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foreveia · 3 months ago

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palentine’s day ⤨ kuroo tetsuro

⨭ genre; fluff, childhood best friends!trope, valentine’s day special!

⨭ pairing; kuroo tetsuro x fem!reader

⨭ word count; 18.5k

⨭ description; kuroo suggests a “palentine’s day” when you both admit to being adults with no sense of a love life on valentine’s. that being said, obviously he becomes yours.

⨭ warnings; profanity, alcohol, suggestive dialogue

⨭ a/n; guys i made this over the course of like one day. it's literally NOT proofread at all (i am not sober rn and will do so tomorrow morning) so if ur early, deal with it. jk thank u so much for reading my bullshit on ur valentine's if ur reading this also check out 'in full bloom' aka pt 1 of my valentines gift to tumblr

edit; gave up on proofreading so if u find any mistakes. well

song i listened to writing this: 'pretty in pink' by lostboycrow

one.

JFK stands for ‘John F. Kennedy’ International Airport, but as you wait in the masses outside the pick-up zone, you can’t help thinking that it should really stand for ‘Just Fucking Kill’ yourself.

You tend to avoid the airport as much as humanly possible since TSA agents are evil and you always get lost, but today, you’re forced to be here: Kuroo’s flight lands in ten minutes, and he whined so much about the cost of an Uber to your apartment that you finally gave in and agreed to pick him up yourself.

Predictably, you’re already regretting it.

The arrivals area is a literal zoo: people standing way too close, aggressively waving handmade signs that say things like Welcome home, Papa! and Jorge & Melissa 4Ever!, and a seemingly endless stream of passengers getting on and off flights. A man in a suit shoves past you, nearly smacking you in the face with the obscenely large bouquet of roses he’s carrying, and an elderly woman parks herself directly in front of you with a luggage cart, as if she has no idea that you exist. Meanwhile, Kuroo is nowhere in sight.

Leaning back against a pillar, you sigh and clutch your coat tighter around yourself, because despite being a major international airport, JFK still hasn’t figured out how to keep the cold air from blasting in through the automatic doors. The little icon next to Kuroo’s flight says baggage claim, which means you probably have another fifteen minutes before he actually appears—maybe more, if he’s being slow (which he always is).

You pull up your messages.

(3:27 PM) y/n: hurry up tetsu: awh, miss me? 😘 y/n: keep it up and i’m leaving without u

Shoving your hands back into your coat pockets does little to restore warmth, and the irritation building in your chest isn’t helping. You should’ve just let him suffer through the Uber surge pricing. He deserves it: you’re already letting him crash at your place for the week, rent-free.

Your phone buzzes again.

(3:32 PM) tetsu: omw. don’t leave me 🥺 tetsu: remember when u were a baby and followed me everywhere?

You scoff, choosing not to dignify that text with a response.

What a bitch. It’s been years since you last saw him, ever since you moved to NYC for your PhD and he stayed in Japan to work for the JVA, but some things never change: he’s still the same guy who kept you humble your whole childhood, who was your older brother’s—and by extension, yours—sole and only friend, who was the coolest person you knew as a kid because he was in second grade and you were still a kindergartener. You grew out of it by the time you both hit middle school (though he, unfortunately, never grew out of reminding you).

And now he’s here, in your city for a full two weeks as he promotes some upcoming tournament. You guys call semi-regularly, but it really is different when he’s here in real life and in person, because you can no longer just hang up when he starts to get annoying.

That’s when a pair of arms suddenly loop around your waist.

A startled jolt runs through you, heart seizing in your chest before the familiar scent of his overpriced department store cologne registers. Funny how smells bring back memories; he’s been using the same Armani Acqua Di Gio bottle since your undergrad years (you’re both shocked and impressed that he hasn’t finished it yet). His arms squeeze lightly, then drop away.

“Hi, babyface,” he coos, smirking.

Spinning around, you glare at him for still clinging to that dumbass childhood nickname—he overheard your parents call you that literally once, and has insisted on it ever since. He’s probably the sole person left in the world who refers to you that way, but whatever—you’ll tolerate it for two weeks.

Kuroo stands there, dragging a comically oversized suitcase behind him. Honestly, he doesn’t look all that different from the last time you saw him, three years ago when he and Kenma sent you off at Haneda Airport. He’s still got the same stupidly tall frame, same messy bedhead that somehow makes him look effortlessly cool instead of disheveled and gross, like it should.

But he’s older now. More… grown up. His face is leaner, more refined, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners when he smirks, as smug as always. It’s not that he’s annoyingly attractive, you tell yourself: his confidence is just so in-your-face, it’s impossible not to notice.

“Took you long enough,” you huff, crossing your arms.

He holds up a paper cup from some overpriced coffee joint inside the airport. “In my defense, I needed this. Been up since three in the morning.”

“Oh, poor you.” You roll your eyes. “Let’s just go. I’m sick of this crowd.”

“You Kozumes are all the same,” he grins, but when you turn to lead the way, he swings an arm around your shoulders with easy familiarity, guiding you through the herd of people clamoring for their reunions. The crush of bodies is suffocating—someone smacks into your elbow with a backpack, and you shoot them a dirty look. Kuroo just laughs and steers you closer to him, like he’s shielding you from a crowd of middle schoolers who haven’t learned personal space.

“Where’re you parked?” he asks, glancing around. The overhead speakers crackle as an announcement for a flight to Chicago booms through the terminal.

“Garage 4,” you say, just loud enough to be heard over the noise. “It’s, like, a mile from here, so get ready to hike.”

“Sounds like fun,” he drawls. “Can’t wait.”

A scoff slips out, but the tug at the corner of your mouth betrays you—there’s something about him that makes you nostalgic for days when running around after him and your brother was your favorite activity. You guess old habits die hard; he still reaches back when you fall behind, still makes sure you’re not lost in the crowd.

When you finally reach the elevator, the two of you squeeze in with half a dozen other travelers plus an extremely disgruntled-looking airport employee. Kuroo tries to maneuver his luggage behind him without bumping everyone’s ankles, which, of course, is a losing battle.

“Sorry,” you mutter to the group while jabbing the button for the garage level.

The elevator lurches upward. From the corner of your eye, you catch Kuroo’s sideways grin.

“What’re you staring at?” you ask after a moment, realizing his gaze is fixed on you.

His lips twitch. “You. I haven’t seen you in forever, remember? Trying to see what’s changed.”

You resist the urge to smack him because this space is way too cramped for violence. “What’s changed is that I have zero tolerance for your bullshit now.”

He lets out a loud laugh, drawing a few curious glances from the other passengers that should make him feel more embarrassed than it does. “Sure, you do,” he murmurs, leaning in. “That’s why you came to pick me up, right?”

“I should’ve let you take the subway. You’re lucky I’m so kind and benevolent.”

Unfazed, he grins. “I’m very lucky,” he agrees, voice dropping an octave that sends a weird heat through your cheeks.

Thankfully, the elevator dings and the doors slide open, saving you from having to come up with a retort.

Stepping into the parking garage, the cold air slams into you instantly—JFK has no business being this miserable in February. Tucking your chin deeper into your coat, you exhale sharply and brace yourself against the wind.

Kuroo whistles low under his breath, dragging his suitcase along the pavement with a clatter. “Damn. This city really doesn’t give a shit about warmth, huh?”

“Welcome to New York,” you deadpan. “Now shut up and walk faster before I lose feeling in my fingers.”

He chuckles, shoving one hand into his coat pocket while gripping his suitcase handle with the other. You can hear the low hum of an airplane overhead, the distant honking of taxis below, the way his footsteps fall in sync with yours. It’s strange—how easily he slots back in, like no time has passed at all.

Your car is parked at the far end of the lot, tucked between an SUV and a sedan that’s way too close to the line. “There,” you say, pointing.

Kuroo groans. “You weren’t kidding about the hike.”

You ignore him, fishing your keys from your pocket as you approach the driver’s side. “Just get in, princess. Your chariot awaits.”

He snorts but doesn’t argue, tossing his suitcase into the trunk before sliding into the passenger seat. The moment you settle in behind the wheel, you blast the heater, letting the warmth seep back into your body. Kuroo exhales in exaggerated pleasure.

“Ah, yes,” he sighs, holding his hands up to the vents. “This is the hospitality I deserve.”

You shoot him a look as you adjust the side mirrors. “Buckle your seatbelt. I wanna go.”

“So eager to get me home already? At least buy me dinner first.”

“Get out.”

Kuroo smirks, clicking his seatbelt into place. “Not a chance—you’re stuck with me now, babyface.”

And you just sigh and kick your car into gear, promptly backing up and heading out of the maze of a parking lot, because even if you were to argue, it would be a lie. You’ve been stuck with him for almost two decades, and whether for better or for worse (definitely for worse), you don’t see that changing anytime soon.

two.

Your apartment building’s leasing office has plastered pink and red hearts on just about every open space in the hallway, so it’s safe to say that you’re slightly annoyed as you lug Kuroo’s freakishly huge suitcase to the door of your flat. The wheels squeak in protest, and you’re 99% sure you hear something clanking around inside—like maybe he’s sneaking free weights in there, or some equally ridiculous item you’re going to have to store somewhere in your already-cramped closet.

“Seriously,” you grumble, pausing to readjust your grip, “what did you pack? An entire gym? A small car? Did you kidnap Bokuto or something?”

Kuroo, trailing behind you with his coffee cup that’s somehow still not finished yet, lets out an overdramatic groan. “Oh, come on. I need my suits, my shoes, and, of course, my extremely heavy hair-care products. Gotta keep this—” he gestures at the bedhead that somehow counts as a hairstyle for him “—looking flawless for the cameras.”

“You’re insufferable,” you say.

“It’s okay,” Kuroo replies, stepping around a giant pink heart taped to the floor. “You love me anyway.”

You roll your eyes, key in hand as you finally reach your door. Jamming the key into the lock and wriggling it furiously, you mutter, “I can’t believe I’m letting you stay with me. Your fancy JVA job couldn’t get you a hotel?”

“They could, but the Marriott doesn’t have you,” he says proudly as you drag the suitcase over the threshold and inside your apartment, propping the door open with your hip. “I’d rather stay with my darling friend in her little one-bedroom place on the Upper East Side.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes again—half because you’re exhausted, half because your heart is doing that annoying stutter-step in your chest, and you really don’t want to analyze why. Instead, you drop your keys on the small side table by the door and flick on the overhead light.

“Make yourself at home,” you say, and the words come out more begrudging than you intend. Despite this, he kicks off his shoes very casually, setting his half-empty coffee on your kitchen counter and taking a quick scan of the place. Inside, your apartment is as cozy as ever—small, but comfortable, and the warmth from your radiator is a welcome contrast to the drafty hallway. You drop the suitcase in the living area, exhaling with relief.

He smirks, reaching out to flick one of the pink paper hearts taped to your kitchen cabinet. “Didn’t know you were such a fan of love.”

“The leasing office gets way too into seasonal themes. They gave us all these cut-out hearts to tape up, like we’re in grade school,” you scoff, crossing your arms. “I figured it was better to play along than have them slip passive-aggressive notes under my door.”

“Ah, yes, the joys of city living,” he intones. He peels one heart off the cabinet and sticks it onto his own chest like a ridiculous badge. How appropriate.

“The bathroom’s down the hall to the right. Towels are in the cabinet.” You pause momentarily, considering. “Do you think you can fit on the couch?”

Kuroo regards the couch in question—lumpy cushions, old springs, barely big enough for someone your size—then flicks his eyes to you, expression dry as if to say obviously not. In truth, you aren’t totally surprised. He’s always been freakishly tall, and the piece of furniture doubling as your “guest bed” is basically a glorified loveseat.

“Uh,” you say, slightly distracted as you take in the way his broad shoulders fill your kitchen, “maybe if you sleep diagonally, you could?”

He gives you a slow, sarcastic clap. “Wow, babyface. Thank you for that helpful geometry lesson.”

Your cheeks warm, partly in annoyance and partly because something about him looking so large in your space sets your nerves on edge. “Well, then I don’t know what to tell you,” you mumble. “Unless you wanna sleep standing up against the wall.”

Kuroo crosses his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow. “That’s not exactly comfortable, either.”

You throw up your hands. “Then what do you expect me to do? I only have a full-sized bed in my room, and that’s barely big enough for—” You stop yourself, but it’s too late. You can practically see the grin forming on his lips.

“Oh?” He shifts his weight, the corners of his mouth tilting upward. “I don’t mind sharing. We used to all the time.”

You open your mouth to retort, but no sound comes out. You can’t deny that a part of you has already considered this possibility. Sure, you’ve known him forever, but the last time you shared a bed, Kenma was also there, and you were eleven-years-old having a sleepover because you were all way too invested in Monsters, Inc.—very different from sharing a bed with him now.

“Tetsu,” you start, forcing yourself to sound composed, “my bed is also a tight squeeze. There’s no guarantee we’ll both fit comfortably.”

Kuroo shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’m not picky. I can do my best to take up minimal space.”

You snort. “You? Minimizing anything? Please.”

He laughs, and the rich sound echoes in your small living area. “I’m not that tall.”

“Pretty close,” you counter. “But fine.” You exhale, feeling the weight of two weeks’ worth of future awkwardness settle on your shoulders. “If you promise not to kick me in your sleep, you can share the bed.”

He smiles with infuriating smugness, like he’s won some big debate or secured a massive deal. “Noted. No kicking, no thrashing. I can be a good boy when I need to.”

At that, you turn away and take a sip of your water, because if you let yourself stare at him any longer, you’ll start overthinking everything (you already are). Like how you’re going to handle waking up next to him. Or how it’ll feel if one of you accidentally rolls over onto the other in the middle of the night.

“Go shower. You reek,” you say instead, tersely and very much avoiding eye contact.

Kuroo salutes you with two fingers. “Yes, ma’am.” He starts unzipping his massive suitcase, rummaging around for clothes. When he locates what looks like sleepwear, he straightens and tosses them over one arm. “I’ll be quick. Don’t fall asleep before I get back.”

“Yeah, sure,” you say, heart still fluttering at the reality of what you’ve just agreed to.

You’re about to share a bed with your old friend—your insufferable old friend, who shows up with enough luggage to stock a small department store, calls you babyface, and then makes your heartbeat skip whenever he so much as looks at you a certain way.

So in other words, you think you’re probably fucked.

three.

He emerges from the bathroom a little while later, hair damp, wearing a rumpled t-shirt and basketball shorts that show off way too much of his long legs. You pretend you don’t notice. In the meantime, you’ve perched on the edge of your bed—both of your bed, you remind yourself, trying not to linger on that detail—flipping through your phone for the best takeout options.

“You hungry?” you ask, keeping your voice casual. “I’m too tired to cook.”

Kuroo sets his towel on the back of a chair and rubs at his damp hair a final time. “Absolutely. I owe you for picking me up anyway. Let me buy dinner.”

“Deal,” you say, pulling up a nearby Mexican joint’s online menu—you can almost taste the cilantro and lime already. “I vote burritos. Guac and chips on the side. Whaddya think?”

He moves to sit beside you on the mattress, leaning in to read the menu on your phone. Your shoulders nearly brush, and you feel a flicker of awareness at the close proximity.

“Let’s do it,” he says. “I’m a sucker for a good burrito. Extra beans, though, or it’s not worth it.”

You snort, tapping in your order. “Fine. But don’t complain if you regret it later.”

He laughs proudly. “I have no regrets. Order some chips and salsa, too.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling as you finalize your selections on the app. “Fried plantains or no? They have them here.”

“Absolutely. Throw ‘em in.”

Satisfied, you place the order. “Alright, burritos en route. They said it’ll be here in about twenty-five minutes.”

Kuroo drops onto his back for a moment, groaning dramatically into one of your pillows. “I might not last that long.”

“Quit being dramatic or I’ll eat your half when it arrives.”

He pops back up, smirking. “You’d miss me if I starved to death.”

“Sure,” you say dryly, setting your phone aside and hugging your knees to your chest, getting comfortable. “Anyway, what’s been up with you lately? Aside from the glorious JVA life. You haven’t actually told me much.”

Kuroo shifts, propping himself up on one elbow, humming nonchalantly. “Mostly traveling, setting up events. Lately it’s been a lot of PR for an upcoming international tournament—making sponsor deals, meeting with potential partners, that sort of thing. It’s never-ending.”

“Sounds exhausting,” you say, and mean it. “But you seem to thrive on that chaos.”

He smiles. “I like keeping busy, yeah. What about you? Kenma mentioned something about you publishing an article in a big journal.”

A self-conscious warmth settles in your chest. “It’s not that big,” you insist. “Just a decent academic journal. But yeah, I’m pretty proud. Trying to balance that with my research duties and teaching labs at university is… a lot.”

He bumps your shoulder gently with his own. “Still, that’s impressive. Your parents must be bragging left and right.”

You exhale, a small smile tugging at your lips. “They are. Kenma, too, apparently.”

“He’s proud,” Kuroo confirms, then yawns. “Man, I’m wiped. But I gotta stay conscious long enough to demolish this burrito.”

As if on cue, there’s a buzz from your phone. You glance down to see a delivery notification: Your order is arriving soon.

“Perfect,” you murmur. “I’ll grab it in a minute. Might as well eat in here—it’s more comfortable than the couch.”

He grins, reaching to grab his wallet from his bag and handing you a few twenty-dollar bills. “I’m not opposed to an in-bed picnic.”

A few minutes later, you’re answering the knock at your door. Your hallway briefly fills with the mouthwatering scent of fresh tortillas and spices; you’re only realising now that this is practically the only thing you’ve had all day. Once you pay the delivery person, you lug the paper bag back to the bedroom. Kuroo shifts to sit cross-legged, making space for the containers between you.

“Dig in,” he says, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

You unwrap your burrito, steam curling upward, and suddenly you’re reminded of all those nights you spent eating junk food with him and Kenma back in Tokyo—late-night convenience store runs, microwaved meals shared on the couch while you watched random movies. It feels oddly nostalgic; you almost want to put on Shrek 2 (the best one) just for the sake of it.

“Mm,” you manage around a mouthful of seasoned rice and beans. “That’s gas.”

Kuroo tears into his own burrito, letting out a satisfied hum. “New York burritos aren’t half bad. Who knew?”

You smirk. “They’re still not exactly authentic, but they’re decent. We have some good Mexican places nearby—if you stick around long enough, I’ll take you to this hole-in-the-wall joint in Queens that’s even better.”

He perks up. “You sure know how to show a guy a good time.” Then he gestures at one of the pink hearts still taped to your wall. “Speaking of good times, we got Valentine’s Day coming up, right?”

You pause, taking a sip of your soda to stall, humming. “Yeah, next week. Not exactly my favorite holiday.”

“You doing anything?” he asks, fishing out a chip to scoop some guacamole.

You shrug, eyes fixed on your burrito. “No. I’m, uh… single. So it’ll just be another Tuesday for me. Maybe a glass of wine and some Netflix.”

He nods slowly, as if absorbing that information. “Right. Me too, actually. Single, I mean.”

You hazard a glance at him. “Really? I figured you’d have someone lined up,” you tease, trying to keep your tone light. “You’re always bragging about how charming you are.”

He snorts, looking faintly amused. “No takers at the moment, guess I gotta step up my game.” Then he sets his burrito down, brushing stray bits of rice from his fingers. “Honestly, though, I’m not looking to date just anybody. I’m picky.”

The confession sends a flicker of warmth through you. Don’t read into it, you warn yourself. “Well, guess that means we’ll both be alone on V-Day.”

Kuroo’s face brightens with an idea. “Doesn’t have to be alone-alone. We should hang out! Watch a movie, go ice-skating, corny shit like that. We’re in New York City, after all.”

Your stomach does a little flip, and you hope he can’t see the sudden rush of heat in your cheeks. “You want to hang out with me on Valentine’s Day?”

He shrugs, looking casual, but there’s a softness in his eyes. “Why not? Better than moping around separately. We can do the whole anti-Valentine’s vibe. Or, y’know, a Palentine’s Day.”

“Palentine’s Day,” you echo, rolling the phrase around. Part of you wants to jump at the chance, but you’re also cautious—because this is Kuroo. Kuroo, who’s seen you when you were still climbing into Kenma’s bed every time you had a nightmare. Kuroo, who carried you home on his back when you twisted your ankle playing tag at the park. Kuroo, who knows about every embarrassing photo of you in your entire house and is featured in practically half of them.

Kuroo, who was your first childhood crush, who took you to your senior year formal, who still makes your heart stutter like no one else.

Jesus fuck.

“Sure,” you say at last, trying to sound nonchalant. “That could be fun. As long as you’re not too busy with your JVA stuff.”

He offers a crooked grin, the one that always makes your pulse pick up. “I’ll make time. Promise.”

A comfortable silence settles between you, broken only by the sound of wrappers crinkling and the hum of traffic outside. You focus on your burrito, but every so often, you peek at him from the corner of your eye—how his long lashes cast faint shadows on his cheekbones, how he smirks just before taking another bite.

When you finally polish off the last of your dinner, you exhale in satisfaction, leaning back against the headboard. Kuroo does the same, patting his stomach. “That really hit the spot,” he says. “Might have to get seconds tomorrow.”

“We can’t keep eating like this,” you tease, crumpling up your napkin. “We’ll both end up broke, living off takeout.”

He shrugs one shoulder. “Worse ways to go, babyface.”

You give him a mock glare, but you can’t hide your faint grin. Babyface. Somehow, it doesn’t annoy you the way it used to. Maybe it’s the nostalgia, you think, or maybe you’re just too used to it by now.

“Anyway,” he adds, glancing at the clock on his phone, “you ready to crash? ‘Cause I’m about to pass out any second.”

A twinge of nervous excitement flutters in your chest. You’d momentarily forgotten the whole bed situation. You clear your throat, stacking up the empty takeout containers so you can toss them. “Yeah, I guess so. Let’s clean this up, then… bed.”

He nods, stretching his arms overhead. His shirt lifts slightly, revealing a sliver of toned abdomen, and you quickly look away, pretending to focus on tidying up. Two weeks, you remind yourself. He’ll only be here for two weeks, and then things go back to normal—whatever normal means when it comes to the two of you.

But for now, as you glance up to see him smiling at you—fond, amused, and something else you can’t quite name—you have the strangest feeling that nothing about this trip will be normal. And you’re not sure if that terrifies you or thrills you.

Considering it’s Kuroo, the answer is probably both.

four.

As it turns out, Kuroo lied about being a supposed ‘good boy’, because he grabs just about everything in his sleep, including your comforter, your pillow, and you.

The first thing you notice upon waking is that your arm is asleep—completely, pins-and-needles numb. The second thing you notice is that it’s probably because Kuroo is draped all over you like an overgrown cat: one arm slung across your waist, a leg hooking over yours, and his face half-buried in the pillow you share.

It’s still early. The faint gray glow of dawn filters through your curtains, and the radiator in the corner hisses quietly, pushing lukewarm air into the room. You try to move—gently, so you don’t jostle him too much—but his grip tightens reflexively, pulling you closer.

Your pulse hammers a little faster. Not exactly the start to the morning you pictured when you offered to share a bed. Hesitantly, you lay there, blinking sleep from your eyes as you let the situation sink in. On one hand, he’s so much warmer than the drafty air swirling around you. On the other… well, this is Kuroo.

He shifts in his sleep, mumbling something unintelligible. You can’t help noticing how his dark hair flops forward onto his forehead, or how his breathing sounds steady, almost comforting against your ear. A little flutter stirs in your chest, and you decide it’s definitely the awkwardness. Or maybe hunger. Definitely not anything else.

You inch your free arm over to nudge him carefully in the side. “Hey,” you whisper, cringing at how scratchy your morning voice sounds, “mind letting me breathe?”

He stirs again, blinking blearily. When he opens his eyes, for a split second, he looks adorably confused—like he’s forgotten where he is. Then the realization dawns, and a slow, smug grin spreads across his face.

“Mornin’,” he drawls, voice husky from sleep. And he still doesn’t move his arm.

You clear your throat, refusing to let your face heat up too obviously. “Care to explain why you’re suffocating me?”

“Am I?” he says, sounding wholly unrepentant. “Sorry, babyface. Didn’t realize you were so delicate.”

Rolling your eyes, you lift your numb arm and give him another nudge. “At least release my limbs so I can feel them again.”

He finally relents, scooting back a few inches but still remaining obnoxiously close, the mattress dipping under his weight. You sit up, wincing at the twinge in your shoulder, and rub at the pins-and-needles sensation. Meanwhile, Kuroo stretches luxuriously, arms overhead, shirt riding up just a fraction.

“Not a bad night’s sleep,” he remarks, yawning. “This bed’s cozier than it looks.”

“No thanks to you,” you grumble, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Despite your best efforts to stay composed, you can’t quite suppress a tiny shiver at the morning chill. “Next time, keep your limbs to yourself.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you make a great pillow,” he counters, smirking.

Before you can toss a pillow at him in retaliation, your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You reach over, scanning the screen: a news alert and an email from your department. With a sigh, you set it aside for now.

You flick your gaze back to him, noticing how the sunlight is slowly brightening the angles of his face. “What’s your schedule like today?” you ask, if only to give yourself something normal to focus on.

He scrubs a hand through his sleep-mussed hair—somehow, it still looks frustratingly cool—and shrugs. “Meeting at noon with the local organizers. Press conference in the late afternoon. After that, I’m free.”

“Alright,” you say, pushing yourself off the bed. “I have a lab to teach at eleven, so I’ll be gone most of the morning and early afternoon. I’ll give you a spare key in case you need to step out while I’m gone—just don’t get lost.”

“Aw, you’re giving me a key to your place?” His grin turns positively wolfish. “This relationship is moving so fast.”

You scowl, but the corners of your mouth twitch. “Shut up,” you say, grabbing a sweatshirt from a nearby chair and tugging it on. “I’ll make coffee, then we can figure out breakfast.”

Behind you, you hear the creak of the bed as Kuroo stands. “Coffee sounds great,” he says, padding after you. “But only if you have the good stuff. None of that cheap instant brand.”

He catches up to you in the hallway, and for a moment, you’re hyper aware of how tall he is, how his eyes are still a bit sleepy, how your bedhead probably resembles a hedgehog. Yet, there’s a comforting ease in the way he fits into your space—like he’s been here a hundred times before, even though it’s been years since you last lived in the same city.

You toss him a lazy glare over your shoulder. “You’re lucky I still have some leftover beans from when Kenma visited. Otherwise, you’d be stuck with the dreaded instant.”

Kuroo feigns a dramatic shudder, but his grin stays easy. As you flick on the kitchen lights, he leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. It strikes you again how right he looks here, in your cramped little kitchen, sporting wrinkled sleep clothes and bed hair you’d tease him about if he didn’t look so… comfortable.

“By the way,” he says, voice lower, still thick with morning grogginess. “Thanks for letting me crash here. And, y’know… for not kicking me out of bed for being grabby.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you say, ignoring the warmth creeping into your cheeks as you fill the kettle with water. “Tonight, you stick to your side, got it?”

“Scout’s honor.” He raises three fingers in a mock salute, the picture of insincerity.

You roll your eyes and turn on the stove, waiting for the water to boil. He shuffles a little closer, peering at the kettle. He’s definitely invading your personal space again, but maybe you’re starting to get used to it, if the jump in your heartbeat is anything to go by.

It’s a strange, domestic moment: you, still half-asleep, and Kuroo, leaning in with his arms caging you in, braced on the kitchen counter, with the faint hum of traffic outside. Despite the tingle in your arm and the slight ache in your stiff neck, you realize you don’t hate the idea of waking up like this. For once, you’re not quite as alone in the big city, you justify to yourself.

He meets your gaze, one brow raised. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly, dropping your eyes to the kettle. “Just that the coffee needs to hurry up or I’m gonna be late.”

He chuckles, the soft rumble filling the space. “Sure, sure.”

But he doesn’t push, just stays close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him. And for now—just this once—you decide to let it be.

five.

Kuroo looks unfairly good in a suit.

You realise this while you’re curled up on your couch, half-watching the new season of Single’s Inferno on your TV and half-dozing off with a bowl of stale popcorn balanced on your lap. The door swings open without so much as a warning knock—typical—and then there he is, in all his post-press-conference glory: crisp blazer, tailored trousers, tie loosened just enough to give off a casual but effortlessly hot vibe.

Your stomach does a funny little flip. It’s probably the stale popcorn.

“Hey,” he says, shutting the door behind him with a nudge of his shoulder. “You look cozy.”

“I am cozy,” you huff, wriggling deeper into your throw blanket. You drop a piece of popcorn into your mouth and make a face when it crunches unpleasantly. “You look… fancy.”

He glances down at his outfit, as if he’s just remembered it exists. “Right. Forgot I was still wearing this.” A small smirk crosses his face. “Didn’t want to keep the fans waiting, so I came straight from the conference.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m sure your admirers really appreciated that.”

“Jealous?” he teases, toeing off his polished dress shoes. His shirt collar gapes slightly as he unbuttons the top, revealing a sliver of skin at his throat. Annoyingly distracting, even after all these years.

You pointedly look back at the TV, where two contestants are locked in a tense conversation about who picked whom for a date. “Not even remotely.”

“Ouch,” he says, sounding mock-offended. “And here I was, about to tell you that I saved you some fancy hors d’oeuvres from the event. But if you’re not interested—”

You sit up immediately, dislodging your popcorn bowl. “Wait. Real food?”

Kuroo snickers, pulling a napkin-wrapped bundle from his pocket. He tosses it onto the coffee table with a flourish. “Straight from the VIP section. Mini sliders and some kind of salmon tartare thing.”

You snatch it up without hesitation, peeling back the napkin to inspect the offerings. “See, this is why I tolerate you.”

“Tolerate?” He feigns a dramatic gasp. “Babyface, we’ve been through too much for that kind of slander.”

You grunt, already stuffing a mini slider into your mouth. “I don’t know. If I remember correctly, you used to tie my shoelaces together and push me into Kenma just to watch me trip.”

Kuroo grins, unbothered. “Building character.”

“Being an ass.”

“Tomato, tomahto,” he singsongs, shrugging out of his blazer. As he drapes it over the back of the couch and rolls up his sleeves, you glance at him from the corner of your eye, trying not to be obvious about it.

Because it’s unfair, really. He’s always been annoyingly attractive, but there’s something different about seeing him like this—sleeves rolled up to his forearms, tie loose, like he’s caught between polished professionalism and the boy you used to know.

Kuroo flops down next to you, stretching out his long legs. “You know,” he muses, “you’re getting a little too comfortable trash-talking your own husband.”

You freeze mid-chew. “Excuse me?”

His smirk widens. “Our wedding? First grade? Ring any bells?”

You roll your eyes, but your stomach flutters treacherously. “Oh my god, not this again.”

“Oh, yes, this again.” He props his chin on his hand, clearly reveling in your reaction. “It was a beautiful ceremony. You wore that little yellow dress with the flowers on it, I looked dashing in my Spider-Man t-shirt, and Kenma officiated with a Pokémon book instead of a Bible. Very classy.”

You scoff, tossing a balled-up napkin at him. “It was a fake wedding.”

“That’s not what you said at the time,” he counters, smug. “You said we’d be married forever.”

You glare at him, but warmth is creeping into your cheeks. “I was six.”

“And yet,” he hums, leaning back against the couch, “you still haven’t divorced me.”

You want to argue. You really do. But the memory of that afternoon—standing in your backyard, clutching a dandelion bouquet while Kuroo grinned at you with all the unearned confidence of an eight-year-old—unfolds so vividly in your mind that you go momentarily speechless.

It’s stupid how much of that day you remember. How he laced his fingers with yours, grinning like he had just won something. How Kenma droned through a “ceremony” while barely looking up from his Game Boy. How, when it was over, Kuroo had squeezed your hand and whispered, Guess that means you’re stuck with me now, huh?

