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heyitsyn · 4 years ago

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Manager!Seijoh Part 8

a/n: okay so since my halloween special was a flop ill write this instead but uwuwuwuwu its also my birthday today so hehe this is kinda a special request too :D

WAIT YOU GUYS THIS IS TOTALLY IRRELEVANT IF YOURE NOT A POTTERHEAD BUT OMG I SHARE THE SAME BIRTHDAY AS SIRIUS BLACK LIKE WHAT :”) I THINK I SAVED A COUNTRY IN MY PAST LIFE OR SOMETHING :”)

for more seijoh content, check this masterlist out!

anon:

- IF IT WAS YOUR BIRTHDAY! omg :0 i think we can all agree that the ramen shop will get GOOD BUSINESS that day. but it was a total surprise when the upperclassmen basically JUMP you after exiting your last class. vball practice? deliberately cancelled cuz today is YOUR day. kyo leading you, iwa making sure your eyes are closed while oikawa keeps teasing you on how you’re letting a group of men take you BLIND (cue the PUNCH). your smile is worth the XXX amount spent c,:

LOOK HOW CUTE MATTSUHANA ARE IN THIS LIKE OMG ITS LIKE IWAOI SPIRIT SWITCHED W THEIRS AND NOW IWAOI HAVE TO PULL THEM APART INSTEAD OF THE OTHER WAY AROUND

okay yay happy birthday to me uwu

i kinda put this request off since my borfday was right around the corner so hahaha to the anon who requested this, here it is!!!

okay anyways!!!

so today is your borfday

obvs this could be any day lmao it doesnt have to be today but it can be any day just pretend the calendar was different lmao

you were born today and your parents and natsu obvs celebrated it the morning you woke up

like you were peacefully holding your squirtle plushie and snuggling close to get more sleep bc it was still early

but natsu quite literally kicked your door down and your parents walked in with a large cake with candles

STEPBRO WHAT ARE YOU-

okay ill stop now

ofc you were startled bc what the hek

like you were so surprised that you rolled off the bed and landed harshly on the floor

instead of being yanno ‘yey! its my borfday!’ you were like ‘dear asahi kill me’

waking you up at the buttcrack of dawn?

lmao 10/10 not recommend

natsu felt really bad and he pulled you up from the floor and situated you back on the bed while your parents backtracked back downstairs

‘ohmygosh babygirl im so sorry i didnt mean to hulk smash you to the floor’

im sorry sir what 💀

this whore

you waved him off but he still felt guilty so he just pressed kisses to your forehead to soothe it

meanwhile youre just leaning against him, eyes closed, bc you grew up with natsu always doing this whenever you got hurt so it was such a soff moment for you

eventually, he was able to bring you downstairs and your parents were lowkey scared lmao but you smiled at them

‘thank you for the cake’

they breathed a sigh of relief and you sat down on the chair to eat breakfast

‘here darling’

you accepted the bowl of rice from your madre and you ate your birthday breakfast with them while yall are saving the cake for later during dinner

when you finished, you were getting up and shouting up the stairs that you were showering first

hehe natsu was all like ‘lmao why? its like 4 in the morning’

you froze, foot hovering over a step and you sighed

‘excuse me what 💀‘

yea no

you were dragged back to the kitchen and you were all pouty bc duh who the hek wants to wake up that early but your parents saved themselves by giving you your parents early

(literally anything you guys want they gave you okay? but only like 3 lmao not a bajillion things)

you were still grateful for everything and you felt very much appreciated

since it was still early, you just decided to screw it and got ready to go to school early and set up the gym for early morning practice

natsu volunteered to go with you to school but you shook your head

‘nah, im okay. the walk is peaceful’

he huffed, crossing his arms, but nodded anyways

‘fine. only because its your birthday’

hehehehe the amount of freedom during your day of birth

you were of course the first one in the gym but you didnt mind bc you actually liked the quietness that was so rare inside there

you turned on some (f/m) (lmao favorite/music) and you were sweeping, unknowingly swaying and dancing slightly

at around 5:40, the third years have arrived and since theyre the eldest, they usually get there first

omg the blush explosion on their faces when they saw you twirling around with the mop and ofc oikawa being the little poopie head he is, he swooped in and held your waist

you got startled but seeing the soft brown eyes of your captain made a soft smile appear on your face

‘hello, oikawa-san’

you whispered and he nuzzled his face to the side of your head softly

‘morning, y/n-chan’

before he could go on, iwa threw him away behind him and you giggled

mattsun raised an eyebrow at your odd behavior

‘hm? why are you so happy today, y/n-chan?’

you stopped then chuckled

‘nothing much, mattsun-san’

you didnt really want to tell them it was your birthday bc tbh you didnt think it was a big deal or anything

the others werent complaining bc they rarely see you so lively and upbeat and they loved it

you were humming under your breath for gods sake

the other boys have trickled in and again, they also went ‘?’

your soft smiles, giggles, and joy was everything to them

god bless for this beautiful morning

poor kindaichi cowered in fright as he braced himself for a scolding from you for missing a block but he got even more scared when you just patted his head

‘its okay, yuu-kun. there’s always a next time’

yea there was something wrong

unfortunately, school was starting and they weren’t able to start questioning you and there aint no way kindaichi and kunimi were going to do that themselves without the upperclassmen who could calm you down if you got too defensive

you were skipping down the hallway and you even looped your arms around your first year friends and they shared a confused look before being dragged by you

during class, darling kunimi was too busy and distracted by your quiet singing of some show that takeru watched when you were over

‘KUNIMI-SAN, IS MATH SO BORING THAT YOU FIND INTEREST ON L/N-SAN INSTEAD?’

yes, yes it is

but he didnt say that and instead turned away so fast that you felt the wind beside you

DID A 180 CRAZY~~~

he texted the separate bros group chat about you still being all happy and they were all curious as to what makes you so happy

during lunch time, kindaichi usually went over to go eat with you and kunimi right?

but he was surprised when he just saw kunimi there without you

‘wh-’

‘i dont know’

‘what do you mean you dont know?!’

nah fam we not dying yet

natsu texted you earlier that he had a bento for you that he made himself and he wanted you to eat it instead of the one your mom made

you were passing by the building entrance door thingy and caught the attention of the third years who were at the rooftop eating their lunch

there was also other students outside and they watched your flowery aura skip over to the equally attractive hiroshi natsu

‘y/n-chan~’

he cooed and you smiled up at him

curse him and his tall height

he let you hold the f/c cloth covered box so he could cup your face and kiss over your booboo again

‘wo mow, matsu-’

translation: no more, natsu!

you whined as he kept kissing your forehead and you were turning red at the attention from the other students

dang oikawa crushed his juice box at the sight even though he knew natsu was just a cousin

‘ill save you, y/n-chan!’

he shouted, already flying down the stairs towards you and the other third years after him to keep him from doing something stupid

but they also lowkey wanna see you too

but by the time they reached the entrance, you were already walking away and even passed by the quartet, giving them a close-eyed smile and a cute ‘hello!’

the 3 were distracted by you and were coddling you while oikawa ran out and shouted after natsu’s retreating form

‘natsu! oi, natsu!’

as if the boy was purposely ignoring him, natsu kept walking forward

‘HIROSHI NATSU!’

his scream finally made him turn around and natsu’s face held a teasing smirk

‘oya? chibi-chan?’

KDJFSLFDFKDSJKFD YES YOU CALLED?

oikawa huffed and panted as he firmly walked over to natsu

‘tell me, hiroshi natsu. why is y/n-chan all cutesy and happy today?’

then the smirk fell, replaced by an actual, genuine annoyed look

‘hah?’

oikawa blinked

‘what do you mean ‘hah’?’

natsu waved his hands around in a frenzy of shock

‘so you mean to tell me, you, oikawa tooru, the dude who literally woke up the neighborhood at the buttcrack of dawn a few weeks ago, in love with my cousin, doesn’t know what today is?’

‘was i supposed to,,,, know?’

KSDLFJSDKFJDS THIS DUDE

natsu’s face became a meme and the guy was so disappointed that he just turned around and continued walking

oikawa gasped and clutched natsu’s arm, begging and pleading to tell him

ofc the little shite natsu is, he smirked down at oikawa’s kneeling form

‘hmm, gotta say, chibi-kun. i like this view~’

KDSLFJSDKFJLSDKFJDKS WHOS CHILD ARE YOU, HIROSHI NATSU

‘tell me, natsu-chan!’

the puppy eyes of oikawa tooru not only affected girls but also boys fully socked homosexual boys so natsu had to turn away, fighting down a blush

stay loyal to katsuki

wait, no, probably tetsu

or kenma

or both

or keiji

‘-me! natsu-chan!’

that snapped the pink-haired boy out of his thoughts and crossed his arms, glaring down at oikawa

‘hm, why do you wanna know so bad? youre on your knees, begging me for information you shouldve already known since you claim to like her so much’

oikawa pouted and he sniffled

‘i wanna know everything about y/n-chan. i wanna know what today is so i can make her as happy as she is today forever!’

‘youre so cheesy’

natsu chided and oikawa pouted even harder causing natsu to sigh and pinch his nose

‘the girl was born today’

oikawa’s face lit up and he hurriedly stood on his feet, hands on natsu’s biceps since he could barely reach natsu’s shoulders bc of his 6′5 height

‘its her birthday today?!’

‘i literally just said that-’

‘oh my gosh! we need to plan something!’

oikawa started but then frowned

‘but we’re in school so it would be too late to do a surprise when we finish’

his mumbles

filled their vicinity and natsu finally realized where exactly they were so he tugged the still mumbling boy over to the side out of people’s view

ohmygosh if i saw 2 handsome, tall, hot boys there, id be staring too omg

‘oi, oikawa’

he still didnt budge until natsu had to kick him at the leg

rip not his knee yall

tooru flinched and hatefully glared at the boy but natsu pointedly glared at him right back

‘before you start bitching to me, i was just gonna suggest i can help you and your little plan to woo my baby cousin’

as if he wasn’t irritated in the first place, tooru lit up and he excitedly clung onto natsu

‘really? you’ll really help me?’

natsu rolled his eyes and tried to pry the brunette off of him but he felt the grip tighten

‘listen, oikawa, as much as i like having pretty boys hang on to me, i’d really appreciate if you just back off a bit and actually understand what im saying’

can i just say how long their lunch break is?

and not at natsu trying to get with oikawa and oikawa completely missing it

‘you can go do your education scam system thing while i can go set things up over at that one noodle place she likes’

natsu explained

oikawa was about to smile until he paused and leaned away

‘theres a catch. i know theres a catch’

then natsu smirked, confirming oikawa’s suspicion

‘ill think about what i really want but for now, i just wanna see that one doggie boy you guys have. also, your friend with the big arms’

lmao imagine the surprise in oikawa’s face

‘YOU GO FOR THEM BUT NOT ME?!’

