, both hands wrapped around your coffee cup because you were too nervous to know what else to do with them. Spencer was the kind of guy to sit adjacent to you at a table, rather than across, and you loved that about him. You loved having him as close to you as possible. 

     Spencer’s lips pulled at the edges to form a perfect, lazy smile. “What did you learn about me?” The team had an agreement not to profile each other, but under your gaze, Spencer never felt the kind of scrutiny that came with picking people apart. He trusted that whatever you had to say was going to be kind.

     “I think this place says so much about you. Something about how all those books are donations passed on from locals, and that people feel comfortable taking a book off the shelf and opening it up to read what others recommend. The fact that they leave little notes in it for the next reader to share what those stories meant to each of them. Nobody asked those people to do that, but they all chose to take part in these small actions that ended up creating an entire community.” It was one of the most beautifully human things you’d ever witnessed. A group of people engaging in understated and innocent gestures of love between perfect strangers, completely unprompted. “I think you value simple acts, the kind that can take on profound meaning without even intending to. Like when silence feels so comfortable when you’re with the right person.” You paused to take in his reaction as a gauge for how right or wrong you may be. He gave no objection to what you had posited, eyes simply glued to you in intense focus. Spencer was hanging on everything you said, wordlessly encouraging you to divulge more theories you’d developed on him.

     “And, visually, this furniture reminds me of a family home. The kind where some items were handed down for generations, some bought new, and others gifted by a distant relative who has no idea what the family likes.” Spencer’s soft laughter mirrored your own at your very accurate description of the shop’s decor. The room truly could not be more disjointed in its aesthetic, but that was entirely its charm. “It probably reflects that there are some aspects of your life that just don’t make sense to you, that almost seem to conflict with each other. For a guy so smart, I’m sure it’s scary to feel like you don’t understand something, and there are probably dark spots in that brain of yours that you try to hide from the world. But in this room, these things that don’t seem like they work together actually amount to something so lovely. And just like the charmingly hideous suede couch and the oddly fur-covered armchairs, every facet of you deserves appreciation because without them you wouldn’t make up to be the beautiful person you are overall.” 

     Neither of you could pinpoint the moment which your hands had drifted together, fingers loosely intertwined in gentle embrace. There was too much to unpack in what you had said for Spencer to know where to begin. The only thing he could say for sure was that he was astounded by how deeply you understood him without him ever saying any of those things. He considered that maybe you understood him better than he did himself and wished that he could spend his whole life observing the world through the same rose-tinted lenses with which you viewed him. At a loss for words, Spencer chose not to say any right then. The silence I have with you is the most comfortable I’ve ever had. 

_____

     After each of you consumed one too many caffeinated beverages, you still were not prepared to let the date end. You were willing to sit there and have as many espresso drinks as you could to keep talking to Spencer. 

     The universe must have been in support of your romance as the overcast skies broke and began to rain just minutes after the two of you had left the shop. Spencer was walking you back to your apartment, clearly forcing his long legs to slow down their naturally fast stride so to extend how long it took to get there. He could get an extra thirteen minutes with you this way. Spencer was given his perfect excuse to keep the date going in the form of heavy downpour; his apartment was far closer than yours, and he proposed you two should seek shelter together until it stopped. I hope it never stops. 

     Spencer held tightly onto your hand as he ran with you through the rain, giggling all the way to his apartment. He may not like wet, cold climates, but he sure did like holding your hand. Being next to you made him feel incredibly warm somehow when the temperature outside was very much not. And you felt completely at peace sitting on Spencer’s couch wearing one of his sweaters that he lent you. Truthfully, your own clothes weren’t so wet from the rain that it was necessary, but you both pretended it absolutely was just to be able to experience this. 

     It was clear that the rain would be going for a while and all you wanted to do to pass the time was continue listening to Spencer talk. You discovered that when he’s not interrupted, he loves to go on runaway tangents, often bouncing between different trains of thought as one idea sparked him to remember another. It was almost a sport to keep up with him, but it was perhaps the only one you’ve ever enjoyed. It was so easy when everything he said interested you. You loved that Spencer taught you something new every day, but no matter how niche a piece of trivia or shocking an unknown fact was, it could not beat the things that he taught you about himself. He was letting you in on so many unseen dimensions of himself whether he knew it or not, the explicit ones revealing implicit ones. 

     You had happily stayed in his home for hours, absorbing every word he spoke. What entertained you the most was the ability of your conversation to jump from deep, serious places to lighthearted stories filled with jokes and teasing and back again in a way that felt completely natural. Your favorite anecdote of his was the story of how he got addicted to coffee. It was the BAU’s favorite inside-joke that Spencer liked his coffee sickeningly sweet and you always wondered how he could tolerate it. Just looking at it made your teeth ache. When he told you why, you thought that the backstory was even sweeter than the coffee.

     As a twelve year old college student, Spencer found himself experiencing sleep deprivation for the first time in his life. The course load was more rigorous than he had in high school and even the boy genius needed to readjust to the new expectations of college. More importantly, he needed to cope with pulling late nights at the library if he wanted his first degree by the time he was eligible for a driver’s license. The Red Bulls that the other kids seem to gravitate to seemed far too aggressive for Spencer, their potent smell of chemicals a huge turn off. They were definitely not for him. 

     He remembered how often his mom used to drink coffee, always in the morning while Spencer got ready for school. Being at CalTech and away from his mother, who remained in Las Vegas most of the time due to her condition, made him so homesick that he took up a coffee habit as a reminder of her. He loved the way it smelled like every comfort he had ever known. 

     Though he appreciated its smell, Spencer, of course, was not ready back then to love the way it tasted. He was still after all a twelve year old boy who had a sweet tooth like any other kid. The bitter drink was almost offensive to him, so he always made his coffee with extra, extra sugar. He was a menace to the baristas at the campus coffee cart because they would have to refill the shaker every time he stopped by. As it turned out, Spencer was actually a little troublemaker in his youth. 

     You utterly adored this story and the way it humanized Spencer in a way that other people did not consider often enough. Yes, he was the genius in incredibly advanced classes for his age, but he was also a little kid who behaved as all little kids did. He also experienced struggle and had to cope with it just like everyone else. He was not, as some chose to believe, a complete anomaly beyond understanding. Those many misunderstood idiosyncrasies Spencer had started to feel grounded as you learned more about him and could appreciate how and why they came to be.  

     But the night was dwindling down and two of you had gone through many stories since the start of your day together. Hitting a caffeine crash, you found yourself unable to keep some rogue yawns at bay. It was only eight o’clock in the evening, not an unreasonable time for you to ask Spencer to drive you back home. The rain was letting up to a mellow drizzle. Spencer was running out of excuses to keep you here.

     But you thought about how still hadn’t heard about his first pet lizard, which he caught in his backyard, and you didn’t yet know what kind of music he listened to when he was fourteen. And you no longer thought you needed to make excuses to stay with him longer, so you told him honestly that all you really wanted was to stay the night with him and keep hearing his stories. So you asked him if he would set on a fresh pot of coffee, just so you both could sip at it, staying awake all night together.

     He happily did so, and while he set the large coffee pot on and took out two cups from his cabinet, he thought, this is the first of many wishes of yours that I’d like to make come true.

______

PART THREE

Tag list: @rexorangecounty @rachel-voychuk @snitchthewitch @spencer-blake-supremacy @happyreid187 @rainsong01 @librarymagic 

[scoobit]

I'm Thinking

...................................................................................

This is a sfw platonic tickle fic with Dream and Sapnap

IRL fic

Switch Dream and Switch Sapnap

Tw! The word blood, blood is rushing to his head, no one is hurt. Slight rough tickles

I hate myself, I'm sorry this took forever, and I feel like shit but enjoy!

...................................................................................

After living with Dream for 8 months, Sapnap was used to some of the strange habits he had. So he wasn't surprised when he walked into the blonde's room, to see him dangling halfway off his bed upside down. He was just confused as to why he was in that weird position.

Dream noticed Sapnap and gave him a quick smile before staring at the wall again, face dropping back to a neutral expression.

Sapnap raised an eyebrow and then made his way over to the bed where he got into the same position his friend was in. He sat there for only a moment trying to figure out why Dream seemed to enjoy the uncomfortable situation before turning to him.

"Why are we hanging halfway off your bed?" He asked as Dream turned his head to look at the brunette. "Helps me think."

"Why do you need to think?" Sapnap questioned. "Video ideas besides manhunts." His answers were vague as he was only half paying attention.

"Ah, I see." Sapnap still looked slightly confused. "Your weird."

"I'm weird? You're the one trying to teach patches tricks, you talk to her like she's a human!" Dreams full attention was finally on Sapnap. "I promise she WILL learn to roll over on command." Sapnap retaliated.

He sat up since blood was rushing to his head and he was slightly lightheaded. Dream was just laughing, small wheezes prominent in his laughter.

Sapnap started giggling and before they knew it they were both sprawled out over the bed laughing their asses off.

Eventually, though, they calmed down and Sapnap sat up once again, fixing his hair. "You're still weird though." A smirk was on his face as he looked at Dream who was craning his neck to look at Sapnap.

"Shut up," Dream scoffed and leaned back down, his hands dropping down to hang beside his head.

After a few seconds of sitting in silence, Sapnap decided he was bored and that his entertainment was right in front of him. He reached his hand out slowly so Dream wouldn't see, and poked his belly knowing he would get a reaction.

And he was correct.

Dream squeaked and his arms flew up to protect his torso. He curled into a ball and he would have rolled off the bed if it weren't for Sapnap who grabbed his arms before he could fall.

The blonde looked at him with slight fear, but also playfulness. As if he were challenging Sapnap.

The latter took the challenge and grabbed Dreams wrists, sat on his hips, and pinned his arms against his sides with his knees. Dream was thrashing around the whole time.

Once Sapnap got comfortable he brought his hands down to Dreams belly and squeezed and poked around the skin under his belly button. A steady stream of giggles poured out of his mouth as Sapnap continued.

"Aww Dream, I forgot how cute your laugh is! We should do this more often." Sapnap cooed. "Shuhuhut UHuhuhup!" Dream was being broken to pieces at just the simple action.

Sapnap sped up his fingers and started scribbling them around his belly button and up to his lower ribs. Dreams giggles got slightly squeakier and high-pitched as his ler switched between spots.

"SaHAHapNaHAhahAP NoHOhooo!" Dream struggled to talk through his laughter. He was slowly growing weaker but was able to yank his hands out from their trap.

Sapnap was caught so off guard by Dreams sudden movement that he wasn't able to react when he grabbed him and flipped him around so he was leaning against Dreams chest.