He’d been right, even if you both did eventually grow up and start dating around. And yet, as you sit here—knees almost touching on your too-small couch, the memory of that dandelion bouquet and his smug, gap-toothed grin dangling in the air—you realize there’s a piece of you that never truly left that backyard.

You swallow the last bit of the mini-slider, hoping it’ll ground you. “So,” you say, feigning a dismissive shrug, “we grew up. We definitely child-broke-up.”

Kuroo’s dark eyes glint with amusement as he shifts his weight, the couch cushions dipping under his long frame. “Mm, I don’t recall signing any annulment papers. Actually, I can’t recall you ever giving me back my ring.” He holds up his left hand to wriggle his empty ring finger. “I guess I should’ve at least invested in a proper Band-Aid ring for you.”

You make a face, ignoring how your heart lurches at the implied you he keeps tossing out, like he’s reminding you this is your story—both of yours. “Band-Aid ring, huh? How romantic. You really know how to woo a girl.”

“You always did love Pokémon bandages. Remember how you insisted on Bulbasaur for every scrape?” There’s an unmistakable fondness in his tone, and you wonder if he’s indulging in the same wave of nostalgia that’s been drowning you since you let him through the door.

Trying not to give yourself away, you tilt your head, pretending to examine him. “I see your memory is as annoyingly perfect as ever.”

He flashes a grin. “I have an eye for important details—like your shoe size, your favorite weird pizza topping combo, and the fact that you still haven’t actually denied liking me.”

You snort, heat creeping up your neck. “In your dreams, Tetsu. Where do you get off assuming things, anyway?”

He spreads his hands, tie swaying lightly at his chest. “Can you blame me? You did let me crash at your place. You drove all the way to JFK in rush-hour traffic just to pick me up. If that’s not love, I’m not sure what is.”

You open your mouth to argue but close it again when you realize you’ve got nothing. Yes, you did pick him up. Yes, you did offer him half your bed. And yes, some traitorous part of you is glad he’s here, sprawled out in your living room, reminding you of all the reasons you used to practically worship him when you were a kid.

“You’re insufferable,” you say finally, in a voice so soft it barely carries any bite.

Kuroo chuckles, shifting so he’s angled toward you—elbow braced on the back of the couch, one long leg tucked underneath the other. “Goes both ways, babyface. You’ve always driven me insane.”

The word always lingers in the space between you.

You try to distract yourself by flicking the TV volume higher, but the dating show is a blur. “So how was the press conference?” you ask, setting the empty napkin aside. “Any major breakthroughs? More sponsors falling for your cheesy grin?”

His responding laugh is short, a bit self-conscious. “You know how it is: they ask the same questions—how the tournament’s being organized, who our top competitors are. I say the same rehearsed lines. Then I shake some hands and get out.”

“Bet you loved the attention, though,” you tease, nudging his ankle with your foot.

“Of course,” he deadpans, “you know me too well.”

A quiet pause descends as you both sink further into the cushions. The overhead lamp is dim, casting long shadows on the walls. It feels intimate—too intimate, almost. A far cry from the raucous energy of the press conference he must’ve attended.

“Do you…” You’re not sure why you’re hesitating. Maybe it’s the sudden vulnerability creeping in at the edges of your rib cage. “Do you ever miss being a kid? Everything felt simpler back then.”

His gaze settles on you, something soft reflecting in his eyes. “Yeah. A lot, actually.” He reaches out—hesitates for a second—then pokes the side of your thigh. “But I’m glad some things haven’t changed.”

Your breath catches. “Like what?”

A beat. Then: “Like you still call me out on my bullshit. You’ll still eat half my food if given the chance. You still follow your own weird rules—like never paying for Netflix because you say you can mooch off Kenma forever.” He grins. “And you still look at me the same way. Even if you won’t admit it.”

He doesn’t elaborate further, and you’re too caught off guard to pry. Look at him the same way—what does that mean, exactly? You’re suddenly hyperaware of how close he is, how he’s studying you in the dim light, how the old tether between you two has always refused to snap, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it.

“Anyway,” he says, shifting back with a little exhale, “got any more of that stale popcorn? I’m starving.”

You clear your throat, trying not to sound frazzled. “Go for it, but don’t complain when it tastes like cardboard.”

He leans over, snagging the bowl from the couch cushion and taking a bite. “Mmm, delicious cardboard.”

His faux-enthusiasm makes you roll your eyes—again. But there’s a familiar warmth curling in your stomach, almost like relief that this little moment is yours to share. Like you’ve both come home, just for a second, to the world you used to know.

You let the show drone on in the background while the two of you work through the stale popcorn in comfortable silence. Every now and then, one of you drops a sarcastic remark or a joke about the contestants on-screen. But beneath the banter, there’s something else stirring—a question you’re not sure either of you is ready to ask.

For now, you settle for glancing sideways at him, at the way his profile looks against the glow of the TV. You let yourself wonder, just briefly, what it would mean to take that childhood promise seriously again. And though you push the thought away almost as quickly as it comes, there’s no denying the giddy little thrill that runs through you when you realize Kuroo might be thinking the exact same thing.

six.

Three days later, it’s the weekend, and you’re free of labs and classes. So obviously, that’s the night Kuroo manages to wheedle you into going to one of his PR parties—with obviously, a Valentine’s theme because the entity in the sky hates you.

“I still can’t believe I agreed to this,” you say in slight disbelief as you wait in the lobby of your apartment for your Lyft. You’re just the slightest bit wine tipsy already and are stumbling a tad bit on your three-inch heels. Kuroo stabilises you with an arm, pulling you into him.

“You’re such a lightweight,” he says, amused.

You scowl at him, nudging your heel against the toe of his polished dress shoe. “Says the guy who made me do a round of shots before we even left.”

Kuroo lifts his free hand in mock surrender, though the grin playing on his lips betrays zero remorse. “Hey, I never forced anything. You’re the one who decided it’d be a good idea to keep up with me.”

“You can probably metabolize alcohol through sheer arrogance alone,” you mutter, leaning into him a bit more when your heel wobbles on the slick tile. The building’s lobby has a floor so shiny you can see your own reflection. You catch sight of how red your cheeks look—definitely from the wine.

He snorts, sliding his arm more securely around your waist. “Arrogance is a powerful superpower.”

Before you can retort, the Lyft driver texts that they’ve arrived, and you and Kuroo shuffle through the lobby’s sliding doors. The crisp February air slaps you in the face, clearing some of the pinot-fueled haze from your head.

“God,” you hiss, crossing your arms over your chest as you walk up to the waiting car. “Why does it feel like it’s negative a thousand degrees out here?”

Kuroo hums sympathetically, tugging you close so you can huddle in his warmth. “Isn’t it romantic? Attending a Valentine’s party in frigid weather, half-tipsy, with your beloved husband—”

You jab him in the ribs. “Do. Not. Start.”

“Ow.” He laughs, not sounding at all wounded, and opens the car door for you. “Alright, princess, let’s get you warmed up.”

You slide into the backseat, tucking your purse by your feet. Kuroo follows, closing the door. The car smells faintly of peppermint and some floral air freshener, and the driver has a local pop station on low volume.

“Party tonight, huh?” the driver says, catching a glimpse of your outfits in the rearview mirror. “Happy early Valentine’s Day.”

You force a polite smile. “Yeah, it’s a work thing for… him.” You gesture vaguely at Kuroo, who’s already fiddling with the seatbelt.

Kuroo pipes up, flashing an easy grin. “She’s being modest. She’s the star of the show.”

You give him a side-eye, but your stomach flips a little at how casually he includes you in his world. “I’m definitely just background noise. He’s the big fancy PR guy.”

He drapes an arm across the back of the seat, leaning in with that smug energy you always pretend to hate. “C’mon, babyface, we both know you’re the real highlight.”

The driver chuckles to himself at your banter and pulls out onto the main road.

The city lights blur by, and despite the wine, you’re keyed-up enough to notice just how close Kuroo is. His thigh presses against yours as the car bumps over a pothole, and you catch his scent—still that overpriced cologne. You almost tease him for using the same brand since undergrad, but some part of you likes the familiarity too much to make fun of it.

Kuroo scrolls through his phone—likely checking last-minute details for the event—and you let your gaze wander. You wonder what you’re walking into: a Valentine’s-themed volleyball PR party probably means pink cocktails, goofy heart-shaped decorations, and sponsors angling to chat up Kuroo for new deals.

You sigh softly, leaning back into the seat. At least you’re not teaching labs tomorrow.

Feeling your eyes on him, Kuroo pockets his phone and glances over. “You okay?” he asks, voice quieter so the driver can’t overhear. “Too tipsy?”

“Barely,” you lie. “I’m fine.”

He studies you for a moment, then nods. “If you get overwhelmed or bored, just say the word, and I’ll whisk you out of there.”

Your heart does that unfortunate flip again. “I won’t hold you back from schmoozing with your sponsors,” you say, trying to sound casual.

Kuroo just shrugs. “Eh. The only person I really need to impress is right here.”

He grins when you roll your eyes for the millionth time, but there’s a note of sincerity in his gaze that makes your pulse stutter uncontrollably (and feeling less and less like it’s the wine).

seven.

The Lyft pulls up to a sleek downtown hotel with a bright red banner above the entrance: Welcome, Pre-Valentine’s Volleyball Gala! The curbside is abuzz with people stepping out of taxis and rideshares, all dressed in varying degrees of fancy.

You thank the driver and step out. Immediately, the cold hits you again, but Kuroo’s hand is there, steady at your back. Together, you make your way through the glass doors into the lobby, which is decked out in pink and red balloons. You spot a heart-shaped ice sculpture near the reception desk and suppress a grimace.

“This is… a lot,” you say under your breath, scanning the crowd. Everyone seems to be brandishing name tags and sipping champagne. A table off to the side offers color-coded wristbands for something—“Single,” “Taken,” “Open to Networking,” and so on.

Kuroo leans in close, lips by your ear so you can hear him over the lounge music. “Brace yourself, babyface. Corporate Valentine’s chic in full force.”

You can’t help a snort. “Don’t call me babyface in front of everyone,” you hiss, trying not to look self-conscious.

He smirks. “Fine. Mrs. Kuroo it is.”

You elbow him gently in the ribs, and he lets out a playful “Ow!” just as a man in a suit rushes over to greet you.

“Kuroo, hey!” The guy beams and extends a hand. “Glad you could make it. We’ve got the sponsors over by the bar, and the press is setting up in the lounge area.”

“Thanks, Daichi,” Kuroo replies smoothly, shaking the man’s hand. “I’ll swing by and say hello in a minute. Oh—this is my plus-one.”

The man’s smile widens. “Great to meet you!” He doesn’t even blink at the slightly flustered expression on your face, just hands you both event badges. “We’re color-coded, so choose whichever suits your mood. And enjoy the party!”

You glance at the bands in your hand: pink for “Single,” purple for “Open to Collaboration,” red for “Taken.” There are even gold ones for “VIP.”

“Seriously?” you mutter, turning to Kuroo. “This is next-level marketing cheese.”

He laughs, plucking a gold band from a nearby tray and snapping it onto his wrist. “I’m definitely VIP, babe. No shame.”

Rolling your eyes, you settle for a purple one—“Open to Collaboration” seems neutral enough, right? You have no intention of wearing the pink “Single” band all night.

Kuroo’s gaze flicks to it, and you catch a slight smirk before he ushers you forward into the main ballroom.

Which, by the way, is massive: vaulted ceilings, floating heart-shaped lanterns, a champagne fountain at the center. You can practically smell the wealth. A DJ in the corner is playing some inoffensive house music that somehow fits the glittery vibe.

“Wow,” you breathe. “They really didn’t hold back.”

“Volleyball PR events rarely do,” Kuroo says, threading his fingers through yours before you can process it. It’s casual and familiar, like he’s done this a thousand times, but your heart jumps all the same. “Let’s grab a drink, yeah?”

He guides you toward the open bar. A bartender in a bright red bow tie greets you with a grin, asking for your orders.

“Champagne for me,” Kuroo says, then glances down at you. “And for my lovely companion…?”

You pause. “Champagne’s fine. Might as well fit the theme.”

As the bartender works his magic, you turn to Kuroo. “So, what’s the plan? Do we mingle for half an hour and then dip? I’m not sure how long I can stand being reminded that Valentine’s Day is literally next week.”

Kuroo’s eyebrow quirks. “Aren’t we hanging out anyway? We promised each other a palentine’s date—remember?”

You feel your cheeks warm. “I remember. Just… these decorations are overkill.”

He hands you a champagne flute, then raises his own in a mock toast. “To corporate romance,” he says with a smirk.

You clink glasses, taking a sip. The fizzy sweetness bursts across your tongue, and you can’t help but think it tastes like anticipation—like something is about to happen tonight that neither of you saw coming. Then you convince yourself that it’s just the alcohol.

Over the next twenty minutes, you watch as Kuroo does his job—he introduces you to a cluster of sponsors, some old teammates, and a few local sports reporters. He’s charismatic in that effortless way he’s always been: breezing through small talk, sprinkling in jokes, and deflecting every flirty comment from others with easy charm.

You mostly hover by his side, alternately sipping champagne and trying not to feel out of place in your heels. Every so often, his fingers brush your elbow or settle low on your back, like he’s silently telling you: You’re not alone here.

It’s strangely reassuring—even if you can’t quite decide what it means.

Eventually, the crowd disperses into smaller clusters, and you manage to snag a moment of relative quiet near the pink-lit fountain in the center of the room.

“You okay?” Kuroo asks again, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. “Not too bored?”

You shake your head. “I’m fine. It’s actually kinda funny watching you switch between your used-car-salesman voice and your normal voice.”

He snorts. “You want me to hit them with the real me? That might be too much for these delicate souls.”

“I can handle it,” you say, surprising even yourself with your boldness—maybe it’s the champagne.

Kuroo’s gaze flickers, something mischievous in his eyes. “Oh, I know you can handle me, babyface. You’ve done it since you were six, right?”

Your heart skips. He just won’t let you live that childhood wedding down. And, annoyingly, you don’t really mind.

“Stop it,” you say, but there’s no heat in your voice. “Anyway, what’s next on the agenda? Are you supposed to give a speech or something?”

He rakes a hand through his hair, making it even more disheveled. “Nah, not tonight. Just an appearance—shake some hands, charm some sponsors.” He shrugs, then lowers his voice. “We could slip out soon, if you want. Go somewhere else—somewhere less… pink.”

The offer sits in the air between you. You can’t help wondering what exactly he’s proposing. Drinks at a quieter bar? A late-night walk under the city lights? Going back to your apartment to continue that half-finished bottle of wine?

You muster a casual tone. “I’m not opposed. But won’t your absence be noticed?”

“I showed up, I mingled,” he says, brushing off your concern. “That’s enough for them.”

He flashes that signature grin—so easy, so Kuroo—and a flutter of nostalgia collides with the champagne buzz in your bloodstream. You think about how this night started: you, tipsy in your lobby, letting him steady you on your heels. You think about Valentine’s Day looming, and how all of this might be leading to something (which, you’re still trying to figure out if it’s good or bad).

“Alright,” you say, taking another sip from your glass. “One more round of goodbyes, then we escape.”

Kuroo’s eyes linger on you, almost thoughtful. “Deal.”

He downs the rest of his champagne and sets the empty flute on a nearby tray, offering you his arm. The little gesture makes you laugh under your breath; he’s always half-joking, half-serious. But you slip your hand into the crook of his elbow all the same, taking advantage of the moment with a small grin.

He is your date tonight, after all.

eight.

You two end up at a 99cent pizza shop.

It’s one of those shitty ones, where the lights blink every other second and are open 24/7 and catering exclusively to drunk people. You order a pepperoni slice (which is $1.50, absolutely criminal), Kuroo gets a slice with mushrooms and peppers like a weirdo, and a ten-piece garlic knots because you’re both absolute whores for shitty food.

The cashier barely looks up as you pass over a crumpled bill, his expression one of pure indifference. It’s the kind of place where no one gives a shit if you waltz in wearing a ballgown or, in Kuroo’s case, an untucked dress shirt and a loosened tie that screams former professionalism turned reckless abandon.

Kuroo nudges your shoulder as he grabs the tray of food. “Find us a seat, babyface.”

You glance around. The booths are occupied by a mix of exhausted bar-hoppers, students pulling all-nighters with greasy paper plates in front of them, and one guy hunched over, presumably contemplating his life choices. Classic New York.

You settle for a two-seater in the back corner, mostly because it’s the only spot that doesn’t look like it’ll give you tetanus. Kuroo sets the tray down between you, sliding into the seat across from you with that ridiculous, smug expression that hasn’t left his face all night.

“You’re staring,” you say flatly, reaching for a garlic knot.

He props his chin on his hand, unbothered. “You look cute.”

Your hand freezes mid-air. “What?”

Kuroo, the absolute bastard, takes a slow bite of his pizza like he didn’t just casually drop a grenade into your bloodstream. “I said, you look cute.” He gestures vaguely at you with his slice. “All dressed up in a shitty pizza joint. Very Serena van der Woodsen in Gossip Girl vibes.”

You recover quickly, snorting as you take a bite of your garlic knot. “You did not just compare me to Serena van der Woodsen.”

“Hey, I know my pop culture references.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “But seriously. I like this look on you.”

The warmth in your chest spreads far too quickly. You shove it down with a bite of pizza. “If you’re trying to butter me up, it’s not gonna work.”

Kuroo smirks. “You sure? It worked when we were kids.”

You shoot him a look. “I was six. You bribed me with strawberry Pocky.”

“And you fell for it every time,” he says, grinning. “You were so easy to manipulate.”

You kick him lightly under the table, but there’s no real venom behind it. He just chuckles and takes another bite of his pizza, chewing thoughtfully before glancing at you again.

“So,” he says after a moment. “What was the verdict on tonight? Was it as painful as you thought?”

You hesitate, twirling the crust of your pizza between your fingers. The thing is, you actually had fun. Not just tolerable, get-through-it-and-leave fun, but actual, laughing-with-Kuroo-in-the-middle-of-a-stuffy-corporate-party fun. The realization makes your stomach flip.

“It was fine,” you say, playing it cool. “Drinks were good. Company was tolerable.”

Kuroo barks out a laugh. “Tolerable? Damn, I’ll take it.”

You roll your eyes, but the way he’s looking at you—so easy, so damn fond—makes it hard to breathe for a second.

You clear your throat, glancing down at your plate. “Anyway, it was nice to see you in work mode. You actually seemed like a functional adult.”

Kuroo sighs dramatically. “I know, it’s exhausting.”

You snort. “I imagine so. Having to use, like, three brain cells at a time.”

“It’s really pushing my limits,” he says with an obnoxious frown.

The conversation drifts into easy territory—inside jokes, exaggerated retellings of childhood disasters, a debate about whether New York pizza is actually better than Tokyo’s (you say yes, he remains stubbornly neutral). It feels natural, like slipping into an old sweater that still fits perfectly despite the years.

At some point, he reaches across the table, swiping a garlic knot straight off your plate.

“Hey,” you protest, swatting at his hand too late.

Kuroo just smirks, popping the whole thing into his mouth. “Possession is nine-tenths of the law, babyface.”

“Possession is going to be me slapping you in the face if you steal another one.”

“Violence,” he muses, chewing. “That’s how you treat your childhood husband?”

Your face heats. “Tetsu.”

He winks. “Relax. I’ll buy you more next time.”

Next time.

The words hang there for a second longer than necessary. He says it like it’s a given, like this—you and him, nights like this—is a thing that should keep happening.

And the stupidest part? You don’t hate the idea… not even a little bit.

You pick up another garlic knot, breaking eye contact like that’ll do anything to slow your heartbeat. “You better buy me more.”

Kuroo just leans back, watching you like he already knows something you don’t, and you are slightly terrified of whatever that implies.

nine.

Monday night, after you get home from an excruciating day of labwork (like… you entered at 6 AM and left the next day at 2 AM—you’re really going through it these days), Kuroo is already changed and in his pajamas, reading a book and playing a vinyl you bought when you went through your #artsy stage. He looks up with a smile from his spot sprawled across your couch as you come in, drop your keys on the side table, and promptly collapse on the floor.

“I’m so tired,” you wail, fake sniffling, slumped against the wall. Kuroo looked momentarily alarmed until your pleading; he lets out an exhale that’s vaguely close to a laugh when he realises you’re just being dramatic.

“Welcome home,” he says, his smile practically audible in his voice. “Take it you had a long few day… days.”

You sigh, nodding, wobbling over to the couch and plopping on top of him. You’re so tired you don’t even care about the proximity—you want to lie down, right now. “Yeah. But I think I’ve discovered something pretty interesting, so I’m hoping I can get into Neuron this time around.”

“You’ll get it,” Kuroo says completely calmly, sounding insanely confident in you. He doesn’t even look away from his book—just lifts his arms enough to let you put your head on his chest, and then resting them against your shoulder blades. “Smartest girl I know.”

“...Shut up,” you mutter, burying your face into his t-shirt to hide your embarrassment.

You let out a weary groan, face still hidden in Kuroo’s t-shirt, and he just chuckles under his breath, shifting slightly so you can get more comfortable. His hand finds its way into your hair, fingers raking through it in a surprisingly soothing motion—like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Can’t believe you’re still awake,” he remarks, eyes darting back to his book. “Look like you’re about to pass out any second.”

“Very astute observation,” you mumble into the soft cotton. “Nothing gets past you.”

He snorts, lightly tapping your shoulder in retribution before turning a page. “Hey, just looking out for my genius scientist here. Big day tomorrow, right?”

Your face scrunches up in confusion. “Big day? I mean, I guess I have more lab stuff…”

Kuroo tilts his head, arching an eyebrow at you like you’ve said something ridiculous. “Not that,” he says, exasperated. “Valentine’s Day, babyface. Remember?”

Your heart does a quick, uncomfortable skip. Valentine’s—not Palentine’s. The difference lands in your head like a small explosion, especially considering you’ve both been referring to it as Palentine’s up ‘til now.

“O-oh,” you stammer eloquently, trying to recover. “Right. Valentine’s. Sure.”

He watches you carefully, eyes gleaming with amusement as he gently closes his book. “You didn’t forget our plans, did you?”

Plans. Right. He invited you for something—ice skating or a movie, or maybe both. You’d said yes in that flustered, I’m-pretending-this-is-just-a-friendly-thing way. But the way he’s saying it now, with that particular lilt in his voice, has your mind racing.

You force yourself to sit up slightly, though you don’t leave the comfort of lying half-on-top of him. “I—uh. I didn’t forget. I guess I’m just… used to calling it Palentine’s.”

Kuroo smirks, brushing a thumb across your cheek with casual familiarity. “Oh, right. My bad. I must’ve slipped.”

Slipped, he says, which makes your pulse do an annoying little flutter.

“I mean, it’s not like it matters,” you continue quickly, your words tripping over themselves. “We’re just hanging out—like always. Whether we call it Valentine’s or Palentine’s or ‘Tuesday’… right?”

He hums in response—low in his throat, almost thoughtful—while his hand drifts from your hair to the back of your neck in a comforting weight. “Sure,” he says, a bit too lightly to be casual. “Whatever you wanna call it.”

The tone in his voice suggests that maybe it does matter, that maybe—just maybe—he doesn’t want to hide behind the ‘Palentine’s’ façade anymore.

A moment of silence settles between you, broken only by the faint crackle of your old vinyl spinning and the ever-present traffic outside. Your nerves feel strung tight as a bitch, and you wonder if he can sense how tense you’ve suddenly gone.

“Anyway,” he says, clearly trying to alleviate some of the awkwardness, “I was thinking we could do something painfully cliché tomorrow. Romantic comedy marathon, maybe. Or that ice-skating idea. Hot chocolate, the works.”

You glance up at him, meeting his gaze. “That sounds… nice.” You fidget with a loose thread on his t-shirt, trying not to overthink every micro-expression on his face. “You sure you won’t be busy with, like, sponsor stuff, or—”

Kuroo rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “Are you kidding? I’d rather be with you—binging Netflix, falling on my face on the rink—than stuck in another press conference.” He gives a lazy shrug, but his eyes don’t leave yours. “Besides, I’m all yours tomorrow.”

I’m all yours.

There’s that pesky little flutter in your chest again, ramping up several notches. You wonder if he can feel your heart pounding where you’re still sprawled half-across his torso. Possibly. Probably.

“That’s… good,” you manage, trying not to think too hard about the myriad ways Valentine’s could be interpreted. Trying not to let the prospect of him wanting more—maybe wanting you—send you into a full-blown panic. Because a teeny, traitorous part of you is really hoping that’s what it means.

“Now,” he says, clearly sensing the rabbit hole your mind might be running down. “It’s past midnight, and you’ve had, what, negative hours of sleep?”

“That’s not even physically possible,” you argue, though your eyelids suddenly feel very heavy.

“Sure it is,” he counters, wrapping an arm more snugly around your waist as he tugs a throw blanket from the back of the couch. “I’m pretty sure you’re living proof. C’mon. Let’s just crash right here for a bit.”

You don’t have the energy to protest, and honestly? The idea of dozing off to the low hum of the vinyl, warm against Kuroo’s chest, is downright tempting. Besides, you’ll have to drag yourself to bed eventually—but for now, this cozy bubble is enough.

“Fine,” you mumble, feeling your limbs already going slack. “But if I drool on you, it’s your own fault for not kicking me off.”

He laughs quietly, letting the book he was reading slip onto the coffee table. “I’ll live. I’ve survived worse. Like the time you threw up all over me after that carnival ride in middle school.”

You grumble something incoherent in protest, too exhausted to muster a real comeback. The corners of his mouth twitch in amusement, and he shifts just enough to angle you more comfortably against him.

As your eyes flutter shut, you can’t stop replaying the word Valentine’s in your head. Tomorrow. Kuroo said it so easily, like it was obvious. Like it was a given that you wouldn’t just be celebrating as friends or old childhood buddies. Warmth pools in your chest, a mix of excitement and nerves. Maybe you’ll just have to see how tomorrow plays out—maybe you’ll finally figure out if this… thing you’ve been dancing around for so long is actually real.

Because if there’s one thing you are sure about, it’s that Kuroo has always had a way of turning your world on its axis. And this time, you really hope he doesn’t stop at Palentine’s.

ten.

You wake up to the smell of french toast.

Which, honestly, you lowkey don’t love nearly as much as waffles. But you aren’t going to be picky after your crash out last night.

You stumble into the kitchen, vaguely rubbing your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie, blinking away the sleep to read the Eevee alarm clock Kenma bought you when you moved in. 12:19PM. Honestly not your worst: once, during finals season in your undergrad years, you pulled a three-day all-nighter and passed out for sixteen straight hours after. Kuroo had to practically drag you out of your dorm room after that one; he and Kenma basically froze your phone with the amount of texts they sent in a futile attempt to wake you up.

Kuroo’s back is to you as he stands at the stove, his compression shirt accentuating his muscle definition. He looks straight up like a model you’d see at the mall in a Calvin Klein billboard, and it makes you flush as you remember he said Valentine’s last night. He senses you without even turning around—he, without even bothering to look up, says, “Mornin’, babyface. Do you want strawberries or whipped cream?”

“You doubt me. Both,” you snort, stepping closer. Despite your attempt at nonchalance, your stomach flips when you get closer and can see just how freakishly good he looks in that stupid ass shirt. The memory of him casually calling it Valentine’s still sizzles in the back of your mind.

Kuroo casts you a brief over-the-shoulder grin. “Both it is, princess.” He deftly flips a slice of french toast on the pan, the sweet, eggy aroma curling toward your nose. “Hope you’re hungry. I got a little carried away.”

“Oh, I’m starving,” you say, eyeing the small stack of bread slices he’s already prepared on a plate. “Seriously, I might eat all of this. If you don’t move fast, you won’t get any.”

He chuckles, dropping another piece of bread into the batter. “Noted. I’ll keep that in mind while I guard my breakfast with my life.”

You open the fridge for the strawberries, and sure enough, there’s also a can of whipped cream on the shelf—Kuroo came prepared. “I can’t believe you actually planned this,” you mutter under your breath, rifling around. “Is this your way of bribing me to be your Valentine?”

He pretends to think about it. “Might be. If it works, I’ll make waffles next time, too.”

You huff a laugh, grateful your face is still hidden in the fridge so he can’t see the fond smile spreading across your lips. Might be. It’s clear he’s leaning full-throttle into the idea of spending this entire Valentine’s Day with you. The thought warms you more than you want to admit.

Sliding the carton of strawberries onto the counter, you catch him drizzling a bit of honey on the toast. “Fancy,” you tease, dragging out the syllable.

Kuroo shrugs one shoulder. “Hey, can’t help being an overachiever. Besides…” He flips off the stove burner and slides the last slice of french toast onto the plate, stacking it neatly. “I missed this.”

You glance up, curiosity and something else tangling in your chest. “This? Cooking breakfast?”

He sets the spatula aside, turns around, and leans against the counter. “Cooking breakfast for you,” he clarifies, pausing as if testing how you’ll react. “Y’know, we used to hang out all the time—before you left for New York. I guess it just reminded me of those days. Late nights, lazy mornings, that sort of thing.”

Your cheeks warm at his candidness. “We still hung out a bit after we graduated,” you offer, though you know it was never the same once you’d moved halfway across the globe for grad school.

Kuroo nods, his hand lingering on the handle of the frying pan as if he needs something to ground himself. “Yeah, but once you officially moved here? We both got busy. Kenma did his whole streaming empire thing, I jumped into work. And you were—”

“Neck-deep in studies,” you finish for him, remembering those endless days in the lab, how you’d chug energy drinks and blink against fluorescent lights until your eyes burned.

Kuroo taps the counter with his knuckles, a soft exhale escaping him. “Uh-huh. And Kenma and I, well… we kinda promised each other we wouldn’t make a big deal about how much we missed you.” He flashes a small, wry grin. “Figured you already had enough to worry about without dealing with our whining.”

You pause, strawberries in hand, staring at him. “Wait. You both made that promise?”

He nods, and for once, you catch the hint of sheepishness in his expression. “We might have texted constantly about how weird it was without you around,” he admits, chuckling under his breath. “But we agreed to keep it low-key so you could focus on your research. Didn’t want you feeling guilty if you started missing home too much.”

Your chest tightens. “I—God, that’s so stupid of you guys.”

He arches an amused eyebrow. “Stupid?”

“I would have been fine!” you insist, though a pang of fondness (and maybe regret) flickers through you. “Yeah, I’d have been sad, but I would’ve rather known. Going months without hearing from you two sometimes was way worse.”

He huffs a laugh, pushing off the counter to move closer. “Yeah, guess in hindsight, it wasn’t the best plan. But we were, what, twenty? Twenty-one? And mostly worried you’d drop out of grad school to come home if we made you feel bad.”

“Drop out?” You roll your eyes. “Please, as if I’d ever let you be that important.”

Kuroo tosses you a smirk, but there’s a gratefulness in his gaze. “Hey, I’m plenty important. Just not more important than a doctorate in neuroscience.”

“Damn straight,” you retort, but your heart is pounding too hard for sarcasm to land with its usual punch. He missed you. More than that—he and Kenma both actively hid how much they missed you, just so you wouldn’t feel sad or guilty. That’s… an annoying level of sweet.

Before you can dwell on it, he gestures to the french toast. “Anyway, let’s eat? Unless you’d rather stand here and get all sentimental.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, but your tone is more flustered than harsh. “Give me the plate.”

He hands it over with a dramatic bow, then grabs the strawberries and whipped cream to set on the table. You both sit across from each other, and he insists on adding the toppings to your serving, swirling an absurd amount of whipped cream atop each slice.

“Seriously,” you scold, swatting his wrist when he won’t stop pressing the nozzle, “we don’t need that much foam sugar.”

He just laughs. “Oh, come on, babyface. Live a little.”

“Hmm,” you reply, biting the inside of your cheek to hide your grin. “Fine. But if I get a sugar crash in like two hours, you’re dealing with the aftermath.”

He mock-salutes you. “Yes, ma’am.”