‘why? you want me to?’

‘YES! i mean, well-no but YES!’

‘*sigh*’

thats how oikawa ended up telling the boys about the last minute birthday surprise for you and the help from natsu

‘yea, apparently its her birthday. also, iwa-chan, kyoken-chan, you need to talk to natsu-chan’

‘hah?! why?!’

‘THAT IDIOT?!’

you were minding your own business during class until you saw kunimi raise his hand

‘yes, kunimi-kun?’

‘bathroom’

normally, you wouldve just looked away but you noticed him grab his bag when the teacher wasn’t looking which prompted you to sigh since he was skipping class

i mean, whats the point of skipping class when the day is about to be over in like 15 minutes anyways?

‘make sure to come to practice’

you whispered when he passed and he smiled, making you raise an eyebrow bc that was a smile you knew that had a hidden meaning behind it

when the bell rang, everyone nyoomed themselves out of there and you were just walking past the door when a body came crashing to you which made you distracted and allowed a chance of vulnerability

there was a pair of hands covered your eyes from behind, hands grabbed your own from in front, and an arm around your waist started to guide you forward

‘um, just so you know, i have the power of god, anime, and iwa-san by my side and i wont hesitate to kick you in the di-’

‘its so cute when y/n-chan threatens us’

a voice from in front of you hums and you smiled

‘you wont think im really cute once youre on the floor clutching your di-’

‘oi, y/n, ill wash your tongue with soap’

‘yes, iwa-san’

you continued to walk, completely trusting at the hands of your boys, when you felt yourself being pulled to turn a corner

‘iwa-san? aren’t we going to the gym? why are we exiting the gates?’

the boys exchanged a look of amazement at your sense of intuition and the accuracy of your guess despite being deprived of your senses

‘dont think you can lie to us, y/n-chan! how could you not tell us its your birthday today?!’

you heard mattsun a few feet in front of you whine and you giggled

‘its not important’

then kyotani scoffed, you knowing it was him by feeling him twitch by the arm around your waist

‘boke, of course its important’

‘so your punishment for lying to us, we’re kidnapping you’

makki teased and you rolled your eyes beneath iwa’s hands

‘oh, shiver me timbers’

the walk continued, you still being dragged around, and you heard oikawa laugh

‘oh dear, its a sight to see, ain’t it? if only you can see the looks people are giving us, y/n-chan~ a group of boys taking a little girl like you? how could you trust us to not do something to you-ACK!’

you cut him off when you lifted your foot to kick right where it hurts the most

forget his weewee

its the knee

poor child crumbled to the floor and had to be picked up by baby watari

‘oh wata-cchi, youre the only one who cares about oikawa-san!’

you heavily sighed at the exagerrated theatrics of your captain

‘the one day. the one day when he could be a normal person for once’

you grumbled but stopped when you heard iwa laugh by your ear

‘he’s right you know. you technically lied to us when we asked if there was something special’

you shivered and you leaned your head back

‘its okay, iwa-san. we can talk about it after this event. make sure to give me my present, okay?’

SKDLFJSDKFJDSKFLDS GIRL NO I CANT I WANNA JUMP-

but iwa chuckled and he promised you that you would love his present

kyotani’s arm tightened around you, as if prompting you that he was still there and he wanted your attention too

‘careful there, pup’

he warned when you almost tripped over air

‘hehe, i know ill always be safe when youre next to me, kyo-san’

you teased and he was lucky your eyes were covered bc you would see the way his cheeks tinted red

‘s-shut up, idiot! maybe i shouldve just let you fall and hit your head! not like its gonna do damage since theres nothing there anyways!’

you just giggled and he retaliated by pinching your waist to which you squealed and gripped his hands

then the smell of the ramen broth entered your nose

‘are we-?’

‘nope! not there yet, y/n-chan!’

oikawa’s voice made you whine and complain but then he stopped, making everyone else stop too

‘okay, iwa-chan, kyoken-chan, release her!’

both grumbled something about you being treated like a pokemon but stopped when your eyes widened and contorted into confusion

‘huh?’

oikawa grinned and your eyes met to see the way his eyes crinkled, a tell-tale sign that this one was a rare genuine smile

‘come on! lets go!’

you let him take you inside the restaurant until your feet stopped, eyes wide when you noticed the streamers and the cake by the corner

your parents stood with natsu by the table and a large smile decorated your face

‘you,, you did this for me?’

you whispered and the team made noises of agreement

‘we had to do something for you to celebrate the day you were born. its a special day because you came into the world and we were able to meet you’

yahaba grinned and you gave him a big hug but you leaned back a bit so that the others would know you’re talking to them too

‘everyone, thank you. i love you’

they all scoffed a bit to hide their flustered state but they still smiled and each gave you a hug

‘oi! come here and eat the food! oikawa’s paying today!’

natsu shouted, which caught the attention of some customers in the restaurant, but they just ignored it bc theyve seen you and the team so many times that yall practically lived there

‘what?! i didnt-’

oikawa started but your mother came up to him and clasped her hands to his, sharing the same exact grin you have

‘you must be oikawa tooru. y/n has told me loads about you’

excuse him while he descends to heaven bc your mother is practically another you

iwa was already acquainted with your dad so they started talking and you just stood back, observing your two families interact with each other

you were so unbelievably happy that it hurts

kindaichi noticed you and he slinked away from the debate between makki and mattsun to go sling an arm around you

‘so? what do you think?’

you turned to him with glassy eyes

‘im so blessed. so blessed to have these amazing people with me’

poor babie panicked a bit bc he didnt really know how to comfort a crying girl but he just wrapped his arms around you

‘hehe, its kinda the other way around actually. we’re blessed to have someone like you’

he whispered and you giggled then playfully hit his shoulder

‘so cheesy, yuu-kun’

he leaned away from the hug and gave you an offended look

‘but its true! i dont know what we did to have-’

‘Y/N-CHAN! NO! HELP!’

oikawa shouted from the other side, cutting off your soft moment with kindaichi

‘what are you doing, natsu?’

you noticed your cousin wrapping his arms around your captain and trying to drag him away but poor tooru was scrambling to escape

‘we made a deal, didnt we, darling~? i know what i want now and youre going to have to give me you’

oikawa screamed

a/n: can we please pretend i posted this on november 3? bc i was dumb and forgot to post this and KLDJLSDKFJDSKD IM SO ANGRY but its okay at least i am able to publish this haha

434 notes · View notes

yungbud · 4 years ago

Note

Hi my love! When you have time could you write an fluffy & smutty imagine where the reader gets insecure & worries or compares themselves to Ashley? (Halsey) & Dom finds out & shows the reader how much they mean to him & how much he loves them daddy kink in there with the smut please & a lot of praise & saying "I'll take care of you pretty girl" 🥺

Word count:4.1k

TW?: mostly angst and fluff, but mentions of daddy kink and adult themes obviously its smut.

A/n: anything for you my lil nugget 🥺 Smut is at the bottom you horny cunts. I hope it was everything you wanted and more <33

*rewrite

You knew better. Unfortunately, you were self destructive and couldn't help yourself. It was 3AM and Dom was fast asleep beside you, and had been for hours. You, however, had chosen to watch a video before bed. It was titled “Yungblud being cute for 6 minutes straight.”, but of course one video turned to five or six more, until eventually you came along another video. This one was called “Halsey and yungblud cute moments.” and the cover photo was of them in onesies, one of Dom's arms wrapped around her and the other holding the camera. You could feel the pit begin to grow in your stomach. Glancing over at Dom to check he was still asleep, you pressed play on the video, flipping over so you were facing him, so that if he did wake up he wouldn’t see what was on the screen.

It was ridiculous, honestly. How could you be jealous of her when you were the one laying right next to him. It broke your heart the way he looked at her, you couldn’t help but wonder... is that how he looks at you? Why would he? She’s so beautiful, look at jawline, look at those eyes and her voice. Oh god... her voice, she's a musician. You loved music, but you had never been musically inclined and at best you could go hard on the triangle. But her, she understood it all, down to the tour life. When he was overwhelmed with work or couldn’t find a melody, she could help, when he didn’t know how to deal with all the attention, she could help. She was like the perfect mentor/ girlfriend combo. She connected with him in ways you would never be able to. She got it.

Your finger hovered over part 2 of the video, a moment of hesitation before pressing it. You tapped twice more to skip past the person's intro, wasting no time in getting to the painful stuff.

One of the first clips was Halsey talking about the night they met. You knew it was unhealthy, but you couldn’t look away. She described it so beautifully, taking a moment to mention that of course she would because she's a writer and that's how she saw the world, her world was so beautiful. Dom deserved to live in her world.

She went on to say that they had met up in a bar to chat, to which you remembered why. It wasn’t a coincidence, Dom liked her music. He looked up to her. Just another way you could never be who he needed.

You couldn’t help it. He’d made the trade down of the century and everyone knew it. You paused the video momentarily, subduing the verbal attack on your ears and laying your phone down on your chest. Heavy breaths slid past your lips as you tried to calm yourself from a full blown breakdown.

You glanced once more over at Dom, ensuring he was asleep before letting a single tear slip down your face. You used the blanket to wipe it away, basking in the shitty feeling you had created for yourself. You decided that was enough of that, shutting off your phone and plugging it up for the night. After laying there silently for a moment you scooted a bit away from Dom.

You didn’t really feel like being held by him tonight.

----

The first thought in your head the next morning was of the events of last night, the same shitty feeling digging itself into the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck.” You sighed

“Sorry, I was borrowing one of Dom’s shirts. I didn’t mean to wake you.” You turned your head to acknowledge the presence in the room. It was Tom, bent over and digging through a pile of Dom’s clothes.

“All good.” You murmured, flipping onto your stomach and burying your face in the pillow. It smelled like Dom.

Soon after you heard the door shut behind Tom as he left, your head lifting from the pillow. You didn’t know what to do, you didn’t really feel like being around Dom today. You couldn’t get past the feeling that he was ultimately worse off with you, that he had settled for less.

You hated the way you felt, your face drooping back into the pillow in an attempt to hide and ended up dozing off, the late night pity marathon catching up with you.

About an hour later you were awoken to Dom’s lips on your forehead. Your eyes met momentarily as you blinked the sleep out of them, reaching upwards in a stretch.

“ ‘ello sleepy head.” Dom says, planting another kiss, this time to your nose. You roll over, replanting your face in the pillow once again, “Are you going back to sleep?” He asks

“Tired.” You mumble back, voice muffled by the pillow.

“It’s 1pm.” no response “How late did you stay up last night?” He asks, laying his head on the pillow next to yours. You shrugged.