Sapnap looked at Dream the best he could with wide eyes as the taller whispered in his ear. "Looks like you're trapped."

Dream was quick to start his attack; he began lightly squeezing and scratching at his ribs and every few seconds would give his hips a squeeze causing him to squeak every time.

Sapnap's laughter was loud as his worst spots were being attacked at the same time, and he was growing tired quickly. "DREEHEHEAHAM NAHAHAA DOHOHAHAHA!" His sentences weren't coherent and he was trying to distract himself from the torturous feeling.

He was kicking his legs, clenching his fists, shaking his head, but nothing was working. The only thing he could do was sit there and take it.

Dream giggled and rested his head on Sapnap's shoulder. He slowed his hands slightly and spoke. "You're right, we should do this more often!" A smirk was plastered on his face.

"NoHOhOHooO MoHOHOReheEhEH!" Sapnap forced out. Dream saw he was close to his limit so he fluttered his fingers up to his neck. A blush grew on the brunette's face and he let out little titters and squeaks, the light touch was almost unbearable.

But Dream did stop and Sapnap could catch his breath as he went limp in the former's arms. Dream raked a hand through his hair and pulled them both to lay down on the bed.

Sapnap was the first to fall asleep and Dream was too comfortable to move so he just held the younger in his arms as he too fell asleep.

[vegalocity]

Hug while straddling for @purble-turble's Time Travel Red and MK?

Affection meme

31. Hugging While straddling partner

Eyyyy lmao I'm always down to talk about Red Son: Ultimate Enemy as told by @purble-turble

--

There was no such thing as 'loving mental illness away'.

That was one of the very first things Qi Xiaotian had internalized when he came to the decision to make up with Red Son after his future adventure.

He wasn't exactly the picture of mental health himself, but when Red Son stumbled back into their time period, jacket chopped in half hair shorn close to his head and so obviously choking back tears, He'd instantly known whatever had happened to him had been actual hell. (Of course at first he'd forced himself to not care for how angry he'd been with Red Son after he'd told him about his parents plan and how he'd been a willing pawn in it, but that was beside the point)

So once he'd been properly brought upt to date on the exacts of the nightmare-future, and they'd started the process of looking for a therapist for Red Son, as clearly, he'd needed it, Xiaotian had taken it upon himself to do some research on his own time. it was a little difficult, he didn't want Red to find out about it until he actually had a better sense of what he should be doing, but since Red Son rarely seemed to be able to sleep anymore (even when Xiaotian could get him to lay with him in bed it was clear what little sleep he did get was rife with nightmares) and when he did sleep through the night he would wake up earlier than him, and they lived together... his most constant time for research was usually when he was technically on the clock.

But he'd gotten a couple of books about Post-traumatic stress disorder, general psychology, and 'So you've got a loved one with severe depression' (an actual title) and he'd scribble notes into the margins and on sticky notes when there was time between deliveries. And the first lesson every single one of those books had for him was just that.

You can't 'love someone out of their illness'. That's not a thing. The best you can do is love them through it.

So he did his best with that.

On some days that was just sending texts full of cute animal gifs and heart emojis, on some that was coming up to the loft on break to sit next to the lump of pillows and blankets on the bed and (after finding the telltale hint of short red hair that gave away where his head was) resting a hand on the part of the lump that was most likely an arm, gently rubbing it, and sitting in silence until his break ended.

And on some days it was this.

"It's not safe you're not safe I'm gonna slip up eventually-" Red Son's voice was fragile and warbling as his actions contradicted his words, hands scrabbling up and down his back and sides, gripping periodically for purchase before shrinking back as if afraid just hugging him back would crush him. "I'm gonna do something-"

"You won't." Xiaotian was practically seated in Red Son's lap at this point. Red had been sitting on the floor, back to the edge of the bed when the meltdown had begun, so kneeling on the ground until he was rested on his partners legs did two things:

one, it enabled him to wrap him up as tight as he could in his arms without having to twist one or both of them in an awkward angle.

and two, the extra pressure would probably help ground him, make it a little easier to come down from this one.

"You don't know that" His voice was hoarse, desperate. and Xiaotian closed his eyes and squeezed Red Son tighter.

"I do. I know you, hun." Red Son sobbed into his shoulder and he felt his hands finally decide where to be, resting across either shoulder blades and balling the fabric they found there up into fists.

"I know there's basically nothing that'll make you believe it at this point, but you're a good man, Red Son."

"I'm no-"

"Shhh, my turn to talk now." he shifted a hand to be able to bury it in Red Son's hair. He could feel him ever so minutely relax beneath him at the sensation. "You saw your potential for being a bad person, and don't forget everyone's got it. I have it, Xiaojiao has it, hell Monkey King has recorded evidence for his bad person potential, anyway, you saw yours and you've been working your ass off nonstop to keep it from ever getting the best of you.

"And this shit is fucking hard, hun. You're fighting your own brain and the actual literal future here! and guess what? it might not feel like it right now but you're winning."

Still, he shook his head against Xiaotian's shoulder. he didn't want to interrupt again, but still make his disagreement known.

"You are." He pulled away just enough to be able to properly cup Red Son's wet face in his hands. "You think that Evil King remotely hacked Jin and Yin's stupid battle robot in that illegal mech fighting ring and made it throw the match making them look like idiots in his timeline?" Red's gaze broke from his own as he thought back on the fight that broke out the week previous.

"....I suppose not-"

"You think that Evil King ever thinks for more than a second about the ethics of what evil plans he carries out let alone hours of agonizing over whether something was the right call or not?"

"Certainly not but that's not-"

"It is the point, Red. You're not the same person anymore. Maybe you started from the same roots, but he dug himself back into the ground and you rose up like a fucking tree instead."

Red Son met his gaze again, and Xiaotian could tell he still didn't believe him, but there was a spark there.

The faintest, dimmest hope.

"You are a good man, Red Son." this time he made sure every word was careful deliberate. So there was no misunderstandings that could be made. "And I am not accepting counterarguments at this time so you'd better fucking take it."

When he pulled Red Son against his chest again, and let the demon continue to cry quietly into his shirt, he pressed a small kiss to the crown of his head.

"I love you."

Red Son choked on a sob, and didn't answer.

It wasn't an issue, he knew Red Son loved him. Part of this whole thing being a thing in the first place was because Red Son loved him. Red Son wouldn't be as scared of becoming the Evil King as he was if he didn't love him so he knew better than to take to heart the days where he just couldn't say the words back.

There weren't any cures for mental illnesses. There were ways to mitigate the symptoms, but there are no spells that cure depression, there's no potion of anti-PTSD, and no person can love someone out of their illness.

But heavens above did he wish it some days.

He'd give anything to make it so Red Son wouldn't have to be in so much pain.

But all he could do was just hold him tighter, and stroke the short red tresses between his fingers until the sobbing stopped.

It took less time than usual.

Red was exhausted and pliant by the end of it and let Xiaotian drag him about the loft, obediently (if slowly) eating what was pressed into his hands and then nursing the mug of tea he was given as they settled down on the mound of cushions and he put on that 'how things are made' show that Red Son liked.

He was asleep halfway through the second episode.

Sure, some days were harder than others, and sure, some days he'd wish there was a cure just to spare Red the suffering.

But he felt Red Son's head slowly loll to the side until it rested on his shoulder, breathing slow and even and looking for the first time today like he was at peace and-

He still wouldn't trade it for anything.

"Love You, Hun."

Red Son hummed against him.

--

Send me stuff!

[thatringboy]

Ganqing getting together Idol au? (Extra: Hanahaki disease and angsty, only if you want. Otherwise, fluff or angst or whatever is fine.)

Or

Just idol au with genshin characters, doesn't have to be anything in particular

ohmygods this one took so long to write and it was so worth it! love me some good angst and hanahaki disease up in this house!!!

Glaze Lilies in my Throat

Warnings: Hanahaki Disease, Blood, Hospitals

Characters: Keqing, Ganyu, Ningguang, Beidou

Ships: Gangqing, Background Beiqquang if you squint

Word Count: 12,758 (FIVE pages of google docs!)

Summary: Idol!Keqing finds herself falling fast and hard for her fellow dancer, Ganyu, but her pride keeps her from admitting her feelings. Until the petals in her throat start taking a toll on her career

The first time the purple haired girl noticed the petals, she just thought that they had fallen off of a bouquet she had received from a fan. Keqing assumed her throat was sore from the show she had completed, so she popped a cough drop in her mouth and quickly changed to head to dinner with the other girls in the group.

The restaurant they were at wasn’t anything too fancy, just a small hole in the wall place for their group, the Qixing, to meet up. The group’s center, Ningguang, knew the owner and was able to order milkshakes for everyone for free.

It was a pleasant outing. Keqing sat near the window side of the booth the women shared and quietly sipped her vanilla milkshake while the other members of the group discussed their performances. Ganyu slid into the seat next to her and pushed a straw into her own chocolate shake.

“Is everything alright? You look lost in thought, Miss Keqing.”

There was a sudden tightness in her throat, or something became lodged in her airways because Keqing began to cough into her elbow. “My apologies, I was just staring off into space. I am quite alright.”

Ganyu gave her a pleasant smile that made heat rise in her cheeks before turning to the rest of the group to join their conversation. Keqing quickly looked away and her eyes fell to her lap where the blue petals had fallen off of her sleeve. They were identical to the petals she had seen earlier that evening. Keqing was no fool, she instantly recognized what had brought the flowers and her eyes shifted back to Ganyu, who was laughing at Ningguang and her chocolate moustache.

She brushed the petals onto the floor with a cold expression. Out of sight, out of mind.

The petals plagued Keqing for a few more months after that night. They always appeared when Ganyu was near her, but all the idol did was tuck them away and began keeping a handkerchief on her person for when the blood started to come up with the flowers. She became used to the tightness of her throat and dryness of her mouth that accompanied her beating heart when Ganyu would clasp her hand between those slender fingers and stare at her with those large eyes. Everytime Keqing thought she would collapse from exhaustion, Ganyu would be there to pick her up and tell her to keep going. How could she not fall for such kindness?

After the petals began appearing, Keqing only allowed herself to be alone with Ganyu once in fear of making her feelings known. It was after a particularly long dance rehearsal and the other women left before they did. As they were cleaning up the practice room, a small photo fell out of Ganyu’s bag.

Keqing moved to pick it up, turning the paper over in her fingers. In the photo was a baby Ganyu sitting on the lap of an elegant woman with blue eyes and had her hair pinned up by an eerily familiar flower.

“Who is this woman?”