It’s a small, silly moment, but something in the easy way you banter—especially right after that confession about how hard it was when you left—makes your chest swell with warmth. Perhaps it’s just the Valentine’s vibe that has your mind spinning in circles, but you can’t help wondering what he’s getting at here.

You try a bite, letting the sweetness and cinnamon melt on your tongue. “Damn,” you mumble through a mouthful, “this is actually pretty good.”

“Pretty good?” He sets a hand against his heart in mock offense. “I slaved away in the kitchen—”

“What, for like ten minutes?” you interrupt, snickering. “Yep, truly backbreaking labor.”

He pretends to wipe away a tear. “Your gratitude is overwhelming.”

Despite the teasing, he looks satisfied when you reach for another slice. You don’t miss how his eyes follow the movement, nor how his gaze lingers on your face, like he’s taking mental snapshots of you enjoying the meal. It’s disconcertingly tender—especially for a guy who’s teased you your entire life.

Eventually, when you’ve both eaten more than enough, you lean back in your chair, hand resting on your full stomach. “All right, Chef Kuroo. That was acceptable. Now what’s the plan for the rest of Valentine’s Day, hmm?”

He clears his throat, fiddling with a piece of crust on his plate. “Well, we could go ice skating later—like we talked about. If you’re still up for it. Or we could do that rom-com marathon and eat a bunch of store-bought chocolate. Or both.”

“That’s… definitely an option,” you say slowly, feeling a little thrill ripple through you at how nonchalant you’re trying to be. “Which one first?”

He meets your eyes, a hint of a smirk curving his lips. “Why not flip a coin?”

You snort, standing up and collecting the dishes. “No way. I have the worst luck with coin tosses.”

“Then I’ll rig it so you win.” Kuroo grins, pushing back his chair to follow you to the sink.

“And you call me the overachiever,” you toss over your shoulder, cranking on the faucet. You start rinsing plates, the soap suds foaming around your fingers.

“Mm,” he murmurs, stepping up behind you. “At least let me help.”

He crowds in, reaching to take the plate from your hand. You don’t protest—mostly because your entire body goes rigid at the realization of how close he’s standing. His chin practically brushes your temple, and you can feel the warmth radiating off him in waves.

For a moment, neither of you moves. The only sound is the running water, the faint drip of the faucet, and the thud of your own heartbeat in your ears. You can’t help the way your breath catches.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, noticing your sudden stillness.

“Yeah,” you manage, forcing yourself to relax. “Just spacing out.”

His lips twitch into a small, understanding smile. “Same here.” Then, with a deft motion, he takes the plate from you and resumes scrubbing, shoulders barely an inch from yours in your cramped kitchen.

This shouldn’t feel so charged, right? He’s just helping you do dishes. But everything with Kuroo feels different this morning—like there’s some invisible line you both keep brushing against, neither one wanting to take the leap but both too invested to step back.

When the last plate is clean, he sets it on the drying rack, shuts off the water, and dries his hands with a dishrag. “So,” he says, turning to you. “Breakfast? Check. Next item on the Valentine’s agenda?”

You roll your eyes—can’t believe you’re actually calling it Valentine’s now, you think, but you don’t correct him. Instead, you tilt your head, as if deep in thought. “Well, you did promise me cheesy romance, so maybe we do the rom-com marathon first and ice skating afterward, if we still have time.”

His grin is immediate. “Sounds perfect.” He turns and saunters toward your living room, tossing the dishrag onto the counter. “I’ll pick the first movie?”

You’re about to agree when you suddenly remember—he said he’d rig the coin toss. So you raise an eyebrow. “Wait, how do I know you’re not just rigging this in your favor?”

Kuroo snorts, grabbing the TV remote. “Hey, I’m giving you exactly what you want, babyface. I call that your favor.”

You roll your eyes for the millionth time, but you can’t keep the small smile off your face as you follow him into the living room. For the first time in a long while, you feel light—like maybe the missing piece of your life that you left behind in Tokyo is right here, making you french toast and joking about Valentine’s Day.

eleven.

You easily binge Netflix’s Love Is In The Air recommendations for several hours, to the point where, by the time that you wrap up The Kissing Booth 3, the sun has already started to set. Outside your fourth floor apartment, you have a relatively unobstructed view of the way the sky melds into a blend of purples and blues, casting shadows and making your living room’s lighting feel even warmer.

Somehow (you say, knowing full well that you climbed into this position with full intentions of doing so) you end up curled up in Kuroo’s arms, one of your legs draped over his thigh while his arm wraps snugly around your shoulders. His other hand lazily scrolls through the Netflix homepage, searching for the next rom-com victim. You barely pay attention, though—too busy noticing how ridiculously warm he is, how easy it is to fit against him, and how the dark colors of the setting sun outside look so damn pretty.

Finally, after a half-hearted scroll through the Looking For The One category, you decide: “I’m hungry. Let’s get sushi.”

He perks up, setting down the remote. “Now you’re speaking my language. Which place should we order from?”

“There’s this little spot a few blocks away that does really fresh rolls,” you say, grabbing your phone from the cushion beside you. “They deliver in like fifteen minutes, too.”

Kuroo nods, giving you a light squeeze. “Cool. Just let me know how much I owe you. Or consider it your Valentine’s gift to me, I guess.” He snickers.

You roll your eyes at the terrible suggestion, pulling up the menu on your phone. “I’ve got it, I’m feeling generous. Plus, this place is kinda special to me anyway.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Special? Because the sushi’s that good?”

You shift, trying to type your order without meeting his eyes. “Uhh… well, an ex brought me here once. That was back in like, grad school.”

Kuroo’s hand stills against your arm. “Excuse me?” he says, feigning dramatic outrage. “I can’t believe you’d talk about your sordid affairs on Valentine’s Day, babyface. You wound me.”

You snort, giving him a playful shove that doesn’t move him even an inch. “Relax, it was ages ago. It’s not like it was a big deal. I mostly liked him because he kinda looked like—” You stop mid-sentence, eyes widening.

“Kinda looked like… what?” Kuroo parrots, amused suspicion lighting up his features. “Finish that sentence.”

You clamp your mouth shut and tap furiously on your phone screen instead. “Nothing. Just forget it.”

His eyes narrow. “Oh, no no no, you don’t get to drop that bomb and then pretend it never happened. Spill.”

“It’s none of your business,” you reply swiftly, your cheeks burning. “And for the record, it’s definitely not what you’re thinking.”

He sets his jaw, locking you in place by tightening the arm wrapped around you. “Alright, guess I’ll have to guess. Let’s see—you liked him because he kinda looked like…” He pauses, tapping a finger to his chin in exaggerated thought. “Me?”

“Oh my god, no,” you say, maybe a bit too quickly. “That’d be weird, Tetsu. You’re—well, you’re you.”

Something fleetingly vulnerable flashes across his face. He frowns a little, brow knitting. “Do you really think so?” His tone goes quiet, serious in a way that has your stomach dropping.

Your pulse stutters. “Wait, no, I didn’t mean—” You flail, phone clattering onto the cushion as you try to find his gaze. “I just—look, it’s not weird. Of course I—I mean, you know I—” You exhale shakily, feeling your words tumble over themselves. “I like you, Tetsu. Please don’t be upset.”

There’s a beat of tense silence… and then Kuroo bursts out laughing. Actual, stomach-jostling laughter. His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose as he struggles to compose himself, and you realize, with rapidly boiling annoyance, that he’s been messing with you.

“You jerk!” you sputter, smacking him on the arm. “That wasn’t funny! I thought I actually hurt your feelings.”

He just grins, easily absorbing your weak swats. “Aw, sorry, babyface. You should’ve seen your face, though.”

Your cheeks feel molten. “I hate you sometimes, you know?”

“Mm-hmm,” he drawls, pulling you back against him, his palm smoothing over your shoulder. “But the good news is, now I know you do like me. And that some of your exes looked like me, which is a really nice ego boost.”

You groan, burying your face against his chest. “Shut up.”

He keeps talking anyway, voice taking on a more pensive note. “I mean, it’s not like I can judge. I think about you whenever I meet someone new.”

Slowly, you lift your head, eyebrows knitting. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs one shoulder, as if it’s no big deal. “Just, like, whenever I go on a date, I find myself comparing them to you. They’re never as funny or as smart, or I wonder if they’d get along with Kenma the way you obviously do… that kind of thing.”

You stare at him, mouth slightly open. “Tetsu…” You’re not sure how to respond to that confession. Warmth and a spike of adrenaline rush through you, and you can only open and close your mouth in silence.

At your speechlessness, Kuroo just laughs, scrunching his nose in amusement. “Aw, come on. It’s not that shocking, is it?”

“Uh,” you manage, blinking. “I—uh.”

Your brain is short-circuiting, so you do the only thing that makes sense in your frazzled state: you announce, “I’m gonna go pee.”

“What?” He snorts. “Really? That’s your best response to my heartfelt confession?”

“You think I chose this response?” you squeak, scrambling to your feet. Your cheeks feel like they could combust. “I don’t control your unfiltered romantic drivel, and you don’t control my bladder, okay?”

Kuroo just shakes his head in disbelief, though his eyes gleam with delight. “I’m not stopping you, babyface. Go pee. The sushi’ll be here in a few minutes anyway.”

You nod, fleeing the scene for the bathroom, heart pounding in your ears. Even as you slam the door behind you, you can hear him chuckling softly in the living room.

Leaning against the bathroom door, you take a steadying breath. He compares everyone to you. You literally admitted you like him, too. And he’s laughing, because this is all apparently just… normal. Suddenly, the entire dynamic shifts—like everything you’ve both been dancing around for so long is right there, out in the open, and you’re not quite sure what to do next.

Well, you do know one thing: you really do need to pee.

“Okay,” you mutter, “priorities.”

And as you step toward the toilet, part of you wonders how to keep your composure once you walk back out to him—because from here on out, there’s no more pretending you don’t both feel something real.

twelve.

After peeing and washing your hands with your favorite bougie ass soap (Christmas gift from your boss; you could never afford it at department store rates), you whip out your phone and call Kenma. You know it’s 8 AM over there, so there’s a good chance you’ll be waking up your brother, but you don’t care because you need his objective opinion right now.

It takes until the third call, but on the fourth ring, he finally picks up.

“What?” he mumbles groggily. “I was sleeping.”

“Sorry, but I don’t care. Give me some good advice right now,” you hiss into your phone, pacing back and forth in front of your shower like a maniac.

You hear fabric rustling, followed by a prolonged yawn. “Fine. I bet it has to do with Kuro.”

You freeze, biting down on your lip. “...Maybe.”

“Ugh,” Kenma sighs. “I literally can’t believe you’re calling me about him at eight in the morning.”

“It’s not that early, y’know.”

He grumbles something incoherent under his breath, then says more clearly, “So what’s the crisis? I’m not sure how many brain cells I have at this hour.”

You rub your forehead, letting out a strangled groan. “Kenma, is it weird if I kinda—I don’t know—wanna make out with him? Like, a lot? Maybe not just make out—maybe, like, really make out—” You shake your head vigorously, cheeks flaming. “But is that weird?”

There’s silence on the other end for a long moment. Then Kenma’s voice, flat as ever: “That’s my sister and my best friend you’re talking about. Gross. But also not really weird. Because I literally officiated your wedding in second grade, remember? You two are basically old news.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, your free hand clenching at your side. “Oh my God, not you too. Kuroo keeps bringing it up, and now you’re enabling him. When did that wedding even become a real memory to everyone but me?”

“Uh, it’s always been a memory. You wore a yellow dress, he had a Spider-Man t-shirt, I was reading from a Pokémon handbook.” He yawns. “I was, like, seven, but I still remember, because Kuro wouldn’t shut up about it. And apparently, still won’t.”

“Yeah, well,” you huff, pacing faster. “He mentions it daily, I swear, and it’s driving me insane—like, I get it, we had a pretend wedding when we were literal children. Does he have to bring it up every chance he gets?”

Kenma’s voice goes deadpan. “He brings it up because he likes you, dumbass.”

Your pacing halts so abruptly you almost trip over the bathroom mat. “...Oh.”

A beat passes; the only sound is your heart thudding in your ears.

“Yeah,” Kenma continues, dry as day-old toast. “He’s liked you forever. You’ve liked him forever. You’re both idiots. Congrats.”

You gawk at the phone, mind spinning. “Wait—he—he’s always…? Does everyone know this except me?”

Kenma yawns again, unperturbed. “Probably. I mean, we weren’t exactly subtle growing up. Dad used to tell me he was more worried about you running off with Tetsu than, like, your middle school crushes.”

You gape. “Seriously?”

“Mhm.” You hear the faint click of a laptop or a Switch—knowing Kenma, he’s probably opening up a game to pass the time. “Anyway, is that all you needed to ask? Because I’d like to get at least another hour of sleep.”

You groan, but you can’t quell the swirl of hope rising in your chest. “This is… surreal. He just told me earlier—like, not directly, but he basically said he thinks about me whenever he meets someone new. And I might’ve implied I like him too—oh God, Kenma, what do I do?”

He’s quiet for a moment, presumably considering. “Make out with him. I don’t know. You literally said that’s what you want to do.”

“That’s it? That’s your profound, brotherly wisdom?”

“What else do you want me to say?” he drones. “You both already know you like each other. This was the most obvious outcome in the world. Just do your thing, get it out of your system. Or get married again if you want. Could be a nice full-circle moment.”

You let out a mortified noise, pressing your forehead to the cool tile of your bathroom wall. “You’re—urgh, never mind. Thanks, Kenma.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. “Tell Kuro he owes me five bucks for something… I’ll think of a reason later. Bye.”

Before you can protest, he hangs up, leaving you with your phone still pressed to your ear. You stare at the blank screen, a mix of exasperation and relief swirling through your chest.

He likes you. You like him. You’re idiots—Kenma’s words, not yours. And apparently, neither of you has been hiding it as well as you thought.

You inhale slowly, trying to calm your racing heart. Then you square your shoulders. “Okay,” you say to yourself, “I can do this. Just… go out there and act normal. Or as normal as possible while wanting to jump his bones. Easy.”

With that pep talk, you push off the wall, open the bathroom door, and step into the hallway, with completely unfounded confidence in yourself.

thirteen.

That confidence goes straight out the window because as soon as you walk back, you are caught off-guard by Kuroo standing in the middle of your living room, hands behind his back and wearing the guiltiest expression you’ve ever seen, obviously hiding something from your view. You’re scared, and immediately a little suspicious.

“What are you doing?” you ask warily, taking very slow, careful steps toward him. “What is that?”

He ignores the question entirely, instead breaking into a triumphant grin. “Babyface,” he declares, “I have a Valentine’s Day gift for you.”

All the tension in your shoulders uncoils in one quick moment of relief. “Oh.” You snort, rolling your eyes. “Okay, this should be good. What is it—a frog? A cricket? Remember when you gave me that cricket in fourth grade?”

Kuroo stifles a laugh, as if recalling the memory of your horrified shriek when you opened a tiny shoebox to find a chirping insect. “I was trying to teach you about biology. You always liked science-y stuff,” he defends. “Besides, a cricket is romantic if you think about it long enough.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Please don’t tell me that’s what’s behind your back right now.”

He steps forward, eyes warm with mirth. “I promise. This is way better.”

He produces a small, flat object from behind him—a rectangular folder, sealed by a thin, glossy cover. At first, you’re genuinely perplexed. It’s too big to be a normal card, and there’s no way it’s a book, unless it’s some custom print job. The corners are crisp, the material looks like maybe photo paper. Curiosity coaxes you closer.

Catching your confusion, Kuroo grins wider. “Look inside.”

With a hint of skepticism, you slip your fingers under the cover, peeling it back. Inside is a high-quality color print—like a medical scan or something from a research article. Black-and-gray cross-sections and bright neon highlights fill your vision, and as you blink, trying to parse the image, your mouth goes dry. You recognize the shape of a human brain from an fMRI scan: swirling patterns in vivid oranges and reds indicating activated regions.

“Is this… an fMRI?” you breathe, your hand trembling slightly as you lift the print to the light. Definitely an fMRI, your trained eye confirms—distinct slices, certain labeling, the faint text from the imaging software. “Tetsu, why the hell are you giving me…?”

He shifts, almost shy, scratching the back of his neck. “I asked one of the JVA’s partnered sports med facilities to do a little favor for me.” A pause. “A small, borderline unethical favor.”

Your eyes dart back to the vibrant splotches. “The nucleus accumbens,” you whisper, tapping a bright orange blob near the center. “And the hippocampus. They’re… lit up.” You draw in a sharp breath. “These areas activate when you’re—”

“—experiencing motivation, reward, or strong emotional attachment,” he finishes gently, voice hushed. “Like, for instance, thinking about someone you love.”

Your heart stutters so violently you nearly drop the print. “So, you—this is… from your brain?” you manage, your throat suddenly tight.

Kuroo nods, looking almost bashful, which is a jarring contrast to his usual smug confidence. “They scanned me while I was, uh… focusing on a particular mental image.” He glances away, expression uncharacteristically shy. “I figured you’d like the hard data. You being a scientist and all.”

You force yourself to swallow past the dryness in your mouth. “You’re telling me you literally got an fMRI done while thinking about… someone?” Your voice trembles on the last word, and you can’t quite meet his eye.

He exhales a quick laugh. “Uh-huh. Didn’t take long. I just, you know, had to fill out some forms, promise it was for a PR stunt about brain health or something. Then I, well, closed my eyes and pictured—”

“Who?” you interrupt, not even caring that you sound breathless. You’re clutching the fMRI print so hard you can feel the edges biting into your fingertips.

Kuroo’s grin turns downright sheepish, and he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Take a wild guess, babyface.”

Heat floods your cheeks, your mind flashing back to all the data you’ve read about how the nucleus accumbens is heavily involved in romantic love, addiction, reward. All those nights you taught undergrads about dopaminergic pathways and the hippocampus’s role in forming new memories—specifically, emotional memories.

“You… you were thinking about me?” you ask, voice scarcely above a whisper.

The sheepishness melts into something warmer. “Yeah,” he admits, gaze holding yours. “Obviously.”

For a moment, your living room goes silent—no hum of traffic or whir of appliances registers in your ears, just the thud-thud-thud of your heart as you stare at the bright orange smears on the print. He was literally focusing on you, flooding his mind with thoughts of you, enough to trigger all these hallmark signs of love and emotional resonance in his brain.

“You—” you start, but your voice is shaky. You take a breath, dropping your eyes to the image again. “This is probably the strangest and most… scientifically romantic thing anyone’s ever given me.”

He clears his throat, stepping closer. “I hoped you’d see it that way. I know you’re not into the typical Valentine’s gifts—flowers and cheesy cards. So I thought, you know… I’d show you proof.” He shrugs, but there’s an earnestness in his eyes that makes your chest tighten. “Real, measurable proof that you’re always in my head.”

Overcome, you tear your gaze from the print to search his face, half expecting him to burst into laughter and say it’s another joke. But there’s no sign of teasing. He’s dead serious, a bit vulnerable, and it reminds you painfully of how you’ve known him forever—how under all the arrogance and jokes, he’s always worn his heart right there on his sleeve.

“I—” You can’t find the words, so instead, you lean forward, pressing your forehead gently against his shoulder. The fMRI print stays clutched in your hand at your side, but the rest of you rests against him, trying to steady your breathing.

Kuroo’s arms come up, enveloping you. You feel the softness of his shirt and the warmth of his body, and it’s equal parts comforting and electrifying. “So,” he says softly, voice rumbling through your hair, “was this too much?”

You lift your head, meeting his gaze. “No,” you say, the corners of your mouth tilting up in a shaky smile. “It’s just… a lot to take in.” You let out a small laugh, one that wobbles on the edge of tears. “You literally went out of your way to prove you’re thinking about me with actual neuroscience data. How am I supposed to top that?”

He grins, the tension in his shoulders easing. “You don’t have to. Maybe just trust me when I say you’re stuck in my head, yeah?”

A breathless little chuckle escapes you. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I… can do that.”

For a second, the two of you just stand there, pressed together, the overhead light casting a soft glow on the fMRI print you still clutch in your trembling hand. Then Kuroo’s voice breaks the silence:

“Hey,” he murmurs, “since we’re on the subject of your super-scientific interest in my reward pathways… maybe we can do a little experiment?”

Your brow arches, a half-laugh catching in your throat. “An experiment, huh?”

“Mhm.” He carefully closes his hand around your wrist—the one holding the print—guiding it so you can set it gently on the coffee table nearby. Then he slides his fingers under your chin, tilting your face up to his. “I wanna see if I can spike some more activity in that region. Because I’m definitely thinking about you right now.”

Your heart stutters. The last time he teased you about wanting to test something, you were six years old, and he was coaxing you into believing that tying your shoelaces together would make you run faster. This, though? Vastly different stakes.

Still, your lips twitch into a wry smile. “Just… kissing me won’t show up on an fMRI unless you, I don’t know, plan on hooking up electrodes or something.”

He smirks, fingers trailing up to brush the line of your jaw. “Nah, no fancy medical tech needed. I just want an empirical result—like, say, a moan or a heartbeat spike.”

A shiver runs through you, and you swear you can feel your pulse jump beneath his hand. “You’re such a nerd,” you whisper, lips quirking. “But sure. For science.”

He laughs softly, the sound warm and easy, like the last golden light of sunset spilling through half-open blinds. Then, before you can think too much about it, he closes the distance, tilting his head just slightly as his lips brush against yours in a kiss that is warm, lingering, and unhurried. It steals your breath, not in the way a storm might, but like a tide gently pulling you under, enveloping you in something deep and inevitable.

The taste of him is familiar yet new all at once—there’s the faint trace of the toast from earlier, or maybe just the memory of it, mingling with something sweeter, something unmistakably him. His fingers ghost along your waist, their presence featherlight but grounding, like a silent promise that he’s here, he’s real. And when he pulls you closer, his body pressing flush against yours, you feel it—the way your heart flutters wildly against your ribs, the way warmth spreads through your chest like a sunrise breaking over the horizon.

For a moment, the world holds its breath. Everything fades away—the hum of the city beyond the window, the soft glow of the overhead lights, even the thoughts that usually crowd your mind. There is only this: the way his lips move with quiet reverence, the quiet hitch in your breath as your fingers curl instinctively into the fabric of his shirt, the subtle shift of his body as he deepens the kiss just enough to make your pulse race.

And then, suddenly, you realize—you don’t need a machine or a calculation to tell you how you feel. The answer is already written in the way your entire chest hums, in the way your skin tingles where he touches you, in the way something inside you feels like it’s come alive, like a supernova has replaced your heart.

God, the astrophysics department should be studying this instead.

When he finally pulls back—foreheads brushing, breath mingling—he searches your eyes, his own half-lidded with affection. “So,” he murmurs, “did I succeed in lighting up your hippocampus?”

Your laugh comes out a little breathless. “If you keep that up,” you say, pressing a palm to his chest, “you might just rewire my entire brain.”

He grins, leaning in again to drop a quick peck at the corner of your mouth. “Good. Then I’ll have all the data I need.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for another lingering kiss, feeling the warmth of his smile against your lips. In the back of your mind, you’re distantly aware that your own reward pathways might be exploding, nucleus accumbens glowing neon, hippocampus forging brand-new memories like a bonfire. And for the first time in a long time, you’re okay with letting the feelings have free rein.

Because sometimes, science can capture how people feel, but it can’t fully capture why. And right now, with Kuroo’s arms around you and that precious fMRI print still waiting on the coffee table, you think you’ve finally found your “why” in the easiest, most obvious place of all:

He loves you, and you love him back.

fourteen.

Three hundred and sixty-four days later, Kuroo is helping you move into a new apartment. In Tokyo. Because Columbia offered you the chance to do an exchange with the University of Tokyo before the end of your doctorate studies. For two entire years, slicing open human brains and figuring out what’s going on beneath, because your article published in Neuron made the cover page and you got a fat and juicy grant from the school. Two entire years of being close enough to hear your parents bragging about you in person again, and to have shitty takeout dinner with Kenma after his video game streams but before his corporate mojo.

And two entire years of getting to live with your boyfriend. Kuroo, your very wonderful boyfriend who you love more than life itself and who you want to be buried with one day. The Kuroo who was the first person you liked at six years old and is still who you like at twenty-six. The Kuroo who you have successfully managed an international relationship with because you’ve already went three years apart without the spark dying. Still, you’re absolutely beaming as you carry in boxes and boxes of clothes, because you always love getting to be with him, in person and in real life, and now you get to every single day.

You can’t hang up on him when he gets annoying anymore, but it’s worth it when he makes you breakfast daily and reaches for you in his sleep.

You heave another box into the apartment—this one filled with mismatched mugs you’ve collected from half a dozen coffee shops—and set it down with a groan. Kuroo flashes you a grin from across the living room, one hand resting casually on his hip as he surveys the chaos of half-unpacked boxes and hastily labeled luggage.

“You brought an entire suitcase just for shoes,” he points out, amused.

“Hey,” you protest, wiping sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand, “if I’m living here for two years, I’m not just gonna live in sneakers.”

He ambles over and nudges the box with his foot. “I guess that’s fair—though I’m not carrying that one up another flight of stairs if we end up moving again. You’ll have to bribe Kenma for help.”

You roll your eyes, but a laugh slips free. “Fine, fine. Now, major question: where are we putting our bed?”

He waggles his eyebrows, eyes bright with mischief. “We?” he echoes, as if you haven’t been living together for all of thirty minutes. “I’m pretty sure I get ultimate bed placement rights, given my extensive experience in interior design.”

“Oh, sure, because black-cat-themed t-shirts and old gym hoodies scream ‘interior design mogul.’”

He smirks. “Hey, I’ve got taste.” With that, he gestures expansively toward the center of a wall in the room you’d marked for the bed, where the largest patch of light from the window splashes onto the floor. “I say we put the bed there. We’ll get a queen, obviously.”

You raise an eyebrow. “A queen? As if you’re actually gonna stay on your side.”

His grin turns lazy. “Exactly. I can find you in the expanse.”

“And you wonder why I think you’re annoying.” You toss him a mock exasperated look, which only earns you another chuckle.

“You still chose to live with me,” he points out, that devilish glint in his eyes returning, “because you’re stuck with me, right here.”

“Lucky me,” you tease, while your heart still does that stupid flutter thing at the thought of waking up next to him every day.

He walks over and presses a quick kiss to your forehead. It’s such a simple, tender gesture that you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face.

“Speaking of tomorrow,” you say, turning back to break down an empty cardboard box, “it’s Valentine’s Day. Any big plans, or are we just, y’know, gonna eat convenience store chocolates while finishing the bed frame?”

Kuroo shrugs, far too casually for someone who’s obviously up to something. “Mmm, I might have a surprise,” he says.

You roll your eyes. “Of course you do. You and your surprises. Is it expensive, by chance?”

His brows lift in feigned innocence. “Depends if you consider a diamond ring expensive.”

You almost drop the box, now flattened and very, very large. “A what now?”

He smirks, crossing his arms over his chest. “You heard me.”

He’s kidding. He has to be fucking kidding, right now. He did not spend a small fortune on a rock for your finger.

“Fucking return that,” you blurt instantly, your heart skipping not one but multiple beats. “That’s so expensive. Why would you do that?”

“Well, if I’m gonna get my future wife a ring, I’m gonna make it an investment,” Kuroo replies with an ease that makes your chest tighten all over again.

“Wait—what the… Are you—are you serious?”

He leans closer, lips tilting in a secretive smile. “I guess you’ll find out tomorrow.”

Your mind whirls, half in shock, half in outright giddy disbelief. You’re suddenly hyperaware of everything: his calm breathing, the faint noises from the street outside, the way the newly painted walls catch the late afternoon light.

“Are you messing with me?” you finally manage.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he says, and then taps the tip of your nose affectionately. “But trust me, you’ll like it.”

It’s maddening and wonderful all at once, and you can’t help but wonder how on earth you got lucky enough to stumble into a future that looks a whole lot like happiness—especially if it involves a ring.

But for now, you tamp down the frantic beating of your heart and glance at the corner of the room. “Right,” you say, clearing your throat. “Queen bed. Got it.”

He laughs. “We’ll get the perfect one tomorrow. After all, we have at least two years of me latching onto you in my sleep, and then… maybe forever.”

And you roll your eyes, but you know what’ll happen tomorrow. Because of course you’re going to say yes. Because Kuroo Tetsuro has been the love of your life since you were a kid marrying him with dandelions, and because in every version of your imagined future, he’s still there, standing across from you at the aisle, regardless of if it’s a Band-Aid or an engagement ring he’s putting on your finger. Because he still makes every reward center in your brain light up (and because you’re putting that fMRI in your office at the university).

Honestly, love is a system of chemical reactions. Scanners and artificial intelligence will probably take over the world sooner or later, and the scientific community is getting better and better at understanding the whys. You can measure the dopamine flooding your brain, track the firing of mirror neurons, and map out which regions of your cortex light up at the sound of his laugh. But still, science is flawed, because all the scanning techniques in the world can’t replicate the soft, certain rhythm of his heartbeat under your palm, or the way his eyes crinkle in tender amusement when he looks at you.

In this moment, your hippocampus diligently encodes every detail: the slight scuff on the floor, the teasing quirk of his lips, the warm press of his shoulder against yours. The memory crystallizes, even before tomorrow’s promise fully forms, because you already know the answer. You always have.

When you finally pull your gaze away, the last rays of sunlight spill over the spot where you’ll put your new bed—the place you’ll fall asleep entangled in each other’s arms, night after night. You picture the days ahead: lazy mornings that begin with his sleepy kisses, evenings spent side by side, peeling back the layers of the human mind and finding new depths in each other all the while.

And as your heart thrums with a rhythm that science can’t quite pin down—something that defies clean categorization in textbooks—you realize that in this bright, messy, glorious future, every neuron in your body is wired just for him.

And if that’s not proof enough of love, you’re not sure what is.

⨭ closing notes; i love being able to write bc i can create purely self indulgent things like this. i'm a neuroscientist and my bday is nov 14 (exactly 9 months after valentine's day) and im from nyc so this one really has a lil kick to it. did u notice i made it perfectly 14 chapters cause feb 14 lol i rly used my brain for that one. anyway happy day of love!! whether ur celebrating or not, please know i love u all <3

418 notes · View notes

leaderwonim · 1 year ago

Text

SEASONS

⤻ pairing. popular!sunghoon x shy!reader (ft nishimura riki and hanni from nwjns)

⤻ genre. fluff, hints of angst, brother’s best friend to lovers trope (reader is heeseung’s sister) forbidden love kinda

⤻ synopsis. park sunghoon, the notorious playboy who just so happens to be your brother’s best friend, was off limits. heeseung had made it clear to you during your freshman year of high school, and the rule still hasn’t changed even when entering your senior year. but what lee heeseung doesn’t know won’t hurt him right?

author’s note: wrote this out of boredom after listening to seasons by wave to earth 🥹 i love that song with all my heart. riki is so unserious lmao i love him. COMMENTS & REBLOGS are always appreciated 🤞

“he’s off limits,” heeseung says as he swings by your desk, watching as you scrolled through your Instagram feed, a post of sunghoon’s passing by. “i saw you stalk him, you know.”

“i wasn’t stalking him.” you say, shooing your older brother away. “geez, have you gotten crazier since you’ve left for stanford?”

“first of all, i’m not crazy.” he flicks your forehead, deciding to be the annoying older brother he was and rummage through your things. “and i’d like to see you get into stanford yn, i really would. instead of being boy crazy with your psychotic friends.”

you roll your eyes at this, placing your phone down to look at your brother. “my friends are not psychotic. plus, your stupid rule about sunghoon started in freshman year of high school, can’t you let it go?”