“Are you feeling alright, love?” You shifted your head so that you were looking at him, cheek still pressed softly against your pillow “Are you feeling a bit sick? Is it cramps? I can make you a cup of tea and get you some pain killers.” He continued, offering to help you in any way he could. He just wanted to know what was wrong with you, so he could help you. He hated the idea of you up in bed all alone feeling ill. He considered skipping the studio today, he was already cutting it close on time.

“No, I feel fine. Just need a nap. I must’ve stayed up later than I realized, s’all.” You knew you needed to tell him. Every silent moment was filled with you trying to convince yourself to just say something to him. Just talk about it. Just let him in.

“Okay, if you’re sure. I’ll be out of the house at the studio, but Tom and Adam are here if you need them. I’ll tell them to be quiet so you can get some rest.” You smiled in response, your eyes closing as he rubbed his thumb lovingly against your cheek “Hey, I love you.” he says, your eyes opening as you mumbled back an I love you of your own, your lips meeting in a chaste kiss before he stood back up and slipped out the door.

As much as you would’ve loved to, you didn’t sleep at all after he left. Tom and Adam had made good on their promise to stay quiet, but it didn’t make much of a difference when that little voice in your head wouldn’t shut up. You opted for distracting yourself with your phone, scrolling through instagram and hoping the memes would brighten your mood. For the most part they did, acting as a simple distraction.

Once you felt a bit better, you decided part of the reason you felt so bad today and last night was partially due to the fact that you hadn’t had anything to eat. You went to the kitchen to prepare yourself lunch, hearing Tom and Adam talking quietly in the other room.

While you were preparing your food you accidentally bumped into a stack of dirty dishes that had built up in the kitchen. You didn’t see what happened and when you turned to check nothing looked broken, but it was loud.

“Y/n?” Tom asks, tilting his head to get a better look into the kitchen.

“Hm?” You respond after a few moments of quiet deliberation. You weren’t exactly ready to be observed as awake, but you didn’t have any other choice, besides blaming it on an intruder who broke in with the intent of stealing the beloved orange tree outside, but when they arrived in the kitchen and were met with such a disgraceful mess decided they had no choice but to clean up after us. Of course, that might have stirred up a bit of a panic. They loved that orange tree, after all.

“Oh you’re finally up. Are you feeling alright? Dom said he thought you maybe came down with something.” Adam says

“I’m alright, thanks for asking. I’m just making myself lunch.”

“Come sit with us while you eat. We’re playing uno.” Tom invites. When you’re done making yourself food, you decide maybe it would be best to join them. It’s not good for your mental health to be stuffed up in your room pitying yourself all day.

You sat with your food in front of you, watching silently as they played.

“You wanna be dealt in the next round? It’s more fun with three players.” Tom offers, you give him a nod in response as your mouth is full of food. As you nod, Adam plays a red six, which ultimately leads to his demise as Tom then plays three red draw 2’s, stopping Adams hand as he goes to pick up and continuing to lay a red skip, then a yellow one, changes the color back to red and ends on his own red 3. You all laughed as Adam was absolutely massacred, almost choking on your lunch.

“There ain’t no coming back from that. Just tap out man.” You say through your laughter, reaching over to place a comforting hand on Adam. You all had small conversation as you finished your lunch, but soon you were done and the cards were passed out.

After a game or two, the round was paused as Adam stood up to get himself a glass of water, Tom and you shouting out your own drink orders from your place in the living room. By the time Adam was back at the table the running conversation had died down a bit. You began to think about why you’d been in bed all day, and the fact that Dom still attributed it to a small sickness. You felt the insecurity growing inside you once again, and you finally decided to talk about it.

“Did you guys like Ashley?” You ask, as inconspicuously as you could manage. You watch as they glance at each other, taking a sip of your drink to occupy your mouth.

“Yeah, she was cool,” Tom says, Adam nodding in confirmation “Why?”

“Just curious, I guess. Did you guys ever hang out?” You tried to play it off as casual conversation, but you got the feeling they were picking up on the fact that there was something more under the surface.

“Not really. Not without Dom, even then it was rare. Who’s turn was it?” Tom continued, feeding into your curiosity while trying to maintain the card game.

“Yours, I think.” You paused for a moment, thinking of your next question “Do you think she was better for him than I am?” Your eyes met with Tom’s as the words left your mouth. He stayed silent for a moment and you couldn’t tell what the emotion on his face was. It felt weird, confiding in your boyfriend’s friends. Usually you could tell what your friends were thinking, or have an idea about what they might say, but you didn’t know these two like that.

“Like how?” He asked, nodding towards you to silently mention it was your turn.

“I dunno, they have the same career.” they let out a small laugh at that.

“She knows how to play a guitar so she loves him more?” Adam says

“Well, no, but…” you tried to remember what you were anxious about “she gets it. She knows what it's like to be on the road all the time and not see your family, she knows about the mental toll being in the public eye has and how to deal with it, she knows how to help if he’s nervous about performing.”

“What makes you assume that?” Tom asks

“She’s been doing it so long.”

“Well, yeah, but knowing how to do that isn’t a part of the job description. It’s less about knowing how to be famous and more about knowing the person you’re with. If it was about that, most people in Dom’s life don't get it. But we get Dom, and that’s what he cares about. You get him, so you have nothing to worry about.” Tom says softly. He made a surprisingly good therapist.

You nodded, picking up 4 cards and sorting through them in your hand.

“But that doesn't mean you get to hide in your room cause you’re insecure. Just cause we’re talking about it doesn’t mean you don’t still need to tell him.” Tom continues, his chin resting in his hand as he looks at you.