Ganyu glanced over at the picture. “My, that’s an old picture. I’ve told you how I was adopted as a child, right? That woman was my adoptive mother, Guizhong.”

“Was?” Keqing handed the photo back.

“Yes, was. She was a botanist who loved flowers. That one in her hair is a species she selectively bred for years before perfecting them. We called them ‘Glaze Lilies’. She was killed in a hit and run when I was twelve.”

So the flowers have a name. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

Ganyu gave her a sweet smile. “Don’t be, she’s always with me, I can feel her guiding me.”

Keqing turned away before the blush could overtake her face and swallowed down the petals in her mouth. So cute!

The first time a blue bud appeared was during a meeting with her manager and Ningguang, who was also the owner of the group. Keqing shifted uncomfortably in her chair as the manager and albino woman looked over a report of her performances.

Ningguang cleared her throat. “Keqing, you know how much we love to have you in the group…”

Keqing felt the familiar tightness in her throat. She sat still and tried to swallow it down as Ningguang continued.

“However, your ratings have been going down recently. You have been leaving rehearsals early, and we’ve noticed the quality of your performances is suffering.”

Slowly, Keqing reached into the pocket of her skirt for a handkerchief as she felt the petals rise back up. Don’t panic don’t panic don’t panic don’t panic.

The manager made a sad face. “Keqing… if things don’t change, then we may need to replace you. You’ve worked so hard to get where you are now, I really don’t want to do this, but if you can’t put your previous energy into this work then maybe we need to go separate ways.”

Panic.

“No, no, I can do it!” Opening her mouth to protest was a bad idea. As soon as the words spilled from her lips, she doubled over in a fit of coughs, the scent of blood filling the room. Something larger than her usual petals dislodged itself from her throat and fell onto the floor between her and her bosses.

An unbloomed Glaze Lily pod with specks of blood tainting the innocent color bounced on the carpet and rolled next to Ningguang’s foot. She looked at Keqing’s face in horror. “Keqing…”

The purple haired girl got to her feet, covering her mouth with the tiny piece of fabric and bowed quickly, moving towards the door. “I-I’m sorry, I promise to get to practice on time and I will get my ratings back up!”

She only took two steps before falling to her knees in another fit of coughing. This time it was two pods, one halfway blooming. Ningguang called for the manager to call an ambulance before rushing to Keqing’s side, rubbing a soothing hand across her back.

The next few hours were a blur. Keqing barely remembers an ambulance arriving, being carted away with a tube down her throat, a couple doctors examining her before letting her rest. When she became coherent, Keqing was able to sit up despite the oxygen tube in her nose and became aware of a doctor waiting for her.

“Miss Keqing, how are you feeling?”

She opened her mouth to talk, but it was the most sore it had ever felt. She tapped her neck to let the doctor know her speech status. He nodded and produced a pen and pad for her to write on.

“I feel terrible, but not like I’m about to die.”

He read over the paper. “Are you aware of what The Hanahaki Disease is?”

“Of course.” She penned down.

“How long have you been in this predicament?” His calm eyes went back to the pad.

Keqing thought for a second before writing again. “Five months.”

“Five months.” He read outloud softly. “Do you know who brought the flowers to you?”

“No.” She lied. She had known from the very beginning, but a glance out of the glass window of the room’s door revealed that her entire group was anxiously waiting outside. There was no need to drag anyone else into her problem.

The doctor took a deep breath. “Miss Keqing, you are aware of what the removal of the flowers entails if you cannot find the person responsible for these feelings, correct?”

“Yes.” Loss of the memories of that person. From beyond the door, Ganyu peeked through the window with a worried expression. Behind her was Ningguang frantically pointing at her head with wide eyes and her lips in a thin, focused line. The doctor followed Keqing’s eyes to the door and as he did, Ningguang instantly stopped and went back to looking as regal as ever.

The doctor chuckled dryly. “You know, I can’t do my job if you lie to me.”

He got up and moved to let Ganyu into the room as Keqing began to scribble down words in a panic. The doctor opened the door and gestured to the chair beside the bed before shutting the door behind the other idol. Ganyu nervously sat down and Keqing stopped writing, not meeting her eyes.

Ganyu reached out to touch Keqing’s hand, but stopped. “We were all so worried when Miss Ningguang told us you had been hospitalized. I’m not sure what I would have done if something had happened--” She caught Keqing staring at her with wide eyes and silenced herself with the lightest shade of pink dusting her cheeks.

Keqing pulled her knees to her chest to have a hard surface to write on. “Did she tell you what I have?”

Ganyu shook her head. “No, but Miss Ningguang gave a weird look.”

Ah, the ever observant Ningguang and the blissfully unaware Ganyu. She scratched down another sentence. “There’s something I should probably tell you…”

Ganyu read the notepad, whispering the words to herself in that way that made Keqing fall harder and nodded. “I’m all ears, err, eyes?”

Keqing flipped to a new page. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears and her hands shook a little. She was a fool for even considering having the flowers removed surgically. She held the pen over the paper and began writing everything down. From the night at the milkshake bar, the petals in her throat being the same kind of flowers Ganyu’s mother made, how Ganyu’s smile made her heart flutter and her stomach twist in a way that she never wanted to end. The flowers had stolen her voice, so she wrote it all, pouring her heart into every word like the disease would kill her that very night.

When she finished, Keqing quickly shoved the notepad to Ganyu and turned away with a red face, not wanting to see the other’s reaction to the written love confession.

Ganyu read every word slowly, tears pooling in her blue and purple eyes and blush burning her cheeks at the raw emotions before her. When she finished, she simply held out her free hand for the pen, which Keqing practically threw at her. She wanted her bedsheets to swallow her up like that scene from Nightmare on Elm Street.

The blue haired woman wrote something quickly and handed both the pen and pad back to Keqing. She took it and read over the short message left at the bottom of her confession.

“I feel the same way.”

In an instant, Keqing felt her throat open and she took a loud gulp of air, making Ganyu jump in surprise. Keqing began to laugh as she grabbed Ganyu’s wrist and pulled her onto the bed and into a tight hug. “Yes yes yes yes yes! I can finally breathe!”

She realized how close Ganyu’s face was to her own and let go quickly, the color returning to her face ten-fold. “Sorry about that.”

Ganyu remained sitting on the bed, covering her face in her own hands. “It’s fine, really!”

“Hah! What a couple of dorks!” Called a deep voice from the doorway.

The two on the bed snapped their heads towards the sound to see Ningguang grabbing the intruder, a tall burly woman with an eyepatch, by her ear and dragging her out of the room. “Out with you! I called you here to provide moral support, not gawk at my dancers!”

Ganyu giggled. “That’s Miss Beidou for you, I suppose.”

Keqing looked at the discarded notepad and those five words scrawled in neat handwriting.

“I feel the same way.”

Keqing is a woman of sound mind. She thinks through her actions and keeps to herself when situations do not concern her. She keeps her head down and doesn’t make rash decisions. So of course she surged forward to plant a kiss on Ganyu’s cheek before pulling back in horror of her own actions and covering her lips with her hand.

Ganyu turned red as her hand went up to touch the spot Keqing had kissed. “That was sweet, thank you.”

“You said on the paper that you feel the same way I do about you so I just thought--” Her panicked rambling was silenced by Ganyu moving closer to her and gently pulling her hands from her mouth with a nervous smile.

“I’m not very good with words like you, Miss Keqing, so sorry that my confession was so bland.”

Keqing blinked. “That’s what you’re caught up on?! And enough with the formalities, you just cured my Hanahaki Disease and saved me from getting fired!”

“Wait, fired? I thought Miss Ningguang pulled you into the manager’s office yesterday for tea… were you about to be let go?”

“Probably!”

Ganyu playfully poked Keqing’s oxygen tube in her nose. “Then the flowers did you a favor.”

“THEY WERE THE REASON I WASN’T PERFORMING WELL IN THE FIRST PLACE!”

The blue haired woman took Keqing’s hands again. “And now they’re gone, for good this time?”

Keqing blinked once more. “‘This time’? What do you mean, ‘this time’--!”

Ganyu panicked and surged forward to kiss her. Keqing, not believing what was happening, halted all protests and sunk into it, ignoring the plastic tube in her nose and letting the scent of vanilla fill her senses.

When they broke away, it felt like an eternity had passed, but it wasn’t long enough, so they kissed again, and again and again until they were panting for air and the doctor returned with an amused smile. All thoughts slipped from Keqing’s usually buzzing mind and she found herself only focusing on the woman before her; the one she cared so much about for so long that flowers bloomed in her throat. With Ganyu by her side, Keqing didn’t have a care in the world. With Ganyu by her side, Keqing knew she was going to be just fine.

[joonessence]

The cough drop // jjk

summary: Jungkook enchants you from the second he catches your eyes from the stage of the small venue. You already know you’re gonna be falling in too deep. 

wc: 2,427

tags: jk fluff i guess idk what to call this, band au 

notes: this is way longer than i meant for it to be but it was so fun to write, also let me know if i should make it into a series??? possibly??  part 2 is here!

You had gone to a show with your friends for some unknown band. You’re sitting at a high table with your head supported by your hand; you’d had a long day at work and just wanted to go home. You stared at your untouched drink that had been set there by your friends earlier that night thinking of exactly which pyjamas you were going to change into when you got home; you couldn’t wait. Looking up, someone was already staring at you, eyes partially shielded by his drenched hair. He’s overwhelming from the second you meet eyes.

Your breath caught unexpectedly in your throat causing you to choke and cough. You feel your cheeks burning as you try to regulate your breathing. Once you find your natural state again, you glance up to see him still staring at you but his lips are curled up in a smirk. 

You try to carry on as usual for the rest of the night until it’s acceptable for you to excuse yourself to go home but you feel his eyes on you. You turn to look at him again only to discover that he’s walking in your direction, holding something in his hand. In under a second you decide to act indifferent towards him, already expecting him to pester you. When he reaches you, he taps your shoulder and holds out his hand.

“Here, you looked like you needed this earlier.” His words sound sweet but the sly smile on his face betrays him; it’s not what you were expecting.

You look down in his hand to find a cough drop. Inside, you want to laugh but you can’t give him the satisfaction. You look up with your best blank stare.

“Do you just carry these around so that you have a reason to talk to unsuspecting girls?”

The stranger laughs so loudly at that, throwing his head back and grabbing onto your table to steady himself. When he calms down, he opens the wrapper to the cough drop and pops it into his mouth. 

“No, but that was funny! I keep them for after we get off stage and my throat is scratchy,” he says with the cough drop pushed against his cheek. “What’s your name?”

You’re quiet as you try to analyze him, searching for his true intention behind talking to you. When you’re silent for a beat too long, he continues.