“never.” heeseung steps off your bed. “i know him, yn. you don’t, you don’t know what he’s capable of.”

you blow the threat from your brother. if there’s one thing you’ve learned from living with lee heeseung your entire life was that ignoring him was easier than trying to pick a fight with him. he was stubborn as a bull.

heeseung and sunghoon became friends in the fifth grade after your family had moved, and he ignored your presence up until junior year of high school, where he ruffled your hair when you congratulated him on his graduation.

“thanks little lee,” he says, and it’s all park sunghoon has spoke to you, which hurt knowing that you’ve practically tried everything since middle school for him to acknowledge your existence.

“YN!” your mother calls from the kitchen. “oh gosh, i forgot to pack heeseung his lunch! can you drive to the university?”

your cheeks puff out, which makes riki who was currently on your phone screen, laugh.

“yah, listen to your mother lee yn,” riki snickers. “i’ll come with. i need to get out of my house anyway.”

you roll your eyes at his self invitation, hanging up as you quickly run down to grab heeseung’s lunch from your mom and your keys.

yn on top☝️

be ready in 5 nishimura, im omw

nishishi

ok.

yn on top ☝️

dry ass

“get in loser!” you call out. nishimura riki pulls his black shades down, eyebrows furrowed.

“the hell you call me?” he jokes, opening your passenger car door.

he starts to buckle his seatbelt as you drive, taking a sip from your stanley. “so why are you so excited? wait—i know why. you get to see park sunghoon in action!”

“yah!” you slap his shoulder with your free hand, turning the music a bit louder so you couldn’t hear him.

“oh don’t turn up the music because you can’t handle the truth. you just wanna see your brother’s hot best friend.”

“can you blame a girl?” you say, lips out in a pout. “maybe now that i’m 18, they’ll take me seriously.”

“nobody takes you seriously, y/n.”

“nishimura riki, you have 5 minutes to get out my car.”

turns out, nishimura riki did not get outside of your car. for a boy who was on the varsity track and swim team of your high school, he refused to walk the 3 miles that was left to go to the university.

“you almost forgot his lunch idiot,” riki laughs, handing heeseung’s lunch to you. “imagine you approach sunghoon thinking you’re all cool and then he asks why you’re here and you don’t even have your brothers lunch to defend you.”

“do you always wish death upon me?” you give him the stink eye, pulling him by his hands.

“little lee, did not expect to see you here.”

you knew that voice from anywhere, and you were almost afraid to turn around to face the owner of it.

“yah little lee, i’m talking to you.” it was park sunghoon in all his glory, his hair sitting all nice and pretty as he waits for your response.

“oh! uh—where’s heeseung?”

“ouch,” sunghoon places a hand over his chest. “i greet you and the first thing you ask is where’s your brother.”

riki cackles loudly, so loud that you want to slam his mouth shut and pretend you don’t know him.

“hi park sunghoon,” he greets, extending his hand.

although sunghoon finds the tall boy a bit of a cutie by his baby face, the way he was holding onto your hand made him already seem like a threat, so sunghoon’s expression is pursed into a poker face.

“heeseung is down at the corridor,” sunghoon says, turning back to you. “do you want me to give him that?”

you nod shyly, handing the lunch to sunghoon who smiles. “aish, the kid got into stanford and he’s still making his mom make his lunch?”

you could feel riki’s hand loosen from yours, his attention caught on two students who were currently dancing on the other side of campus.

“be right back!” he exclaims, running off to watch them.

“this jerk,” you whisper underneath your breath, smiling when you make eye contact with sunghoon again.

“he’s quite the character, isn’t he?” sunghoon questions. “who is he?”

he says that in such a bitter taste that makes your stomach flip, wondering why he was suddenly upset.

“nishimura riki, he transferred to hybe high from japan just this year. he’s really sweet but very chaotic.”

“ah,” sunghoon clicks his tongue. “is he your boyfriend?”

your words almost get caught in your throat, obviously shocked by sunghoon’s straightforward question. “what?! no!”

“oh,” he smiles. “that’s good little lee.”

“you should just call me y/n,” you groan. “little lee sounds so stupid.”

“it’s not stupid,” sunghoon says, flicking his hand. “it’s cute.”

“really?”

“like you.”

before you could even process it, riki’s already running back to the two of you, excitedly telling you about the amazing dance program stanford has to offer.

“let’s go! i have to go home and submit an application to stanford!”

sunghoon raises an eyebrow at the excited tall boy who was currently grabbing you, sending you a small wave and smirk when your eyes plead for him to rescue you.

“see you soon little lee.”

“YAH! ARE YOU AN IDIOT?”

“HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU IT WAS AN ACCIDENT?!”

you were currently scolding the japanese boy for ruining your chances with sunghoon earlier.

“it is not my fault lee yn!” he says, puffing out his chest. “plus, the dancers say there’s a party this weekend at stanford and they’ll sneak us in. we have to go, you can see sunghoon hyung again and i can see them!”

you pursed your mouth into a thin line, riki awaiting anxiously for your answer.

“let’s say i do wanna go, heeseung would never let me go to a college party, especially not with a boy like you!”

riki clasps his hand over his chest and pretends to fall over in pain on your bed. “how could you say that?! i’m a great guy. cmon yn, you can’t let your older brother dictate your entire life, you’re 18 now!”

although riki has said a million of stupid things, he was right about this. you were eighteen, and you didn’t need your older brother ruining your chances of getting a boyfriend.

“okay,” you say, watching as riki’s eyes lit up. “let’s go. who are your dancer friends?”

the weekend had came by quicker than you thought, and you waited until heeseung said his goodbyes to you so you could get dressed and do your makeup.

although you didn’t want to go overboard with the whole thing, you still wanted to impress sunghoon, because after all, there would be a bunch of prettier college girls at the party that were smarter than you in everything.

“wow.” nishimura riki’s mouth drops as he sees your dress and face. “you clean up nice lee yn!”

“thanks ri,” you ruffle his hair, which he swats away in annoyance. “let’s go, heeseung’s already there.”

“great, so are my dancer friends!”

the two of you blended in easily, riki’s height doing both of you a favor as you held hands and made your way through the crowd of dancing and drinking college students.

“little lee?” your face bumps into sunghoon’s chest, and you almost gulp when you look up at his height. “what the hell are you doing here?”

“well that’s my queue to leave!” riki chuckles nervously, throwing you a lazy thumbs up as he runs to the drink cooler.

“never will understand that kid.” sunghoon mutters under his breath. “but seriously y/n, it can be dangerous, why are you here?”

it’s the first time in forever that he’s addressed you by your first name, and you can’t help but feel giddy.

overconfident by the drinks you had pregamed with riki previously, you find yourself leaning closer to park sunghoon. “i came here for you.”

he blinks.

“here..” he states, glancing around the party. “for me?”

the confidence wore off in a second. you were now starting to get embarrassed, cursing yourself for saying such things in front of sunghoon who probably didn’t even like you.

“that’s sweet little lee,” he says, eyes crinkling. “but you could get into a lot of trouble if your brother finds you, you know? he already freaks about you enough, finding you at a party at his college at night will kill him at the spot.”

park sunghoon was right, your brother would absolutely rage if he had found out you snuck out to go to a party. in some ways, he was even more strict than your mom.

“hoonie!” the voice of a girl interrupts the both of you as she makes her way over, placing a sloppy kiss against sunghoon’s cheek. she hasn’t said anything to you and you were already starting to see red.

“oh hi! i didn’t see you there!” she extends her hand, grinning from ear to ear. “i’m hanni, president of the pi beta thi sorority!”

you notice sunghoon’s hands finding themselves around her waist. although he’s probably only doing that to stabilize her, you find yourself too jealous to speak.

“hanni, this is lee y/n, heeseung’s sister.”

“oh!” the girl gasps. “oh my gosh, i’ve heard just so much about you! you’re prettier in real life! what are you doing at a college party?”

now you can’t really keep being mad at her because she seems so genuine when she’s complimenting you.

“oh, my friend riki has dancer friends who invited us.” you say awkwardly, watching as sunghoon whispers something in hanni’s ear.

“well that’s awesome, i hope i’m gonna see you here next year!” hanni then waves her hands, parting away from sunghoon. “i’m gonna go say hi to your brother, toodles!”

you watch as she makes her way towards the outside, most likely to the pool. at least you knew where your brother was so you know how to avoid him.

“hanni is really sweet,” sunghoon says as you turn back to face him. “met her a few months ago.”

“oh really,” you say, biting the inside of your cheek. “is she your girlfriend?”

sunghoon laughs as if it’s the funniest thing in the world. “what? no—of course not. she’s just touchy when she’s drunk. she’s dating one of my frat friends, his name is yang jungwon.”

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, happy that sunghoon was still single. after all, hanni was a pretty and nice girl, you wouldn’t be surprised if she was able to pull him.

the two of you stand in silence for a bit, sunghoon staring into your eyes with his dazed eyes. you almost want to pull him in, close the gaps between yours and his lips.

“am i stupid?” he suddenly asks, eyes still in contact with yours.

“no, why would you say that sunghoon?”

“i still like you after all this time. even when i got to college and promised myself i’d find a girlfriend and move on, you’re always still at the back of my mind.”

his confession makes you wonder if you were hallucinating, not believing that the park sunghoon who you’ve been inlove with since childhood was currently telling you he liked you.

“i..” he doesn’t let you say anything else, choosing to lean in and kiss you instead.

it’s all great and feels magical until you’re pulled back harshly, the sound of your brother’s yelling filling your ears.

“LEE Y/N? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING AT A COLLEGE PARTY, AT NIGHT? KISSING SUNGHOON OF ALL PEOPLE? WE’RE GOING HOME!”

you want to cry in embarrassment when you realize everyone has turned their eyes to look at you, and sunghoon throws you a look of guilt and pity when he sees heeseung dragging you away.

“stop it, you’re embarrassing me.” you cry as you’re outside the party.

“me, embarrassing you?” heeseung scoffs, looking up into the sky before looking down at you. “do you know how much you’ve disappointed me tonight? first, you dress up in barely any clothes, then you sneak into a party with some japanese male exchange student, and then you KISSED MY BEST FRIEND?” you close your eyes at heeseung’s yelling, wishing for the earth to swallow you whole.

“what will i do with you?” he grumbles as he drives the two of you home. “you’re lucky mom is out of town for two days. if i drove you home like this, she would kill you. and is that fucking alcohol i smell on you lee y/n?”

you gulp, knowing full well that you probably reeked of alcohol and sunghoon’s cologne at that moment.

“i told you he was a bad influence.” heeseung says as a red light comes up, turning to you as his hands were still on the steering wheel. “he’s going to break your heart and crush it beneath his feet, and who are you gonna come crying to? me. i’ve seen it so many times before y/n, my own girl friends at college have got with sunghoon and all he’s done is crush their souls and spirits. you think you’re any different because he said a few sweet things and kissed you?”

“stop it.” you say, wiping your tears away. “you’re being mean, heeseung.”

“men like him don’t change, y/n. sure, he’s my best friend, but he’s not a good boyfriend. he’ll drop you the second he feels like you’re inconvenient.”

you let out your first sob at night as your brother pulls into your driveway. although he’s still fuming mad at you for going against all his rules, he pulls you into his chest, letting you cry it out as he rubs your back comfortingly.

“are you okay?” is the first thing nishimura riki says when he sees you at school, frowning at your bloodshot eyes. “i saw you get dragged away by heeseung hyung yesterday night. it was really loud.”

“gee, thanks.” you scowl at him, making him raise his hands in surrender.

“if it makes you feel better, sunghoon wanted to speak to you.”

your head suddenly peeks up at this, and riki almost laughs by how easily he could change your mood.

“really? even after last night?”

“mhm.” riki stabs a fork into his mashed potatoes. “but he didn’t look so happy, so if you end up crying after, i have ice cream at my house.”

you let out a laugh at the boy’s words, silently thanking the world for giving you such an unserious best friend.

and just like riki had said earlier, park sunghoon was waiting in front of your house by the time you got home.

“hey.” he says, hands in pocket.

“hey.”

“about last night,” he seems to be looking everywhere but you. “i’m really sorry about your brother.”

“it’s fine.” you say, shrugging. “he was just being overprotective as usual.”

“yeah.” sunghoon steps closer cautiously. “i meant what i said, you know. about me liking you.”

“sunghoon, i like you too.”

he nods slowly, expression still glum. “that’s the problem though. we cant be together, y/n, you know that, right?”

“why?” you breathe out. “because you want to keep playing girls at your college?”

his eyebrows furrow deeply. “what? no? i’m just—i can’t be with you!” he steps backwards. “i’ll ruin your life, you said it yourself, i play girls at stanford. what’s to say i wont do the same to you?”

“i have known you since you were 10 sunghoon!” you say, throwing up your hands exasperated. “i know you can change for the better. i won’t let you go away this easily, not when i’ve spent my entire life loving you.”

“really?” sunghoon whispers, eyes teary. “you’ve spent your entire life loving me?”

“i have.” you walk up to sunghoon, cupping his face into your hands. “and i’ll love you for my next life if i have to.”

he laughs quietly, head tilting as he admired your face.

“little lee,” he says softly. “you really are a gem, aren’t you?”

park sunghoon being park sunghoon doesn’t let you reply to his words, instead shutting you up with a long kiss on the lips.

“wow.” you say as you pull away, making the older boy giggle. “lee heeseung is so gonna kill the both of us after the life lecture he gave me last night.”

“can’t kill me if i move away to antarctica.” sunghoon smirks, watching as your expression changes in a millisecond.

“YAH PARK SUNGHOON! YOU ARE NOT MOVING ANTARCTICA AFTER JUST CONFESSING TO ME!”

2K notes · View notes

whyse7vn · 2 years ago

Text

BABY FEVER -

[ ot7 x reader ]

TAEHYUNG -

tae: have my cubs

y/n: STOP TALKING TO ME NOW

tae: i want 8

y/n: i’ve actually never been so srs in my life

let’s break up

like fr

i’m over this relationship i’m over you

tae: i can settle for 5 if it’s too much

y/n: let’s settle for a break up

tae: our little family 🥺

y/n: i would rather shoot myself

tae: why?

y/n: WHY?

are you really asking my why rn?

tae: yeah??

y/n: “have my cubs”

tae: i can’t get pregnant what is wrong with you

someone didn’t go to school 😭😭

y/n: who in their right mind says shit like that

tae: me??

y/n: stop talking to me

tae: babe

i’m being for real

y/n: i know

and i’m scared

tae: don’t be scared

i’ll protect you

and the kids

real alpha i am

y/n: stop

tae: are you getting emotional?

omg are you pregnant rn?????

hormones and that stuff?

is that what you wanted to say this whole time??

were you trying to hide it from me??

ur so cute >.<

y/n: i’m blocking you now

tae: we are gonna get through this together

do you think we need a bigger house?

y/n: genuinely are you ok in the head?

tae: ofc wtf??

i know ur not because of the pregnancy

but it’s okay

you don’t need to stress at all

i’ll think for the both of us

the love of ur life taetae be the sane one for the next 6 months

y/n: there is so much to unpack there

tae: omg have you been clothes shopping without me >.<

y/n: i am perfectly fine

you and sane don’t belong in the same sentence

never call yourself taetae again

and it’s 9 months not 6 you fucking idiot

tae: what is ur actual problem??

don’t swear around my child you’ll poison their mind

and i think i know more about babies than you do so just leave everything to me ok?

y/n: again i would rather shoot myself

tae: if you die i’ll protect the baby

y/n: there is no baby

tae: are you not ready to be a mother or something?

i swear we can do this babe

y/n: are you actually listening to me??

tae: ofc i am??

y/n: …

tae: i’m omw home btw can’t wait to see you both!!!!!!!

y/n: it’s like you only take in the information you want to hear

tae: i love you too

y/n: or maybe you just can’t read

tae: <333333333

YOONGI -

yoongi: no

y/n: i don’t like when you read my mind like that

yoongi: no

y/n: i’m gonna ask anyways

yoongi: no

y/n: let’s have a baby 😁🙏🏽

yoongi: no

y/n: if we don’t have a baby now ur gonna be an old dad

ur gonna die before our baby turns 10

we don’t want that do we?

think of all the precious memories you’ll miss

yoongi: i’m fine with that

y/n: are you really?

yoongi: …

y/n: let’s have a baby rn

yoongi: but that’s so much work

y/n: #inittogether

our little baby made out of our love for each other

isn’t that sososoos cute yoongi 🥺

yoongi: i guess

y/n: so we’re having a baby?

yoongi: go away

y/n: ur not saying no

i’m taking this as a yes

i continue to win in this life

yoongi: what if you die before me

and i’m left with a baby?

y/n: the old thing really got to you huh?

yoongi: no i’m just saying you might die first

y/n: there is no way i’m dying first

ur literally 30

yoongi: and???

y/n: like jin is ur age mate that’s saying aLOT

yoongi: ur pissing me off

y/n: okay old bitch

yoongi: you expect me to have children with you after you bully me??

y/n: pls put me in ur will

i’m in jin’s yk?

yoongi: why are you in jin’s will?

y/n: why? mad ur not?

yoongi: how do you know i’m not

in his will?

matter of fact why tf does he have a will??

y/n: aren’t you an inquisitive one

yoongi: saying big words doesn’t make you look smart

y/n: jin knows it’s almost his time

you better start writing yours

yoongi: leaving everything to holly

y/n: i’ll literally cook holly

yoongi: what is wrong with you

y/n: i am not with child rn

that’s what’s wrong

yoongi: that sounded gross

never say that again

y/n: i’ve come to the conclusion that ur my biggest enemy

yoongi: i’m glad you know

y/n: ur dying

yoongi: ur next

y/n: don’t ever say that

i’m literally in my prime

yoongi: ur prime?

couldn’t tell

y/n: find someone else to carry your children

i can no longer stand the idea of mini yous running around

yoongi: ok :(

y/n: ??

don’t frown at me

you brought this on urself

yoongi: 😔

y/n: you bitch

yoongi: come make a baby with me 😄

NAMJOON -

y/n: let’s have a child

namjoon: ok

y/n: i lied

namjoon: oh

y/n: what is wrong with you

namjoon: what is wrong with you?

y/n: did adding a question mark make you feel better bitch??

namjoon: very

y/n: this is why i lie to you

namjoon: that’s not nice

y/n: ur literally a nasty little gaslighter

namjoon: i’m not?

y/n: you are?

namjoon: if anything ur the gaslighter

y/n: fake claims i’ll sue

namjoon: you tell me you want to have children and then you tell me ur lying or you never said that

y/n: what is ur actual issue i’ve never said i want kids??

if you want kids ig we can talk about it but i’ve literally never brought that up

namjoon: see?

y/n: i see very clearly actually 20/20 vision the eye people told me

namjoon: you wear glasses?

y/n: occasionally

like what is ur issue?

ur so obsessed with me it’s not right

namjoon: ig i’m a little obsessed

y/n: it’s really not right

wait…

don’t you fucking wear glasses

what is ur issue four eyes???

namjoon: i do

i’ve never claimed to have 20/20 vision

y/n: ur blind as hell

namjoon: maybe i don’t want to have kids with you

they fr won’t be able to see anything

y/n: HOW DARE YOU SAY YOI DONT WANT KIDS WITH ME

YOURE SICK IN TBE HEAD

namjoon: put ur glasses on

ur spelling stuff wrong

y/n: it’s my charm

namjoon: not wearing ur glasses?

y/n: we need to go on a break

namjoon: how can we go on a break when we have kids to take care of?

y/n: and you say ur not a gaslighter?

what if i was a weak woman and fell for ur sick lies

namjoon: we would have kids by now

y/n: ur messed up

that’s so messed up

namjoon: shoot me

y/n: don’t say stuff like that

cuz i will

then you’ll be mad

and dead

namjoon: what are you bothering me for?

y/n: can i not just message my bf like omg?

namjoon: you miss me or something?

y/n: not anymore

namjoon: cute

y/n: fuck ur cute

namjoon: accepting a compliment won’t kill you yk?

y/n: stop communicating with me

namjoon: you messaged me first?

y/n: no i didn’t

namjoon: whatever

y/n: omg don’t speak to me like you hate me i’ll kms

namjoon: so kids?

y/n: idk what ur on about tbh

namjoon: fine

y/n: fine

namjoon: fine?

y/n: fine?

namjoon: idk what you want from me

y/n: children

namjoon: you stop communicating with me

y/n: wow

namjoon: yeah

y/n: ur a LOSER

SEOKJIN -

jin: it’s time we reproduce

y/n: no

jin: no?

this would be a blessing to many

y/n: ok??

jin: ok?

i’ll just kms then

if you hate me just say that

y/n: i hate you

jin: what is ur problem???

y/n: what’s urs??

you told me to say it

jin: i said if you hate me

y/n: ???

jin: oh my god

leave me alone

y/n: oh my god by gidle

jin: you have to stop speaking to hobi

y/n: why :(

jin: ur starting to talk like him

and it’s gross

the mother of my children a hoseok clone??

no thank you

y/n: what children??

jin: you need to keep up

we are having kids

y/n: but you said mother of your children

like as in you have kids rn

and last time i checked i never gave birth

who is this other woman seokjin???

jin: ew why would you say my full name like that

y/n: why would you cheat on me?

jin: bored?

y/n: all men are the same

jin: i am like no other man

y/n: true you dumb as hell

jin: now ur talking shit

y/n: maybe the shit talks you

jin: what

y/n: what

jin: can we make babies pls

y/n: ew

you actually make me wanna throw up

jin: wtf

this is why i don’t talk to you

y/n: you talk to me everyday?

in fact you loose ur mind if you don’t talk to me for more than 2 hours

jin: you literally have no proof

once again ur talking SHIT

y/n: don’t raise ur voice at me tf

jin: see you would be such a good mother

that’s such a parent thing to say

lowkey got me feeling a little hot and bothered rn 🙈

i’m sorry

you might need to put me in my place again mommy 🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🙉🙉🙉

y/n: what the fuck

jin: you’re not into it???

y/n: how can you go from talking about children to sex?

jin: don’t say that makes me sound like a perv

y/n: you are a perv

jin: no i’m not

ur just lame

like you need to have sex to have children

i was just helping start the process

y/n: you’ve got like a screw loose or something

jin: stop speaking to me in riddles

or don’t

i do love a smart girl 😉

y/n: stop speaking to me like a bitch in heat

jin: people lame nowadays

by people i mean you

y/n: cry about it

jin: i just might

y/n: good

JUNGKOOK -

y/n: do you want to have a baby?

jk: doesn’t giving birth hurt?

y/n: so?

jk: i don’t want you to get hurt

y/n: life is pain

jk: i’ll give birth

y/n: that’s not how it works

jk: pls let me do it

y/n: ok

jk: thank you

y/n: ur welcome

jk: do you think i’ll look good pregnant?

y/n: idk

jk: will you still love me when i get big?

y/n: i might leave you if you get pregnant

jk: wtf?

y/n: it might creep me out

jk: why wtf

y/n: i don’t want to imagine you pregnant

jk: but our baby ☹️

y/n: i would rather never have kids than see you pregnant

jk: wow

you think i would be that ugly

y/n: i’m sorry

jk: are you?

y/n: ummm

jk: ok then

y/n: we can always adopt

jk: but that’s not my baby

y/n: legally they would be

jk: we won’t have the same spit

y/n: the same spit?

jk: yk like our insides won’t be the same

y/n: ur dna?

jk: yeah my dna

y/n: ur not supposed to have the exact same dna as ur baby anyways

jk: okay but it’s like a mix of us

and a adopted one would have no mix at all

y/n: so what do you want to do?

jk: give birth

y/n: i really don’t think it’s possible babe

jk: i will do it

y/n: sure

jk: why don’t you believe in me?

y/n: i do

jk: act like it

y/n: wooo?

jk: not good enough

y/n: sorry i’m tired

jk: ok?

y/n: fuck you?

jk: i’m about to have a baby and ur talking to me like that?

y/n: i’ll believe it when i see it

jk: so you fr don’t believe in me?

y/n: yeah

not one bit of belief in me

jk: crazy how people switch up

when you want to come back into me and MY babies lives we won’t let you

y/n: i’m crying

honestly

jk: i’m glad

y/n: i’m actually not

i don’t care at all

and that’s the truth

jk: so you just lie for fun

y/n: pretty much

jk: wow

ur crazy

y/n: 4 u

jk: waittt why am i blushing rn 😖

are you in love with me be honest?

y/n: idk…

jk: oh

y/n: embarrassing…

ur just a fuck buddy tbh

jk: for 8 years i’ve been a fuck buddy?

y/n: yur

jk: are you lying to me?

y/n: i could be

jk: i could be pregnant rn

y/n: are you?

jk: no

but i could be

y/n: are you lying to me?

jk: yeah :(

y/n: it’s okay

jk: is it really??

y/n: you don’t want me to answer that

JIMIN -

y/n: i’ve been getting congratulation texts all day today

jimin: omg people are so crazy wtf 😭?

y/n: i’m fr so confused

did we win an award i didn’t know about or something??

jimin: maybe idk lol

y/n: would it be rude if i asked what tf they’re talking about?

jimin: unbelievably rude

don’t do it

i’m for real

y/n: but i wanna know

jimin: just accept the congrats and go

y/n: do you know something i don’t?

jimin: wtf no?

y/n. ur lying

jimin: i’m not

y/n: jimin

jimin: love of my life

apple of my eye

babe

y/n: tell me

jimin: omg i LOVE that song

tell me tell me ttttell me

y/n: now

jimin: sorry idk what ur talking about

hello??

babe?

where did you go?

come back

talk to me

y/n: YOU TOLD PEOPLE I WAS PREGNANT???

jimin: I TOLD YOU NOT TO ASK

WAHT IS WRONG WITH YOU???

y/n: WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT

jimin: i’m preparing people for the future

y/n: ??????????

i’m NOT pregnant

jimin: you will be when i’m done with you ;)

y/n: wtf is wrong with you

jimin: a lot

y/n: i can tell

jimin: do you think i’m ugly be honest

y/n: right now yes

jimin: so you think i’m pretty other times 🥺🥺🥺

let’s have a baby

y/n: no

jimin: okay wtf

why not

y/n: ur literally about to be shipped off

you want to leave me with a baby??

jimin: why would you say that

now i’m upset

i’ll take the baby with me

y/n: …

jimin: no?

y/n: no

jimin: fine

our baby would be lowkey ugly anyways

y/n: excuse me?

jimin: problem?

y/n: why would our baby be ugly??

jimin: i mean…

y/n: you mean????

jimin: ur gonna have to just prove me wrong babe

y/n: ur not funny

jimin: did i make a joke???

y/n: you are the joke

jimin: i actually am not the joke

i never joke

super serious guy park jimin is

super shy too

new jeans core >.<

y/n: i’m done with you

HOSEOK -

y/n: baby?

hobi: me?

y/n: no like an actual baby

hobi: ur having one?

congrats!!!!!

y/n: no??

i’m not having one

hobi: oh

i’m sorry for ur loss

y/n: there was no loss

hobi: oh

was there a gain?

y/n: do you want there to be?

hobi: depends on the gain

y/n: the gain would be a baby

hobi: yikesss

that’s a pretty lame gain

why would i want you to have a baby?

y/n: um because you love me?

hobi: i wouldn’t be the father

i don’t see the point

y/n: ???

why wouldn’t you be the father?

hobi: i thought you were asking me if you could have a baby with someone else

y/n: what?

hobi: what?

i’m confused

y/n: I’M confused

hobi: why are we confused??

y/n: why would i ask you if i could have a baby with someone else???

hobi: feminism?

tho i do think it would be more of a feminist move if you didn’t ask me

ur spirt was in the right place tho

i’m sure the women will forgive you

y/n: what?

hobi: was i wrong??

y/n: what do you think?

hobi: it’s not my place to decide for a strong woman like urself

y/n: get a grip

hobi: grip gotten

y/n: is this ur way of dodging my baby proposal?

hobi: a baby what?

that sounds wrong

tf is a baby doing proposing???

ur a baby like drink milk or something

y/n: are you drunk??

hobi: nooooooooooooooooooooooooo

y/n: so ur tipsy?

hobi: tipsy topsy who cares

y/n: i do

i’m trying to ask you if you want to have a baby with me oh my god

hobi: omg do you love me or something???

that’s so crazy

y/n: bye have fun drinking

hobi: drinking heals me

y/n: that’s concerning

hobi: will i be a good dad

y/n: i’m sure you will

hobi: or will i kill myself due to the stress

y/n: oh

hobi: let’s find out babe

i’m ready

y/n: that did not sound like ready talk to me

we can talk about this tomorrow

hobi: if we think about it what can a baby do that i can’t???

y/n: keep me company

hobi: i do that all the time

do you hate me

if you hate me say 1

if you hate me and want me dead in a ditch by saturday night say 7

y/n: where are you right now?

hobi: jin’s house

i think

y/n: you think?

anyways

that’s the point

i’m all alone a baby would never leave me to go drink with jin

hobi: jin would be dead by the time our baby was born

he’s old

dojn’t tell him i said that

he might kick me out

i would be so upset

like this :cccccccccccc

and this 😭😭😭😪😓😓😓😰😰😨😨

WOAHHH THIJS DRINK HITTING OH MY GOD BABE WOW

FEELS LIKE I JUST DID COKE

OH MY GOF

not that i’ve done cokr befr don’t be scared of me babe

y/n: wow okay!

hobi: babies can’t even dance to dynamite i don’t see why you would want that in ur life

and i totally can dance to dynamite

sO i win

y/n: you are so right babe you go and have fun with jin!

hobi: see ur just so silly

and btw i realllly donnt do coke i swear it

y/n: 7

hobi: OH MY GIF I KNEW ITT

529 notes · View notes

pattypanini · 8 months ago

Text

Sam Kiszka x Reader Private Victory

Summary: After a tough loss from Sam's volleyball game, his attitude leads to an even rougher night in between the sheets.

Word Count: 3.9k

Taglist for Oneshots

A/N: Heyyy, we're really in a Sam mood recently, but it's what tumblr needs. We promise new things are coming and a lot of ideas are flowing. Enjoy, Private Victory.

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, ANGST, dick head/sassy Sam, penetrative sex, fingering, degrading, choking, spanking, oral, dirty talk, slight submissive/dom, flirting.

Classes were long, but you are happy you’re done for the week. As you make your way across campus to the dining hall, you text Sam, your boyfriend, that you are on your way.

Y/n 4:02pm: Omw to the dining hall now!

Sammy 4:03pm: Sounds good baby, I’m at our usual spot waiting.

On the days of Sam’s volleyball games you got dinner early since he had practice before the games. You met Sam your freshman year in biology lab. You were having trouble focusing your microscope and Sam came over to help you. You started talking more in the class, went to a few of his games, and went on a couple dates. After that it was all history. It’s now your guy’s Junior year and Sam is excelling with his academics and athletics and you couldn’t be more proud.

You open the door to the dining hall and make your way up the stairs, you grab your food and make your way over to the table. Sammy, who was most likely already on his second plate, greets you with a smile.

“Hi baby, how were classes?”

“Boring. I’m just happy they’re over and I get to see my boy play tonight.” You smile, taking a bite of your pasta.

“Well I’m not looking forward to it, coach is almost certain we're gonna lose and it doesn’t help when he keeps telling you that during practices.” He huffs, taking another bite of his burger.

“I’m sure you're gonna do amazing babe. Don’t listen to him. Plus…after the game I have a surprise for you.” You wink at him.

“Oh yeah, what is it?” He smirks at you, sex flowing throughout his voice. You knew he probably didn’t mean to make it sound sexual, but it’s just in his nature. Sam was probably the sexiest person you’ve ever met. When you saw him walk into your class the first day of bio you almost fainted. And now that he’s your boyfriend, you become crazier for him each day.

“I can’t share, that would ruin the point of a surprise Samuel.”

After finishing your food and getting a sweet treat, you and Sam make your way back to your on campus apartment that the two of you lived in together this year.

Sam collects his things for the game, slipping into his all black uniform that you thought he looks best in. He quickly puts his hair into a low bun, pulling little strands out and giving his hair more volume. Something he’s always done and you found hilarious.