“Yeah, of course.” You agree

~~~

You could hear Dom the second he walked in the house, engaging in a small conversation with the boys before making his way up the stairs. You heard his footsteps trail down the hallway and eventually meet your bedroom door, your eyes closing as you listened to it creak open.

“Love? Are you up?” Dom whispered, shutting the door softly behind him. You remained silent, trying to regulate your breathing like that of someone who’s asleep. He sighed, which made your heart crumple a bit. You wondered if you should respond, he might’ve had a hard day, but the nerves took over and you remained silent.

“You’re still sleeping?” He asked, partially to himself, before exiting the room once more. You could hear him talking with Tom from outside the door.

“Has Y/N been asleep all day?”

“Uh, no. She came out and ate lunch and played uno with us around 2. Is she asleep now?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

You planned on talking it out with him, and up until he walked into the house you were, but you were suddenly overcome with intense nerves and all you wanted to do was hide. You figured you would get a good night's rest and talk it out with him in the morning, that way if it went badly he would be out for most of the day at the studio and you wouldn’t have to sit in awkward silence as you tried to sleep.

He entered the room once again, stripping himself of his clothes as he preferred to sleep half naked, before joining you in bed. You felt his arms wrap around you, pulling you into him and wrapping you both in the blankets. Flipping over to face him, you nuzzled closer into his arms.

“Y/N?” He asks again, shifting to see if you’re awake. You hum in response this time, curious as to what he might have to say.

“Are you feeling better?” He asks, his hand returning to your cheek as it was this morning. You nod, letting out a small, genuine yawn as you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck.

“How was your day?” You ask, shifting the conversation.

“It was good. We finally got that song done, I think i’m gonna play with it a bit more tomorrow though. It’s good but I think it could be better.”

“You always think it can be better.”

“It always can.” He states simply, making you smile. You loved that about him, his pure determination and dedication to his craft. It can always be better.

“How was your day? Tom said you guys played a bit of uno, who won?”

“It was alright. Yeah, him and Adam were playing when I came down so I decided to join them. I think overall it was probably Tom though, I think he was cheating.” Dom laughed a little at the claim, brushing his fingers through your mess of a hair.

“So...” You began, needing to get a word out so you wouldn’t bail on talking about this. God, you hated confrontation. Especially when it was about something you were feeling.

Dom hummed in response, the gentle reminder to continue breaking you out of your thoughts.

“I wasn’t sick today.”

“No?” He encouraged

“No. I was a bit tired though. But, that wasn’t the problem. I was watching youtube last night and I came across a video someone made. It was, like, a compilation of cute moments or whatever so I watched it cause it was cute. Then I watched another, and a few more, and eventually I came across a video that was called ‘Halsey and YUNGBLUD being soulmates for 3 minutes’... and I watched it.” He lets out a small, quiet snort, not entirely catching onto the vibe of the conversation.

“Jeez, how do they come up with this shit.” He remarked lovingly

“Heh, yeah. It’s just… I watched it and I saw the way you talked about and looked at her… It just got me thinking, yenno?”

“I don’t. What’d it get you thinkin’ about, beautiful?”

“I just felt like maybe you regretted being with me. Maybe you’re still bummed that you guys broke up and you ended up with me. Like maybe you still miss her.” You admit. It’s silent for a moment as he takes it all in, you almost expect him to confirm your suspicions.

“I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I made you feel like that.” He took a moment to think carefully about his next words “I know it must be hard to hear me talk about someone else like that, you can’t really escape my past relationships because of who I am. I honestly never thought of that. I love you, okay? Not anybody else. Obviously she and I had something, but it’s completely in the past and I don’t regret a thing because it led me to you, and I love you so much. You’re my fookin soulmate, I mean it. I’m not gonna let that slip out of your head ever again.” He said, punctuating it with a passionate kiss.

You expected the kiss to end rather quickly, but it didn’t. It kept going, building in intensity as you scooted closer to one another.

“I love you.” You whisper, breaking the kiss momentarily

“I love you so much, pretty girl” He responds, his hand coming up to hold your jaw.

“Hmm, show me.” You whisper, pulling him closer. His hand slides down your side and onto your thigh as your lips meet again, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and pulling away lightly before indulging in the kiss once again.

Dom’s hands didn’t stay in one place for long, moving about your body as you made out, pausing his actions for a moment to take your shirt off, placing a kiss to each of your breasts before moving his lips up to your neck, leaving little marks for you to find in the morning. A chill ran down your back as he bit down on your ear, his hands massaging your breasts before reaching behind you and unbuckling your bra, throwing it off to the side and shifting his attention to your nipple. Taking it into his mouth, he presses his tongue flat against it as you lie down to give him a better angle.

His tongue flicking against your nipple while his hand plays with your other nipple. He swapped between which he used his mouth on and which he used his hand, making sure to give them both equal attention, your hands tangling themself into his hair while he did so. When he was satisfied he pulled away, causing you to let out a small whimper as you felt his lips leave you, making their way down your stomach in a series of wet, open mouthed kisses.

When he made it to your underwear he licked a single stripe, taking his his sweet, sweet time. First, kissing his way up one thigh, then back down and ghosting his lips over the area you needed him both, taking a moment to inhale your scent before kissing his way back up the other leg, and right back down.

“Please.” You whine

“Shh, I’m gonna take care of you, pretty girl.” He hushed, pulling your panties down your legs and glancing up at you as he did so, mimicking your pout before placing a chaste kiss on your clit. You leant your head back, closing your eyes as you waited patiently for him to begin.

He started off slowly, licking up your slit as he took his time with you. Dom loved to use his tongue anytime he could, you loved it too. When he ate you out, it wasn’t just tongue, he made sure to pay attention to your clit and use his fingers when needed but on nights like tonight, where he really wanted to drive you crazy, he made sure to use a lot of tongue.

“You taste so good, pretty girl.” He whispers, his breath fanning against you, his hands wrapped around your thighs as he lost himself in you, holding you like if he didn’t you would take his meal away. You tried your best to suppress the moans he was pulling out of you, knowing Adam and Tom were just rooms away. The way he was working you left you wishing you had come to him with this sooner. Your hips came up to meet his actions, your hand placed firmly on the back of his head, pushing him as far into you as he could go, eager to meet your release.

“That’s it, pretty girl, ride daddy’s face. Let daddy show you how much you mean to him.” He hums, taking a moment to catch his breath. You do as you’re told, the request putting you in anything but a bratty mood. You let out a small moan as he continues his actions, your hips setting the pace.

Once again, it started off slow, until you began to work yourself up. Your hand reached down, tangling itself in his hair once again, tugging as you tried to push yourself further down, your hips speeding up while you bite your tongue to keep down the moans that clawed their way up your throat.

You could feel the pressure building up in your stomach, squeaking out to Dom that you were gonna cum before releasing on his tongue. He let you remain there for a minute, riding out your high while he massaged and kissed your thighs. When you had fully come down you move yourself off his face, making your way down to his bulge where you began to unbutton his pants. His hand quickly came down to stop you.

“Tonight’s supposed to be about you.”

“I wanna make you feel good too.” You say, giving him a small pout. He stops to think for a moment before taking off his pants pulling you over him, giving himself a few painfully slow strokes before slipping himself inside of you. Your hips rocked carefully against him, still sensitive from your last orgasm. His hands continued to massage your hips as you found your pace, finding it harder and harder to remain silent.

“You’re so beautiful, pretty girl. Daddy loves to watch you bounce on his cock.” Dom growls, his hips coming up to meet yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room, you give up on holding back your moans at this point as it’s already very obvious to anyone in the house what's happening upstairs.

The bed was creaking, your skin slapping together as he thrust into you, unable to cease the loud moans falling past your lips. Your legs began to shake as you approached your second release. Dom pulls you close, holding you, the gentle gesture in sharp contrast with the way he’s pounding away at you.

“Please can I cum.” You whimper

“One moment,” he interrupted himself with a groan “I wanna cum with ya, love.”

You held on as best you could, melting into his grasp as he worked towards finishing himself off. Soon after he growled a barely audible “Cum.” signifying his release. You moaned against each other, Dom pulling you closer as close wasn’t close enough. He maintained his actions, riding through your orgasm with one hand in your hair and the other lovingly stroking your thigh.

“Daddy’s got you babygirl.” He whispers into your ear, hushing you as you come down from your high.

When you finally felt well enough to sit up, your muscles hurt from the strain so you and Dom decided to have a bath.

He got up to run the bath water just the way you liked it and insisted on carrying you there, because ‘You’re hurtin’ so you can’t walk.��

You didn’t mind, though, laying your head on his shoulder as he carried you princess style into the bathroom. Luckily, the boys were in their rooms with the doors closed, presumably to suppress some of the noise.

The warm watered soothed your aching as you sat with Dom behind you, his wet hands stroking your arms with his head buried in your neck while he whispered sweet nothings in your ear.

After that night, you didn’t think you’d ever question your relationship with Dom again.

#yungblud #yungblud smut #yungblud fic #yungblud fanfic #yungblud fanfiction #yungblud x reader #dominic harrison #dominic harrison smut #dominic harrison fic #dominic harrison fanfic #dominic harrison fanfiction #dominic harrison x reader #dominic harrison fluff #yungblud fluff #yungblud angst #dominic harrison angst #yungblud aftercare #dominic harrison aftercare

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arvandus · 4 years ago

Text

Touch (Pt. 8)

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: 18+ only please! Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

Synopsis: When you first joined the LOV to lend your healing quirk, Dabi terrified you. Not interested in attachments, he wanted to keep it that way. That is, until he needs your help. (Slow burn, soft Dabi).

Chapter warning: Another long chapter, clocking in at 10k words and 27 pages. First half is a bit heavy, so... Trigger warnings: physical abuse, verbal abuse, childhood trauma flashbacks

Chapter Songs: When The Truth Hunts You Down by Sam Tinnesz/Make It Rain by Ed Sheeran

Part 1 Part 7

Artwork credit to @hellowon31 on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 8 - Memories

Dabi stared at his desk, now positioned in front of his bedroom door. He did it as soon as he’d returned to his room and swallowed the pills you had given him. He wasn’t sure what to expect for the evening, but whatever happened, he wanted to make it through it without leaving his room.

That was a decision he had made before he even showed up at your door with dinner, as evidenced by the plastic bags currently occupying the surface of his makeshift barricade. Ramen wasn’t the only thing he’d gotten while he was out. The bags were filled with a variety of items - more snacks, a pack of cigarettes, electrolyte drinks, over the counter medicines. Anything and everything he could think of was in those bags, the collection curated from multiple experiences of past detoxes. Granted, this wasn’t a full detox, but that just made it that much harder to anticipate what exactly his experience was going to be.

Next to the lineup of bags was a bottle of high-end whiskey and a far less fancy plastic cup. That part wasn’t exactly planned… it was a last-minute decision, swiped from the bar downstairs after he’d returned from his shopping spree. He knew you wouldn’t be happy about it; no doubt you’d grill him on the risks of mixing alcohol and drugs. But it was his safety net without the risk of leaving his room in search of something stronger.

The night dragged by slowly, painfully. Every inch of Dabi was restless and aching. His scarred legs screamed a discordant song through his veins, muffled under the influence of the pills you had given him. The aches he still felt were just annoying enough to make sleep impossible, despite the exhaustion that pulled at him. There was no comfortable position, nothing to ease the physical stress.

Still, the pain was bearable. Your treatment was working.