“I’m Jungkook, my band is the one that was playing earlier.” He looks smug, like he’s trying to impress you.

“That’s nice, Jungkook, but if you’ll excuse me I’ll be getting back to my friends now.” You say it like you mean it, but you don’t really mean it. You meet his eyes and he throws his head back again as if you’ve just said the world’s funniest joke.

“Babe, I’ve been looking at you for a while; you’re not even interested in talking to them. I thought I’d come here and offer you my companionship.” He’s still smiling and his eyes are twinkling, you can feel yourself sinking deeper into his charm.

“What makes you think I want the companionship of a stranger,” you point at him, almost poking him in the chest, then move your hand to refer to the other people sitting at your table, “over my friends?”

“Well, by the way you lost your breath when I looked at you earlier, I’d hazard a guess that you wanna talk to me.” He looks so pleased when your cheeks flame up.

“I’ll have you know that I’m getting over a cold and THAT is why I was coughing,” you say hoping he doesn’t see through your lie.

He laughs and puts his hands up, in mock defeat while reaching for something from his back pocket. He pulls out a pen and leans over to the table to scribble something on the wrapper of the cough drop. 

“Well, when you decide you want to talk to me, here’s my number,” Jungkook states while sliding the wrapper over to you.

“If. If I decide to talk to you,” you correct.

He smiles softly and shakes his head, you almost mistake it as an endeared action but you know your eyes must be deceiving you. 

“Okay, if you decide to talk to me, there it is,” Jungkook says as he’s walking backwards to get back to his table, still looking at you. 

You let out a shaky breath, glad that you’re by yourself again. Only, you think to yourself, he wasn’t as bad as you thought he’d be. You know you’ll decide to text him later but what he doesn’t know yet won’t kill him. You finally excuse yourself from your friends, eager to get home and on your drive back you can’t get Jungkook out of your head. His sparkling eyes, the piercings that line his ears, the tattoos he has on display. His image and his words are engraved in your brain.

You throw your keys onto the coffee table when you get back to your apartment and head to your room. You look at the wrapper with Jungkook’s number written on it. Trying to convince yourself that you have no idea why you took it is futile, you know exactly why you did. Against all logic, you take your phone and type a message to him.

[you]: DONT take this as me deciding to talk to you 

[you]: i was just wondering if you could tell your tall buff band member that i liked his voice

You laugh to yourself for a second before worrying he won’t get that you aren’t serious. You set your phone down and try to push down the regret that’s spreading throughout your body. Your phone dings and you reach for it immediately. 

[coughkook]: oooh :( my wounded feelings i’ll never recover

[coughkook]: i won't be tell anyone anything

[coughkook]: but

[coughkook]: you can come to our next gig and maybe i’ll let you talk to him

You roll your eyes at his last message. “Let you talk to him,” you scoff and look at your phone when it dings again.

[coughkook]: it’s next friday at 8 i’ll send the address

You don’t respond after he sends it, wanting to keep Jungkook on his toes. Truthfully, you’ve already decided to go and are drafting up an excuse to cancel the plans you had with your friends.

You don’t talk to Jungkook for the next five days, until you show up to the address he sent you. You take a seat halfway between the stage and the door and look around to find Jungkook on stage with his band members. He’s talking to the buff member you mentioned to him last week, the one you thought was cute but not nearly as enchanting as Jungkook. He spots you and leaps down the stairs of the stage, god he’s so cute.

“You came,” he says with a big, too bright smile compared to the dark atmosphere of the small venue. “We go on in like, ten minutes; I hope you’re ready to be blown away.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. Jungkook needs his ego taken down a notch or two but you still find him captivating.

“Yeah, yeah just go warm up,” you say with false annoyance and send him a small grin.

He runs back to the stage and gives you a thumbs up and that same blinding smile. Your head shakes involuntarily but in your head, you know you’re locked in for good. When the lights to the venue dim even more, you sit up straight to capture every moment of Jungkook while he’s performing. You’re not ready for the next 45 minutes you experience. Jungkook’s voice is so beautiful and so full of every emotion you can think of. You can’t look away even if you tried to. Is it the stage lights or is he actually glowing? His presence overpowers everything. The way he moves with a purpose on the stage, his hand pushing his hair out of his face every so often, his eyes locking with yours. You won’t forget any of it.

When Jungkook and his band are done, he looks to you and holds up his index finger to let you know he’ll be back in a moment. You’re thankful, you feel like you need an infinite amount of time to wrap your head around what happened enough for you to speak coherent sentences. Jungkook walks around the side of the stage and practically floats to you. As he gets closer to your table he points to a full glass of water you had ordered for him earlier with a smile and shoots his eyebrows up, as if to ask if it was for him. You motion for him to go ahead and he downs the whole glass in one go. Endearingly shaking your head at him has become second nature to you by now. He slams the glass down on the table and clears his throat.

“Well?” he asks, expectantly.

“Well what?” you reply knowing what he’s asking for but playing dumb anyway.

“Well what did you think?” you’re silent so he continues, “Of us? Of me?”

“Oh that! Yeah, it was good, I guess.” It was more than good but you don’t want to inflate his already too large ego. 

“Just ‘good’? You were on the edge of your seat the whole time! You basically fell out of the chair!” he says, exasperatedly. He narrows his eyes at you, “I see right through you, you know.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you say and hop off your chair. You push his shoulder to direct him to the table where his band members are. “Aren’t you gonna introduce me anyway?”

He groans but leads you there where he introduces you to them. It’s obvious that they’re more like friends than bandmates. There’s four in the band with him, Namjoon, Hoseok, Jimin, and Seokjin, and two friends Yoongi and Taehyung. You decide within a few minutes you like them all a lot. 

“So you met Kookie at our last gig, right?” Namjoon asks. He’s the buff one.

“Ah, yeah. He bothered me until I gave in and messaged him, didn’t you ‘Kookie’? ” you joke and turn your head to see him roll his eyes and huff.

“Sounds like him, when are you gonna stop bothering strangers?” Hoseok directs to Jungkook. 

“I can’t believe you guys are actually falling for this! I had her swooning for me the second she saw me,” Jungkook retaliates.

You wish what he said wasn’t true but you know it is. And seeing him with his friends doesn’t help the growing feelings in your chest. You spend the rest of the night talking with them and learning every embarrassing piece of information you can about Jungkook, you’ll use it all later. Way too often do you lose yourself in staring at Jungkook. He’s too alluring for his own good. When the night comes to an end, Jungkook offers you a ride home. Normally, you wouldn’t accept but you couldn’t refuse the way he begged you to go with him. In the car, Jungkook complains about how you spent too much time talking to his friends rather than him.

“Wait… did you think I was there for you?” You cover your mouth in faux embarrassment to accompany your act.

Jungkook’s head turns towards you. He’s got his mouth open in shock and he’s trying to come up with words when you take pity on him.

“I’m just kidding, Jungkook. Of course I went for you. You were really good,” you flush pink as you say it but not as pink as Jungkook flushes when he hears it.

“Thank you,” he mumbles and you laugh out loud.

The rest of the ride is spent with you teasing him for getting jealous and him teasing you back for getting so caught up in watching him. Neither of you deny it because you both know you can’t. Jungkook rolls to a stop in front of your apartment building and looks at you.

“I’ll message you when I get home, okay?”

You nod and let out a breathy “okay.” You thank him and tell him goodnight and walk up the stairs to the lobby of the building. You turn to look at him and he gives you a confused look.

“Why aren’t you going in yet?” he shouts.

You laugh loudly. “I wanna watch you drive away!”

He makes a face and you giggle. 

“Get back in your car, Kookie.” You shoo him with your hand.

He laughs to himself and it's his turn to shake his head at you but he listens to your instructions anyway. You watch him drive off until you can’t. You can’t think straight so much that you might as well levitate up to your apartment. Jungkook makes you dizzy. You’re not even sure how you changed out of your clothes and got into bed with less than half a brain left. You don’t wait long for Jungkook’s message.

[coughkook]: i’m home :)

[coughkook]: thanks for coming <3

You smile to yourself and respond wasting no time.

[you]: thanks for inviting me! :)

[coughkook]: come to our next one?

[coughkook]: if you can

[coughkook]: the boys liked you, thought you were funny. they want you to come again

You roll your eyes at Jungkook’s ego again.

[you]: hmm the boys or you?

[coughkook]: the boys AND me want you to come again

Your heart beats faster in your chest. You weren’t expecting Jungkook to be so honest, so quickly. You definitely would go again, definitely will go again, actually. 

[you]: oooh you like me so much

[you]: i’ll come

[coughkook]: ugh

[coughkook]: yes but i know you like me too so we’re even

[you]: hm

[you]: that’s fine with me

[coughkook]: good

[coughkook]:i’ll text you in the morning, goodnight <3

[you]: goodnight kookie

You assume he won’t see it until morning but you send him another message anyway but you’re surprised to see that he responds immediately. Wasn’t he supposed to be asleep or could he not sleep because he was replaying every moment he had with you, the same way you were doing with him.

[you]: i wasn’t sick

[coughkook]: i know LOL you thought i was pretty didn’t you?

[you]: ugh yes but i know you think i’m pretty too so we’re even

Your face burns at Jungkook’s last message of the night. 

[coughkook]: yeah but even if we weren’t even i would still think you’re the prettiest girl i’ve seen

[glitterge1pen]

Have You Ever Considered Craft Supplies Instead Of Drugs? Then This Might Be For You.

Kyōtani Kentarou x reader, sfw, fluff, 1,691word count 

His room for the most part was clean. It’s main function was for sleep though. This was apparent. His clothes, which were mainly basketball shorts and blank t-shirts, were scattered about in a way that told you he threw them there when going to bed.

Kyotani had told you to give him a few minutes, while he was in the bathroom brushing his teeth and struggling with the cap of his eyeliner pen. You felt comfortable enough in his apartment to check the fridge and see if anything was worth your while. But still you felt a bit like an intruder in his bedroom, which is where you had wandered off to.

The walls were white, mostly bare. There was a poster up for some band you didn't recognize, and another one advertising the Sendai Frogs that looked like he had ripped it off one wall to get onto his. You smiled at the thought of him stealing the poster from the grocery store display window or stadium parking lot.

You give his room one last once over before turning to leave. On your way out you trip over a shoe box. You would have just ignored it but a few tufts of paper flew out from the lid. You bend down to collect them but find that these aren't just trash from the shoe box. Quietly, and with a tinge of guilt, you kneel down to gently put the papers back in the box. The little scraps of paper you had found were actually sticky notes, you couldn't decipher the writing on them because of how faded and old the paper was.