He gives you a kiss and is on his way out. You have about 3 hours before you have to head over so you spend your time studying, taking a shower, and picking out your outfit for the game.

You decide to go with your loose boyfriend jeans, cropped volleyball shirt to support the school, and Nike Blazers. After slicking back your hair you realized you still had a lot of time before having to leave. You decide to make some cookies that would go with your surprise for later. Once you plated them, you realized that you were now going to be getting there probably right before the game would start.

Some nights you would walk to the courts but due to your tardiness and the rain on the radar you decided to drive. You park and quickly make your way into the gym. Thankfully they were just ending warmups. You loved watching him during warmups. The way he quickly gets hot and sweaty, his hair beginning to stick to his face.

You walk over to some of your friends and take your seat with them. Sam begins to scan the area and waves to you once he makes eye contact. You blow him a kiss back and wait for the game to begin.

It is nearing the end of the final match and while it is close you could tell they aren't going to win. The opposing team is filled with prospects for professional volleyball teams and are very well trained.

You could tell Sam was getting very frustrated. His sets to his teammates were perfectly received but the other team's defense was too good. He had a lot of good attacks and even brought the team back to a tie at one point with his quick spikes, but that was quickly short lived when he was sat for cursing out the other team.

As the final buzzer rings you say goodbye to your friends and make your way to the car. You pass Sam as you leave the court and he doesn’t even bat an eye at you. He pushes past the crowd of people who came down onto the court. You knew it wasn’t going to be a good night with him feeling like this. While you wait for Sam to make his way out from the locker room you think about how to make him feel better about the loss. You knew how bad he wanted to win, so you just wanted to be there for him.

The back door swings open as Sam throws his bag into the back seat. He takes his seat and immediately looks pissed off. You decide to leave him be while you drive your way back to the apartment. After making it back Sam opens the door, throws his things down and makes his way to the bedroom.

“You played really well Sammy, I know it may not feel like it but you were really controlling that game for a while.”

“I don’t want to hear your pity y/n.” He rips off his jersey and throws it into the hamper, leaving him only in his tiny shorts.

“Don’t talk to me like that, I’m telling you the truth Sam. Don’t be a dick to me just because you lost.” He quickly turns to you, stepping closer to your body. “You know maybe you did deserve that penalty. You can’t handle taking a loss every once and a while. Grow up Sam.” You press a finger into his chest, pushing him back.

“Don’t be bitchy towards me,” he grabs your wrist and holds them at your side, making your breath hitch. “You know if I was smart enough I’d say you're saying all this to provoke me.”

“God Sam does everything have to lead back to sex, I’m being serious. Grow the fuck up.” You rip your wrist out of his hold and walk back out of the door.

Sam grabs your hand and spins you back around. “No not everything is, but it’s pretty fucking obvious when your asking for it. Your in that tiny fucking shirt you know gets a rise out of me. Those jeans that I say make your ass look huge, and the hair...” He’s silent, leaving you to think about the choices you’ve made.

“So tell me, are you trying to get me going y/n?” He pushes you back into the wall before grabbing your ponytail and pulling it down, exposing your neck.

“No.” Your breath hitches, his proximity undoubtedly having an affect on you.

“Alright fine, that’s two strikes baby. One for lying and one for wearing that tease of an outfit in front of me.” He grasps onto your shirt, harshly tugging you into him. Your body roughly collides with his.

“What the fuck Sam.” You hear a tear at your shirt, and strike him across the face.

You watch as a wicked smile spreads across his face. “Shut up, you know you like it. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t even need to wear this anyway.” He takes the torn hem of your shirt and lifts it over your head. You’re left standing there in only your bra and jeans.

“What makes you assume that I wanted my shirt off anyway, prick.” You’re practically standing chest to chest, you looking up at him. You feel his sweat against your body, the warmth radiating off his body.

“I don’t care what you wanted,” Sam takes your shirt in between his hands and rips it all the way before turning you to face the wall. “You’re gonna do what I say and shut your fucking mouth, unless you want another strike.” He takes your wrists together, tying your newly torn shirt around them.

“I’ll say whatever the fuck I want. One bad game and you think you can control everything I do and say.” You roll your eyes at him, hoping to provoke him further.

“I do control everything about you, and I know you enjoy every minute of it.” Sam slides his hand around the front of you, unzipping your jeans.

“Yeah? And how exactly would you know that?” Without giving you a verbal response, his hand slips down the front of your panties and into your undeniably wet folds. “How exactly would I know that?!?” He mocks you in a high pitch moan, before removing his fingers from you and shoving them into your mouth.

You release a sharp moan around his fingers and almost think you see his eyes roll back into his head. He shoves his fingers further back in an attempt to make you gag.

“Come on baby, gag for me. You know I love when you do that shit.” His fingers go back impossibly further as you refuse to gag for him. “Not gonna gag for me? I think you’re up to three strikes now… Am I right y/n?”

You can’t speak but you shake your head as if to say “no”. He quickly pulls his fingers out from your mouth and quickly slaps your ass…hard.

“Such a slut. You must want it real bad don’t you baby?” Sam pulls you over to the bed, taking a seat and laying you across his legs. “Now are you gonna count for me or will it be another strike?”

“I- I’ll count.” You stutter but you’re not sure why.

“There’s my good girl. How does three spanks for three strikes sound?”

“Fucking perfect Sam.”

“Don’t be sassy to me. For that I’m taking the jeans off. Now you’ll have to feel everything. Stand up facing me.”

You do as you're told, trying your best to hide your shaky legs. His hands brush against your waist as he grabs onto the waist of your jeans. He swiftly pulls them to the floor, allowing you to step out of them.

Sam’s hands softly trail down your body, and abruptly stop at your ass. He takes a handful and grabs hard at it making you wince. “God baby you’re so fucking perfect, so sad I’m gonna have to leave marks all over your perfect body. Now lay down.”

You lay yourself across his lap once more, feeling the wetness in your panties cling to your skin. Without warning his hand cracks against your asscheek. A whine escapes from your lips.

“Pretty girl likes that, yeah?”

You can only respond with a quiet “mmm”.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He says with a giggle and smacks your ass again.

“Ah fuck.” You moan out.

“Listen to those beautiful noises, louder for me baby. Only one more left, and I’m gonna be so sad when I can’t hear those little whimpers anymore.” You sit there not wanting to feed his ego anymore than you already have. “I bet you were wet even before we got home, I bet you were soaking during the game. Watching me spike the ball, wishing it was you.”

Sam was cocky, but he wasn’t wrong. You’ve admitted to him that you’ve thought about it during the game before. His athleticism was something that always turned you on. And because of it he knew it and used it to his advantage. He knew all he had to do to get you in bed that night was stare you down after a good play or say some nasty thing after the game that had you pooling in your panties.

And that may make you seem easy but who wouldn’t react to him like that. He cracks his hand against you one final time, extra hard. “Shit, Sammy I need you so bad. Please, need you inside of me.”

“Oh but a few minutes ago you're denying that you were turned on? Which is it babe, and don’t lie or else that’ll be another strike. Your ass is already bright red baby.”

“Maybe… I wouldn’t mind that Samuel.” You stick your ass up high practically begging him to touch you.

“Fuck…” Sam’s hand reaches down to his pants, and palms himself through his shorts making him groan, his eyes rolling back into his head.

“Eyes down here Sammy, or are you done punishing me?”

“Sure, how about I punish you in a different way?” Sam lifts you off his lap, laying you face down onto the bed. He grabs your ass, still radiating with heat from his blows, and pulls it up into the air. He hooks your soaked panties with his fingers and pulls them down to your feet. The soreness from your pulled back arms was evident, but masked from the sting on your ass.

“You’ll wish you were still getting striked after this baby.” Next thing you know, his fingers are gliding up your slit, his fingers purposefully avoiding your clit. “So wet baby, who’s all this for, hm?”

“Y-you.” You squeak out.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that…” He slides his finger deep into your pussy, curling up onto your g-spot.

“FUCK, you Sam.”

“Feel good?” Sam asks, followed by a high pitched moan from you.

“Uh… I-I don't know, Sam. What do you think?”

“Don’t be fucking smart.” He pulls his hand out abruptly and smacks your ass. “I don’t wanna hear one more fucking word from you.” With that Sam disappeared behind you and a new feeling began.

Two large hands grab onto your ass, spreading your asscheeks to open you up to him further. You feel his nose slide up and down slit, before his warm tongue connects to your clit. You shudder.

“Holy hell, keep going. God yes.” You try with all your strength to grab his hair and hold him there, but the strength of Sam’s knot proved to be stronger than expected. Sam saw your struggle and grabbed your hands and pushed them further up your back.

His tongue is still lapping at you, he already has you so close. Your legs are starting to shake underneath you. Before you know, your legs are collapsing underneath you. Sam on the other hand, has a strong grip on your hips almost to the point your whole bottom half is hovering over the mattress. His tongue is moving faster and you’re practically there.

His mouth disconnects and attaches his fingers in place, circling your clit. “Oh fuck baby you’re so close. Yeah, yeah, you like that don’t you? You gonna cum for me? Let me hear you baby.”

“Oh fuck yes Sam, don’t stop I’m so close.” Before you could get more out Sam’s hand is pulled away and drops you back onto the mattress.

“Sam what the fuck I was so…” You trail off, all you’re seeing is red.

“I was so close Sammy, fuckkk.” He mocks you once again in his moany voice. “Give me a break. You said you wanted to stop being spanked, and I said you would regret it.” Sam unties your wrists and turns you over onto your back. “You should always listen to daddy, right baby?”

“Sam, please. At this point I’m so desperate give me anything please, I’ll take whatever you can give.” A new flood of wetness overtakes you, and you just need him.

“Okay… but you didn’t answer my question.” His face is bored almost, completely expressionless.

“Yes, you know best Sam. Now please I need you so bad, I’m desperate for you. I’ve been needing it all night, I was so fucking horny watching you play. Watching you get angry got me so wet, maybe that’s why I wanted you mad tonight in bed, you know, kept testing you.”

“That’s quite the confession, baby. How about this…I’ll fuck you, that is if you promise to stay quiet for me. I’ve heard far too much out of you tonight.”

“But I thought you liked listening to my ‘beautiful noises’ Sammy?”

“Oh babe, you’re not going to be able to stop the noises, I’m talking about that fucking mouth of yours, never stops talking.” He says while pulling down his tiny shorts, leaving himself completely bare to you.

“I fucking love those little shorts on you Sammy. Let me see everything.” You smile, looking down at his throbbing length and taking hold of it with your hand. You give his cock a little squeeze.

“Fuck- yeah? I’ll wear them every fucking day if I get to have you like this spread out on the bed every night.” Sam grabs your bra, lifting it over your head and onto the floor. He leans forward taking one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue in circles sending shivers down your body. Your body arches off the bed. He pulls his mouth away for a brief moment, “such pretty tits.” He reconnects his mouth to your nipple, his hand rolling the other one between his fingers.

“Sammy, please. Need your cock.” You whine.

“I don’t know if I should, you’ve been such a bad girl. What makes you think you should deserve it?”

Without giving him an answer you reach down and try to line him up with your soaking cunt. “God you’re so fucking desprate.” Sam swats your hand away and shoves himself deep into you with no time to react.

“Oh God.” His pace is set fast, immediately.

“Perfect pussy. Always so wet and ready for me.” Sam grabs your ankles, lifting them up onto his shoulders, creating a new level of depth in your pussy.

“It’s pretty easy since my boyfriend is so fucking sexy- fuck Sam.” He hits hard on your cervix, making you moan with pain and pleasure.

“How’s that feel baby?” He says before pressing wet kisses onto your ankle. “Does it hurt so good?”

“Yes, fuck Sammy. I- I need it deeper.” Looking up to him, your eyes dark and lust filled.

Sam knows what you want when you say that. “Ride me baby, use me however you want.” He thrusts a few more times before pulling out and sitting himself down at the headboard and pulling you on top of him.

You straddle his body, reaching down between you both to grab his dick. You sink down on him. You love this angle of him, able to see all his facial expressions.

The grasp of his hands on your hips tighten. You set a brutal pace feeling like you finally have control over the situation, but Sam quickly retracts that feeling. His hand comes up, wrapping around your throat tightly.

“It’s cute that you think you're in charge here.” He smirks up at you.

“Tighter.” You are begging and at this point you don’t even care. You need everything from him, everything he is able to give you.

His grip on your throat tightens. “Ah…shi- mmm.” You can hardly speak, you’re starting to feel lightheaded and your pace is beginning to slow. Sam picks up on it and begins fucking you from the bottom, hard and deep thrusts up into your cunt.

“You’re squeezing me so tight y/n. Pretty, pink pussy made just for me.” His grip on your throat loosens a bit with the intensity of the rhythm of his hips colliding with yours. Your hands reach onto his strong, toned biceps. You begin to squeeze knowing you can’t hold it in much longer.

“I know you’re almost there baby, you’ll cum when I tell you to. Right?” Sam’s pace stops momentarily, giving you a chance to respond. You pace your breathing, trying to give a response. Before you could Sam slams hard into your pussy, and stops again. “Answer me y/n. Or I’ll never let you cum.”

“Yes, whenever you want me to daddy.” You whimper, your head rolling back looking up to the ceiling, swirling your hips on his cock trying to give yourself any type of friction.

“God such a suck up, but you know I fucking love it. Maybe I’ll let you cum early then. Now start riding, I wanna see that beautiful body bouncing on my cock.”

You immediately obey him, wanting nothing more than to cum on his cock.

Your body pounds down onto him, hitting places that usually aren’t reached. “Sam please I need to…”

“Keep going baby I know you can go harder. Fuck I’m gonna cum so hard.” You moan in response, knowing that you’re making him good.

“Please Sammy fill me up, make a mess of me.” A few thrusts later and he’s letting his warm cum completely loose inside of you. His head is thrown back, deep groans and curses escaping from his lips. “Oh fuck, Sammy. Look at my pretty boy, I’m so close.” Your hands are tangled in his bun, pulling it apart as he comes down, but continues thrusting into you.

“Fuck, pull my hair baby. Makes me feel so good.” Sam whimpers. Something you’ve never heard him say before, which sent you over the edge. You can’t hold it any longer and the pressure in your stomach is about to release. It’s a feeling you’ve never felt before.

Next thing you know, you’re cumming…hard. You feel a rush of wetness release and you look down to see Sam’s stomach and the sheets are covered in your liquids.

Sam looks down at his stomach in complete awe and then looks back up at you, “and just when I thought you couldn’t get sexier.” Sam sits up and pushes you back onto the other side of the bed, hovering over top of you. He takes time worshiping you, kissing all the way from your feet to your swollen lips, not leaving a single spot unkissed. “I love you so fucking much y/n. Nothing could ever make that change, not even a stupid fucking game we should have won.” He leans back down, leaving wet kisses into the side of your neck.

“I love you more Sammy.” Your hair intertwines with his damp hair.

“So was this my surprise for after the game?”

“No, I figured this would happen either way. I did though make cookies and cinnamon rolls for after the game to cheer you up.” Sam smiles and quickly hops off the bed and back into his shorts. Before you could even grab a shirt from your drawers Sam was already into the kitchen and heating up a cinnamon roll in the microwave.

“Someones hungry after their game.” You smile at his eagerness.

“Oh I was fine after the game, fucking is what made me hungry.” You both laugh as he stuffs his face with a cookie waiting for his cinnamon roll to heat up. Offering you a small bite of what's left of his cookie.You accept his offer, opening your mouth for a bite.

He feeds it to you, the look of his face filled with admiration. “I’m so happy you’re mine, y/n.”

“Sam, you’re the best thing that's ever happened to me.” You say, planting a soft kiss on his lips.

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

TAGLIST: @peaceloveunitygvf @jordie-gvf @Gretavanhockey @Mama-likes72 @mar-rein12 @jennabobenasblog @terry-66 @traffic-was-a-b1tch @cheersdannyx2

#greta van fic #gvf #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van smut #gvf fic #gvf smut #sam kiszka x reader #sam kiszka smut #sam gvf #sam kiszka #sam kiskza #sammy gvf

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gnomeyflamingo · 2 years ago

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✯ A Sim-ply Historical House Party ✯

Today Kiry is graduating High School. His absurdly wealthy & famous mothers have bought a TS2 re-creation of the Beaker House to host his themed costume party in. Ofcs, Acco, and Atreo are invited!

Atreo: “Omw, look at it! It’s exactly as described in our history books!”

Acco: “Hiya Kiry!"

Kiry: “Good evening and welcome! I appreciate the effort you put into your costumes, I can very easily tell you are meant to be Don Lothario and Pascal Curious."

Acco: “I’m so excited, congrats again on graduating and with such high grades!”

Kiry: “Thank you!"

Atreo: “I’m in awe, the attention to detail… I never knew your mums were so rich!”

Kiry: “They truly went all out. We even have a DJ and a juice keg for the occasion.”

Atreo: “Juice?! This party is gonna be amazing!"

Acco: “Pascal and Nervous were such a good idea for a couples’ costume by the way.”

Kiry: “I can’t even explain how right this feels. Seeing us both dressed like this is making me happy and highly flirty."

Atreo: “Yes!! Juice, juice, JUICE! Let’s all get dazed!”

Atreo: “Really? Cassandra? Don’s fiancée? Coincidence much?”

Zehra: “It's not. I did my research.”

Atreo: "You went through my trash again, didn't you?"

Zehra: "Ah you got me!"

Atreo: "It's a good thing I like you."

Kiry: "You… do? I need to process this information."

Most of the guests head into the courtyard to dance to the TS2 soundtrack. Everybody seems to be having a blast. It's a hot, sweaty night so the juice is flowing fast.

Acco: “I swear Atreo’s not paying any attention to me at all. I bet he still doesn't know about me and Kiry. I’ve told him like 3 times! I have a feeling he’s not gonna like it…”

Onyx: “Oh who cares what your stupid brother thinks? You’re happy, that’s all that matters."

Acco: “I suppose… great costumes btw guys.”

Onyx: “Who knew dressing as a 40-something Mum would feel this comfortable?”

Acco: “Denise you really look like Olive Specter. It’s scaring me.”

Denise: “Aw thank you Acco. You won’t end up in my garden tonight.”

Derya: “Do you need help?”

Zehra: “Ha! Not from you. I can’t believe you dressed as gold digger Dina.”

Derya: “Esma suggested we be the twins-"

Zehra: “You always leave me out! I wanted to be Nina and dream about hottub woohoo with Atreo.”

Derya: “Go and snipe at Esma then."

Derya: “ Wow Atreo, you totally pull off the Don look.”

Atreo: “Thanks, you make a good Dina.”

Derya: “You up for some roleplay? We could mess around in the shower?"

Atreo: "Oh Dina, we shouldn't. I’m engaged."

Derya: "It'll be our secret. Meet me in the bathroom later."

Atreo: “Hey! Cool costumes… You’re the Burbs right?”

Asmara: “Yup, John and Jennifer. Where’ve you been Atreo? I haven’t seen you in ages, we should really catch up… as friends I mean.”

Atreo: “Yeah… Sorry. Later. So does this mean you’re a couple?”

Asmara: “What? No!”

Aldo: “OMW I’m into guys. I told you this. We both have! Do you listen, like ever?”

Asmara: Yeah this is just a friend thing, we thought it’d be cute.”

Atreo: “Oh thank the Watcher.”

Esma: “If you’re Don Lothario, where’s your beard?”

Atreo: “Ugh I couldn’t grow it and my cheeks are just too silky smooth to glue on a fake one.”

Esma: “Your lack of commitment is disappointing.”

Atreo: “Hey you’re Nina, you’re meant to be into me!”

Atreo: “Are you excited for your birthday tomorrow?”

Zehra: “Not really, but I’m excited about yours! A young adult in two days! I wonder what your rolls will be?”

Atreo: “Yeah well, I’ve been trying not to think about it.”

Atreo: “The Watcher and their friends really don’t like me, so my future is looking bleak… Yeah not gonna dwell on it.”

Zehra: “Don’t worry my love. I will be there to support you every step of the way.”

Derya: “Sooo I’m heading to the bathroom just so you know.”

Zehra: “Uck you’re so weird and gross. I’m gonna hack your social bunny and tell everybody."

Atreo: "And I'm gonna go to set off the fireworks I bought real fast. My bladder bar is very low suddenly."

Atreo quickly heads up the stairs to light the fireworks he set up earlier, looking forward to messing around with Derya. He’s determined to distract himself from all the stuff he doesn’t want to accept is happening and is completely unaware of what he’s about to witness…

(for app) >> Next Page >> Previous Page

❧ Back to the Legacy Archive

#ALASHHP1 #A SIMply Historical House Party #ts4 legacy #gnomey flamingo's legacy #simblr #ts4 #Atherstone Legacy Gen1

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xana-oconors · 2 years ago

Note

the craziest thing abt me is that i listen to wigloose omw to school

I used to listen to Glamazonian Airways 😭😭 but I’ve evolved and now when I’m walking to school I listen to Squirrels Trip instead

#rusical rambles

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suckitsurveys · 3 days ago

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Have you ever been to Las Vegas? Not yet. That’s our next girls trip destination.

What did you have for breakfast this morning? i haven’t eaten anything yet.

Do you have any loose change in your pocket? Nope.

Do you like Taylor Swift? I don’t hate her.

What’s your favorite Disney Channel movie? Halloweentown.

If you met your favorite celebrity, would you be calm or star struck? I think it would depend on the circumstances in which I was meeting them. Like if I knew it was happening, I’d have time to collect myself, but if I just saw them on the street, I have NO idea how I’d react. I think I’d be too scared to go up to them.

Are there any lights on in the room you’re in? LED lights.

What’s your favorite subject in school? Art.

What’s your favorite holiday? Halloween and Christmas.

Do you ever have to do yard work? Yes, I’m actually planning on doing that this weekend before it gets too unbearably hot out.

Is your school close to your house? I’m not in school.

Speaking of school, how did you get there today? ^

Do you think Bad Romance is a catchy song, or an annoying one? It’s catchy.

Are you currently using a laptop? Nope, a desktop at work.

Do you have any live versions of songs in your music software? I think so? I can’t think of any off the top of my head.

Did/do you listen to Britney Spears songs? I don’t not listen to her.

Is it a windy day? Not like it was yesterday oh my god. So many trees fell in our neighborhood.

In the past week, have you ridden in a taxi? I haven’t ridden in a legit taxi since I was a teenager.

What shorthand do you use the most? omg, lol, wtf, af, omw, idk, probably a bunch more.

Do you ever wish on stars at night? Sure.

What color are your eyes? Green.

What album is the current song you’re listening to off of? I’m actually listening to music for once while doing this! The song is How Dare You Want More by Bleachers and it’s off Take the Sadness Out of Saturday Night.

What are you doing after you finish this? I need to get some work done. I’m just trying to chill before I have to some important shit.

In your opinion, what song is the most overplayed right now? Anything Benson Boone.

Are you in a band? Nope.

How clean is your bedroom? Ugh.

Is there a pen within reaching distance of you? Yes.

Are you sitting at a desk? Yes.

Does your favorite band have a male or female lead singer? Band? Male.

Do you normally shut your bedroom door before you go to sleep? No, because the cats go in and out.

Have you seen the movie Moulin Rouge? Yes.

Would you ever dye your hair a different color? It’s currently blue.

Are there any framed pictures in the room you’re in? Yes, there’s a picture of my niece holding her newly born little sister framed on my desk, as well as an Instax picture of me and mark in a little frame.

Have you ever been to a Broadway show? Not on legit Broadway, but I’ve seen plays on “Broadway in Chicago” before.

What’s your favorite movie soundtrack? The Royal Tenenbaums is one of them. Garden State also has a great soundtrack.

Do you prefer group or individual work? Individual.

Do you have a key to anything besides your house? My car and keys for rooms at work.

Are you wearing anything with stripes? My underwear is striped lol.

What time did you go to sleep last night? I fell asleep around 10 but I kept fucking waking up.

Did anyone tell you you were beautiful today? Nope.

What show did you last watch? Everybody’s Live with John Mulaney.

Do you think you’ll do anymore surveys today? Maybe.

What’s your favorite ice cream flavor? Butter pecan.

Could you ever complete a 500-piece puzzle? Yes, my sister and I did one together.

If you could run a red light and not get caught, would you? Sure, as long as the intersection was clear.

Do any bands flat-out annoy you? Yup.

Do you have a mirror in your bedroom? Yup.

Was today a birthday for any of your friends? No.

When was the last time you rode in a limo? A looooooooooong time ago.

Do you take naps daily? I don’t.

Do you still make Christmas lists? Yeah.

Do you watch the show Dexter? No.

Have you ever been to any sort of convention? Yeah, I’ve been to C2E2 in Chicago and some gaming convention in Indianapolis. Also does the Chicago Auto Show count?

Which song did you last listen to on repeat? Self Respect by Bleachers.

Where do you want to live when you grow up? I’m good where I am.

Are you currently using a blanket? I have no use for one at the moment.

Are there any songs that make you cry? Several.

How many siblings do you have? One.

What are you doing this weekend? Tomorrow my plan is to get the garden ready to plant veggies and get the patio cleaned up a bit before it gets too hot out.

Do you prefer swimming at the beach or in a pool? I love both.

When was the last time you had a haircut? About a month ago.

Which musical instrument do you think sounds the prettiest? Piano.

Do you know what you want for Christmas? Tickets to a Bulls game.

Do you watch fireworks on New Year’s Eve? I mean, our neighbors set them off so we see those but we don’t go somewhere to watch them.

Is your birthday within the next three months? Nope, a little over 4 months away.

How long is the song you’re listening to? 4:03.

Are you anticipating anything this week? It’s Friday and I’m so excited.

Is your mom or dad the older parent? Dad is.

Do you watch anything on E!? Not really.

Are you going to get off the computer now that you’ve finished this? No I have work to do.

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diorkittys · 1 year ago

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a rock and their diamond ˚ ♡ ⋆｡ venture + [bimbo] reader {hcs}

synopsis : venture with a dumb, bimbo-ish, sexy gf… i mean c’mon it’s already canon

—TW : some nsfw hcs , slight exhibitionism , reader is very suggestively a girl , big tits (ahh boo!!!)

art credits : leesam_23

“oh cool! i had a friend obsessed with archeology back in high school; she told me i was a libra!”

“you mean astrology…?” dr. ziegler raised her brow.

“um… i don’t think it had anything to do with space.”

that was the moment sloane cameron knew you were the one.

you’re ditzy, beauty, sexy, (and tall)—quite the opposite to your venturous partner. and most could describe you two as the ‘beauty and brains’.

venture was enraptured the very second they laid their eyes on you. talk about the star of the show; everyone’s attention was focused on you the moment you walked into that dig site.

your tiny pink dress that hugged the curve of your waist so tight—barely covering your ass and most definitely straining against your tits (not that sloane was looking…). your long legs and plush thighs that made the archeologist gulp. tall, elegant heels which only put you on more of a pedestal. and if people weren’t already drooling over your body, your face definitely topped the cake. you were gorgeous through and through. a doll.

and, yet, through all sloane’s nervousness, they could tell you looked a tad lost.

“hi! sloane cameron. are you looking for something?” they reached a hand out which you gladly shook; venture noticing your pretty, pink acrylics.

“yes! my daddy works in the medical tent—any idea where i could find it? sure doesn’t look like a fun camping trip though.”

sloane shook the last comment off, saying they’d show you where the tent is. although the digger was dusty and smelled like minerals, you decided to follow close beside them.

that’s where they introduced you to dr ziegler. “are you a doctor too?” you’d ask. “oh, gosh, no. i’m one of the archeologists working here.” and there, the infamous moment took place.

౨ৎ

venture refers to you as various different gemstones, which you love. their go-to’s being ‘opal’, ‘angel’ (short for angelite), and, of course, diamond—your favorite.

^ “almost done w these soil samples. then omw home opal! xo” sloane would reply with to your needy texts.

^ “what’d you want f’dinner, angel?” they’d ask, wrapping scarred arms around you from behind.

^ “you look as stunning as always, diamond.” watching you give a twirl to showcase your outfit for tonight—something always a little teasing and small… not that venture had any complaints.

sloane worked late hours, fully devoted to their passion. you would usually find them hunched over at the table. slim fingers pressing circles into their shoulders, massaging away the tension. your partner would sigh, leaning back before taking your hand and guiding you into their lap. they’d explain their most recent endeavor and you would listen… even though the information went into one ear and out the other.

“ya’ know?” you, in fact, did not know, but gave a supportive nod anyways. sloane snorted, planting calloused hands on the plush of your hips as you straddled their waist. god, they wanted nothing more than to kiss that oblivious look off your face.

speaking of a suggestive kiss, does it come as a surprise that sloane just can’t get enough of you?

their hands are always on you, one way or another—how could they not? so much to grab, so much to play with.

they’d kneed your supple thighs, pinching the fat in awe. and they’d mewl as if it was their own flesh.

sometimes, venture would sit atop you in bed—spending time poking and prodding every part of you like a new toy… not caring about your excessive squirming, stifling little moans.

god, your breasts were the best part. sloane would do anything to be near them at all times. alone, the archeologist fondled your tits, squeezing your nipples between their middle and index and watching them harden. if you were a tease, sloane must be a sadist.

with you being eye candy, there was, of course, a lot of attention drawn to you. some would simply admire from afar, while others took a more brave approach.

venture isn’t a very jealous type… i mean, that’s what they’ve always believed about themselves. yet, seeing men flock to you like moths to a light—it was… irritating.

there was no such thing as ‘innocent’ conversations or ‘harmless’ touches when it came to you; everything anyone did was quite obviously intentional. and somehow, the cherry on the cake was always the follow up question, “did you come here alone?”

and as the men would compliment your hair, and subtly look at your finger for a ring, sloane would interject.

well… if you count standing a few feet away with a hot, red face staring daggers into the men’s eyes as interjection… then, yes, sloane interjected. but, the real problem solver was you, oblivious you. you, who knew you were pretty hot, but didn’t count anyone’s intentions as scandalous.

so, you’d see your partner in the distance and your eyes would immediately light up, waving your hand to call them over. maybe that’s all sloane needed, because as soon as they see that look of adoration in your face, all that anger would subside. you were theirs, after all.

don’t think those men would be off the hook, however. venture would most definitely slide an arm around your waist as you walk away… maybe slightly grabbing the round of your ass with a sly smirk on their face.

you loved to surprise your partner with visits at their job. you never minded dirt and grime and it mostly seemed like it avoided you all together.

venture would be in the middle of a log, wiping beads of sweat off their hairline after a long dig. “excavation log dash 2-3-3, this is sloane cameron speaking—my team and i just discovered a fascinating—“ “baby!!” you ran up to the archeologist, practically jumping on them as you curled your arms around their neck.

sloane would be startled before turning around and giving you an equally tight hug. others whisper about how lucky their coworker is since sloane’s face reached right between your tits. and to think your partner hated the height difference (not in the moment).

“okay, guys, hold that thought! i’ll be back!” your partner would wave.

speaking of surprises, you’d always come home with rocks for sloane. standing in front of your partner with hands behind your back, “guess.” you’d giggle. every night, the surprise was no different, but venture would entertain your enthusiasm.