It had its limits, though. Despite the pills you’d given him, he was still functioning on an opioid withdrawal. A jittery energy consumed him, forcing his leg to beat like a jackhammer, while his mind raced. Dabi could never stay in one spot for long, switching between his bed to his desk chair, to his bed again. Sitting. Lying down. Standing. Sitting again. It hadn’t taken him long to break into his cigarettes, dragging long puffs into his lungs to ease his tattered nerves. It helped to ease the physical distress, but his mind continued to jump from thought to thought, no longer encumbered by a drug-filled haze.

The headache relief you’d provided him was proving to be a double-edged sword, allowing his sporadic thoughts to come through clearer without the sharp, throbbing ache as a distraction. Your conversation hung over Dabi like a vengeful ghost. He tried to run from it, distracting himself with various forms of entertainment on his phone. Music videos, books, TV shows, memes…

Did you like memes? Of course, you did. Who didn’t?

Damn it, there you were again, in his brain.

He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about you.

But he did anyway. Obsessively.

It wasn’t long before Dabi was sitting on his bed, his phone forgotten in his hand while his mind turned over every nuance of what was said, every detail of body language. It honed in on the fear in your eyes, the way you had wrapped your arms around yourself, the way you had frozen against his harsh tone. His mind chewed on it like a dog with a bone, a dog he couldn’t fucking train.

It shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t fucking matter.

So, you were scared of him. That was to be expected. It wasn’t like he needed you to like him. This was all temporary anyway.

So, he had grabbed you. Big deal. It wasn’t like he really hurt you, right? It could have been so much worse.

The thoughts the did little to comfort him, his new-found conscience finding little of value in his weak excuses. The guilt sat in him like a stone, too heavy for him to move.

It mattered. It mattered a lot.

And he hated it.

Dabi still couldn’t remember actually grabbing you, but his mind filled in the blank space regardless, taking what he could remember and embellishing it into a brightly colored oil painting. It hung front and center in the castle of his mind, joining the tapestry of memories that wrapped around Dabi like a cage. And from it, it forced him to follow the threads of his life, drawing parallels to past wrongs, to things said and things done…

…To things better left buried.

“I hate you.”

The words echoed in Dabi’s mind, an old memory with his voice attached. Young, hot-headed, angry. He closed his eyes tight, resting the bridge of his nose on his interlaced fingers as he tried not to remember. He didn’t want to remember. But his mind was freed now, healing from the poison he’d been feeding himself for years, and it didn’t give a fuck what he wanted or didn’t want.

“This is all your fault.”

So, this is where his mind wanted to start first. He knew this memory, and he knew where it would eventually lead.

The memory came into focus with such clarity that it was as if he were there again. He could see her, clear as if she were there in person, white hair framing broken eyes as wet tears trailed down her hollow, pale cheeks. He could see himself too, younger, around thirteen years old, with red, wild hair like his father, his blue eyes filled with angry tears.

He watched, a prisoner in his own mind, as the memory unfolded before him.

His head hung low as his eyes stared ahead of himself, unfocused. Why? Why was this happening to him? His father’s harsh words wrapped around him like chains, restricting him, choking him, forcing him into submission.

‘YOU’RE NOTHING BUT A FAILED EXPERIMENT.’

Why was he cast aside so easily, as if he didn’t MATTER?

His father promised. He PROMISED that he’d help him become a hero. He’d trained every day, no matter how hard his father pushed him, no matter how much his quirk burned him. His father had called it the cost of greatness. It was all meant to mold him, to beat the weakness out of him and make him stronger, to prepare him for the greatest test of his life, the UA entrance exams. It was the ONLY path to becoming a pro hero. Not just any pro hero, but the BEST. His father insisted on it.

But now, with less than a year before he would apply, his father abandoned him.

“I tried so hard, mom. I did everything he ever asked, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much he… he…”

His mother wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. “I’m so sorry Touya.”

His voice shook with the force of suppressed sobs. “If I’d been strong enough… if I was more like him, then maybe he’d have been proud of me. Maybe… maybe he would have wanted me.”

“Touya…” his mother whispered consolingly.

He stared at his bandaged hands, watching through blurred vision as his tears broke free and fell onto the strips of cloth. They soaked in, exposing the red blood beneath. He stared at it.

His fathers voice echoed in his mind. ‘You’re WEAK! Just like your mother!’

Tainted blood.

HER blood.

His father was right.

Touya’s pain transformed into anger. “This is all your fault.” He whispered.

Her embrace vanished as his words smacked her. Her eyes began to fill with tears. “What…?”

“This is all your fault!” He repeated, pinning his angry eyes on her tear-filled ones. “I HATE YOU!”

Dabi rubbed at the bridge of his nose, unable to get his mother’s facial expression out of his head. He had been such an idiot. A young, stupid kid. He’d destroyed her with those words. Maybe… maybe that was the start. The first crack in her mental fragility.

Her face faded away, and now he was in an office. His father’s office.

“I’m going to apply to UA.” He announced.

His father looked up at him from the newspaper he was reading. “No you’re not. I forbid it.”

“You may have given up on me, but I haven’t.” Touya said stubbornly.

Enji put the newspaper down. “If I thought you were capable of getting into UA, then we would be training right now instead of having this conversation.”

“But dad-“

“I FORBID IT!” He shouted as orange flames erupted along his face and shoulders. “I’ll not have you bring shame on the Todoroki name all for a childish dream.”

“It’s NOT a childish dream!” Touya shouted.

Dabi scoffed at the memory, noting his father’s hypocrisy about “childish dreams.” He knew the rest of this story… He’d applied behind his father’s back and failed the exam. His father was furious.

As if summoned, the memory burst forth, tying together with the previous.

He lay in the hospital bed at the UA Health Center, wrapped in bandages, nursing his failure. He’d lost control of his emotions during the exam, consumed by anger and a desperate desire to prove his father wrong. In turn, he lost control of his quirk. Not only had he injured himself with his recklessness, but he’d accidentally injured two other applicants with his wild flames – an automatic disqualification.

The school nurse, Recovery Girl, was treating the other’s wounds first, and then she would treat his.

Or so he thought.

Just as she was about to use her quirk to rapidly heal some of his injuries, his father burst through the door in a cloud of barely contained rage.

“Don’t treat him.” He ordered.

“Excuse me?” She replied.

Touya stared at his father, realization starting to dawn on him. He wouldn’t...

Enji narrowed his eyes. “I said don’t treat him.”

“But Mr. Todoroki, if I don’t use my quirk to help him then he’ll be left with scars. Worse than the ones he already has.”

“I know.”

“It will take him many weeks to heal. He may feel pain for the rest of his life.”

“He must suffer the consequences of his actions.”

“But sir, if I may-“

“You may not!”

“…very well, sir.” She mumbled. She left the room, muttering her disapproval under her breath.

After she was gone, a cold fear gripped Touya as his father stared at him with fury in his eyes. He waited for his father’s barrage of insults and accusations, waited for the lecturing on family honor and being a ‘man.’

But the attacks never came. Instead, his father cooled his expression, fixing him with a cold, emotionless glare. “You brought this on yourself.” He turned on his heel to leave, but paused to glance at him over his shoulder. “Remember this day, Touya.” Then he left.

Tears streaked down Touya’s face as he sobbed alone. No one could hear him. No one came.

Dabi stood up and made his way to his desk, pulling out another cigarette before sitting down in the metal chair. He lit the cigarette with the blue flame dancing on his finger and took a long drag of it as his free hand slowly spun the whiskey bottle in circles in front of him.

He didn’t want to think about this. Any of this. There was no fucking point to it, nothing to be gained. It only brought up the same pain he’d lived with for years, the pain he’d learned to ignore in place of vengeance.

He wanted to drink the entire bottle. He wanted to move his desk aside and seek you out, have you turn off his emotions like you’d done before. He could do it… the desk wasn’t really going to stop him.

But it served as a reminder. A reminder of what he had committed himself to. Why did he decide to go through with this? What the hell was he thinking?

He thought of you. He thought of the past few days. And once again, he was back on his thread of memories, following the tapestry down to its source.

The source of what?

He wasn’t sure. But it was as if someone had strapped him down and was forcing his eyes open. It wouldn’t stop. His thoughts continued unfettered, memories organizing with a clarity he hadn’t felt in years.

Touya sat alone in his room watching the rain pour outside as he nursed a black eye. Outside his second-story window, his father trained in the courtyard with his youngest brother. His quirk had manifested earlier that day – a perfect combination of fire and ice. Enji had been ecstatic.

Touya had punched the wall in anger.

Now he sat here, alone, watching his father train his replacement.

His replacement.

No wonder his father had abandoned him when Shouto was born. He was placing all of his chips on him once he realized that Touya’s body would never be able to handle his quirk.

A knock at the door interrupted his brooding, and his mother stepped in, disappointment already on her face.

“I heard you got in another fight today.” She said, as she closed the door behind her.

“They were picking on Natsuo.” He said. “I couldn’t just let that happen.”

“They’re talking about expelling you.”

He looked away from her, his eyes looking back out the window. “So what.” He replied. If anything, he welcomed it. Anything to thwart his father’s plans of making him go to college and get a business degree, only to work under his father’s thumb at his agency for the rest of his life.

“You can’t keep doing this, Touya.” She said, concern heavy in her voice.

“Doing what?” He looked back at her.

“Destroying your life like this.”

He glared at her accusation. “I didn’t destroy my life.” He looked away, watching the courtyard again. “He did.”

His mother walked over to join him at the window. A gust of wind blasted raindrops onto the glass. Outside, Shouto’s flames died away on his skin as he collapsed to his hands and knees. Enji grabbed him by his small arm, forcing him back up to his feet. She watched it with a sadness in her eyes.

“He’s too young.” She said quietly.

Jealousy soaked into Touya’s heart. “And I wasn’t?”

His words stabbed her, and she hung her head in guilt. “I’m sorry, Touya. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

Now he was confused. “Like what?”

She didn’t respond, and he looked at her to see her eyes glazed over in silent introspection. She’d mentally retreated within herself, to a place that Touya couldn’t follow. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen her do this. If anything, it was happening more frequently lately. Normally, when this happened he wouldn’t press it, allowing her to escape within herself, to protect whatever part of her she felt needed protecting.

But now her words trapped him, and his heart began to pound at their unspoken meaning. “LIKE. WHAT? How was it supposed to happen??”

His words cut through her mental isolation, and she stared distantly at the floor as her eyes began to brim with tears.

“If only one of the others had been strong enough… of only I’d given them better quirks…” the tears broke free, landing on the hard floor. “Then maybe… maybe you wouldn’t have had to suffer so long. I’m so sorry, Touya. It’s all my fault. Everything is all my fault.” She covered her face in her hands.

Given them better quirks? Who?

His body went cold. Suddenly he was outside of himself, watching the history of his life fly by.

The birth of Fuyumi. Then came Natsuo.

Now Shouto.

Touya did the math in his head. He was 17 now. Fuyumi was 14, and Natsuo was 9. Shouto was 5. A four-year gap between each of them.

He’d always thought that his siblings came along as a natural process of a growing family, born from love despite his father’s harsh, obsessive nature. Why else would Rei have stayed with him all these years? But the age gaps were too uncanny, too similar. It was just enough time for each of their quirks to manifest.

Shouto wasn’t the only one who was intended as a replacement.

Which meant his father had given up on him long before he’d ever let on.

Touya’s chest heaved, as his world was up-ended. “It was all a lie…”

The intensity of his tone forced his mother to come back to the present, her hands falling from her face to stare at him. “What?”

“It was all a lie!” he repeated, his voice raising. “All these years…”

He stood up and began pacing his room, his hand in his red hair. “Tell me it’s not true.” He demanded. “I already knew that Shouto was meant to replace me. But Natsuo?” He paused and stared at his mother.

She looked way shamefully.

His breaths began to come out in ragged gasps as he fought the tears coming to his eyes.

“Fuyumi?”

“No, not Fuyumi. Not initially, at least.”