You get one quick glimpse inside the shoe box on Kyotani’s floor. There are dozens of papers, printed photos, receipts, tickets, and what you assume are old keys. You feel like you've seen something very private of Kyotani’s and when you turn around to find him standing in the doorway, you gasp in shock.

“What are you doing in here?”

He seems more concerned and confused about you versus the fact that you are in his room. You decide sarcasm is the best choice of action.

“What? You embarrassed about me being in your bedroom?”

“Shut up and get out!”

Kyotani puts his hands on your shoulders and tosses you out into the hallway.

“Hey, hey, what time is it because we might actually be late to the movie now,”

You say pulling out your phone to get a glance at the clock. There was only twenty minutes before you were supposed to be at the theater.

“We’ll be fine, the trailers always play for too long anyways”

He says leading you out the front door.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

When the team wins a game and you head out to eat with the guys afterwards, your eyes don't usually follow Kyotani’s hands so closely. You hope that no one else has picked up on your new habit. But last week's venture into his bedroom has left you reeling in thought.

Kyotani doesn't really like to be hugged. During movie nights he sits separate from the pile of pillows and bodies. He tolerates head pats and high fives. When he hangs up the phone you can feel how difficult it is for him to say something like “bye I love you” platonic or not.

You hadn't really considered it before, at least not so intently in relation to Kyotani. Most people were easy to understand in their affections and how they garnered it. Or if they weren't so obvious, they made some sort of distinction, a simple “I don't like when people do this” or “I prefer this”.

Being friends with Kyotani you had assumed that he was content with what people gave him because he never asked for more. He didn't hug you when you two parted ways, and you never forced him to. He didn't ask or push on others boundaries but now after seeing that shoe box you wondered why he had never advocated for his own. You thought perhaps it wasnt that Kyotani disliked those other forms of affection or care, but rather he didn't regard those other acts as affections at all.

The sounds of the restaurant fade back in as your thoughts simmer down. You feel Tsukishima and Yamaguchi next to you. Enthralled in a conversation about some show they had been binging together. Apparently Yamaguchi had watched a few episodes without Tsukishima and everyone found the annoyed, bitter expression on Tsukishima hilarious, the table erupting in laughter.

“You good? You've been staring at nothing for five minutes,”

Kyotani said to you before taking another bite into his food. He sat across from you, his elbows propping him up over his plate of food.

“Yeah, just tired today,”

You say shaking your head as if trying to wake yourself up.

As the evening wears on, your eyes still follow Kyotani’s hands. Trying to catch the moment of thievery in action. To see if your contemplations are grounded in Kyotani’s actions or rather thoughts with nothing to hold as they pass you by.

But as everyone files out of the restaurant, the bill already split, the copy of the receipt abandoned on the table, you watch as Kyotani lingers for just a moment, to pocket the slip of paper.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You couldn't remember the last time you had attempted to burn a CD. Was it you who did it or a friend? It was years ago though that was for sure. You had made three playlists on spotify, checking and double checking that they were private playlists. After arranging them and finding the songs that fit just right with each list you started finding youtube videos of each song. From there you converted the links to MP3 audio.

While your computer whirred and the audio filed loaded onto the disk you thought about decorating the CD cases. Of course covering the clear plastic case with glitter gel pen and cute stickers was very tempting. But you weren't sure that was Kyotani’s style. At the same time this was supposed to be a gift from you. You met yourself halfway.  Decorating one CD case like how you would have wanted, and the other with more of a Kyotani flair, the third somewhere in between the two.

When the CD’s were done you carefully placed them into their new plastic homes. Grabbing a black sharpie to scribble the playlist names onto each. You felt like wrapping them would be too extravagant so you settled for tying a ribbon around the two.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

“What the hell do you want?” Kyotani says as he pulls up next to you on the curb outside your place. You had texted him earlier while he was at work, asking if could stop by after he got off. He has the window rolled down and you take it upon yourself to unlock the passenger door and climb inside.

"I wanted you to test these out"

You were hoping that you had done everything right with the computer.You hand him the CD's, he flips them over in his hands inspecting them.

“Is it cool if I take these ribbons off?”

You nod and he turns the car radio on to insert the CD’s. As the first song starts playing you turn to him.

“This is that band you like right? The one on that poster in your room?”

Kyotani is visibly flustered by this.

“Yes? Did you...did you make these for me?”

You throw your head back in a laugh.

“Yes, I made them for you,”

“Oh,”

He says in a rather soft amazed tone.

“Look, I didn't mean to, but when I was in your room the other day I tripped over that shoe box you have,”

You keep your eyes trained on the street outside the dashboard window. Unsure and a bit nervous to see what Kyotani is thinking. Tempted by curiosity though, you do look at him for a brief moment, only to find him also intensely staring off into the street. His face lit up red with embarrassment.

“I’m glad that I saw it though. Because that stuff is important to you and I want to know what you think is important”

The air in the car feels like it is clinging to your skin with tension. You think the pressure will start to crack your bones when Kyotani’s voice splinters the suspense.

“It's easier to feel something when its tangible, when you can hold it, it's why people still buy polaroids and go to museums and shit”

You nod, a jovial ease overcoming you as he continues to speak.

“I don't really like, uh, I guess physical affection or even talking or it’s not like talking, people call it words of affirmation or whatever,”

You hold the smile of your lips down, you don't want him to think you’re teasing him in this moment. You're just happy that he is comfortable enough with you to say such things.

“I know lots of other people like to have those types of things though, and I worked really hard to get used to stuff, but I don't know, this is what I like,”

He says gesturing with the CD case to you.

“I mean so like, birthday cards, post-it notes, bus transfers? Things that are directly attached to memories and people? Anything else you want me to know about?”

While it hurts a little that he’s struggling to talk about this matter, you can't help but revel in the unusual brash shyness of Kyotani. He does mutter something, but when you lean in closer to signal that you didn't hear him the first time he repeats himself.

“Event pamphlets. I know it's trash but I like it”

“Promise you won't get mad?”

You drawl your voice out and make it sweet so he knows you're messing with him.

“Hm?”

He says, eyebrow quirked in question.

“I think you'd be really into scrapbooking”

“Shut the hell up before I kick you out of my car”

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

A/N: Took a break from my current writing obsession to spit this out .

[cal-kestis]

If I Could Never Give You Peace

(Javier Peña x Female Reader)

Gif by @pedropcl​ [original gifset]

Summary: Two years after resigning from the DEA, Javi finds himself in Los Angeles, haunted by glares of gunshots and blood-stained hands. He’d succumbed to the idea that he’d never have peace — doesn’t deserve it after everything he did in Colombia. Then, she moves in next door and maybe, he thinks, things could be different. “I hope this doesn’t scare you,” she whispers, her fingers still tracing shapes over his head. “But I care about you, Javi, a lot. I think I could fall in love with you someday...” She exhales, a quiet, shaky sound. “I think I’ve already started.” Word Count: 4,357 A/N: A Reader-insert one-shot with a nameless female reader. No “Y/N” or "you," but the reader can be anyone. Inspired heavily by Taylor Swift’s “Peace.” How many TS references can you find? Lol. Tags: Fluff, Angst (with a happy ending), Mentions of death (but no one dies, I promise), Alcohol, Cigarettes

[Read on AO3]

The rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me... All these people think love’s for show, but I would die for you in secret... Would it be enough, if I could never give you peace? — Taylor Swift, Peace —

When Javier Peña handed in his DEA badge and gun two years ago, he knew he couldn’t stay in Texas. Not forever.

Texas held too many familiar faces, old friends calling him a hero when he felt like a villain. It held too many ties to an old version of himself he’d rather not remember… muddied images of him with a beautiful woman, an abandoned altar, and a shattered promise. No, he couldn’t stay. Not even for his father.

So, Javier Peña and the unwelcomed overcast of his nightmares found a one-bedroom apartment in sunny Los Angeles.

In time, he realized he needed the city: constant motion, endless traffic, and hoards of busy people who would never remember his face. He could blend in. He could be alone.

He could have a clean slate.

But each night, glares of gunshots flashed behind his eyelids and invisible bloodstains marred his calloused palms as if to remind him:

He could never have peace.

Then, she moved in next door.

The first time he saw her, he only caught a glimpse. She and her boyfriend, he assumed, held towering stacks of brown boxes in front of their faces — sweating as they lugged the dusty weight into the empty space.

For a moment, he considered offering some neighborly help but decided against it — When have you ever cared about being a good neighbor, Javi? — closing himself in his quiet apartment with a glass of whiskey.

The second time he saw her, she came knocking on his door the next night.

“Hi, neighbor,” she smiled brilliantly. And for a split second, he swore he felt something foreign flutter in his stomach, but dismissed it as the after-effects of spoiled dinner. “I just moved in next door and wanted to introduce myself.”

He could not take his eyes off her. His gaze stayed glued to a small bead of sweat trailing a slow path down from her hairline, where she’d pulled it back with a makeshift scarf-headband. The droplet slipped down her cheekbone, over a smudge of dust that had settled in from her moving boxes. It drifted down the curve of her jaw, dipping into the slope of her neck until finally hiding away below her tank top. And by some miracle, she only needed to repeat her name for him once before he came out of the trance.

“Sorry.” He gulped, removing the cigarette dangling from his lips. “Javier.”

He extended his hand and she met him halfway. Soft. So soft.

“Good to meet you, Javier.” She smiled again. Flutter. “I’m sure you’re busy. Just wanted to say hi. I’ll see you around.”

And just like that, she swiftly turned on her heel to walk the few steps back to her door, bare feet strutting off, flaunting her daisy dukes, and — God help him, he’s a man and she’s beautiful — he stared.

The nail in the coffin?

When she opened her door and gave him one last smile over her shoulder, she winked.

No, he could never have peace.

—

After that, he hardly ever sees her.

Part of him feels relieved, unduly wary of the strange flutter he’d feel just thinking of her name. The other part, the traitorously curious part, dreams of catching another glimpse of her glistening skin or a quarter note of her honeyed voice. He’ll never admit it out loud, but he finds himself often wondering if her boyfriend gets to enjoy her sun rays and melodies. Lucky bastard.

He blames his roaming thoughts on the fact that it’s… been a while.

This is what you wanted, he’d remind himself when he’d wake to an empty bed — a stark contrast to his time in Colombia. This is the way things should be.

Just when he starts to believe those words, he finds her crumpled on the floor in front of her apartment — the contents of her purse strewn across the hardwood beside her, palms pressed firmly against her eyes. One tiny sniffle and a tremble of her shoulders, and he melts into a puddle beneath her muddy sneakers.