“hmm… let’s see… is it… a flower?” “nope!” “candy?” “nuh uh.” “a perfectly preserved dilophosaurus spine fossil with all discs in tact?!” you looked around, “uh… i don’t think so?” venture would sigh.

you open your hands, revealing a smooth, brown rock about the size of your palm. “it’s a rock!” you smiled wide and sloane’s cheeks tinted red from how cute you could be. “thank you, diamond! i love it.” you’d sit next to them on the couch, holding onto their arm. “i found it on the sidewalk. what kind of fossil do you think it is? maybe a dinosaur one?”

sloane would pat your head, trying to refrain from explaining to you that most fossils are dinosaurs… and that you wouldn’t find one on the side walk. “angel, i think it’s just a rock—a cool rock nonetheless!” and that satisfied you enough.

honorable mention, but venture definitely buys packs of fossil dig kits for kids you could get at walmart. they keep them at their work station for when you visit because you love to be included in whatever sloane is doing.

sloane works on grid maps in their tent with you by their side, scraping down compacted sand to find your prize. “i did it!” you put down your tiny mallet. “good job, opal! what’d you get?” you pout your lips confusingly, “another rock?” venture, tiredly, rubs your shoulder, “it’s a fossil, opal…” you’re lucky, though, because this leads to a make out session.

when you do have your steamy moments in venture’s tent, it’s always the most passionate. maybe it’s the adrenaline of being caught, or the shameful thought of someone hearing you, either way, it’s exhilarating.

sloane would have you propped up on the table, pushing important papers to the ground. needy hands groping the plush flesh of your hips and your dress hitched up above your ass. your tongue grazing their chipped tooth and fingers tangling in brown hair.

of course, sloane would kiss down your neck reaching the cleavage of your breasts; their hands pushing them together, making the tops spill over the very tight fabric.

of course, you’d ask a dumb question about what if someone walks in. but, your partner is already pussy drunk and is looking up at you from between your thighs, shushing you and asking if you’d squeeze their head before going back down.

it’s very common to get odd looks when you’re both out in public. as previously mentioned, you two look complete opposites. you, in a matching pink track suit, tube top pushing against your tits, low rise sweatpants showing off the tramp stamp plastered on your lower back, g string imprinting on your hips with a cute navel piercing to go with it. you always have your makeup done, sunglasses atop your hair, and pink platform flip-flops… and venture!

venture with their hair a mess, tired eyebags from rarely sleeping, chipped tooth, a ‘we rock!’ oversized t shirt, baggy shorts that went to their knees, and old sneakers. two people you would never think you’d see together, yet holding hands and sloane pressing a kiss to your cheek whenever they could.

and, yes, it’s a little discouraging knowing no one thinks you would ever be with someone like sloane cameron. it’s an insecurity the archeologist keeps in the back of their head. but, without fail, you’ve always introduced them as yours… and that makes any doubts fade away—knowing you hold your relationship with pride.

of course, a few months into dating, venture would make sure you didn’t actually think archeology was astrology. “opal, you do know that zodiac signs are not archeology, right?” they’d raise a brow. “no, silly. i’m not dumb!” you’d giggle and sloane would sigh in relief.

“he’s that murderer—that’s true crime!”

and for sloane, their heart skipped a beat…

yeah, you’re the one.

#overwatch #overwatch 2 #ow2 #venture overwatch #venture #overwatch x reader #overwatch x you #overwatch fic #venture x reader #venture x you #sloane cameron

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nomniki · 2 years ago

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enhypen TRULY have a no skip discography like not one skip. i will admit with no shame i don’t even skip hey tayo or billy poco even their OSTs and EVERYTHING it’s criminally good

#ella stfu #i haven’t listened to their music in a while #i’m listening omw to school #almost forgot how much it eats #an old lady just spoke to me #scared the shit outta me #interrupted fever too ..#watch ur back woman

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mahalgf · 6 years ago

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i love day6

#i genuinely teared up while listening to their radio livestream #it’s been quite a while since i got to hear day6 on a radio livestream #and it gives me flashbacks to freshman year when i would stay up late jamming out to day6’s covers on the radio #or that time i woke up at like 5 in the morning bc of their first music show performance of letting go 😂#ngl tho nothing’s much changed since it’s 1am and here i am listening to day6 😂#day6 rlly was the group that got me through my days #they were what i listened to/watched late at night when i couldn’t sleep and even omw to school #honestly i’ve been quite out of loop with day6 ever since i left tumblr last year #but now that i’m back it just rlly warms my heart seeing how much the fandom has grown and how successful the boys have been...#and they boys still make me incredibly happy #the radio show just reminded me why i love them sm and ik i’m an aes blog but i rlly miss posting abt day6 so i’ll def try to do more 😌#i’m sorry for being sappy it’s just late and i’m still getting over the rush of day6 being on the radio 😂#maddi.txt

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sleepysnk · 4 years ago

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welcome to team player! this is the prologue for my Eren fic! i hope you all enjoy. i worked really hard on this and i hope you all will tune in for this fic :).

Team Player: Prologue

Pairings: Eren Jaeger x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Eren being an ass

Word Count: 4.1k

Next Chapter | Masterlist

(Y/N) plopped down in a chair in her biology class. It was her first day of college, attending Trost University was one of her biggest accomplishments. She never thought she'd get accepted into such a big school, her parents were very proud of her.

(Y/N) was a very smart student. In high school she managed to maintain a very high GPA, and a perfect report card. Her parents like to say the girl was a genius. Her passion to become a doctor motivated her to excel, causing her studies to be a number one priority. .

Her eyes wandered up as she noticed other students arrive into the classroom. Many just sat down and put their heads down, or just went onto their phones.

(Y/N) looked around the classroom at the Professor who was waiting for students to enter.

The door opened and a brunette boy with short hair and green eyes, wearing the football jersey with the school’s logo, entered the classroom. He was with another guy who had lighter brown hair, he was a bit taller than the brunette, and his face was a bit long. The two seemed to be chatting with each other about something, as they were laughing as soon as they entered.

The two boys sat down next to each other and kept talking. Realizing class hadn’t started, (Y/N) looked at her phone in boredom, the room still silent.

"Good morning. I hope you all are having a great morning so far. I'd like to welcome you all to Biology, I hope we have a great semester together, my name is Professor Klein," he said and smiled at everyone.

Many students stayed quiet and just stared at the Professor. The two boys in the class kept talking, which somewhat distracted (Y/N) from listening to the Professor.

"May I ask for you both to be quiet? You're interrupting," Professor Klein said and crossed his arms at the two boys.

The brunette looked over and nodded. "Sure.. my bad" he said and chuckled a bit.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, she always disliked kids like that. Constant interruption, acting like they owned the class, etc. It bothered her a lot.

"I'm going to start off with introducing something I do every year. You all are going to be doing a project, I know it's just the beginning, but this project will show me what you know. I'm going to pair you with someone in the class, I'd rather have you all get to know each other, and this is a great opportunity for that," he explained, picking up a piece of paper.

Many groans came from the students, even (Y/N) let out one. She always resented working with people she didn't know, she didn't know anyone in this class either, which made her situation more difficult.

As the professor began to call names for the project, (Y/N) zoned out as she waited for her name, heart racing in anticipation, wondering who her partner would be.

"(Y/N) (L/N) and Eren Jaeger, raise your hands please," Professor Klein said and looked up.

(Y/N) raised her hand and looked over at the brunette boy who sat with his friend. The one who was distracting the whole class. Great, just what she needed.

She noticed his friend snicker a bit when he saw her, she rolled her eyes and looked back up front listening to the other students whose names were being called.

"That should be it… anyone who has any questions about the project should ask me. This won't be a grade, but you should do your best. I expect you all to work together, please work equally on this. Presentations will be on Thursday," Professor Klein explained and leaned against his desk. "You may now move and sit with your partners," he added.

(Y/N) stood up and grabbed her bag. She secretly knew that he wasn't going to move, so she just did it herself.

She noticed his friend left and left a spot for her to sit next to him. (Y/N) looked at Eren who was on his phone laughing about something. He looked over and noticed her standing there

"You're my partner huh?" he asked.

She sat down next to him. "Yeah.. I am," she replied and avoided his gaze.

Eren placed his phone down on the table. "So what are we doing? I wasn't paying attention," he asked and looked at her.

She sighed and looked towards him. "It's just a project on basic Biology. It's on the packet" she said and looked at the pieces of paper.

He looked down at the paper and rolled his eyes. "Oh.. ew, so uh.. is this done on Google Slides or something?" he asked.

(Y/N) looked over at him again. "Yeah it is… I'll make it and share it with you," she replied and grabbed her laptop in her bag.

Eren looked over at Jean who was on the other side of the room talking with his partner. He laughed a bit trying to get his attention. She bit down on her tongue from saying something, annoyed by his childish behavior to grab Jean’s attention.

"What's your email?" she asked and looked over at Eren.

He looked back at her. "Oh.. uh, here let me put it in" he replied and grabbed her laptop.

She sighed and watched as he typed his email into her computer. She noticed how he kept looking over at Jean across the room, she just wanted this class to be over already.

"Here," Eren said and pushed her laptop back to her.

(Y/N) shared the slides with Eren and sort of sat there, he wasn't even talking with her, or even making an effort to discuss the project. She knew this was going to be a problem, as much as she wanted to stay back and tell the Professor to switch her partner, she didn't want to come off as 'that' student.

She looked over at Eren. "Can you give me your number? We should do this outside of class too," she asked and nodded.

Eren chuckled a bit. "Oh, you want my number? Alright… here," he said and smirked as he motioned for her phone.

She handed her phone to him and watched as he entered his number into her phone. Within seconds Eren handed it back to her with a cocky smirk on his face.

"I don't give many girls my number, so consider yourself lucky," he said and shrugged.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and felt gross. Who would want to give a guy like that their number? She felt so grossed out by the situation. It made her cringe inside.

"Where do you wanna meet up?" she asked.

Eren looked on his phone. "Uh… I don't know. Your dorm or something? I have practice after classes, so we'll have to meet later," he replied.

She nodded. "Okay.. just text me. I'll send you my dorm number," she said and looked at her laptop.

He leaned back in his chair. "Alright, bet," he said and looked at Jean.

"You're all dismissed! Have an amazing rest of your day," Professor Klein said and looked around at the students.

(Y/N) put her stuff away and stood up. She watched Eren join with his friend, already out of the classroom. A wave of relief washed over her body when class ended, but she dreaded seeing him. She already disliked the brunette, and being his partner made things worse.

Hours went by and (Y/N) was sitting on her bed in her dorm. She was expecting Eren to arrive soon, she silently prayed he didn't forget to meet with her. Considering how he didn't even pay attention to her, it could be a possibility.

She sat on her laptop just staring at the project in front of her, Biology wasn't something she wanted to take since she already took it her freshman year of high school, but it was recommended. She wasn't sure why someone like Eren would be in a science class, he seemed more interested in sports rather than science crap.

(Y/N) felt her phone vibrate, she grabbed her phone off the small table next to her bed. Her roommate was gone doing whatever, so she just kind of put her stuff there. She noticed the text from Eren.

Eren: hey, uhhhh are we still linking?

(Y/N): yeah? my dorm number is 403.

Eren: betttt, i'm omw rn. see u there ;)

(Y/N) rolled her eyes at the message. She felt a bit of relief that he still remembered to show up, she just wasn't sure how this was going to go. She hadn't hung out with a guy by herself in awhile.

A knock came from the other side of the door, she sat up and walked over, Eren stood behind the door with his backpack. He was visibly sweating, he just came from practice.

"Hey," Eren said.

(Y/N) gave a small smile. "Hey.. come in" she replied and moved so he could enter.

He looked around her dorm and placed his bag down. "Nice dorm.." he said and walked around.

She shut the door and went to her side of the room. "Thanks.. um, you can sit here," she said and moved her things off the table near her bed.

Eren looked on his phone and grabbed his bag, he sat down at her table and looked at her as she leaned back against the wall.

"So uh.. I was thinking we could do the project a certain way" he said and took out his laptop.

(Y/N) nodded. He had ideas? "How? What do you wanna do?" she asked and furrowed her brows.

He leaned back in the chair. "Uh.. just do bullet points, it's much easier. It gets the information out," he replied and looked at her.

She was displeased by his suggestion. Bullet points seemed too half assed, and she would rather not make a fool of herself in front of the teacher.

"I don't know if we should do that, but let's just start with research," she said and looked down at her laptop.

Eren furrowed his brows and just went back on his phone. (Y/N) looked at the packet for what was required for the project, it wasn't too hard. They could probably get it done within a day or two.

(Y/N) looked up to see Eren just staring at her. Awkwardness rushed through her as she caught his eyes.

"You're really pretty you know? I never knew pretty girls took Biology," he said and winked at her.

She rolled her eyes and just looked down at her laptop. "Can we move on? Did you get the project?" she asked.

Eren leaned back. "Yeah I did… but we have two days to do it. Don't rush princess," he replied and chuckled a bit.

(Y/N) cringed as she heard that nickname come from his mouth. "Please don't call me that," she said in a serious tone.

Eren looked at her and looked on his laptop. "Jeez.. I was just messing with you. Anyway, which slides are mine?" he asked and scrolled through the slideshow.

She looked at him. "The one's with your initials are yours," she replied and ran a hand through her (h/c) hair.

He nodded. "Oh… okay, shit I'm fucking stupid," he said and started laughing.

Within the next hour, barely any progress was made. Eren’s antics began to annoy the girl, whether it be him sitting on his phone or calling her nicknames that she hated. His laziness with not working on his slides, began to light an anger in her.

"That's funny as hell.. did you see this?" Eren asked and showed her a random video she had no care to see.

(Y/N) looked at him. "Are you gonna do any work? That's why you're here, I don't know why you're just sitting here on your phone doing nothing," she said and crossed her arms.

He seemed a bit surprised at her words. "Yeah I'll do something.. just relax," he said and grabbed his laptop.

She rolled her eyes. "You said that an hour ago, you realize if you don't do shit you aren't gonna get credit? That's on you, not me" she said.

Eren furrowed his brows. "Are you on your period or something? All you're doing is complaining. It's just a damn project, it isn't even worth a grade either. Judging off your slides too you're adding way too much information, just do it this way and that's it," he said.

She scoffed. "My period? You sound so stupid right now. I rather work hard on this project to not fuck up my first year, and I'm adding information so it doesn't look half-assed like your idea" she replied.

He rolled his eyes. "My idea is half-assed? My idea was better than yours! You're making it all extra," he said and started to raise his voice a little.

(Y/N) had enough and stood up. "Get the fuck out." she said and pointed at the door.

Eren looked up at her. "What? No, you asked me to help with the project so I'm here doing it," he replied.

"I said.. get. the. fuck. out." she said. "I'm not gonna ask again! Leave." she added and pointed at the door again.

He slammed his laptop and grabbed it, shoving it into his bag. "Fine, bye then" he said and walked out giving her the middle finger.

(Y/N) slammed the door to her dorm, and sat back down on her bed. She rubbed her temples in frustration at what just happened, he really was an asshole. She absolutely hated guys like Eren, they act all cool and better than everyone else, but they're really just idiots who are actually stupid.

She lied down on her bed and shut her laptop, she was too frustrated to even look at it. She silently prayed that Eren would just do his part, and get it over with.

The next day Eren was in a horrible mood. Everything that happened the night before left him mad at (Y/N). He even ranted to his roommate Armin about it, claiming she was being a total "bitch" for no reason. Of course, his roommate just sat there and listened. Secretly knowing that it was kind of his fault.

Eren came into Biology the next morning and saw (Y/N) sitting in her seat. She was on her phone, not seeming to be paying attention to anything.

Jean sat in their usual spot. "Hey! You finally made it" he said and looked at him.

Eren placed his stuff down and sighed. "I'm fucking tired… I should have just skipped, but Armin makes so much damn noise" he replied and looked on his phone.

Jean nodded and leaned back in his chair. "How did it go with your partner yesterday? She gave you some of that?" he asked and winked.

Eren looked over and scoffed. "No.. she was a total bitch though. She got pissed at me for not working.. then she got all mad and told me to leave her dorm," he replied.

Jean furrowed his brows and looked over at (Y/N), she was still on her phone. "Damn.. you know.. you should get back at her for that," he said and smirked.

He seemed genuinely confused on what he meant. Eren was always in for messing with people, like the time during summer camp he stole the towels, and Reiner had to walk out butt-naked in the hallway.

"How?" Eren asked intrigued by what Jean had to say.

He chuckled. "Fuck up the project, embarrass the fuck out of her. She seems to be a really smart student, plus it wouldn't even fuck up your grade. Just do it, it would be so funny" Jean explained.

Eren felt a devilish smirk grow onto his face. "Say less… don't say anything though. I'm gonna act like I'm doing shit, then change it later tonight," he said and laughed a bit.

Jean laughed and tapped his arm. "I'll keep quiet," he said and looked towards the front as the Professor began to speak.

"I hope you all had an amazing day yesterday. I know being in University is scary, but I believe you all will get comfortable soon. Your projects are due tomorrow, and presentations will begin tomorrow as well, make use of your time! I can't wait to see them, you may move with your partners," Professor Klein said and smiled.

Jean stood up and winked at Eren as he went to sit with his own partner. His eyes wandered to (Y/N) who was still sitting in her spot. He figured she was still mad about yesterday, so he decided to just go sit next to her.

He came in her spot and plopped his stuff on the ground. "Hey," he said and looked at her.

(Y/N) didn't respond and just stared at her laptop, she was typing in the slideshow. "Hello?" Eren asked and snapped his fingers in her face.

She tapped her Airpod and removed it. "Huh? What do you want?" she asked and furrowed her brows.

He sighed. "I'm here to work with you..? At least let me do my part, my bad about yesterday," he said and looked at her.

(Y/N) shrugged and looked back at her laptop. "Just finish your part and get it over with… I just want this project to be done," she replied and put her Airpod back in.

Eren looked at the slideshow and tried his best to make his work similar to (Y/N)'s, it would at least put her at ease. He'd wait until midnight to mess it up, he figured he'd put some kind of meme to play, and that would do it.

The class time seemed to fly by and Professor Klein dismissed everyone for the day.

"You actually did some good work today," (Y/N) said and looked at Eren as she packed up her things.

He chuckled. "Thank you… you should have believed in me," he said and slung his backpack over his shoulder. "See you later" he added and exited the classroom.

(Y/N) felt at ease knowing that the project was going smoothly, maybe something clicked in his brain. She walked out of the class not knowing what was about to go down tomorrow.

Time seemed to fly by all day, Eren had just gotten back from practice all day. His muscles felt tired from the workouts and running he had to do, that's mainly why Eren was at Trost.

As a wide receiver, he was offered a scholarship in his senior year of highschool. The coaches at his school believed that he was at a level of greatness, and was well liked by his teammates. As a great athlete, he was able to lead his team to playoff victories and a championship title. No one has their doubts, as his number one goal was to play at the professional level.

"How was practice?" Armin asked as Eren entered the room almost sweaty.

He sighed. "It was fine… our first game is in a few weeks and I'm excited." he replied and smiled a bit.

The blonde nodded and looked down at his laptop. "Did things ever work out with that girl from yesterday?" he asked.

Eren felt a smirk grow onto his face. "Yeah! Yeah it did… things are fine," he replied and laughed a bit.

Armin shrugged and went back to his own work, not worrying about whatever Eren was going to do.

Within a few hours, it was midnight. Armin was fast asleep in his own bed, while Eren was up looking at the project. (Y/N) was last active in it about 2 hours ago, so it was perfect timing for him to change things up his way. Eren cracked his knuckles and began working on everything, he changed the long paragraphs to shorter sentences and bullet points. Adding his own pictures and finally the video.

It was a random meme video he found and pasted the link onto the document. He snickered and laughed as he saved it all, this was going to be quite the surprise for the class and (Y/N) tomorrow.

Morning soon came upon both Eren and (Y/N). Eren dreaded getting out of bed, and so did (Y/N).

She walked into the Biology classroom yawning, she noticed Eren was actually in class earlier than usual. He usually came in about one or two minutes before class started, she just shrugged it off and went to her spot.

Eren noticed her enter and felt a smile come to his face thinking about what was about to go down. He planned to volunteer first, and that's when things would go down his way.

Jean entered the class and came over next to Eren. "Yo," he said and shook up with him.

Eren nodded. "What's up? Did you finish your project?" he asked.

Jean leaned back in his chair. "Yup… she got it done. What about you? Did you actually fuck with it?" he asked and looked towards Eren.

He chuckled. "You bet I did.. she has no idea either," he replied and looked at his phone.

Jean raised his brows in surprise. "You actually fucking did? Holy shit… you're petty as fuck" he said with a laugh.

"Yes dude I fucking did," Eren replied and laughed along with him.

Professor Klein stood up and looked at the two. "Alright quiet down… I hope you all spent time working on your projects, now who would like to go first?" he asked and scanned the room.

Eren's hand shot up. "Me and (Y/N) will go first" he said and smirked.

(Y/N)'s head snapped to look back at him. "Uh… sure" she said and stood up.

The two went to the front of the class while Professor Klein sat down in the back, he was shuffling papers. (Y/N) had her laptop and plugged it in to project the slideshow onto the screen.

Eren was trying to hold in his laughter as Jean had his phone out recording.

"Alright.. you both may begin" Professor Klein said and leaned back in his chair.

(Y/N) clicked the next slide and confusion ran through her. Why was everything suddenly changed? Her sentences seemed shorter and less informational.

She began speaking and stuttered a bit reading it all. She hadn't memorized any of this, and she didn't even remember putting any of this down. Maybe her computer messed up and didn't save everything right away? She wasn't sure.

Eren read his slides and crossed his arms. Why were his slides different now too?

(Y/N) could see Professor Klein in the back narrowing his eyes and writing down different things on the paper, she felt embarrassment rushing through her.

"We have a video to include if that's fine" Eren said and looked in the back.

Her brows furrowed. "A video? What? I never put a video in there," she said and tapped Eren's arm.

"Yes you did… you asked me last night," Eren replied and clicked on the link.

The video began playing and it showed a random meme playing, the audio blasted in the classroom. Jean bursted out laughing and covered his mouth, Eren started chuckling as (Y/N) stood there totally embarrassed and upset over everything.

"Shut that off now!" Professor Klein yelled and stood up.

(Y/N) slammed her laptop closed and stood there absolutely horrified with what just happened.

"Mr.Jaeger and Ms.(L/N), I expected better from the both of you. This project isn't meant to be funny, or a joke. You both are receiving a zero for this assignment, you're both adults not children! That was absolutely inappropriate and unacceptable," he said and crossed his arms.

Eren composed himself and looked at (Y/N) who wasn't laughing. She seemed genuinely pissed off.

"That's funny to you?" she asked and looked up at him. "Fuck you Eren… you're a fucking piece of shit," she said and grabbed her laptop.

"Sit down Eren," Professor Klein said in a serious tone.

Immediately when she sat, she lowered her head, feeling the gazes of many students. Embarrassment rushed through her veins when deep down she knew it was Eren who messed with the project.

She felt a piece of paper slam down onto her table. She looked up and saw the rubric circled with zero on it, she looked at Eren and Jean who were laughing. She put her head back down as her eyes brimmed with tears.

(Y/N) absolutely hated Eren Jaeger from that day forward.

#anime #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot x reader #aot x y/n #aot fanfiction #aot imagines #snk x y/n #snk x reader #snk fanfiction #snk imagines #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger #eren x reader #eren aot #attack on titan fanfiction #anime fanfic

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dumdumsun · 4 years ago

Text

Forever and Never

A/N: One more chapter! You guys are a dream, thank you so much for reading ❤️

Warnings: mentions of marijuana, derogatory terms for homosexuality, blood/gore and death/dying

Word Count: 5690

—————————————

Eight: All Die Young

“Um… I think besides everything with Ricky… the night of homecoming was one of the most traumatic experiences of my life.”

“With Bradley Lewis’s death.”

“Yeah. I-I mean, it started off as a normal day, a-a great day, actually.”

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

Awaking to a text from Stanley Barber, informing me that he was driving us to school, was a heavenly sight. Almost as heavenly as waking up beside the boy, himself in the near future. Grabbing my phone off its charger, I rolled onto my stomach and texted him back, my feet giddily kicking in the air. It amazed me how he could change my entire demeanor within seconds. I could go from a sniveling baby to a hopping and skipping lovesick fool when it comes to Stan. And I don’t even think he meant to have this much of an effect on me. I wondered if I had the same effect on him? I never really paid much attention to it, just accepted the fact that he would never reciprocate my feelings. Even during that time, I had no idea if we were a couple or just adoring each other. It didn’t matter, though. Stan was finally looking at me the way I wanted him to.

Jacob stared at me with unease as I skipped down the stairs, prancing my way into the kitchen for breakfast. “Mom, (Y/N)’s being weird.” He called out as he opened the front door to leave. Pam hushed him before handing me a plate of food.

“Hush, now, Jacob. Let her be in a good mood for once.”

“For once?” I frowned and sat myself down. Pam smiled over at me and gingerly kissed my forehead as I began eating.

“Yes. For once.”

When I finished eating and readying myself for the day, I received a text message from Stan.

Stan: I’m outside

Me: omw

Pocketing my cell, I called out to my family before stepping outside to see Stan in his car with a grin on his face. “Good morning, lovely!” He called out above his music as I strode up to the vehicle, climbing inside. I gave him my usual greeting before leaning over and kissing his cheek. He chuckled and waited for me to strap myself in before riding down our street. It was clear he was in a good mood, because he let me pick the music for the ride. As Waterloo by ABBA flowed out of the drawn-down car windows, I felt the comforting warmth of his hand latch onto mine. Our combined hands shook to the beat of the music as we happily sang the words to the song. Remember when I said I had only been this happy one other time? This was even better. There were never any consequences to being with Stan, never a dull moment, never a hint of doubt between our bond. I’d never been as close to anyone as I was to him. And now at last, we were even closer in more ways than one.

Stepping onto the school campus, we were no longer strangers. I still walked within my bubble, and I probably always will throughout my life, but from now on there was no need to allow Stan inside. He was planning to be beside me through it all. He wasn’t afraid to be alienated with me any longer, we were to embrace it together. We were going to allow the stares, the whispers, the rumors. Allow them to act as water on a duck’s back. I was proud of him, I was proud of us. Even as I felt the dark brown glare of Ricky Berry trail after the two of us, watching our bashful and lovestruck glances throughout classes, the way we held hands in the halls. I was certain he got the message that I was no longer his, despite the forceful way he claimed me the previous week.

At lunch, I was just about to declare my spot in line when I felt a gentle hold on my arm. Stan, with a warm grin, pulled me away and walked us to an empty table. “Um, Stan, I’d kinda like to eat lunch today.”

“I know, Nugget,” He held up two brown sacks. “I made lunch for the both of us.” The way his grin grew prideful made my heart swell in affection. We sat across from each other as he slid the bag over to me.

“Awe, Stanley, you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to, though,” He shrugged and watched as I took each item out of the bag and carefully organized them. “So, about homecoming. I was thinking we could make a big deal out of it. If you want to.”

“I totally want to,” I nodded, eyes trained on my task. “What were you planning, beautiful?”

I didn’t miss the bashful blush tinting his cheeks when I snuck a glance up at him. “Uh… Well, I was thinking when I pick you up, we can take, like, a shitload of pictures. Like, just let Aunt Pam go at it. She’ll love it.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely.”

“And then after the dance, I wanna take you out to eat.”

“Really? Where to?”

“Nothing too fancy. You don’t like all that. I was driving around yesterday and saw this restaurant that specializes in their pasta,” I suddenly felt the tip of my nose being gently pinched. Looking up, Stan was playfully wiggling my nose with a goofy grin on his face. “I know how much you love pasta.”

“I do,” I laughed and swatted his hand away. “And after that? Are we robbing a bank and driving off into the night?”

“If only,” He wistfully sighed. “But alas, I’m afraid we’ll have to remain trapped within Brownsville until we’re old enough to run away.”

I gave a mischievous smirk. “The entire act of running away is rebellious. Why wait until we’re allowed?”

“Because, frankly, I don’t feel like running away,” We shared a laugh. “But in all seriousness, we go to my house and just chill. We can have a dance contest. Our last was a tie, remember?”

The antsy excitement rushed through my veins the closer the night approached. I was never one for making a scene about school dances, but this time was different. It was my senior year, I had Stan, Ricky was out of the picture. Or at least, he was for the next hour. After lunch, Stan walked me to photography class, the two of us hand-in-hand as we had been for the entire day. Approaching the door, he wished me a good class before leaning in and pecking my lips. Our fingertips lingered as he pulled away and continued to his own class. Feeling my burning cheeks, I turned to go into the room, but an arm blocked my path. “Hey, Zip.”

Inwardly groaning, I looked up at Ricky. His bruises were beginning to fade, the dark ring around his right eye taking its time to heal. I silently hissed at the sight of him. “What.”

“Listen, I just wanted to apologize. Brad talked to me the other day and… made me realize that what I did was really fucked up. Really, babe, I didn’t mean to hurt you-”

“You’re so fucking lucky I haven’t called the police on you, Ricky-”

“Yes, I know,” He sighed, discreetly rolling his eyes. “And I really appreciate it. Gives me a chance to better myself, you know? Help you better yourself. And what better way to make up for what I did than to make homecoming the most magical night for you? Yeah? We still on for tonight?”

My eyes dangerously widened at his hopeful smile, his expression melting under my fiery stare. “Are you kidding me?! Hell no! You think I wanna be anywhere near you?!”

“(Y/N)-”

“Besides, I already have another date.” I shrugged and moved to duck under his arm, but he leaned against the doorframe to decline me access inside. I quickly backed away from him, my fear kicking in at his brash behavior.

“What, Stan The Faggot? You’re really going with that fucking twink when you could be going with me?” He laughed right in my face. I lifted my chin and stepped forward.

“Don’t ever speak about Stanley that way. He’s the most kind-hearted person I’ve ever met and is an even better boyfriend than you’ll ever be to anyone-”

“Boyfriend?!” He cackled. “I knew it. How could I not? It was so obvious! You’re fucking crazy.”

“Excuse me?!”

“You don’t see the way he dresses? He’s fucking weird, (Y/N). He’s a goddamn drug dealer. What is he gonna offer you? Huh? Free weed? Babe… Come on, you are so better off with me.”

He lightly shook his head with a smile of disbelief as I took out my phone. “I just remembered. You’re not supposed to be near me, talking to me, or even looking at me. I think Jacob would love to hear about this-”

“Fuck you.” Ricky hissed before stomping away, leaving me in an empty hallway that was filled with the ringing of the tardy bell not too long afterwards. At that point, I was just about sick of guys. I was irritable during gym class, running off my anger and letting it steam off my shoulders. When the coach told us we could stop, I took greedy gulps of air and trudged to a nearby bench to rest. As I plopped down, I noticed Syd and Dina walking together to the opposite side of the field. It was good to know they were to finally talk everything out. Now for her and Stan to make up…

I was thankful for a split second for the shadow that casted over the burning sun raining down on me, but huffed upon seeing who it was. Some guy from my math class stood before me. He was shirtless, displaying his six-pack and chest glistening with sweat. He beamed down at me with a suave smirk. “Hey, Zip.”

“Hey.”

“So… I know you and Ricky are… you know. So, since the dance is tonight-”

“Sorry, I already have a date.”

“Right,” He nodded slowly, beginning to back away. “I should’ve known. No worries.”

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

“And he just walked away?!” Stan laughed on our drive home from school. My hold on his hand tightened as I tried to hold in my own laugh.

“No, he ran away!” I snorted, triggering the increase of his laughter.

“What is that, the fourth guy today?”

“Don’t remind me.” I rolled my eyes as he pulled up to my house. Unbuckling myself, I froze at Stan’s intentuous stare. He reached over and grabbed my hand again, raising it to his lips.

“I expect you to dazzle everyone like you usually do.” He kissed my knuckles.

My breath hitched. “Of course. And I expect you to do better than me, like you usually do. What time should I be ready?”

“I’m picking you up at eight. On the dot.”

“On the dot, got it.” I leaned over and pressed my lips to his. He returned it and tilted his head to try and deepen it, but I pulled away with a giggle. Stan watched in awe as I got out of the car, snatching up my backpack as I did. Waving him off, I turned and headed inside my house.