Right. Because his quirk had just manifested when she was born. His father didn’t know yet how weak and limited his body was; he’d still believed it was something that could be worked past, that it was something Touya could control. Which meant that Fuyumi was wanted. Lucky her. No wonder his father seemed to favor her over everyone else.

He sat on his bed, his head in his hands. “What the FUCK.”

All these years, he’d assumed his father had believed in him, and only gave up on him right before he was set to apply to UA. Even then, he’d thought that his father only abandoned him as a way to protect Touya from hurting himself, or even worse, killing himself. That was why his father hadn’t let him get healed back then, right? That was the lesson he was supposed to learn? To accept his weakness and take his mortality seriously? Sure, there was the whole thing about ruining the family’s reputation, but he’d always hoped that deep down, there was more to it than that. There had to be.

But no. None of it was true. It was all about HIM. His father and his stupid, obsessive goal to beat All Might, even if it was only through his progeny. Touya was nothing but a tool to him, a means to an end. And when he couldn’t meet his father’s needs, he became nothing more than a contingency plan. In the meantime, his father kept trying to make the perfect hero. The perfect quirk.

And he’d finally succeeded.

Touya stared at his scarred hands. “Did… did he ever even love me?” The words fell from his mouth, a forbidden, broken whisper.

His mother’s arms were around him then, cradling him to her chest. “Of course, he loves you. I swear it.”

The warmth of her embrace made him turn his attention on her, and suddenly a revelation hit him, cutting into him like a thousand knives. His body went rigid, his eyes wide.

“You knew.” He whispered. He forced her arms off of him and stood up, towering over her with his height. She took a step back, her eyes wide. “You knew and you never told me.”

He turned his back to her, unable to look at her.

“Touya, please...” she begged, her voice quivering.

He didn’t want to hear it. There was nothing she could say that could fix this. His father was one thing… he’d accepted that he was an abusive, shitty father. But his mother? His mother who he’d confided in? His mother who was supposed to protect him? His mother… who he trusted? Why didn’t she ever tell him?

The betrayal was too much. It cut too deep. His entire childhood was a lie, years wasted by those who were supposed to love and support him.

Disgust filled him. He wanted her gone. Out of his room, out of his life.

“Touya!” she said desperately. She reached out to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, an attempt at bridging the growing chasm between them.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” He shouted.

Flames erupted across his body, uncontrolled, as his arm shoved her away from him. She stumbled back with such force that she collided into the wall before slumping down against it. She didn’t get up. Instead, she sat there with her knees drawn up like a child, her body wracked with sobs.

He stared at her, horrified, as his blue flames died away on his skin. He wanted to go to her, to reach out and help her, apologies falling frantically from his lips. He took a cautious step forward, one hand outstretched towards her. But she shied away from him, her arms wrapping protectively around her head.

“No! Enji, please!”

Her words stopped him in his tracks. Slowly, he lowered his hand and stared in stunned silence as his mother babbled incoherent apologies. Something shattered within himself, sinking away to leave a hollowness in its place.

He ran.

Dabi was drowning, as the weight of his past washed over him, choking him.

That was the longest one yet. And the most painful. It ripped at the exposed tender places in his heart, places he’d thought were long-since dead.

Dabi’s vision blurred and he wiped at his nose. This was what he did. He lashed out, hurting those close to him, those who didn’t deserve it. It was the same with you. It was who he was, it was who he was made to be. It’d only be a matter of time before it happened again.

He lifted his cigarette to take another puff but stopped when he realized that it had burned down to the filter, leaving a trail of ash in its wake on the desk.

He unpacked another cigarette and lit it. His hand began to unscrew the whiskey bottle.

She had avoided him after that, and he avoided her. It wasn’t long after that rainy day that his mother had her mental breakdown, scalding Shouto in an attempt to burn away the image of her husband. Or was she trying to burn away the image of Touya? Was there even a difference in her mind?

The news had shocked him, and he ran as fast as his legs could take him. He burst into Enji’s office, forcing himself into his father’s presence.

“Where is she?” Touya demanded, his chest heaving from exertion.

Enji frowned at the intrusion, looking up from his paperwork at his desk. He was dressed professionally, in a white button-up shirt with a blue tie.

“Who?” He demanded.

Touya clenched his jaw so tight his teeth ground together. God, did he hate him…

“My mother. You know, your wife. The one you knock up every four years and the ignore.”

Enji menacingly rose from his chair, his blue eyes carrying the threat of violence within them. He towered over Touya, his presence casting a shadow from the wall sconces behind him.

“You watch your tone with me, boy.” Enji said coldly. “I will not be disrespected in my own house.”

Touya knew if he pushed it, he’d never get what he came here for. So, he sucked up his anger and pride, bowing deep in apology. “Yes, sir.” Touya muttered with downcast eyes. “Forgive me. I just want to know where she is.”

Enji paused for a moment, staring down at his son before returning to his seat and picking up his pen. “She’s been admitted to the Musutafu Mental Institution.” He replied as he marked his paper.

A pause filled the space before Touya asked his next question. “Can I see her?”

“No.”

Touya’s breath stopped, his mind unable to wrap around the simple word that fell like a judge’s gavel. His father’s answer was cold and final, said with such heartless ease. He stared in disbelief.

He thought he had time to mend things, to finally overcome his cowardice and atone for his actions. But there was no atoning now. He’d lost her. Tears began to sting in the corners of his eyes, but he fought them back; his father always hated it when he cried.

“So that’s it…? She’s gone?”

“It was for the best.” Enji replied. “She attacked my son, almost made him useless. Now I can train him without her interfering.”

“Is that all you care about?” The words fell from Touya’s mouth before he could stop them, covered in bitterness.

Enji’s pen stopped scribbling. An agonizing ten seconds passed before he set it down and looked up at Touya, pinning him with his sharp eyes, dark eyebrows pulled down into an angry frown. “Excuse me?”

Touya steeled himself against his father’s wrath as the rage he’d been keeping to himself burst forth against its creator.

“Is that all you care about?” he repeated. “Your wife is in a mental institution and your son is scarred for life, but all you can think about is surpassing All Might?”

Enji pinned him with a look that was almost akin to pity. “How small-minded you are. This was always your problem, Touya. Your mother too. You both lacked vision, an inability to see the bigger picture. That was why you were never able to push past your limits. But Shouto… Shouto will be different.”

Enji’s accusations made Touya’s lips curl into a snarl. “Do you even hear yourself?” he spat. “No wonder she went crazy. She wasn’t attacking Shouto, she was attacking you! This is all your fault, and you don’t even care. You’re a shit father, and a worse husband.”

The pity in his father’s eyes turned to ice, and the man quietly set his pen down before standing up from his desk. “Shouto said the same thing.” He grumbled. “I excused it coming from him, because he’s young and doesn’t understand yet. But you… you should know better.” He loosened his tie and began to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves. “I’ve been too lenient on you. It looks like there are some lessons I still have yet to teach you.”

Touya took a step back at the obvious gesture.

Enji stared down at him in disgust. “Look at you. Already scared. You’re just as pathetic as before.”

Touya went into a defensive stance, his blue flames igniting across his skin.

His father scowled. “You dare raise your flames against me, boy?” His own flames erupted along his body. “Very well. If you’re going to talk like a man and fight like a man, then you will learn to accept your consequences like a man.”

Dabi took a drag of his new cigarette, already burned halfway from neglect. He inhaled deeply, wanting the toxic fumes to fill the gaping hole in his chest. It didn’t.

He picked up the now-open whiskey bottle and poured it to the halfway point of the plastic cup. There was no ice to chill it, but it would have to do. He took a swig, letting the fiery taste coat his tongue, burning away the taste of ash.

Enji had taken him outside into the courtyard, where he received the worst beating he’d ever gotten. His father’s blows lacked the restraint he typically exercised, fueled by a dark rage. It had left Touya gagging and coughing, crumpled on the floor in a heap. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to move, it hurt to think.

The beating may have been five minutes or it may have been five hours. He couldn’t really tell. All he did know was that no one came. Just like all the times before, no one came to say something, to stop him, even though the sound of their conflict shook the Todoroki grounds, incinerating nearby bushes and damaging the exposed framework of the surrounding buildings. And after his father had left, removing his tie and his shirt to clean the blood from them, Touya had laid there alone in the dirt, staring up at the cold, lifeless, star-studded night sky as an unforgiving universe stared back. He wanted to die.

It felt like eternity had passed before two sets of hands gently grabbed him and helped him up, each of his arms going around familiar shoulders. His siblings had finally come for him, now that his father was out of sight and they knew they were safe from his wrath. They had helped Touya to his bed, where Fuyumi tended to his wounds in silence and Natsuo sat beside her, his mouth pressed into a thin, angry line.

Dabi took another couple of decent gulps of his whiskey, resisting the urge to down the entire contents and pour another cup. How much did he pour? Four shots worth? Five? He needed it to kick in. If he was going to be forced to relive every bad memory he ever had, then he’d be here all night.

His body was worn down, his spirit tired. He really didn’t want to feel anymore.

But the alcohol wasn’t working fast enough; his brain wouldn’t stop.

It was late at night, the moon high in the sky, the air cold with the hint of rain as clouds rolled in from the distance. It had been a few days since Touya’s beating, but despite his sister’s protests, he decided to leave the confines of his room and take a walk on the family compound.

That was how he ended up here, six feet away from the training room. The light was off, but he could hear the sound of fists hitting, and every now and then the room would light up with bright orange flame. But there was no lecturing, no young voice crying. Touya knew Shouto wasn’t in there this time. He was still in bed, recovering from the burn his mother had inflicted. Enji was furious, pacing the grounds like an angry bear, snapping at staff and family and locking himself away in his training room to work out his frustrations, constantly striving for a goal he’d never be able to achieve.

Touya inwardly scoffed. If anyone should be admitted to a mental institution, it should be his father. The man was literally driven insane by his inability to surpass All Might. But of course, that would never happen. His father was the number two hero. He was “untouchable.” There was no one brave enough or strong enough to make that man face his own demons. It made Touya curl his nose up at the hypocrisy.

An odd silence drew Touya out of his thoughts. The sounds of fists impacting dummies and training equipment had stopped, the flames no longer bathing the ground in light through the open door. Then he heard it – an unfamiliar sound, one he’d never heard before. He furrowed his brow in confusion and inched closer to the open door before risking a peek inside.

The moonlight spilled in just enough for him to see the hulking form of his father, sitting on the floor with his head in his hands. His great shoulders shook, and finally Touya realized the sound he was hearing.

His father was crying.

Disgust filled Touya, sour and bitter. For all of his father’s posturing, for all of his grandiose lectures about strength and commitment, here he was, sobbing like a baby. And for what? For his inability to reach his dreams, while his family fell apart around him?

Or was he crying FOR his family?

Touya pushed the possibility away, burying it deep, deep down where he refused to give the idea any chance of blooming into a belief.

No. This man didn’t feel for his family. He wasn’t ALLOWED to feel for his family. He was the reason his family was as broken as it was, every single one of them able to tie their scars back to him and his selfish actions.

Touya hated him.

And yet he loved him. How fucked up was that? He could feel it in his irrational urge to go to him and offer support, a support he’d never once received. And that just made him hate him more, because despite all that his father had done to him, Touya still fucking cared.

His father wasn’t worthy of it. He didn’t deserve Touya’s love, or his mother’s love, or anyone’s love for that matter.

And he certainly didn’t deserve to cry.

Touya fled. He fled from his feelings, he fled from his fears, taking only his righteous anger with him and riding it like a hellhound. He ran as fast as he could, ignoring the pain that sliced through him from his father’s abuse. His lungs burned. His ribs ached. As he ran, his thoughts followed, chasing him and swooping on him like a flock of crows, pecking at his sanity.