“Hey,” he whispers tentatively, voice raspy with cigarette smoke.

She jolts at the sound, immediately wiping her face with her sleeves and plastering on a saccharine smile.

“Javier,” she tries to say, but her voice breaks on the vowels. “Sorry, I was just— rough day. And to top it off, I think I left my keys inside. I tried Jerry but no luck.”

“Jerry’s a shit landlord,” he sighs, earning a nod from her. He takes out an old, faded receipt from his pocket and kneels in front of her, finding a pen amongst her spilled belongings. “Try this number. He’s usually fast. Can get you back in your apartment tonight.”

He hands her the scribbled receipt and she takes it with a real smile, albeit small. “Thank you, Javier.”

He nods, a tiny dimple forming in one tanned cheek, before getting up to unlock his apartment. The door clicks but he stands there for a moment longer, listening to her waning sniffles as she throws her things back into her bag. His eyes screw shut tightly, a silent war waging behind his forehead, his fingertips feebly trying to rub it away.

He sighs long and heavy when he realizes which part of him has won.

“Would you... like to come inside my place while you wait?” He mutters, mainly to the floorboards. “I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”

“Okay.” Her smile is warm like the sun, despite the cloud of tears still glazed over her eyes. “But you don’t strike me as a cream and sugar kind of guy.”

“No,” he admits with an amused smirk. “But I’ve got some old whiskey, older milk, and a phone you can use, toll-free.”

“Thanks, Javier,” she sniffles. “Coffee sounds nice. But hold the booze and tainted milk.”

And that’s how she ends up in his apartment, sitting at his small dining table, slowly sipping from his coffee mug, using his landline to call the locksmith.

Maybe it’s the caffeine or the three (stolen) pink packets of sugar she found in her purse (“It’s not stealing. Diners offer dozens of them in cute little boxes, I mean practically gift-wrapped, and I modestly accepted three.”), but coffee gets her talking the way alcohol coaxes even the darkest secrets from iron-barred lips. She just broke up with her boyfriend. Or he broke up with her — found some younger, hotter-than-her aspiring actress in Hollywood and left her in the dust of the boxes she’d just unpacked.

“Sorry,” she whispers. “You’ve been so nice. Really, Neighbor of the Year,” she laughs, but he thinks it sounds off. He wants to hear the real thing. “And here I am, taking up your space, drinking your coffee, and dumping all my problems on the table. Tell me if I’m talking too much, Javier. I tend to—”

“Javi,” he says, furrowing his brows as if mildly stunned by the two syllables he just spoke. She looks confused. “You can... call me Javi, for short. And I don’t mind listening.”

“Javi,” she tests the name on her tongue, smiles. His stomach flutters. “A good name for a good guy.”

The argument dies on his tongue the minute he thinks it, even though she’s horribly, terribly wrong.

Sometimes you gotta do bad things to catch bad people.

If she knew...

“I should be out of your hair in 20 minutes anyway,” she says, breaking him out of his dark reverie. “Locksmith’s on his way.”

When she finally gets back into her own apartment, Javi jostles her doorknob, double-checks the lock, and knocks on wood for good measure.

“Find your keys?”

“Got ‘em!” She chirps, jingling her lost keys. “I’m gonna have to memorize that number.”

“I’m next door, too, if you ever need anything.”

“Me too. I can lend you some sugar for your sad-man, bitter coffee,” she jokes. “Thanks again, Javi.”

He sends her a tight-lipped smile and a short nod, a familiar weight settling in his chest as he turns back to his lonely apartment.

“Would you like to come in for dinner?” She asks, quiet and suddenly timid. “I’m no chef, but I’ve never made a spaghetti I couldn’t tolerate.”

He opens his mouth to refuse but she beats him to the punch. “It’s the least I can do after you helped me out. Please?”

And it’s the way she asks that gets him. The way “please” seems to fall from her lips like an unanswered prayer. He wonders, maybe she’s just as lonely as him.

So, he walks into her apartment, she smiles, and his stomach flips.

—

Months pass by with this new routine. He joins her for dinner at least once a week, if their schedules allow. If not at the local diner where she infamously loots sugar, it’s usually at her place. For one thing, although it’s usually pasta, she tends to have more appetizing (read: edible) groceries stocked up than him. But if he’s being honest, something about her apartment just feels more like… a home.

Framed smiles of her and her loved ones line the walls. With each visit, he finds himself studying a new one, imagining the story behind each snapshot. (He noticed after their first dinner, she’d thrown out the photos of her ex, replacing them with Polaroids of the city.) Piles of pillows stack up neatly on her couch, vibrant hues and patterns decorating the space. He adores the soft waves of music always floating around her space. She plays a different record each time, but somehow, each one compliments the sweet tones of her voice perfectly.

Her place feels brighter than his too, and he’s not sure if it’s the east-facing windows or if it’s just her.

Soon, he doesn’t need to decode the photos on the walls anymore. She tells him more than she’s told anyone before — about her hometown, her family, what she studied in college, her travels, her favorite books, her irrational fears, her dreams.

He tells her considerably less, especially when it comes to his time in Colombia.

For now, she doesn’t mind. She likes the way he watches her when she talks — brown eyes soft and warm, brows pinched together as he takes in each word, the ghost of a grin tugging at one corner of his lips when she gestures dramatically.

He realizes, one night after dinner, he comes home smiling now. And he thinks the nightmares have started dwindling, ever since that first dinner.

Maybe, he lets himself imagine. Things could be different.

—

He calls for you over and over, shouting until his throat burns and the echo of his frantic voice pounds in his ears.  

“Where are you?” He screams.  

The narrow hallway is dark, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. He crushes his body into the hard wall, arms sliding roughly against cold brick as he tries to keep himself concealed. The gun in his hand feels icy and impossibly heavy, and his arms tremble as they lift the weapon higher, rounding the corner.

“Llegas tarde, Peña,” a deep, gravelly voice sneers. “You’re too late.”

“Tómame!” Javier yells. “Tómame en su lugar.”

“You would die for her?” The voice chuckles. “Llegas tarde.”

The voice’s shadow moves, revealing a smaller shadow crumpled on the floor — lifeless.

“Javier! Javier!” A distant voice chants, accusing him. Boom! Blaming him. Boom!

“Javier!” Boom!

The pounding sound wakes him up with a jolt, and his sweat-slicked chest rapidly rises and falls as he reaches for the gun inside his bedside table.

Slowly, Javier creeps to the front door where the loud pounding started. But when he peers into the peephole, he only finds her — looking as tired and distressed as he feels. A wave of relief floods through his overheated body.

She’s wrapped up in a blanket, a worried look wrinkling her forehead.

He puts his gun down in a drawer and lets her in.

“What time is it?” He asks.

“Almost 4 in the morning.”

“What’s wrong?” He demands, suddenly worried about why she’d be waking him this early.

“You tell me,” she says, frown lines still etched by her eyes — mirroring his own tired marks. “I heard you yelling. I was worried, Javi.”

“It was...” he starts, squinting as the images flash in his mind again. “Just a dream.”

It only takes one glance into his eyes for her to reach out to him, pulling him in by his neck until he nuzzles into hers.

He breathes her in, holds her like he’s not sure she’s real, like she might be gone tomorrow. “It was just a dream,” he echoes, but he’s not sure who he’s trying to convince.

“It was just a dream,” she repeats after him.

She pulls him by his hand toward his couch, sitting down before patting the space beside her. And just this once, he allows himself to let his head rest in her lap, lets her drape her fuzzy blanket over him, lets her soft fingers draw slow circles in his hair, lets her lull him to sleep with mumbled whispers he can’t quite make out, and lets her ward off the lurking darkness like a nightlight.

He’s asleep before he can hear the quiet secret that spills from her lips.

“I hope this doesn’t scare you,” she whispers, her fingers still tracing shapes over his head. “But I care about you, Javi, a lot. I think I could fall in love with you someday...” She exhales, a quiet, shaky sound. “I think I’ve already started.”

She comes over to his apartment more frequently after that. Whether to bring him dinner or just sit on his couch in comfortable silence, she doesn’t like to leave him alone.

And maybe, she’d rather not be alone either.

—

He doesn’t remember how she convinced him, but here he is... sitting at a crowded bar drinking water, watching his tipsy neighbor bouncing alone on the small dance floor.

Every so often, some cocky drunk comes up to put his hands on her waist and tries to dance with her, but she plasters on a faux smile and shakes her head at them, muttering something while nodding in Javier’s direction. Each time, they sulk away and he chuckles.

Finally, she bounces over to him, tugging at the sleeve of his leather jacket.

“Dance with me, Javi. Please,” she draws out the word, an octave higher than normal.

And despite himself, he follows her voice like a sailor enthralled by a siren’s song.

She puts her arms around his neck, swaying her body against his. And then she shouts over the music, “I’m so glad we’re friends.”

And the heart on his sleeve falls straight to the floor, clanging loudly in his ears like metal.

‘Friends’ is more than you deserve, he reminds himself.

But then she continues, resting her head against his chest, her index finger coming up to tap a tantalizingly slow beat over his collarbone. “Good friends,” she sighs, lifting her gaze until her chin digs into his heart, her lips just inches from his. “Really… good… friends.”

She’s kissing him before he can even process the feeling. And despite his better judgment, he lets her. She’s everything warm and soft and good, with just a hint of alcohol — and he’s what you get when you turn those words upside down, jumble the letters, and crumple the paper into a jagged ball. But he craves the way her curves somehow fit perfectly against his cold, shattered edges. And he knows he shouldn’t.

So, when he feels her tongue trace along the seam of his mouth, he gently pulls away, hands rubbing soothing circles on her shoulders.

“You’ve had too much to drink, cariño,” he says. “Let’s go home.”

“Okay,” she whispers, smiling with half-lidded eyes, drawing her finger across his mustache then below his ever-pouting lip.

She’s passed out in his car by the time they’re back home. When he unlocks her apartment door for her, she stays latched onto his arm as he turns to leave.

“Stay,” she whispers.

“I—”

“Please?” She asks, in that way he knows he can’t fight. “I don’t want to be alone.”

And just like that, the door closes behind him and he stays.

He finds her an oversized shirt to change into, helps her wipe the smudged mascara off her face, and holds her until the sun rises.

When she wakes, the space beside her is empty but warm and indented, the shape of his body lingering in the sheets. A full glass of water, ibuprofen, and the phantom taste of Javi’s lips are the only other traces of her really… good... friend.

—

He’s not avoiding her… per se. But it’s a long, lonely week later when he sees her again, on an uncharacteristically rainy Sunday outside their apartment building.