I had to look perfect. Not just for Stan, but for me. This was a new era of myself, I had shedded my skin and materialized as something beautiful. I had to showcase just how beautiful I’ve become. So, after my shower, I struck up a playlist and dolled myself up. Starting off with my hair, I simply pinned it up with white butterfly hair clips. My makeup was nothing special, other than the baby pink eyeshadow and the small application of glitter over it. To seal up the look, I added cherry lip gloss to give my lips a bit of a pop. I hoped Stan would appreciate it. My face burned at the thought of him tasting the cherry on my mouth. Backing away from my mirror before I exploded, I entered my closet. My dress was something I never thought I would ever wear. It matched my makeup in baby pink. An off-the-shoulder look that hugged my torso and flared out to the floor. I managed to zip it up myself before slipping on a pair of white heels. Turning to my reflection, I let out a breath.

I had never looked any more beautiful, I think. I remember gazing at my parents’ wedding photo as a child and wishing to look as beautiful as my mother one day. I wondered if she was looking down at me, proud of who I had become at that point. Gazing fondly down at the ring on my pinky, I blinked back the stinging of my tears.

Yeah, she’s proud.

An eager three knocks sounded at my door and I hurried to open it. Pam immediately teared up the moment her eyes settled on me, camera ready in her hand. “Oh, my baby… You look so gorgeous! Just like your mom!” She gushed. I could only chuckle as she took multiple pictures of me. Hearing a taunting laugh, I looked down the hall to see Jacob leaning against the wall, silently mocking his mother’s excitement. I kindly showed my middle finger to him, much to Pam’s disappointment. “Oh, come on. Now it’s in the picture! Jake, leave your sister alone!”

“Sorry, ma’am.” He feigned innocence and batted his eyelashes at me. I playfully sneered at him before David’s voice sounded from downstairs.

“(Y/N), Stan is here!”

Grabbing my phone, I checked the time. Eight o’clock. On the dot. That punctual bastard. Clutching my phone in my hand, I nervously made my way to the top of the stairs. Everyone was waiting for me at the bottom, including Stan. God, he looked so cute. He was wearing his baby blue suit, some sort of black and tan shirt beneath that oddly went well with the suit. Leave it to Stan to defy the laws of fashion. I could tell he paid extra care to his hair, the way it was styled perfectly for his curls to sit off to the left side of his forehead. I was sure I was grinning like a maniac as I descended the stairs, but Stan’s expression was the reason I was grinning. He looked absolutely astonished and at a loss for words. His jaw was dropped and eyes were bulging as he watched me walk closer to him. When I quietly greeted him, he couldn’t even respond. Great job, (Y/N), you broke him.

“How’d I do?” I whispered and hooked arms with him. At my touch, he snapped out of his haze and beamed at me.

“You certainly did not disappoint, lovely.”

“Awe, and you aren’t looking too bad yourself, beautiful.”

Pam squealed from the sidelines before rushing over to us. “Stanley, doesn’t she look stunning?”

“Absolutely, Aunt Pam.” He grinned at the older woman as she began taking photo after photo of us. We decided to indulge her and pose for each one. All the while, I felt a red hot glare from the side. Glancing its way, I noticed Jacob fuming at the sight of Stan and I hugged up on each other. His Big Brother Mode was going to activate the second Pam was done with us. To my horror, she finished sooner than I thought. As she excitedly showed our photos to David, I watched as Jacob slowly approached us. Just as he opened his mouth to spit some sort of threat towards the poor, unsuspecting Stan, I turned to the front door and flung it open.

“Well, we really have to go! We’re already late, you know.” I chuckled and gently shoved Stan out of the house.

“Oh! Yeah, of course!” Pam called out after us. “You two be careful out there! And have fun!”

“And (Y/N)-” Jacob began to add in a warning, but I waved him off, mouthing an ‘I know’ as Stan scrambled to hold the car door open for me. I quietly thanked him and climbed inside. The car ride to the dance was very pleasant. The hum of soft rock music fit the mood of our night as we quietly sang along. Stan found a parking spot rather quickly and leaned back in his seat after turning the car off. Bringing the visor down, I checked myself in the mirror, gently running my fingers over my white gold hoop earrings gifted to me by my dad for my previous birthday. They were pretty expensive and I hardly wore them, so why not? Hearing a click, I turned to see Stan lighting up a joint. After he took a hit, he looked my way and smiled, offering it to me. Without any hesitation, I joined him in a quick session. As I took my third hit, I felt his eyes on me.

“What?” I raised a brow and exhaled the smoke. His eyes shown in adoration.

“What a sight you are…”

“A sight? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you’re sitting in my old-school car, looking like a goddess and smoking a joint. You’re so beautiful… Just perfection.”

“Jeez, maybe I should get dolled up to smoke more often.” I joked and handed it back to him. We shared a chuckle before Stan put the smoke out. He gave me a wink before getting out of the car and rounding it to let me out.

Our highs kicked in the moment we stepped into the gymnasium. Our clammy hands found each other as we walked further in. I let him lead me through the sea of dancing bodies and bouncing balloons, the two of us hitting them out of our way as we ended up near the bleachers. When we stopped, we overlooked the scene before us as I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Best theater in town, Stan.”

“Best theater in town, (Y/N),” He looked down at me with furrowed brows. “So, why aren’t you on stage?”

“I don’t perform without my co-star.”

“Well, in that case.” He took hold of both my hands and swung us around. At that, we let loose, broadcasting our best secret dance contest moves to anyone willing to watch. I thought it was perfect. The two outcasts, both outcasts for difference reasons, wildly dancing together away from everyone else. And yet, they were the life of the party. It was meant to be. My feet stung from the stomping and jumping I was doing in my heels, but I couldn’t care less.

“I fucking hate this song!” I joyfully shouted, eliciting a laugh from my date.

“Me, too!” From the sound of our laughter, it was clear the two of us were high. Three songs later, in the middle of my rounds of spinning, I felt Stan’s hands on my waist, attempting to stop me. When I did, my surroundings rotated around me and I leaned into him for support. Looking up, I saw Sydney awkwardly smiling at the both of us.

“Oh! Hey, Syd! I love your dress.” I smiled and gestured to her attire. Her smile widened.

“Thanks, (Y/N), y-you look great.”

“Awe, thanks.” I gushed and bashfully waved her off. My attention turned to Stan, who had a look of indifference on his face, but a hint of pain in his eyes. Sydney noticed it, too, and looked back at me.

“Uh… Can I borrow Stan for a second?”

“Go ahead.” I motioned. Stan stared at me for a second before following Syd onto the bleachers. I suddenly felt very out of place, so I decided to keep my hands busy and get myself some punch. Thankfully, I found Dina there, pouring herself a cup. When she noticed me, she quickly set it back down on the table and reached her arms out for a hug. “Dina, you look so good!”

“Are you kidding me?!” We engulfed each other in a tight hug before pulling away. “You look fucking amazing! You always have to show out, huh?”

“I try…” I lowered my voice. As the two of us talked, lonely guys would come up to us and ask to dance, but we would hold hands and politely decline. After the third walked away, Dina turned to me.

“Hey, so… In detention… The thing that Jenny said about Ricky. Was that true…?” The hesitancy in her voice made me deeply inhale as I nodded in confirmation. Instantly, her eyes welled up with tears as her hands covered her mouth. “(Y/N)... I’m so sorry. If I had known, I would’ve been there for you.”

“No, no, Dina!” I quickly took her hands into mine, my heart wrenching. “It’s okay! I’m okay…”

“You’re okay? H-How are you okay?” She frowned and blinked back her tears. A warm smile twitched its way onto my face.

“Stan… he’s been making everything better…” I admitted. Dina’s face lit up before she hugged me all over again.

“Oh my god, (Y/N)! I’m so happy for you! God, you fucking deserve it, girl!” She exclaimed as I hugged back, quietly laughing at her excitement. Our hug was cut short, when Dina caught sight of our dates heading toward us. I turned to them and happily watched as they approached us, their hands lazily clasped together. Sydney held out Stan’s hand over to mine and I gladly took over. “Stan!” Dina grinned at him as he allowed me to lean against his side.

“Dina, you look, um… you look like a Christmas tree.” He awkwardly complimented as I rolled my eyes. Dina looked down at herself.

“Thanks, dude.”

“Uh-huh.” He nodded before his eye caught something. “Oh, god. Whitaker’s still watching us.” He sighed. We directed our gaze to our principal, who indeed was standing across the gym, arms folded and a piercing gaze on the four of us.

“It’s probably the most exciting thing that’s ever happened in his entire life.” Sydney crossed her arms, as well, as we all grinned. Stan leaned forward and placed his other hand over ours as he hummed.

“I don’t know, guys. I mean, we’re wanted criminals. Why are we out here in the open? Exposed. First rule of the heist is split the loot and split the fuck up, right?”

“We don’t have any loot, Stan.” I raised a brow in false confusion as Dina smirked at me.

“Yeah, all we did was disrespect this fine institution.”

“And disrespect ourselves.” Sydney finished, Stan humming again before we all shared a soft laugh. Stan’s smile disappeared as a slow song came on. I barely recognized it, but he sure seemed to know it. His free hand reached up to cover his eyes.

“Oh, no. On principle, I just- I can’t,” He groaned and began to free himself from my grasp. “Sorry, this playlist is all over the map. I’ll- I’ll be back.” He squeezed between Syd and I to leave, but I followed right behind. He was nearly at the DJ table, when I managed to stop his striding.

“Stan! Stan, wait!” I laughed and turned him to me. “Come on, I wanna dance to this.”

“(Y/N), I have to enlighten that poor DJ over there.”

“After this song?” I pouted and wrapped my arms around his neck. “I don’t care about the music. I’ll dance to anything with you.”

“That is a lie, but fine,” He sighed before his hands rested on my waist. Our dance started off with timid shuffling, Stan clearly not used to slow dancing. I chuckled and directed his eyes away from his shoes.

“Stan, it’s just swaying, I promise.” I whispered. He gave me an incredulous look before moving with me to the music. Of course, since it’s Stan, he had to add in a few spins that had us stumbling. We laughed aloud when we almost toppled over, and we earned a few weird stares, but we didn’t give a shit. Just as it seemed we were getting the hang of it, a voice that rang throughout the gym interrupted the song and dance.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” Mr File announced from the stage. “If I may have your attention. Stop talking. Look up here please.”

“Thank god, they stopped the song.” Stan whispered in my ear as we turned to the stage. I playfully and gently hit his chest as our teacher continued.

“It is my privilege to introduce your homecoming king and queen, Jeff Butters and Julie Frasheski!”

As the homecoming royalty hopped on stage, we all clapped and cheered for them, Stan and I exchanging looks that said ‘I have no idea who these people are’. “What up, Westinghouse!” Jeff exclaimed into the microphone, his queen by his side, the both of them wearing sashes and crowns. “Yeah! Where my boys at? Whoo! Where do I begin? I wanna thank my mom for meeting my dad-”

His amusing speech was cut off by Bradley Lewis running onstage and clamping his hand over the mic. “Listen up!” He yelled as the feedback screeched. Our smiles dropped as he swayed, clearly drunk. As Mr File tried to take the mic from him, he thrashed about and moved away. “Give me a second! I would like to take this moment to talk about something very important that affects everyone here.”

“What the fuck…?” I muttered and watched as he turned to the middle of the crowd.

“Sydney Novak!” His exclamation sent a flinch through Stan and I, and I felt him tense under my hold on his arm. “Hey, Sydney! Raise your hand! Raise your hand! Give a wave so everybody can see you!” When she didn’t comply, he moved on, proceeding to pull out Sydney’s supposed diary and flipping through it, exposing all of her secrets to the whole school. He told about how at Ricky’s party, she had kissed Dina upstairs. As he spoke, he hopped off the stage and pushed past people to stalk closer to his victim, the path to her and Dina made clear. I could see the panic in Sydney’s eyes. My blood boiled at the derogatory term he used for her sexuality, but Stan was just about ready to pop. His jaw was severely clenched and his face was flushed red in anger. I felt him move forward, but kept an arm in front of him. But there was no holding him back after the next thing Brad exposed. “And my god, don’t even get me started on the daddy issues on this one. I mean, it’s fucking worse than Zip’s! And we all know about that!” That comment punched me straight in the gut and Stan ripped his arm from my hold, pushing his way through the crowd. “Everyone in Sydney’s life thinks that she’s a piece of shit. And I mean everyone!” His cackling was interrupted when Stan broke through everyone.

“Hey, man! Leave her alone!” He went to stand in front of his friend, but Brad immediately swung, his fist connecting with Stan’s face and sending him to the ground, unconscious. My breathing stuttered before I wordlessly shoved everyone out of the way, trying to get to his limp form. There were a few people separating us that wouldn’t budge. I growled as Brad continued, shaking his fist from the blow.

“But that is not even the weirdest thing about Sydney… Novak,” He took a few steps forward, and I watched as Sydney wiped a tear from her eye. This whole situation was fucked. “Get this. Sydney claims that she has-”

To this day, I have no fucking clue how it happened, but Brad’s words were cut short when his blood and brains exploded onto everyone near him. Including me. I heard nothing but white noise the second the blood platter smacked into my hair, onto my face, my dress, my shoes. Brad’s headless body fell limp to the ground, the remaining of his brains spilling out from where his head should have been. His head should’ve been there… His head should be there! I couldn’t move, I couldn’t speak. My eyes were glued to the bloodied corpse on the ground. I was sure everyone was screaming and running around, but I couldn’t do the same. I saw shaking Dina’s form, trembling as she moved, but my focus snapped right back to the fucking corpse. I should’ve moved. I should’ve screamed. I should’ve ran. I should have been crying and gagging and panicking, but I just… I couldn’t. I don’t know what the fuck.

“(Y/N)!” I felt a hand pulling me by the arm, but I was in such a state of shock that I blindly let whoever drag me out of the school- no, the crime scene. I felt the cool air nip at my exposed skin, but I still couldn’t have been bothered to react to anything. It wasn’t until I felt a piece of bloody meat slip down my face and disappear into my dress that I could breathe again. I let out a blood-curdling scream as I felt it run down my skin.

“It’s in my dress! It’s touching me!” I cried. The mess of curls in front of me whipped around to face me. Through my teary-eyed vision, I could make out that it was Stan. He was awake, he was fine. But I wasn’t.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?!”

“It’s in my fucking dress!” I gagged as I felt it run down my stomach. “Stan, a piece of his fucking brain-”

He firmly grabbed me by the shoulders and rushed me to his car. I hyperventilated as he placed me in the passenger seat. Before closing the door, he reached into my dress from the bottom and slid his hand from my knees, past my thighs and planted his palm on my stomach. He gagged when his hand touched the meat, grabbing hold of it and ripping his hand from my dress, throwing the flesh to the ground. Stumbling a bit, he shut my door and rounded the car to drive. I had to ride with my window down, letting the wind blow against my face to prevent the contents in my stomach from resurfacing into Stan’s car. He drove all around town, calling out for Sydney. He would glance over at me every once and awhile when I would gag or groan, but that was it.

What a sight I was.

Do I look beautiful now, Stan?

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

When Stan decided to give up on the search for Sydney, he sped us to his house. The sirens of police cars and ambulances echoed within my empty mind. But the moment I left the car, I hurled my guts up into Stan’s yard. He caught me before I could fall and rubbed my back until I emptied my stomach. Then when I was done, I did the same for him.

I had no concept of time, I can’t remember how long we were throwing up in his front lawn, but when we were done, he guided me inside the house and down to his room. The second he let go of me to retrieve new clothes, my entire body trembled and shook uncontrollably. “S-Stan… S-S-Stan.” I whimpered out. He returned to me with clothes tucked under one of his arms. He held me by the elbow and guided me to his bathroom, sitting me down on the toilet lid before starting up the shower for me.

“Nugget? Hey, do you want me to-”

“N-No.” I don’t know why I said that. I needed him in that room with me. He was patient enough to look away as I undressed, nearly falling a few times, and stepped into the shower. He left the door slightly ajar, so I was sure he could hear my sobbing as I sat down, letting the water rinse me of Bradley Lewis’s blood and guts.

I returned to Stan in one of his sweatshirts and a pair of his sweatpants. He stood from his bed and carefully watched the way I moved. The way I slowly blinked and walked two steps at a time toward him. Silently, he lifted his covers for me to lay down. I stared at him emptily for a few beats before complying, my back facing him. I felt his lips on my neck and gladly welcomed the kiss before he whispered into my ear, “I’m gonna shower now, okay? I won’t be long.”

“Go ahead.” I nodded, my voice barely above a whisper. As Stan showered, my shaking hands reached up and freed my locks from my hair clips. I tried to keep my crying near-silent as I did so, but I wasn’t too sure how loud I was being. Within time, he had returned and laid down beside me in bed. And from the warmth I felt when his back touched mine, I could tell he was shirtless. It was painfully silent as we both unevenly breathed. I bit my fingers to keep myself from crying again. Everything about me felt unbalanced. I wanted to be beaten even. It’s what I deserved for not taking care of myself.

“Hey.” Stan’s whisper broke my train of thought.

“H-Hey…”

“You asleep?”

“No… You?”

“No.” He muttered as I felt the bed dip when he turned around to spoon me. His leg draped over mine as his arms pulled me closer. He pressed his lips to the side of my neck as he deeply inhaled. I closed my eyes and willed myself to ask the question brewing in my mind,

“Do you have any idea what the fuck happened? B-Brad just… h-he fucking…”

“I know,” He murmured against my skin, his hold tightening as well as his throat. I could tell by the way he choked on his breath. “I… I’ll explain it another day. N-Not tonight.”

As we fell asleep an hour later, I knew he’d never explain it.

—————————————

Taglist: @nate-isnt-great @sapphicsyn @stqnley @lonely-kermit @a-t-h-r-e-e-n-a @moatsnow @magicalgothpandamaker

#i am not okay with this #i am not okay with this x reader #ianowt #ianowt x reader #ianowt fanfic #ianowt stanley barber #stanley barber #stanley barber x reader #wyatt oleff #wyatt oleff x reader #forever and never

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angel-riki · 4 years ago

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Dazed & Dreaming {Ch. 2}

summary: Y/N's life was always quite normal, some may even consider it boring. However, Y/N enjoyed her simple life and the little pleasures it brought. Unfortunately, that all changed the day she found out her best friend's biggest secret. Her discovery leads her down a rabbit hole of a new and confusing world she never knew existed. She must now navigate this new life filled with love, fear, and the supernatural. What awaits her down this path?

pairing: enhypen x reader (vampire au)