He ended up in an abandoned warehouse, a quarter mile from his house, across the railroad tracks that marked the separation of ritzy upper-class life and industrial city complexes. He fell to his knees, his palms landing hard on the dirt-strewn floor inside the old building, as sobs ripped lose from his throat, harsh and painful.

He hated him. He hated him more than anything. How could he have ever idolized him? How could he have ever loved him? His father was selfish. He was destructive. He was cruel. And now his father cried like a baby, as if he were a victim in all of this.

He wasn’t a victim. And he certainly wasn’t a hero.

What kind of hero saved civilians while simultaneously destroying his family behind closed doors? That wasn’t a hero. It was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

And it was devouring his family. His helpless, innocent family.

They deserved justice. They deserved saving. Where was hero society in all of this? Lining his father’s pockets, placing him on a pedestal to be worshipped. His father always preached about Touya accepting the consequences of his actions. So where were Enji’s consequences?

As long as his father continued to reign supreme, his family would never be safe. His family would never heal. His mother would never recover. Natsuo would never be freed of his anger. Shouto would never get to decide who he is and who he wants to be. Fuyumi would be weighed down by her obligation to her family, foregoing her own dreams to take care of them all.

His father needed to be gone. Permanently. Only then would his family be safe. Only then would they be free.

But Touya… Touya would never be free. He understood that now, even as his hatred and anger consumed him. He was just like his father, a proverbial chip-off-the-old-block. He’d managed to take all the worst parts of him and make them a part of himself. His obsessive nature, his anger, his jealousy… his violence. He could feel it in his blood.

If his family wasn’t safe with Enji, then what made Touya any different? He’d already played a hand in his mother’s mental demise. How could he be sure he wouldn’t hurt the rest as tie went on?

He was just like his father.

He hated his father.

He hated himself.

He wanted to die.

So then, who better to take on the Behemoth? Who better than his father’s son, the monster he’d made?

Touya had to kill Endeavor. He had to kill his father. His father, who he couldn’t even beat in a fight. He was stupid. A fool. But there were no other options. No other paths to justice. And Touya was tired of waiting for justice.

Touya’s sob turned into a dry laugh. Was this what it meant to be heroic? To bear the weight of this responsibility, even if it cost him his soul? Even if it killed him?

His dry laugh grew into a series of laughs, wild and hysterical, as tears ran down his face, while the reality of what he was committing to tore him asunder. As he heaved and coughed, a heat began to overtake him, building so quickly that by the time he realized what was happening, it was too late. Searing, blue flames blasted out of him in such magnitude and such intensity that the windows of the abandoned warehouse exploded, glass shards melting from the intense heat as they rained down. The flames roared outward, reaching for the night sky through the now-glassless windows, groping and writhing, their fierceness never waning.

Touya couldn’t stop it. The flames scorched through him and consumed him, the sound of it raging in his ears, his body devoured by agony as his quirk ate at him, destroying him from the inside out. Above him, the heat of the flames began to melt the structural metal beams.

But his hysterical laughter and tears couldn’t stop, even as smoke left his scorched lungs with each exhale and his mouth tasted ash. A screeching sound filled the space, the sound of metal bending and breaking. The beams gave way, the roof caving in as destruction rained down around him, silencing his laughter.

…..

Nothing but bright blue fire and broken remains filled his vision. Slowly, a dark form began to take shape amongst the flames, tall and towering. It was him. He’d come for him.

The flames parted, and he saw himself as he was now: black hair, dark scars, staples glinting in the firelight. The sound of a funeral bell tolled and his mouth opened, forming a single word. A name.

A gentle knock caused the image to begin to fade away like mist, even as the funeral bells still rang in Dabi’s ears.

“Dabi?” He knew that voice. It was you.

Groggily, Dabi opened his eyes to find himself still in his chair at his desk, his head resting on his arm. His forgotten cup of whiskey sat unmoved, inches from his fingers. It was a dream. He’d fallen asleep.

Another knock at the door, slightly louder, made him sit up.

“...Dabi?” you called again.

“Yeah.” He grumbled. He rubbed at his face. “Yeah, yeah.”

His body felt stiff and his neck had a horrible kink in it. He checked the time on his phone. 5:45am. Why in God’s name were you up so early? And why were you knocking on his door?

He stood up and stretched his back, and that was when he felt it – a sharp itching pain that ran along his spine, chased by the agony in his legs. It was worse than he remembered it being before he’d passed out. Your quirk was starting to wear off.

It looked like you were right on time.

He grabbed the end of his metal desk with one hand and pulled, dragging it slowly away from the door. The sound was grating, like nails on a chalkboard. If people weren’t awake before, they definitely were now.

As if on cue, three harsh bangs resonated from the wall next him. “What the hell, Dabi???” Spinner’s voice yelled through the wall. “People are trying to sleep!”

“Bite me.” Dabi snapped back before opening the door for you, and stared, giving you an obvious once-over. You were completely dressed, in jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, as if you’d been up for hours. Dark circles framed your tired eyes. “Hey, doll.” He greeted.

Your heart did a flip before you even knew what hit you, leaving you standing there like a deer in headlights. It’d been a cool minute since he’d called you that; you didn’t realize how much you’d grown attached to it.

It took you a moment to realize that he was holding the door open for you, inviting you in. Once you were across the threshold, Dabi closed the door behind you.

“Sorry… did I wake you?” You asked, as your eyes took in the room. His desk was haphazardly pulled away from the door, covered in plastic bags. The room stank of cigarette smoke and alcohol. A bottle of whiskey sat incriminatingly on the desk, some of its contents missing. You picked up the bottle and stared at it before pinning Dabi with a glare. You knew he knew better. For someone who was so experienced with drugs, he certainly did do some stupid shit.

“Really?” you scolded.

“Don’t start with me.” Dabi grumbled as he rubbed at his neck. He pulled out an electrolyte drink and downed its contents, wiping his mouth with his hand once it was empty. “There, you happy?” He moved on to a bag of chips, crunching loudly as he chewed in annoyance.

Normally, you would have been more diplomatic, navigated the waters a little bit more when you saw them getting choppy. But you slept like shit again last night, waking up repeatedly from bad dreams only to worry about this idiot while he decided to try to self-medicate by drinking his problems away.

“Don’t get mad at me for calling you out on your bullshit.” You replied. “If you act like an idiot, then I’m gonna treat you like one.”

“How’s it look up there on your high horse?” Dabi retorted.

“What?”

“It must be exhausting being so fucking perfect. Makes everyone else around you look like such fucking failures.” He turned his angry eyes away from you as he sat down on the end of his bed, running a hand through his messy black hair.

His words slapped you, and you stared at him for a long moment, taking in the sight of him. His eyes looked tired, his cheeks sallow. His hair looked tangled and unwashed. When was the last time he took a shower? His hand kept rubbing at his neck, no doubt nursing a sore spot. He must have fallen asleep at his desk after a rough night. You recalled the night you’d helped him through his withdrawal, and the breakdown it had culminated in. No doubt he was up all night battling his inner demons. Alone. Without your help this time. Guilt soaked through your frustration.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered. “You’re right, I shouldn’t judge. It’s just…” You sat down in his desk chair. “I’m trying so hard to help you. And… well…”

“What?” Dabi prodded. “You think I’m not trying?”

Your eyes fell on the desk, which sat askew in his room, and the bags full of various items that were obviously intended to help Dabi get through the night. “No…” you replied. “I know you are. I just wish you took better care of yourself.”

“I take care of myself just fine.”

Your brow furrowed. “I mean it, Dabi.” You rubbed at your face tiredly, letting your fatigue finally show. “I’m worrying about you, probably more than I should. I’m pushing my body to its limits, I can’t sleep, and when I do, I dream about you. Then I wake up, and I worry even more because I can never be entirely sure that you’re okay.”

You felt your body flush with heat at your sudden confession, and you looked at your hands in embarrassment. You weren’t supposed to say that. You weren’t supposed to say any of that. Stupid, no-good, tired, foggy brain.

A shit-eating grin spread across Dabi’s face, his eyes lighting up in amusement. ��You dream about me, eh?”

“Shut up.” You grumbled. You grabbed a crumpled-up napkin and threw it at Dabi’s head. It fell pitifully to the floor, three feet from where he sat.

Dabi stared at the failed attack and gave a laugh. “That was pathetic.”

You tried to suppress a grin. “I said shut up. God, you’re such a brat.”

A moment of silence passed between the two of you before Dabi finally spoke. “Gotta solution to your problem… Stop worrying so much.”

You gave a small half-smirk. “Sorry, not gonna happen.” You replied. “I worry about my friends. That’s just how I am.”

Something did a flip in Dabi’s chest, and he averted his eyes. “Friends, huh? You don’t even know me.”

“I know you better today than I did a few days ago…”

He gave a dry laugh. You weren’t wrong…

“If we’re not friends when this is all over, then I will be greatly offended.” You teased. “Besides… like your company.”

Dabi stared at you like you grew a second head. You liked his company? For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why. Most of the time you’d spent together so far was him either feeling like shit or being an asshole.

But he liked your company too even though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, and for the moment he didn’t feel like fighting it. He’d argue with himself later over it for sure, but for right now… he enjoyed feeling your presence, enjoyed how your words wrapped around him like a warm blanket, safe and secure. His memories still sat upon his shoulders, lurking like crows, but they were silent for now, and he was pretty sure that it had something to do with you being here.

Your voice broke through his thoughts. “Let’s change your bandage. Are you okay waiting until I’m done treating you to get your pills?”

“Why, are you punishing me for drinking?” he replied. It took you a moment before you caught on that he was teasing.

You grinned and raised an eyebrow at him. “No, but now that you mention it, we should probably wait until after we’re done since I don’t know how long ago it was that you drank.”

Dabi narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously. Now you were just doing this on purpose…

You sat behind him on the bed and began unpacking your materials while he removed his shirt. When you removed his bandage, you stared at the healing burn for a moment.

“How’s it look?” He asked, glancing back at you over his shoulder.

“It’s healing okay, but it’s still going to take some time until you don’t need the bandages.”

Regardless of the status of his burn, he still needed to see you twice a day for your quirk treatment and pills. It was exhausting, and you were grateful that so far the others only returned with minor injuries. But that could change at any moment, and you needed to be able to handle it; otherwise, Shigaraki would start to question your value.

You could only hope that your seller could find a way to expedite Dabi’s medication. And your own too. You’d counted what you had left before you’d arrived, and you were getting low. Dangerously low. You could get through today and tomorrow morning, but if you didn’t have your refills by then…

You tried not to think about it.

You changed his bandages easily and began applying your quirk to his scarred skin just as you’d done the night before. When you adjusted your position to handle the scars on his front half, the fear crept up again. But this time, you were able to wrangle it successfully, only hesitating for a moment before you continued. You broke the silence with words, a helpful distraction from your increasing discomfort and wandering thoughts.

“I didn’t know you smoked.” You commented.

He eyed you for a moment, waiting for another lecture. But it never came and when your eyes met his in a quick glance, there was no judgment in them.

“Only once in a while.” He replied.

You read between the lines of his answer. “Does it help?”

“A little.”

Silence fell again as you became increasingly focused on your quirk. Your back was itching painfully again, and your heightened senses were making the light in the room seem far too bright. Still, your fingers traced along his neck, taking special care to make sure no space was left untouched. Dabi watched your face, inches from his own. That was when he noticed it. Something was wrong. Your smile was gone, your lips now pressed into a firm line. You took your breaths in through your nose, and your brows were pulled together as you focused. Your hands were starting to shake. Were you scared again? Or was it something else?