“I just got home,” she blurts after standing there dumbfounded for a good minute. She nods to the soaked brown paper bags in her arms. “Groceries. Uh, obviously. Were you...?”

“Forgot my umbrella,” he answers.

“Same,” she chuckles awkwardly, droplets hanging on her lashes and the ends of her hair, only partially covered by her hood. “Obviously.”

“Here, let me help you.” He takes the bags from her, keeping the door open with his foot as he waits for her to head inside.

“Thanks, Javi-er.”

He follows her upstairs silently, his wet, squeaking shoes punctuating each slow and heavy step.

“I can—”

“Let me just—”

They fumble and dance around each other in her doorway as he sets her bags in her apartment. And, as if to torture herself, she decides to stand under her door frame when he leaves to grab his umbrella, waiting the longest minute of her life for him with a forced smile.

He waves his umbrella at her after locking his door. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah.”

He nods and walks back down the stairs.

“Javier, wait.”

He pauses, his back still facing her, drenched shoes balanced on two different steps.

“Can we talk?” She hates the way her voice sounds when she asks, tinny and trembling. Clearing her throat, she clarifies, “About what happened... at the bar?”

He sighs, screwing his eyes shut tight and rubbing his forehead.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he says, low and barely audible as the rain starts picking up outside. And he walks away.

She’s stunned still, watching as his figure shrinks with each step he takes away from her. He’s already out of the building by the time frustration fuels her feet to follow him into the rain.

“Like hell there’s nothing to talk about,” she yells over the downpour, hair quickly sticking flat to her face. “Javi, we kissed!”

“You were drunk,” he says, just loud enough for her to hear, still walking.

“I wasn’t drunk,” she argues to his back, remembering with perfect clarity exactly how his lips felt on hers. “Just a bit braver. Javi, stop! Look at me. Please.”

And like clockwork, he turns slowly but doesn’t move any closer.

So, she closes the distance to stand beside him under his umbrella, taking in his features without the obscurity of rain.

“What are you running from?” She wonders, reaching for his fidgeting hand. “I would never hurt you. I—”

The line between his brows looks deeper than usual, as if they’d been stuck in that pinched position for weeks. Shadows lay in rings beneath his eyes, accompanied by smaller lines that carry untold stories she hopes he’ll entrust her with someday. His mouth is parted just slightly, as if to say something he knows could change everything.

And it does.

“I have to go.”

Her hands are empty and wet when he leaves. And the rain buries his parting words into the pavement.

I don’t want to hurt you.

—

She doesn’t hear from him for two weeks. Doesn’t even catch a glimpse of him.

The rain sticks around longer than usual for Los Angeles, making her apartment feel cold and gloomy. But maybe, it’s just missing him as much as she is.

Then, while she’s folding her laundry one night, she hears his door rattle and practically bolts to her own. He’s there. Keys in hand, rolling luggage in the other, hair tousled like he’s been pulling at it with his fingers. He looks at her when she opens her door, just for a beat too long, before hiding away in his apartment.

She sighs, closing her door in defeat.

But just as she starts getting ready for bed, she hears two knocks at her door, heart beating rapidly as she slowly makes her way to open it.

“Hi, neighbor,” he greets her softly, and the sound of his voice after so long without it nearly brings her to tears.

“Where did you go?” She asks. But she really means, Why did you leave?

“Texas,” he says. “I... needed to see my dad.” But he really means, I was scared.

“Oh.”

“Can I...” he mutters. “Can I come in please?”

She hesitates for only a second before stepping aside and he looks around like he hasn’t seen the inside of her apartment hundreds of times already.

He stops near her bedroom, where a new picture hangs proudly: a goofy, blurry photo of him stashing three pink packets of sugar in his shirt pocket.

“It’s the only photo you’ve let me take of you,” she says quietly, standing next to him with a wistful smile on her face. “I miss our diner dates.” But she really means, I miss you.

He doesn’t respond, just silently walks to her couch and sits, fingers rubbing circles into his forehead.

Minutes roll by slowly as she watches him from the other side of the room, battling with some invisible hand covering his mouth, holding on until the end to keep the words locked up.

“I’m not a good man,” he whispers, so softly she almost doesn’t hear it. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of... back in Colombia. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to tell you. I think a part of me is still there, fighting some unwinnable war. Hell, even before Colombia, I—”

Muddied images of a beautiful woman, an abandoned altar, and a shattered promise flash in his mind.

“Fuck. I can’t shake it,” he says, looking up at her with red-rimmed eyes, waving the invisible iron shackles on his wrists to show her. “Any of it. The nightmares...” He recalls her shadowy body and a dark, menacing voice. “They’ve followed me for years. I—” he looks at her, eyes darting across her face. “I could never give you peace.”

His head hangs low and a wayward curl brushes against his forehead. Despite how much space he takes up on her couch, he looks so small, defeated —  the weight of his past crushing him into this tiny, torn, crumpled-up piece of paper covered in red-inked, scratched-out sentences.

“Javi,” she whispers, but he doesn’t meet her eyes. So, she crosses the room and kneels in front of him, her palms reaching for his cheeks and lifting his gaze to hers. “Javi, who said anything about peace?”

The wrinkles deepen between his brows as he studies her, tries to understand what she means in the cloudy orbs of her eyes.

“The past is the past. We’ve all done things we can’t speak of. And sometimes at night, we live it all again. God knows I’m far from perfect. But I know you’re a good man, Javi. I see you,” she tells him, stroking the curves of his cheekbones with her thumbs.

“I’m not—”

“Do you trust me?” She interrupts his argument. He stares at her, blinks, before nodding once.

“Then trust what I’m saying. You’re not perfect. But you’re good.”

His eyes close as soon as she sees water beginning to pool behind his lashes.

“I’m not asking for peace. As long as I get to be with you, it would be enough.”

And then his lips are crashing into hers, pulling her into his lap until he’s covered in her. The sound he makes when they touch is devastatingly beautiful, like she’s a balm soothing his freshest wounds and healing his oldest scars. It feels like his entire body has exhaled — lungs deflated, bones liquified, mind released from a decades-old straitjacket. If not for gravity, he could float from the way his stomach is fluttering. His shoulders lower and he sighs as if he’d been holding his breath for his entire life until this moment.

He’s drowning in her, submerged to the top of his head. But he can finally breathe.

“I’m sorry I ran,” he whispers into her skin. “I’m sorry I left, cariño,” he kisses just below her ear. “My dad said I was the biggest asshole on the planet for leaving. I’m sorry, baby. So sorry,” he licks the seam of her lips.

“Mi alma, you have no idea,” he sighs when she parts her lips for him. “How much I love you.”

And she captures the words on her tongue, kissing him with a ferocity that says, Yes, I do.

“Want to know a secret?” She gasps when his lips trail down her neck. Her voice is barely a whisper, as feather-light as her fingertip skating across his shoulder.

He hums, a soft, lazy smile stretching his lips wide, so wide.

“I don’t think it’s possible,” she says, staring into his deep brown eyes. “That I’ll ever love anyone more than I love you, Javi.”

Her finger stops, retracted to shield herself after such a heavy confession. His eyes blink slowly, head lifting off the couch cushion.

He doesn’t say a word. He only stares at her, the softest smile on his face — his edges blurring into gentle curves in front of her very eyes.

“You’re it for me,” she finalizes.

And then they’re crashing into each other again and again and again.

End Notes: Look, it’s been almost 10 years since I sat in a Spanish class and watching Narcos only restored 3% of my limited vocabulary. Here’s what I got from Google Translate: “Llegas tarde.” = You’re too late. “Tómame!/ Tómame en su lugar.” = Take me!/ Take me instead. “Cariño” = Darling, honey “Mi alma” = My soul P.S. Please let me know if I missed any tags/triggers!

[hexalianrebel-blackfeathers]

No Flash Photography

Panda's Notes: @rosileeduckie IT'S DONE!! >w< This story was inspired by Ro's story "Pics or It Didn't Happen, Bro", which is an awesome little story that I love going back to. I couldn't help dying for a sequel, and I somehow got their blessing to make an unofficial one of my own. >w<

Find it/both on AO3!

Iida fiddled a bit anxiously with his phone, just trying to decide if he was willing to take the risk. To throw himself back into the proverbial lion’s den just for…what? Nothing really.

Nothing material, at least.

His phone buzzed against his palm, making him flinch and nearly drop it. Of course, it was another in a long list of messages in the group chat egging each other on. He rolled his eyes before skimming over—

Wait.

Sero: Look, I know we’ve all been saying it as a joke, but I’m stepping up.

Sero: Class Rep, since this is your fault, I dare you to “win” another #ticklefightwithBakugou. Pics or it didn’t happen, right guys?

There was a new onslaught of quick messages and shocked or laughing emojis as the class gossips alerted Iida to the callout.

Iida: You’re really calling me out, huh? What’s the catch?

Mina: Pretty sure the catch is getting the pics before Bakugou finds out you took the dare lol

“If you don’t quit texting and fucking move, I will flip this board onto you.”

Joke’s on them; he was already toeing the line there.

Iida chuckled softly, setting his phone face-down underneath his leg and looking over the chess board between them. He pushed one of his rooks forward, and he tried to resist a smile when Bakugou tsked under his breath.

“Why did you have to pick fucking chess, Four-Eyes?”

“You said you didn’t want to help with the puzzle; you could have said no.”

“Mmph…” Bakugou tapped one of his pawns on the board before shifting it forward. “So, what are those losers talking about anyway?”

It was a little interesting knowing he wasn’t included under the “losers” umbrella this time, and Iida tipped his head to look over the board.

“Oh, you know…” He hummed, unsure how much he could let on. “Same memes every week; Yaoyorozu’s scheduling study sessions for that test we have coming up—” He set down the pawn he’d chosen, his eyes searching for something of interest.

“Any new bets going around?” Bakugou snatched up the pawn, and swapped it with his bishop, smirking slightly across the table at Iida.

Iida tapped his fingers on his knee for a moment, biting his lip as he tried to keep his face in check. “Ah, well, I haven’t really been in that channel lately. Why?” He shifted another pawn forward.

Bakugou huffed and shrugged his shoulder. “No reason, I guess, just…” And the bishop took the offered pawn. “That #ticklefightwithBakugou thing is still going around, isn’t it?”

Iida let a chuckle slip, putting his hands up when Bakugou glowered at him. “You’re still thinking about that? Are you afraid someone might take advantage?” The question was emphasized by Bakugou’s bishop getting unceremoniously trampled by Iida’s knight. If looks could kill, the class rep’s head would have exploded.