warnings: light swearing

word count: 1,569

chapters: [Ch.1] [Ch.3] [Ch.4]

~~~~~~~~~~

You bit into your second piece of toast of the morning as your phone buzzed in your pocket. After rummaging around for a few seconds, you retrieved your phone. You smiled at the notification, it was from Jake.

Jake: "We're here :)"

You quickly typed out and sent your reply as you hurried to finish the rest of your breakfast,

Y/N: "Ok, omw!"

One huge bite of toast and a painful swallow later, you were gathering your things and scurrying out the front door. You half-jogged down your driveway until you reached the car, greeting the boys like usual,

"Good morning," you said cheerfully as you climbed into the back seat.

Heeseung had been giving you rides every morning now for a couple of weeks, it had become your daily routine. And even though you insisted that you could walk, the two boys wouldn't take no for an answer. You eventually accepted their generosity, however you still felt a bit guilty. Fortunately, this new routine had allowed you and Heeseung to grow much closer over the past weeks. Now, you considered him a friend instead of a mere acquaintance. This was a relief as you had gotten much more comfortable around him. Although, Heeseung was just good at making everybody feel comfortable. He was just so charming and kind. This made it a lot easier for you to manage your nerves, but a lot harder for you to keep your crush on him from growing.

*****

The bell rang, signaling that it was time for lunch. Relief washed over all of the students' faces as they were freed from a horrendously boring lecture. You shared that relief as you packed up your stuff and strolled out of the classroom. You made a quick pit stop at your locker before heading down to the cafeteria.

After grabbing your food, you walked into the bustling dining space. Gosh it's so crowded, where are they? You scanned the tables until you noticed someone waving at you rather enthusiastically. Shocker, it was Jake. Heeseung was beside him, smiling and waving at you as well. You waved back before heading over to where they were sat. You set your food on the table and pulled out the chair in front of you. As you sat down, you noticed that Heeseung didn't have any food. How strange, you thought.

"Heeseung, where's your lunch?" You asked, knowing there had not been enough time for him to have already finished eating.

"Oh, I'm just not hungry today is all," he said awkwardly.

"Are you sure? You can have some of mine if you'd like," You offered.

"That's okay, thank you though," he smiled.

Something was odd about his demeanor after you brought it up, but you couldn't put your finger on it. You decided to stop interrogating him as you turned to Jake,

"How was that math test you had earlier?" You asked.

"Good! Aaand I may or may not have written down that one formula I can never remember on the inside of my hand..." he replied.

"Smart move," you giggled.

"I know," he said, grinning proudly.

You rolled your eyes as you began eating your lunch. Your school lunches were mediocre at best, but it could be worse. Another day, another stale pb&j. As you ate, the two boys started rambling about their after school plans. Apparently, there were a few other boys that they hung out with quite often. You had never met them, although Jake had mentioned them here and there. Listening to their conversation, you suddenly felt a slight sadness come over you. It wasn't that you were jealous, you were just afraid that one day they would get sick of you and leave you behind. They had other friends, but you didn't. Jake and Heeseung were all you had. You shook your head as you tried to expel the negative thoughts. Why am I getting upset over something that hasn't even happened? They would never do that anyway, you reassured yourself.

Before you knew it, lunch was over and you were running late for your next class. You were speed walking down the hall when you turned a corner and ran directly into something. Or some one, rather. You looked up to see who you had just harshly collided with. You recognized him from your english class, yet you had never spoken to him before. You realized you didn't even know his name.

"Ah, I'm really sorry!" You apologized, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment.

Seeing him up close like this made you wonder how you hadn't paid more attention to him. You had never noticed how handsome he was. He had a very sharp jawline and thick black hair that dangled just above his eyes. You also noticed there was a beauty mark on the side of his nose. Wow, his nose is like, perfect.

"It's alright. It's not every day that I run into a cute girl," he replied coolly.

You thought you were flustered before? Well now you were REALLY flustered. You opened your mouth to respond but before you could speak, he cut you off,

"Your lip is bleeding," he said, his face suddenly full of concern. His skin seemed to be growing paler.

"Oh, I didn't notice," you said, reaching up to wipe your mouth. You must have slightly busted your lip when you ran into him. You looked down and noticed a little trail of blood on the back of your hand. Thankfully, it was only a small amount so you weren't too worried. You looked back up at the boy and you noticed he was staring at your mouth rather intensely, almost as if he was in a trance.

"Uh...well I better get to class. Sorry, again." You apologized one last time before hurrying off down the hall.

Weird.

*****

Your class seemed to go by faster than usual today. Maybe it was because you ended up being almost 10 minutes late after your little incident in the hallway. Or maybe, it was because you couldn't stop thinking about that strange boy. Either way, you were relieved that class was over. However, that relief quickly left you once you realized what your next class was; English. You really didn't want to see that boy again after your previous meeting. You were still quite embarrassed and his reaction just made you even more uncomfortable. You sighed as you reluctantly accepted the inevitable.

Once you were seated at your usual spot, you pulled out your notebook and a pencil. You scanned over yesterday's notes as your teacher began the lesson. Everything was fine for a bit, until you began feeling eyes on you. Maybe you were just paranoid, but you could've sworn you saw that boy from earlier staring at you every so often. You attempted to pay attention to the lesson, but you couldn't. He was making you incredibly on edge. You put your head down in frustration. God, can't this day just end?

*****

You tapped your temple with the end of your pencil as you tried to make sense of your chemistry textbook. Although you were reading the words on the page, you weren't absorbing or internalizing any of it. You sighed and defeatedly closed your textbook as you decided to call it a night. You had been at the library studying for hours, you hadn't even noticed how dark it had gotten outside. You packed up your belongings and threw on your coat and scarf before heading out of the library. A shiver passed through your body as you entered the cold evening air. You began walking at a faster pace than usual, trying to get back to some warmth as soon as possible.

After a couple of minutes of walking, you could feel your cheeks stinging and you could see your breath in front of you. I need to get home faster, I'm freezing. You thought while looking around for a shortcut. You found a path down the edge of the forest that seemed to be the quickest route home. You sighed as you hurried down the deserted trail. As you continued on your way, you started to get an eerie feeling. Perhaps it was just the setting you were in, but you were considerably creeped out. You never liked walking alone at night, I mean, who does? Suddenly, as if on cue, you heard something behind you. You whipped your head around as you scanned the area for any potential danger. You didn't see anything but you could've sworn you heard another set of footsteps following close behind you. Maybe you were just being paranoid again. You turned back around, sufficiently scared at this point as you anxiously jogged the rest of the way. You sighed with relief as you made it to your house safely. You opened the front door and locked it behind you, not daring to look back out into the night. After shaking off your uneasiness, you headed upstairs and changed into your fuzziest pajamas before crawling into your warm bed. You quickly melted into the soft blankets as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ooooh, spooky ending! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter which was full of foreshadowing ;). I know it's taking a while to get all the boys introduced but I promise it'll happen soon! Thank you for reading! I’m also uploading this series on wattpad if you’d like to support it over there!

~Elle <3

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yoongiseesawmp3 · 4 years ago

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brown piano - yoongi

i’ve never written fic on this account before so bear with me, but here’s a little something about the only man i trust. and no i will not be capitalizing anything xx

summary: friends to lovers. yoongi and y/n have known each other casually for a couple years and never intended to take their friendship further than a few study groups together or the occasional dinner with friends. but being in the same applied piano class has brought them together, and their mutual love for epik high bonds them more than they’d like to admit.

warnings: language, probably. there’s a couple cliches in here too, i couldn’t help it. i probably only refer to yoongi as a honey dumpling twice

word count: 8.3k (its really just a long ass love letter to bv4/in the soop yoongi)

playlist: end of the world - epik high, gsoul / love song - epik high, park sung woong / go - epik high / can you hear my heart - epik high, lee hi / life is good - epik high, jay park

“fuck,” you whisper, nimble fingers slipping over the wrong keys once again. for a music composition major, you’re pretty lousy at practicing your instrument. mostly because you practice and mess up and get so frustrated that you stop for a minute to scroll through your phone and before you know it, your time in the practice room is over.

the time limit on your practice contributes to your stress, but the keyboard you keep tucked in the corner of your apartment just doesn’t do this song justice. a lot of the students in the school of music ignore this room, because the old brown spinet creaks too much for their “high class” performances, but you like it for its personality and the all-encompassing feeling it gives to your songs. when you play this piano, you can’t help but listen to its song. a keyboard or a grand can easily become background music to you, but this one is stubborn. it will not be ignored, so you come back to it when you need to fall in love with a song again.

the pinging of your phone pulls you out of your daydreams about the daunting black and white keys in front of you, and you check the time left on your reservation before opening your messages.

it’s a text from yoongi, who’s been talking to you more often lately. usually you just exchange pleasantries with each other when your big group of friends happens to get together, but you’re both in this applied piano class and it was nice to have a familiar face among the pretentious students you struggle to get through lectures with.

the quiet music technology major never caught your attention before this class, because he never had much to say when you were talking in passing. but this class has taken your friendship from nonexistent to yoongi texting you semi creepy photos of you through the practice room door with the text “your posture is shit, that’s probably why you keep messing up.” you swivel around on the bench to glance at the door and notice a mop of black hair in the distance. he must be finishing up a session in one of the studios because he’s usually your competition for this practice room. the piano reminds him of the one he played growing up, he says, so it’s the easiest for him to practice on. he’s more gifted than you are however, so he doesn’t need to practice for class as much as you do. hell, he could probably think of a song to play on the spot and still ace the performance midterm without another thought.

“where are you headed?” you text back, shuffling your sheet music together as neatly as possible before you start gathering the rest of your things. “i sounded so bad that you’re running away?”

“no,” he replies, and you can picture his shoulders shaking with a silent laugh. “need coffee.”

“omw,” you text quickly, going from tenderly placing things in your bag to slightly shoving them down enough to zip everything up securely. you gaze sadly at the piano before you leave. you really should try and practice some more, you have a few minutes left in the room, but you let out a sigh and head for the door instead. you need coffee and your dumpling shaped friend right now. hopefully the combination will help you get over some of your stress.

you find yoongi just outside, leaning up against a pillar of the building with his hands in his pockets and a bucket hat that he’s produced out of nowhere pulled over his head. he peeks up at you from under the brim when he hears the rickety doors clang shut, and he smiles slightly before pushing himself off the stone column.

“how’s the song coming?” he asks casually, leading the way to your mutual favorite coffeeshop like it’s second nature. which honestly, it’s getting to be like that. how did you go from barely knowing yoongi to spending almost every day with him?

“uh, my fingers don’t work anymore i think,” you explain. “i’ll get it though. i just need to practice more.”

“i could always help you,” he offers. you quirk an eyebrow at him and he continues. “like, i could listen and maybe watch the way you’re playing, and if there’s a spot you’re constantly messing up on i’ll just know to cough a lot during that part of your performance so the professor doesn’t hear it.”

“wow, who would’ve thought that min yoongi would be my knight in shining armor,” you joke. “what were you working on?”

“another song for my mixtape,” he tells you simply. “i want to sample an epik high song, but i can’t find one that fits the vibe yet.”

“hmm,” you think. “you’ll find one. or you can wait for their new album and use something off of that.”

“yeah, but i won’t have the same connection to those songs that i do with the old ones, you know?”

“then just go back to your favorites. have you tried doing something like lesson one?” you ask as you arrive at the coffeeshop. yoongi opens the door for you and ushers you inside, scooting you out of the way so someone zooming by on a bird scooter doesn’t accidentally clip your heel.

“when i first started working on this i tried doing my own version of it, but i don’t think anything i have to say would be better than tablo,” he explains.

“that’s not how you should be thinking when you’re making music,” you scold. “whatever you make will be worth listening to, and whatever you say in those songs will mean something. thinking like that will only limit what you make, min yoongi.”

he pauses and looks at you with an unreadable expression before he pulls his lips into a straight smile and nods.

“huh. you’re right, y/n,” he sighs.

“and for that little nugget of wisdom,” you say, “you owe me a coffee. toffee n-”

“toffee nut latte with no sugar, i remember,” he says, cutting you off as he pulls out his wallet. “what size?”

“considering i’m a little high strung from not nailing my song yet, probably a small,” you tell him. he nods and orders you a medium anyway and gets a muffin for you two to split. you fall into a comfortable silence as you wait for your order, but yoongi breaks it after checking his phone.

“namjoon wants to know if you’re free this weekend,” he deadpans, making it sound like a statement when it’s meant to be a question.

“i don’t know, why?” you ask, pulling the warmed muffin closer to you. you start picking out one of the chocolate chips before you continue. “isn’t it fall break? i’ll probably stay here and practice. it’s too short of a break for me to go home.”

“apparently we’re all staying in a cabin or a box or something up in the mountains,” yoongi says. “it’s supposed to be a combined birthday trip for him and jungkook, i think it might just be the guys but he says you’re welcome to come with us. he says you look stressed.”

“why does he think i look stressed?!”

“because you do,” namjoon says, popping up beside you from one of the couches against the wall. he must have been buried in a book or his laptop, because neither of you noticed him when you first walked in. he gives you a casual side hug, tussling your hair and talking to yoongi above your head. “hey hyung.”

yoongi grunts a hello in response, and you share an eye roll with namjoon before he goes on about the whole mountain thing. he explains where it is, how long you’ll stay, and some of the other specifics that have already been arranged. it sounds nice, so maybe you should go.

“you should really come,” namjoon half pleads. “it’s kind of last minute, so not many of our friends can make it, but we need you to be the dj for the weekend. and i think you deserve a break.”

“you do,” yoongi chimes in, picking up your drinks and leading your small group to a table near the window. “it’ll help you come back to the song later without getting tired of it. you should never be frustrated when you’re playing.”

“i guess i’ll consider it,” you say. “you’re lucky i live too far away to go home for just a couple days, otherwise i would have to turn you down.”

“and i don’t need that kind of rejection on my birthday,” namjoon teases.

“your birthday was last month,” yoongi points out.

“but i’m celebrating it now, hyung. birthday rules still count for the celebration of said birthday.”

“yeah, but it’s not fair that you played the birthday card then and you’re doing it again now...”

sipping your latte, you laugh to yourself as yoongi and namjoon go on with their petty argument. you notice a fleck of chocolate on yoongi’s lip from the muffin, and you involuntarily lift your hand to wipe it off, but you stop yourself before it can be noticeable. you just let your hand fall to your coffee cup and take another sip of your drink, thinking about how many clean sweaters you have that you can wear this weekend.

you end up in the car with jin, hoseok and yoongi on the way to the cabin that they all rented. you’ve been roped into cooking duties for the weekend, and the four of you went grocery shopping before heading up to the mountains to meet everyone else. actually, you begged them to let you cook, bring booze, anything, since they didn’t let you chip in for the weekend at all in the first place.

“i’m not going to invite you last minute and then make you pay for anything,” yoongi told you clearly as you left the coffeeshop after talking to namjoon. “plus, jimin owes me at least $50 for ruining one of my mics, so i’ll just make him pay extra.”

like namjoon said, you are technically the dj for the weekend. you know the guys well enough to know what kind of music they want to listen to, so you crafted the perfect road trip playlist and shared it with hoseok, who’s in the front seat. he’s groaning and skipping each song he doesn’t like while jin calmly drives, complaining every now and then when hoseok skips a song jin knows all the words to.

and yoongi? well, he’s quietly scrolling through his phone beside you in the backseat. jin insisted on you sitting back there, claiming hoseok has some kind of carsickness that only appears when he sits in the back, so that meant you and yoongi were cramped in the tight space together. no biggie, but you keep bumping elbows with him, and you have to pee, and you didn’t sleep enough the night before so you’re already a little testy. you try to situate yourself so you hopefully forget about your need for a restroom and you bump into yoongi once again, and it sets you off. you don’t do anything aside from shoot him an angry glare before huffing a little bit and adjusting yourself so you’re fully looking out the window next to you. a few moments pass in silence save for the sound of go by epik high playing over the speakers.

you’re pulled from your mini rant session in your head to, oh my god, yoongi nudging your arm. you’re ready to give him a piece of your mind when you turn to lock eyes with him, but the delicately peeled tangerine that he’s offering you is so...confusing? and slightly endearing, so you abandon your plan to be mean to him and just graciously take the sweet fruit.

“where’d you get this?” you ask as you pull apart the half he handed to you.

“did he give you a tangerine?” hoseok asks with a smile, peeking at you both in the rearview mirror.

“yeah, like out of nowhere too.”

“if it’s oddly warm y/n, don’t be alarmed. he keeps them in his pockets for safekeeping,” jin explains.

“in your pocket?” you laugh, making yoongi’s cheeks tinge pink. “have you ever sat on one?”

“i don’t wanna talk about it,” he grumbles, bowing his head to focus on peeling off the stringy white skin left on his slices of citrus. the car falls into silence again and you notice everyone bobbing along to the epik high song still playing. you smile to yourself and finally pop a piece of the tangerine into your mouth.

it’s maybe the sweetest thing you’ve ever eaten, and you surprise yourself by thinking for a moment that its sweetness could be due to the fact that it came from yoongi.

“are you still working on your mixtape hyung?” hoseok questions, once again warmly breaking the quiet of the car.

“yeah, why?”

“have you tried doing something like this?” he asks, referring to the last few bars of go that play as jin turns down a road that must be just seconds away from the house, it looks exactly like the pictures the boys have shown you and you let out a sigh of relief at the thought of a bathroom and a bed.

“i have,” yoongi starts, peeking at you without turning his head. “y/n suggested it, actually. we talked about going back to this album for inspiration and it’s helped a lot.”

“it has?” you ask, beaming at the thought of bringing yoongi out of his funk with your mutual love of this group. yoongi simply shrugs and makes some non committal sound as the car comes to a stop.

“alright everybody, thank you for riding jin express. please don’t forget to rate and tip this ride in the app once you exit the vehicle,” jin jokes. everyone shuffles to get out of the car, and as hoseok pops the trunk you’re reminded that you really should start cooking right away. you politely ask hoseok to bring your bag in with his stuff, and he promises not to drop it before you grab some of the groceries and head for the kitchen.

once everything is taken care of and the cars are unloaded, you find yourself in the middle of a crowded kitchen full of ingredients and booze and boys. not a bad place to be.

hoseok did bring your bag in for you, you can see it laying by the couch a few steps away from the kitchen island. you’ll just have to hope there’s a room left for you at the end of the night, because your back won’t do well on a sofa.

“so what are we making, chef min?” you ask, washing your hands after playfully pushing jimin out of the way.

“carbonara,” he says simply. “namjoon’s request.”

“and did you get what i asked for hyung?” jungkook asks, several beer bottles distributed evenly between both his hands. as he waits for yoongi’s answer he passes the bottles around until everyone has a drink and he looks satisfied.

“yeah, we got the pizza stuff. we’ll make it tomorrow when we watch the movie.”

“what movie are we watching?” you’re curious, only because the last movie you watched with them was one you’ve all seen hundreds of times collectively so it was less watching and more reciting the movie line for line.

“that’s a secret,” jungkook says with a glint in his eyes. “my choice.”

“it’s gonna be some sappy love story, i’d bet ten bucks on it,” jin jokes.

“make it twenty and i’m in,” taehyung adds.

“oh you’re on.”

despite never cooking together before, you and yoongi are a well oiled machine. you receive some help from jin in the form of chopping or washing, but for the most part it’s you preparing everything, from the chicken to the sauce and handing it off to yoongi to be finished in the biggest pot of pasta you’ve ever seen. it smells amazing though, and you’ve attracted a park jimin who’s a few drinks ahead of the chefs and he has a mischievous idea in his head.

“so how long have you two known each other?” he starts out innocently, speaking more to you than to yoongi.

“uh, i guess i met yoongi at a party freshman year, when i met all of you. but he was arguing with someone, so i didn’t get to say much. just introduced myself and moved on,” you explain. “we haven’t really been friends, at least i would say, until we took this piano class together.”

“and how’s that going?”

“fine, considering he and i are the most competent out of all of them,” you state matter of factly, earning a chuckle from yoongi.

“most of the kids in there took this class thinking it’d be an easy elective grade.” yoongi adds, sliding beside you and reaching across to grab the colander you just used to drain some vegetables. as he retreats you catch a whiff of his cologne and a hint of tangerine. you smile to yourself and turn back to jimin.

“plus yoongi and i played the same song for our first assignment, so i had to confront him about that to establish dominance.”

jimin laughs maybe too much at this, and yoongi pipes in from the stove to quickly change the subject.

“y/n, i’m gonna need the cheese for the topping soon.”

“yes chef!”

dinner is ready soon after that. jimin had to be removed from the kitchen for tasting things that weren’t quite cooked yet, and jin took his place next to you. it seems that all of the boys are interested in learning more about the person that yoongi insisted on inviting this weekend, but you don’t know that. after a final taste test from the three of you and several approving nods, jin summons everyone from the rest of the house.

“it’s ready!!!” jin yells. it’s too loud for the situation but you’ll soon learn that these boys usually are. it gets their attention though, because one by one they file into the kitchen and grab plates and start serving themselves. you get your own plate and follow behind taehyung, who’s currently wearing a blanket cape. while you wait, you feel a tap on your shoulder and turn around to find yoongi.

“y/n, i already made you a plate,” he tells you, holding up one of the two plates in his hands. “c’mon.”

“oh, thank you,” you reply, returning the plate in your hands and gratefully taking the one yoongi extends to you.

“did you hear that? he made y/n’s plate and not mine,” jungkook pouts.

“yeah, my feelings are hurt,” jimin whines.

“at least it’s not your birthday!”

“i wouldn’t have made you a plate no matter what, jimin,” yoongi defends himself. “but i wanted to be sure y/n sat next to me, i was at the food, i got a second plate. no biggie.”

“leave the man alone,” namjoon cuts in. “he’s being a good host to the outsider.”

“outsider?!” you ask incredulously. “i just made you dinner. be nice to me, birthday boy.”

“y/n, i looooooove you,” jungkook coos, plopping down at the table across from you and yoongi. “it looks delicious.”

“it really does,” namjoon agrees. “thanks for making it. especially you, y/n. you didn’t have to.”

“i don’t mind,” you shrug. “besides, i wasn’t sure how well any of you could cook and i didn’t want to eat shit for the weekend, so...”

your sly remark is met with a chorus of insulted voices, mostly from jin and yoongi, but jimin pipes in that he’s good at everything while namjoon and taehyung insist that they “try their best” in the kitchen, and jungkook just nods and says something about ramen for eight.

“yoongi’s quite the chef, actually,” jin says. “he can make almost anything.”

“that’s impressive,” you say with a nod, peeking at yoongi. his cheeks are turning pink ever so slightly.

“yeah, you should ask him to cook for you sometime,” jin continues. “maybe after one of your late nights in the music building.”

there are knowing glances exchanged all across the table, but you and yoongi are oblivious. he hasn’t looked up from his plate in a few minutes just to be safe, and you really have no clue, you think it’s some best friend inside joke. which it is, depending on how you read the situation. namjoon brings the attention back to what the plan is for tomorrow, and the little tension between you and yoongi dissolves without notice until it’s time for bed.

after dinner, everyone went their separate ways, jin and jungkook flocking to the game console in the living room with hoseok watching on, jimin and taehyung made a mess of the kitchen as they cleaned up after dinner, and you found yourself outside by the fire with namjoon while yoongi shuffled through the cars, mumbling about some bag of producing equipment he couldn’t seem to find. it was easy hanging out with them, which is saying something considering that these boys are basically family. but they’ve welcomed you with open arms, and it isn’t until you’re bundled up with a nice blanket and a crisp cider that you realize how much you needed a break like this.

your eyes start drooping as you stare into the fire, and namjoon seems to have the same idea as you because you both stretch at the same time and mumble something about going to sleep. he says he’ll handle the fire, and you take the blanket from his chair, along with yours, and trudge back into the living room.

“hey, where did you guys put my stuff?” you ask, looking behind the couch where you noticed your bags earlier. jimin and jungkook are the only ones left awake, and jimin glances at you quickly before replying.

“i think jin brought your things upstairs, y/n,” he explains. “first door on the left.”

“oh, thanks,” you reply, gently laying the blankets on the back of the couch before you head to the stairs. “night guys.”

“good niiight,” they both sing-song back, and you laugh as you shuffle up to your room.

the door is closed, so you reach out to open it with no hesitation, but when you see yoongi sprawled out on the bed, you jump a little.

“damn, y/n, you scared me,” he mutters, sitting up and dropping the notebook he had been scribbling in. “do you need something?”

“uh, no?” you reply, looking around. “i just, um, jimin said this was my room, so, i guess i opened the wrong door, is all.”

“wait, are those your bags? i thought they were namjoon’s,” yoongi says, pointing to, yep, your bags, laying at the foot of the bed.

“what?” namjoon asks, poking his head into the room. “i’m with jungkook.”

“are there any rooms left?” you ask, looking between them both. “i don’t want to intrude, so if i have to sleep on the couch-”

“what’s with all the chit chat?!” jin whisper yells, popping his head out of the room across the hall.

“y/n doesn’t have a room,” namjoon answers.

“no, y/n is sleeping with yoongi,” jin says, face twisting into a smile once he realizes his wording. “i mean, the two of you are sharing a room. you have the biggest bed, so i thought it would be more comfortable.”

“are you sure there isn’t another room one of us can sleep in?” yoongi asks with a certain emotion hidden in his voice that you can’t quite place.

“nope, y/n is your friend, so you’re stuck together,” jin says with finality. “now shut up, i already have to listen to hoseok snoring, i don’t want to hear any more bickering about beds.”

“hey, i don’t snore!” a voice, obviously hoseok, shouts from behind jin.

“good night!” jin laughs, shutting his door. namjoon chuckles as well, giving you and yoongi a sympathetic shrug before he heads to his own room. leaving you all alone with yoongi. you slowly turn back to him, quietly shutting the door behind you.

“i, uh-”

“sorry-”

“no, you go.”

“i was just gonna say i could sleep on the floor,” yoongi offers, but before he can even finish his sentence you’re shaking your head.

“no way,” you refuse. “it’ll be no biggie, right?”

“right,” he agrees.

“right,” you nod, convincing yourself that this isn’t as awkward as it seems. “i’m, uh, gonna go change in the bathroom though.”

“that would be smart.”

falling asleep in the same bed as yoongi was no big deal. really, what was the harm? it’s not like this trip has awakened feelings for him that you didn’t know you had...except it absolutely has. which is why you’re so freaked out in the morning when you wake up next to the man you just dreamt about cuddling all night.

wait.

your pillow wasn’t that warm when you went to sleep.

and you weren’t holding onto anything either.

cool, yeah, no big deal, definitely. you’re just latched onto yoongi’s arm while you drool on his shoulder. very attractive and not at all weird friend behavior. as you’re silently freaking out, eyes barely open, you register warm breath hitting the top of your head, and you look up to catch yoongi staring at you.

“oh, shit, sorry,” he stutters, pulling his arm from your grasp too soon. “i’m sorry, i wasn’t, like, i was trying to figure out if you were awake or not-”

“yoongi, it’s fine,” you laugh. “you staring at me is better than me turning you into my personal teddy bear. sorry about that.”

“you’re good,” he mumbles, sitting up. his hand rubs at the back of his neck, something you register as his go to nervous habit, as he keeps speaking. “it was nice actually. uh, because of the cold.”

“right,” you say, smiling to yourself. a layer of silence falls over you both as you lay there and yoongi fumbles for a minute on his phone. now you’re the one staring, looking up at yoongi’s delicate features like someone just took a blindfold off of you and you’re seeing the world in such a clear, sharp image. you’re noticing yoongi like you’ve never noticed him before.

to stop yourself from memorizing the outline of yoongi’s profile, you pull the covers off and get out of bed, groaning at the cold. you throw on an extra hoodie and some wool socks, noticing yoongi doing the same. once you’re both dressed, you’re staring at each other again, and the silence returns. it’s not awkward, just heavy, and you break it with a simple, “yoongi?”

“yeah?”

“don’t tell the guys i drooled on you, please.”

“as long as you don’t tell them i was staring at you.”

the kitchen is buzzing more than you thought it’d be, cups of coffee already poured and the stove sizzling with eggs, sausage and some sad attempt at pancakes. last night when taehyung said he tries to cook, this must be what he meant, because the finished plate of “pancakes” looks like...a good try.

you beeline for the coffee, inhaling the comforting scent and enjoying the warmth it brings to your fingers. as you take your first sip you realize the boys have been quiet since you and yoongi ambled downstairs.

“so,” jungkook begins. “how’d you two sleep?”

“fine,” you both reply simultaneously, raising a few eyebrows from your audience. convincing.

“sorry,” you apologize. “not a morning person.”

“neither is yoongi,” namjoon notes.

“seems like it’s a good thing you’re sharing a room then,” jimin says over the rim of his coffee mug, smug smirk not as clearly hidden as he’d like it to be.

“hyung,” taehyung pouts from the stove. “can you help me with these?”

“i’m not good at flour-based things,” yoongi replies without a glance, deepening the pathetic pout on the chef’s face.

“i can help you, tae,” you offer, sliding past him and taking the spatula. he utters his gratefulness, going as far as kissing your hand, and yoongi finds his ears flaring red at the sight. chill out, he thinks to himself. tae’s just being tae.

but jin notices the change in yoongi’s demeanor after taehyung’s playfulness. it seems that when it comes to the two of you, one of the boys will always notice something before either of you do.

ok, so, something that wasn’t made totally clear to you is the fact that this is a ski trip, the main event of the weekend is skiing, and here you are with nothing thicker than a nice sweater to keep you warm. maybe it was mentioned in passing and you just didn’t pick up on it, but the conversation last night at dinner made you realize how under prepared you were.

that’s how you end up shuffling through the ski lodge down the street, laden in several borrowed layers. an extra pair of pants from jimin, a hoodie from jungkook and a jacket from hoseok. and yoongi’s gloves, which he insists he won’t need because he suddenly has to work on his mixtape before he loses his inspiration. you wonder if it’s the sight of the mountain covered in artificial snow that does it, because you’re even thinking about how you wish you could paint or draw so you can capture the true beauty of this place.

but yoongi knows the reason he has to write these lyrics down now is because of the lingering feeling of you holding onto his arm, head on his shoulder and delicate breaths brushing over his chest as you slept so peacefully. in all honesty, yes, he had been staring at you, for quite some time actually. and it was while he stared that he got the idea for this song.

so, yeah, he needs to write it down now, and he figures the best time to do it without prying eyes is while everyone is occupied with skiing. he hunkers down in the ski lodge, promising to watch everyone’s stuff as the rest of you layer up and carry the rented equipment outside to the slopes. you follow jimin and taehyung to the bunny slope while jin, namjoon and hoseok go toward the snowboard-only trails with jungkook deciding on the competition style ski slope. as you walk out, you look back at yoongi, admiring the concentrated look on his face as he passionately writes down whatever is on his mind, and for the briefest moment, you hope that he’s writing about you.

“i’m never going skiing again,” jimin declares, dropping all of his wet clothes in the living room of the rental as soon as he gets inside. “why did i fall down so much? how did i get so wet because of that?”

“well, jimin, snow is just frozen water, and water is wet, right?” namjoon teases. jimin’s response is to throw a soaking scarf at namjoon, gross ski slope water flinging everywhere in its wake.

“ew, jimin!” you yell, dodging the tail end of the scarf as it makes a terrible sound when it collides with namjoon’s chest.

“he deserved it.”

“yeah well now i’m covered in your gross sweat water too,” you whine. jimin acts like he’s going to throw something else wet and squishy your way, and you shriek before you dodge behind yoongi as protection.

“don’t get me involved in this,” he groans. you mumble an apology, secretly wiping some of the water off on his scarf.

“i’m gonna go change,” you tell him. “so knock before you come in.”

yoongi nods in response, heading toward the kitchen to get out the ingredients for dinner tonight. as per jungkook’s request, you’ll be assembling your own pizzas, which means you’re off the hook for cooking, at least. everything is premade, it just has to be warmed in the oven, and jin has already declared himself the pizza master, so you just get to enjoy.

“wait, y/n!” yoongi semi-shouts, stopping you on the first step of the staircase. “can you take this up with you? you can put it on top of my black bag.”

“which one, you have three,” you playfully dig, taking the bundle from his hands anyway. it’s his jacket from earlier wrapped around something, his journal maybe? and you tuck it under your arm as you continue upstairs.

you drop the bundle on top of yoongi’s things, knowing he’ll grumble about it messing up how neatly he arranged all of his bags and their contents. that’s why you find yourself peeking back at it after you’ve changed. plus the nagging feeling in your brain that maybe, just maybe, there’s something written about you in there has you tip-toeing to the corner of the room before you gingerly pick his jacket up, letting his notebook tumble out. you hold back, neatly folding the jacket and draping it over one bag before you lean down to grab the notebook, which happened to fall face down, pages open.

it’s not a crime that you glance at the words as you pick it up, and you’re reading the whole page before you can stop yourself. you’re about to start on the next group of words when you hear a knock at the door, and you drop the notebook, feeling caught. you scramble to put it neatly with his jacket, but the words inside are running through your head as you call out to yoongi that he can come in.

if he knows that you were snooping, he doesn’t show it. he simply thanks you for folding his things, and you nod at him quickly before you duck out of the room and go back to the kitchen, all the while thinking about the lyrics that made your stomach do backflips while at the same time making your heart feel totally content. what you read on that page was pure comfort embodied in a few words, and it came from the comfort yoongi feels when he’s around you. you recognize that feeling, those words resonating because that’s the same way you feel when you’re around him. you smile to yourself, thinking about how to confront yoongi about this.

except you can’t. because then he’ll know you were looking at his things, his innermost thoughts. you know how personal his lyrics are to him, and you know he’d be upset that you looked without his permission. so you resign yourself to making your sad little pizza, distracting your mind with cheese, cheese and more cheese. hoseok must notice the gloomy look on your face, because there’s suddenly a ball of sunshine at your side. he slides ingredients onto your pizza without you knowing, until you look down and see a smiley face staring back at you. you can’t help but laugh and lean into his warmth, giggling as he makes up some silly voice for the new pizza face he created.

yoongi enters the kitchen at that moment, seeing how you smile at hoseok like that, laughing so easily at his actions, and suddenly the song he was so eager to write, to compose, to pour his heart into, suddenly he wants to go upstairs and burn the pages. he won’t, because he knows he’s just being jealous, but he distances himself immediately, silently helping jin with slicing some fresh onion or prepping the oven for another pizza. yoongi was ready to show the song to you after dinner, but now...maybe he never will.

once you’ve all eaten an unhealthy amount of food, and consumed an impressive amount of alcohol (”we have to finish it before we leave!!” - jimin), you’re all gathered in the living room to watch a movie, another jungkook choice. it’s some sappy love story, and you find yourself looking over at yoongi each time something touching happens onscreen. jin notices as well, nudging yoongi the next time he sees your eyes drift in their direction. yoongi acknowledges jin, who directs yoongi’s attention to you, and when your eyes meet you can see something has changed. you turn away, looking back up at the tv and shivering despite the warm fire just a few feet away. taehyung, sitting next to you on the floor, offers you a corner of his blanket, and you take it, scooting closer to him as you try to focus on the terrible plot of this movie.

the boring movie, the warmth of tae along with the fire, and the two glasses of yoongi’s fancy whiskey you wanted to try now sitting in your stomach all lull you to sleep at some point. tae shuffling around next to you wakes you up, and in your stupor you look around and can’t find who you’re looking for.

“where’s yoongi?” you mumble with a yawn.

“already in bed,” taehyung explains. “he went up a little while ago.”

“hm, ok,” you half-whisper, voice barely returning after your quick nap. you stand up and stretch, alerting everyone to your movements because you’re right in front of the tv. jungkook whines, and you side step out of the way. “m’goin to sleep too.”

“alright,” taehyung says, pushing the blanket out of your way so you don’t trip. “sleep tight!”

“don’t let the lovebugs bite!” jimin chirps out, making some of the boys giggle. you don’t register it as you walk to your room, just barely awake.

for the second night in a row you’re surprised to see yoongi on the bed, still awake, but tonight he’s got his laptop and all of his producing equipment is laid out around him. he doesn’t acknowledge you entering the room and you don’t pay him any mind either, kneeling down to rifle through your bags at the foot of the bed. once you find what you’re looking for, you can’t decide if it’s the sleep or the whiskey, but you unabashedly take your sweater off right in front of yoongi. suddenly he’s jumping out of bed, equipment scattering.

“uh, what- why, what, what are you doing?!” he asks, voice an octave higher than usual as he looks anywhere but down at you. you laugh at how jumpy he is, and quietly apologize.

“sorry, i should’ve warned you,” you explain. “too tired to go to the bathroom.”

“tha-that’s fine,” he replies, still not looking at you. “tell me when you’re ready.”

“good,” you say once you’ve pulled on the shirt you slept in last night. “why’d you come up here so early?”

yoongi risks a glance at you, color coming back to his cheeks once he sees that you’re clothed again. he starts meticulously packing up the tech covering the bed, leaning over his laptop and furiously saving what he was working on before he closes it.

“uh, i just didn’t like that movie,” he lies, not wanting to mention how jealous he was seeing you laughing with hoseok and then sharing a blanket with taehyung. he doesn’t have a right to be jealous, but he is. he wants to tell you how that made him feel, but he doesn’t.

“ugh, me either,” you groan, rolling up one of the stray wires on the bed before passing it to yoongi. “not my favorite genre.”

yoongi notices that you’ve folded the wire the way he likes, without harming it too much and with the ends tucked in just so. the fact that you remember such a small detail has his heart warming again, and suddenly the gloomy thoughts he had about tonight have washed away. he all but forgets why he was in a bad mood in the first place as he looks at you, crawling under the blankets and he has the urge to stop you, to wake you up again so that he can play you what he was working on. but he can do that later, he will. he sees you glance up at him, patting the bed next to you.

“c’mon, i promise i won’t drool on you tonight,” you assure him, and he laughs before pulling the covers back on his side so he can lay down. he turns the lamp off on his bedside table and then settles in, suddenly missing the warmth of you from last night.

“good night,” he mumbles, looking over at you on your phone, setting an alarm for tomorrow. the rental ends in the early afternoon, so there can be no sleeping in.

“night yoongi,” you reply, locking your phone. you keep it on your chest for a moment, contemplating how tired you actually are. before you came in, you could’ve fallen asleep on the floor, but now, laying next to yoongi, you’re reminded of those lyrics and you don’t think your mind can turn off. after a few minutes of silence, you decide it’s probably best to just try to sleep, having your phone on might bother yoongi. you need to charge it anyway, but you groan as you remember you never packed your charger.

“hm?” yoongi hums at your sound of frustration.

“do you have a phone charger plugged in over there?” you ask quietly.

“mhm.”

“can i use it?”

“yep.”

“are you almost asleep?” you ask, even quieter now, moving over so you’re a little closer to him than before.

“trying to be.”

“i’ll plug it in then,” you say, carefully reaching over him to grasp blindly until your fingers reach the cord. you fumble with it for a moment, successfully plugging your phone in eventually, and you start to retreat to your side of the bed. as you pass back over yoongi, you place a quick kiss on his cheek and mumble another good night, not even realizing what you’ve just done.

there’s no way you can fall asleep now, and neither can he. there’s a beat of silence before he speaks up.

“y/n.”

“what.”

“look at me.”

slowly, you turn your head back to him, and his intense gaze has you blushing before he even says anything.

“sorry.”

“don’t apologize.”

“ok. right. sorry,” you quickly reply, voice still barely audible, but with the lack of space between you two it’s not hard for yoongi to hear.

“y/n,” he says again, this time grabbing your hand beneath the blankets.

“yeah?”

“i think i might be in love with you.”

“that’s....nice,” you squeak back, and yoongi lets out a loud laugh. your blush deepens at the sound.

“that’s nice?” he laughs. “that’s all you have to say?”

“yoongi?”

“yeah?”

“can i kiss you?” you ask, propping yourself up on an elbow. it’s dark in the room, but you clearly see him nod, and you don’t even remember moving to connect your lips to his. the moment you do, there’s a spark of electricity flowing through you. it’s a simple kiss, lips moving in sync with each other, both knowing what move the other is going to make before you even make it. yoongi pulls himself up so he can cage you underneath his arms, long fingers brushing your cheek and sending more sparks down your spine. he cups your face as he delicately tries deepening the kiss, your lips opening just slightly to let him in. he tastes like mint, and something else, something....citrus-y. even though you don’t want to, you pull away from his lips, his pout chasing you as you rest your head back on your pillows.

“what, what’s wrong?” he asks, fear slowly creeping in.

“when did you have time to eat a tangerine?”

“seriously? that’s the question you have for me right now?” he asks, laughing again but quieter this time. it still makes you smile at the sound.

“hm, i do have one question,” you say. it’s dark in the room but you can see yoongi encouraging you to go on with a lift of his eyebrow. your smile deepens as you speak. “how long have you been in love with me?”

“okay, good night,” he grumbles, turning over. you let out a sound of frustration and prop yourself up on an elbow, holding onto his shoulder with your other hand.

“this ok?” you ask quietly, slowly melting into his side. he makes a sound of confirmation, and you pull him back towards you slightly. “i still don’t have an answer to my question.”

“when did i fall in love with you?” he asks for confirmation.

“ooh, you fell in love with me, how romantic,” you tease. “i asked how long it’s been, but i’d take either answer.”

“ok, yes, i did fall in love with you,” he begins. “you’re annoying so it took some time.”

“hey.”

“not done.”

“sorry.”

“and how long?” he continues. “mm, when i saw your name on the sign up sheet for the room with the brown piano, that’s when i knew for sure. so i guess a couple months.”

“hm. alright,” you respond, butterflies suddenly in your stomach and fluttering up to your throat. “that’s.....nice.”

that sends you both into a fit of giggles right as jimin and taehyung are passing outside your door, and jimin pulls him toward the sound. but taehyung accidentally bumps his knee on the door, alerting you and yoongi to their unwanted presence.

“go to bed!” yoongi shouts, making you jump while scaring the now snickering boys outside your door. yoongi lays an arm over your waist seeing you jerk at the sudden noise, and you feel a little bit of that comfort that he so perfectly put into words with his lyrics.

“you too!” jimin shouts back, laughing all the way to his room.

“and you called me annoying,” you whisper to yoongi.

“you know they put you in here on purpose,” he tells you.

“huh?”

“they knew i was into you, so they made sure we were sharing a room,” he explains.

“so you knew about it too?”

“i-i knew we might share a room, i didn’t know we’d be sharing a bed,” he stumbles out. “once i saw there was one bed i assumed they gave you your own room. i’m...i’m glad i was wrong.”

“well min yoongi, i never expected this,” you tell him.

“pff, seriously?”

“seriously,” you confirm. “guess i was too busy with my own feelings for you to notice that you were into me.”

“really?” he asks with a smile. you nod, but realize he may not see it in the dark.

“yeah,” you whisper.

“how long?” he whispers back.

“honestly? probably longer than i’d like to admit. you’re really cute, you know.”

“back at ya.”

“not done,” you scold.

“sorry.”

“but i finally accepted it when i...” you trail off, and then you decide it’s best to just tell him. “when i read the lyrics in your journal.”

you can feel him stiffen at your words, but he doesn’t move his arm from its place on your waist.

“which song?”

“the one from today,” you reply. “wait, which song? there’s more than one?!”

“uh, good night!” he exclaims, trying to turn away again. you grab his arm and stop him though, placing your hand over his.

“min yoongi!”

“hey,” he mumbles.

“i hope i get to read the other ones at some point.”

“you will,” he assures you. there’s a beat of silence before he speaks again. “uh, so, you still haven’t used the l word, and that’s totally fine, i swear, but, did i cross a line? by using it already?”

“nah,” you shrug. “i’m just not good at this, so you’ll have to give me a little time. i’ll say it when i’m sure.”

“alright. take your time,” he says with a nod. it’s quiet again, and you think you’re both finally going to fall asleep when you feel yoongi’s lips on your cheek. “good night, for real. feel free to use me as your teddy bear again.”

“you sure?” you ask with a smile.

“i insist.”

the next morning, you keep it chill, trying not to tip off the guys and let them know their little plan worked. but damn, how sneaky of them! you’ll have to thank them later though. for now, you’re helping them clean the house so you don’t get charged for leaving the rental a total mess. yoongi is in the living room clearing bottles from last night and you’re washing dishes with hoseok. yoongi keeps stealing glances at you, and you stick your tongue out at him whenever he catches your eye. once everything is clean, and the bags are in the car, you’re ready to head back to the city to enjoy the last bit of break.

you’re the car dj again, next to yoongi in the backseat again, but this time you have a new playlist. epik high’s new album came out this morning, so you queue that up for your intimate little listening party in the car. everyone is in a good mood from the trip, so you’re talking over most of the songs in the beginning, just noting quickly when you like a lyric or a beat. yoongi scribbles things down when the inspiration strikes him, and your mind starts drifting back to your performance midterm. you’re starting to think you may be playing the wrong song, but the question is, what song will you play instead?

as you get to the end of the album, and the end of your weekend, one song catches your attention. you check your phone, noting the title as you turn the volume up slightly. you listen extra hard to this song, trying to memorize the chord progressions as they come. you start composing the song in your mind, tapping out the melody on your lap as you decide: end of the world will be your performance song. you glance over at yoongi, still focused on his notebook, and you reach out to lightly tap his hand. he looks up at you, hair falling into his eyes, dewy cheeks shining and mouth slightly open, questioning your actions with a quiet “hm?”

“i’m sure now.”

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