“Don’t even think about putting fucking words in my mouth, four-eyes.” Bakugou practically snarled, moving one of his own knights out from its starting position. “I asked because I’m still catching shit from Pinky and Tapeface asking if you were lying or not.”

“Did you tell them?” There might have been a teasing little note to Iida’s voice as he castled his king and rook, and he yelped when Bakugou gave him a swift kick to his shin.

“If I had told them; they would have told the whole damn school, dumbass. Of course I didn’t tell them.” A pawn was inched forward as he buried his pouting mouth in his hand.

“You’re scared they’ll find out you’re all ticklish, huh?” One of Iida’s bishops was advancing.

“You shut your fucking mouth.” Bakugou grumbled, moving his rook halfway across the board as he attempted to cover the hint of red crawling up his face.

Iida couldn’t help smiling as he scooted a pawn. “That’s kind of adorable, Bakugou. What if…I got you again?” He asked softly as Bakugou was reaching for a piece.

Bakugou’s hand flinched, and the lone bishop clicked as the magnet in its base reattached to the board. He glared over at Iida again before a smirk spread across his face. He picked up the bishop again, and he set it down with a renewed confidence. “I knew you were up to something, you little shit.”

“What?!” Iida feigned offense, crushing one of Bakugou’s pawns under his rook. “I’m not up to anything. You brought it up.”

Bakugou hummed and looked over the board as Iida was putting the captured pawn to the side. “I wonder why I don’t believe you.”

Iida shrugged a bit himself, glancing away when Bakugou looked up at him again. “Perhaps you’re a bit paranoid? I can relate, actually; I remember when the year started, a few of our classmates made a similar bet targeting me.”

Bakugou snorted, remembering that couple of weeks back in May. The others had taken turns cracking bad jokes and sneaking pokes to the class rep’s sides in attempts to make him laugh. “Oh, yeah, that’s right…” He smirked as Iida was moving a knight, moving his bishop into an attacking position. “You’re pretty ticklish yourself.”

It was Iida’s turn to flinch a little, a nervous smile forcing itself across his face. A few syllables tripped and stumbled out of his mouth as he moved his knight to escape.

“And!” Bakugou piped up again. “If I remember correctly, you kind of like being tickled.” His bishop zipped forward, catching a pawn off guard.

“I—What? W-Where would you get that idea?” Iida cleared his throat when his voice came out squeakily, shifting his rook to snatch one of Bakugou’s pawns.

“Because, Speed Racer, you are a shitty liar. Plus:” Bakugou’s knight suddenly appeared and nudged Iida’s rook, and his fingers moved with a bit of wiggling flair before he snapped them sharply and pointed to himself. “My eyes are up here.”

Iida blushed brightly. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d been watching his opponent’s hands that closely. And being redirected to that smirking face and piercing stare didn’t help him at all.

Bakugou chuckled softly, watching as Iida hesitantly moved his only unseated pawn. “So, what was your little plan, huh? Did you even have one?”

“Mm, I suppose not.” He admitted, releasing a shaky breath when none of his pieces were taken this time. “It’s not exactly an easy win condition, you see.”

Bakugou hummed and gave a slight nod, picking up his Queen. “Pics or it didn’t happen, right?” He set it down with a resounding tap, pulling the now defeated knight off the board as Iida stared across the board at him. “Check. Your move, bitch.”

Iida pounced.

The chess board clattered as one of their flailing legs kicked it off of the couch, most of the magnetic pieces zipping back to the board while the others went AWOL.

“When the fuck did you get so heavy?!” Bakugou snapped, pawing at Iida’s arms as the taller boy was attempting to straddle his legs.

Iida sacrificed his arm, grabbing at one of Bakugou’s wrists while his free hand pulled his phone out of the pocket on his leg. Bakugou reached and attempted to slap at his arm, a fiercely determined smile on his face as his struggling nearly pushed Iida over.

Iida couldn’t resist the giggles that were slipping out of him, and he nearly lost his balance when Bakugou’s free hand suddenly attacked his side with scribbling nails. But his camera was open, and he tightened his grip on Bakugou’s wrist as he quickly looked for an opening while keeping his phone out of his victim’s reach.

And he spotted it. He held his phone up over Bakugou’s face, and when he tried to snatch it, Iida released the wrist he’d captured in favor of shoving that hand into Bakugou’s exposed armpit.

That previously smug face was caught in full view of the camera as is shifted instantly from shock to splitting open with a loud laugh.

“Y-You fucker!” He barked out, both of his hands retreating to press against his ribcage as he started to writhe a bit. His feet flailed and pushed against the couch behind Iida, a hint of red quickly filling his cheeks as a snort broke out of his chest. He immediately covered his face when the sound escaped, unable to stop the two others that followed it as his free hand tried to slap Iida’s phone again. “Fuck off, four-eyes!” He barely squeaked out through helpless giggles.

Iida’s face lit up as he finally stopped recording, taking a victory lap of sorts by giving a few more teasing scribbles as he navigated his phone with one hand. Bakugou struggled and clutched at Iida’s arm, and the class rep nearly buckled when those nails dug ticklishly into his elbow.

“Ha!” Iida suddenly exclaimed, laughing a bit himself. “I got it!” He grinned playfully down at Bakugou as the group chat came to life from his universal tag.

Sero: HOLY SHIT MAN I WAS KIDDING

Mina: LOL A true king!

Ochacco: He’s so cute!!

The comments went on like that and spurred a bout of conversation in that channel, several of their classmates following Mina’s lead and spamming the video with crown reactions. Half of the ones in attendance were also tagging Bakugou for confirmation, as if this weren’t literally happening right now.

Iida giggled softly, letting his fingers still and pulling his hand back. He turned his phone to give Bakugou a glance. “You’re trending, Katsuki.”

Bakugou panted softly, but his eyes fell on the screen within a second. “I’m always trending, fuckface.” He scoffed, crossing his arms and shrugging.

Iida shook his head and chuckled, scrolling back to play the video back for himself: the way Bakugou broke so quickly from that one spot; pulled his hands in tight and just laughed; The way he smiled and just succumbed to—

Wait a second.

“You…” Iida murmured, his eyes widening slightly as he realized he was still straddling his former victim. “You let me win.”

“Hm?” Bakugou hummed, resting his head on his hand as he propped it on his elbow. “What do you mean~?”

Iida’s face fell into a pout at that playful tone. “Why did you��� Why would you?”

“Hm…” Bakugou sighed and hummed, scratching casually at his face and running his free hand through his hair. “Why would I let you win…? Why would I basically throw a bet to let you look good?”

Iida crossed his arms, scooting back slightly as Bakugou moved to sit up.

“Well, I don’t know.” Bakugou sighed with a shrug. “Oh, wait.”

He suddenly lunged forward, and Iida only noticed his phone being snatched from his hand before he was being manhandled. The pair of them wrestled; okay, Iida tried to wrestle, but Bakugou managed to get behind him and yank him back against his chest.

“W-What are you doing?!” Iida cried, attempting to flail as Bakugou’s free arm wrapped across his chest. A squeal jumped out of his mouth as fingers scribbled softly at his ribs.

“Take a wild guess, four-eyes.” Bakugou smirked, wrapping his legs loosely around Iida’s waist before holding up the stolen phone and tapping the screen a few times to start a video call. “Anyone who’s not a fucking coward better get on call right the fuck now.”

“Wait, that’s not fai—!” Iida shrieked as both of their faces appeared in a small window, getting cut off by his own loud giggles when Bakugou started to tickle him again.

The text chat lit up again with shocked comments and laughter before several small windows popped up in the call, with Sero and Ashido, of course, being the loudest.

“This is your king, huh?!” Bakugou asked teasingly, skittering his fingers up and down Iida’s ribs and toward his stomach and smirking broadly at his captive’s writhing. “This giggly, string-bean bitch?!”

“Don’t let him win, Iida!” Ashido laughed, waving at her webcam.

“Pfft, rest in peace, class rep!” Kaminari taunted, and Kirishima covered his mouth with his textbook beside him.

“This is why I don’t play the hashtag games with you guys!” Midoriya insisted, trying not to laugh. “Kacchan’s mean!”

Bakugou chuckled as he watched the text conversations go on beneath the excited chatter on the video call, sneaking his hand up to scribble under Iida’s chin.

“You losers better believe I’m fucking mean.” He growled, grinning wider. “You want a tickle fight; I’ll bring you a fucking war.”

He moved his hand up quickly, pulling Iida’s head close so he could press a loud raspberry against the side of his neck. The class rep’s shriek was parroted by a couple of the girls squealing excitedly along with taunts and jabs from all of them.

“B-Bakugou, please!” Iida whined, trying to paw at Bakugou’s hand as he giggled and laughed.

“Which one of them dies next?”

“What?! I-I—No!” He wailed as Bakugou blew another raspberry on his neck.

“Pick one of them, or I will end this call and find your kill spot.”

There was a chorus of chatter as cameras quickly shut off, but their friends’ voices still cheered them both on. Bakugou’s fingers were attempting to worm under Iida’s arm, and he curled in tight as he laughed a bit louder.

“Tick-tock, bitch~” Bakugou purred, leaning into his neck again.

“Sero! I pick Sero!” Iida cried out, his face running red as he felt Bakugou’s lips pressing gently before pulling away.

“Oh, my gods, you narc!” Sero laughed, and most of the others started to tease him too.

“You heard him, Tapeface. You’d better be ready.” Bakugou growled playfully, curling his fingers into a claw and digging them into Iida’s back to get a good shriek before finally cutting the video call.

Iida leaned heavily against Bakugou’s shoulder, lost in a haze of giggles as the blonde gave him a few more teasing scribbles. Turnabout is fair play, after all. He recognized the sound of his phone’s camera clicking before Bakugou finally gave him a push and slipped out from under him.

“I think #ticklefightwithBakugou is going to need its own channel soon.” Bakugou chuckled, tossing Iida’s phone onto his stomach after another moment.

Iida flinched a bit at the impact, only making a move to catch it when it felt like it would fall. As he finally caught his breath, he looked at the screen. Four new photos: all of them selfies of the pair of them with Bakugou mugging and Iida laughing himself silly; and a fifth one: Bakugou planting a kiss on Iida’s cheek while the boy’s glasses were skewed off of his face.

“Well, four-eyes,” Bakugou called with a sneer, having already made his way halfway to the stairs. “You coming or what?”

Iida blushed again and swallowed the lump in his throat, fixing his glasses before pocketing his phone. “You know what, why not?” He smiled back, hopping up to follow.

It wasn’t until he shook a little magnetic rook from his slipper on the third landing that he remembered the mess they’d left. Bakugou just laughed at him when he suggested they go back.