Just as your hands began to reach his face, he grabbed your hands in his own and pulled back slightly out of your reach. “Stop.”

Your eyes focused on him. “What? Why?”

“Your quirk. Does it hurt?” his tone was stern.

You stared at him, your expression caught like a deer in headlights before looking away abashedly.

“Yeah, sort of.” You replied.

Dabi held your hands, as he waited for a better answer than what you gave him.

Finally, you slowly pulled our hands out of his grasp, his touch leaving electricity on your skin, and sat on the bed next to him with your hands clasped together.

“So, you know how when I use my quirk, it numbs your pain?” Dabi waited silently for you to continue. “It sort of has an opposite effect on me. The more I use it, the more heightened my senses become. And if I use my quirk too much, then it becomes… uncomfortable.”

Dabi stared at his hands as you spoke, his brow pulled down into a dark frown. All this time… he knew you were pushing yourself to your limits; hell, you even said so earlier. But he had assumed it just caused fatigue. He never knew that it caused you pain. How had he never noticed? How many times had you treated him?

How much did you use your quirk on the first night of his withdrawal? How far did you really push yourself?

A car alarm went off outside of his open window, and your hands immediately flew up to cover your ears against the assault, your heart pounding. Once the pain and panic dissipated, you lowered your hands, embarrassment hot in your blood. It was the first time Dabi saw this part of you, and it made you feel weak and vulnerable.

“Sorry.” You mumbled.

Dabi hated those words. He especially hated hearing them from you. What the hell did you have to be sorry about? Anger bubbled in him, old and familiar. But he forced it down, aware of what his anger did to you as the memories flitted across his mind like a warning.

“It’s fine.” Dabi replied, keeping his voice even.

Dabi’s mind began turning over this new piece of information, fitting the missing puzzle piece into what little he did have. He became acutely aware of how little he really knew about you.

“Is that what those drugs are for?” he asked.

You paused for a moment, contemplating if you should spin your truth to fit his theory. But it didn’t feel right. Earlier you said you considered him a friend. Did you keep secrets from friends?

How much did you really trust him? How much did he trust you?

He was already trusting you more than you were, letting you help him through something very personal. You’d seen him vulnerable far more than he’d seen you vulnerable. So how would he feel if he learned you were keeping the truth from him?

You wondered how he’d react. If anyone would understand the pain you went through, it’d be him. If anything, it might make the two of you closer. You couldn’t deny that the idea of that resonated with an unspoken need within you.

“Sort of.” You replied, as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt. “I can’t use them for my sensory overload. It’d take too many to really have an impact, and I’d probably O.D. if I tried.”

“So, what are they for?”

Wow. He really wanted to know.

Your heart pounded in your chest, as your words got stuck somewhere between your mouth and your insecurity. It’d been so long since you’d talked about it, since you’d acknowledged it with another person. What if he laughed? After all, how ridiculous did you look complaining about a single scar compared to Dabi?? Or worse, what if he didn’t care at all?

But he’d asked, and now he was waiting for an answer.

The words still wouldn’t come, so you positioned yourself with your back facing him and lifted your shirt slightly, exposing the damaged flesh beneath.

Dabi’s eyes widened. He knew a burn scar when he saw one. And not just any burn scar. There was a pattern to it, a story in its twisted, marred flesh. This was done by a quirk. It spread across your lower back, the edge of it dipping beneath the hem of your pants. His hand began to reach out, fingers twitching with the urge to touch it, as if his touch could take the hateful mark off of you. But he caught himself, his fingers inches from your skin, and clenched his hand into a tight fist.

A long, heavy silence begin to fill the space between you while a thousand questions perched on the edge of his lips as he grappled with this new information and the emotions that erupted from it.

The silence dragged on, and you lowered your shirt, as heart-pounding anxiety smothered you. It filled the dark spaces in you, the weak places where confidence had abandoned you. It settled into a could dread that made you unable to turn around and face him. Why wasn’t he saying anything? You squeezed your eyes closed as tears pricked at the corners.

Did you make a mistake? You shouldn’t have shown him. You should have just brushed it off or lied when you had the chance.

Tears began to slip down your cheeks, and you struggled to stop them. But they wouldn’t stop, and you wiped away at them angrily, sniffling as you struggled to contain yourself.

The sound of your distress snapped Dabi out of his obsessive thoughts. You were crying. Why?

Was it something he said? But he didn’t say anything.

Was it something he did? But he didn’t do anything.

What the hell was he supposed to do? He had no words of comfort, and he certainly couldn’t hold you, not without crossing a boundary he’d set for himself. You had called him a friend. How did friends comfort each other? He had no fucking clue.

He scratched at his head awkwardly before standing up. He bit his cheek from the pain in his legs. Your pills had worn off, and they were in desperate need of attention. But he forced it into submission, instead making his way to his desk to retrieve a clean napkin and handing it to you.

The small gesture seemed to help, as you gave a small chuckle and accepted the gift, wiping at your eyes as you averted your tear-stained face from him.

“I’m sorry.” You said with a sheepish laugh.

There was that fucking phrase again.

“Don’t be.” He replied.

That answer seemed to help, too. You finally turned to face him, a sheepish smile on your face.

“I know guys typically freak out when they see a girl cry.” You commented. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

Your emotional reaction embarrassed you, and now you were struggling to save face.

“It’s fine.” He grabbed the bag of chips from earlier and grabbed a couple for himself before holding the bag out to you in offering. You shook your head, keeping your eyes on your lap.

“It’s just… it’s been a long time since I’ve shared this with anyone.” You tried to explain. Not entirely truthful, but not entirely a lie either.

“I shouldn’t have asked.” He replied.

“No, it’s fine.” You replied. “I understand why you wanted to know.”

Silence followed for a moment, filled only by the sound of Dabi’s crunching. It grated on your ears, but you didn’t want to say anything, glad that he was at least eating something. Instead, you tried to cover the noise of his chips with your voice.

“It doesn’t hurt all the time…” you explained. “Only when my quirk gets overused. That’s what the pills are for.”

“What about your sensory overload?” Dabi asked.

You were grateful that the conversation was progressing forward, leaving your mini breakdown in the past.

“Usually it’s a matter of reducing exposure. Turning off lights, quieting noises, that kind of thing.” You replied.

As you spoke, Dabi watched you. He watched the way you never seemed to look up from your lap for very long, your eyes avoiding the light of his lamp. Your shoulders were hunched against the cold (or was it the pain?), and he recalled how the car alarm before had made you cover your ears.

He grabbed another chip as his mind analyzed all the things that he’d missed before. As soon as it crunched under his teeth, he saw your hands squeeze tightly on the hem of your shirt before loosening again.

He stared at the bag, before holding it up to you. “This bothers you?” he asked.

You averted your eyes, embarrassed. “Just a little.”

He slowly put the bag down on the desk, careful not to have it crinkle too loudly. “Why didn’t you say something?”

You shrugged. He scowled. Then, he stood up with a wince, and closed his open window, drawing the curtains closed to block the brightening daylight. As he walked back to sit on the bed next to you, he turned off his lamp, plunging the room into darkness that faded to a comfortable dim light once your eyes had adjusted to the change, morning light seeping into the room at an acceptable level.

You could feel the relief immediately, and you stared at him, bewildered not just by his kindness, but by his awareness. Was he really paying attention to you that closely? It made your blood rush in your ears and your heart do somersaults.

“Thank you.” You said softly.

“It’s not a big deal.” He replied as he leaned back and stared at the light dancing on the ceiling. It was the least he could do, he thought. This discomfort you were feeling was because of him, after all. Besides, after all you’d done for him – were still doing for him – he figured you’d earned a little bit of kindness in return.

But only for you.

Dammit.

He really was a lost cause.

“I’m feeling better now…” you said. “I can finish treating your scars.”

“It’s fine.” Dabi lied.

You stood up and faced him. “Let me at least treat your legs. I wasn’t able to get to them last night.”

“I said it’s fine.”

“Dabi…” he looked at you and was met with a knowing look on your face. “Trust me. I know my limits. Besides, this is literally my job.”

Dabi frowned at you. “No, your job is to treat injuries, not help drug addicts.”

“My job is to make sure everyone is able to function to the best of their ability.” You countered. You crossed your arms with a smug look. “Don’t make me go tell Shigaraki that you’re being a bad patient.”

He scowled and looked away. You took that as a surrender and sent him into the bathroom to change into shorts to make your job easier. When he came back out, he was still frowning.

“You play dirty.” He complained. “And not in a fun way.”

You grinned but didn’t respond as you focused on running your hands along his scarred legs, starting at above the knee. By the time you were done, your quirk was riding the brink, your back on fire again. But you gritted your teeth and bore it, even as sweat beaded across your face.

You went to your bag and began to rummage through it, wincing as you bent over. Your back was facing Dabi, your butt in the air, and he couldn’t help but appreciate the view. A subtle smirk tugged at his lips. But the grin was short lived; it fell as soon as you stood up, holding the familiar pill bottle in your hand.

“No.” Dabi said adamantly.

“Give me a break.” You replied, as you opened the container. “What other options do we have?”

You held out the three pills towards him, but he stared at them. “I can’t take these.” He said.

You took his hand in yours and placed the pills into his palm, closing his fingers over them. “You can, and you will.” You replied. “Besides, it’s temporary, remember?”

He opened his mouth to protest, but a ding sounded within the room that made you nearly jump out of your skin with your sensitive hearing. You clumsily pulled your phone out of your bag and opened up your text messages. Your eyes lit up, and a smile spread across your face before you put the phone away in your bag.

“Good news,” you said. “Looks like the refills for my pills will be ready for pickup tomorrow.”

“What about mine?” Dabi asked.

Your expression fell slightly. “He didn’t mention them, so I’m guessing they’re not ready yet.”

“Well that fucking sucks.”

“It’s not all bad… once I get my refill, there will be enough for both of us. I asked him to double up the pills so there’d be enough. Then I can really start treating you properly until your pills arrive. See? I told you it’d be temporary…”

Dabi looked up at your happy face and couldn’t deny the relief he felt knowing you weren’t going to be hurting yourself for him for much longer. “Fine.” He replied. He swallowed the pills before he could change his mind.

You picked up your bag with another wince and made your way to the door. Dabi stood up to follow you, relishing in the painless effort of walking. He felt like he could run.

Before you opened his door, you half-turned to him. “Get some more rest.” You wrinkled your nose at him. “And maybe take a shower. And brush your teeth.”

Dabi rolled his eyes. “Yes, mom.”

After you left, he paused for a moment before sniffing his armpit. He didn’t really smell that bad… did he?

________________________________

Part 9

________________________________

Taglist (always open!): @lemonfvck @vs-redemption @inanabsentia @sheedaabee @toshiuwuu @marydragneell @chillinwithmybakubros @genuinelytodorokisbitch @sam-i-am-1025 @redflannel @axerrri @necccomancy @miadraws0 @hot-pocket01 @hopelessdisasterr @dummythiccwitch @villainsdeku @aquzairus @officialtrashbusiness @hemdem018 @purplesweethart @doebopeepeebbod @ghost-of-todoroki @marvel-philosophy @lysawayne @udontneedtokno @citrussaurus @littleladdty @starsforannie @zunmieh @mae-rd @mrsreina @ohh-takuuu @ih8beefnoodles @kellyyween @jojoniles @steale24 @peach-tea-0 @orenjineki @diobrandoatemykids @minionsexuall @liitlesushi @jojoniles @bilalbambi @tinitimesims125 @emmappelle @babayaga67

#dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x you #mha #bnha #touch #dabi touch #soft dabi #angst #TW: verbal abuse #TW: physical abuse #TW: abuse #TW: childhood trauma #tw: alcohol

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writers-blogck · 4 years ago

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Ex's and Bo's ( Bokuto Koutarou x Reader )

Warning(s): Probably the most in-depth kiss scene I have ever written? Not really nsfw in any way, maybe a little making out????? Also, expect some spam in the coming days. I had been super busy and unable to actually post my haitober stuff so, here comes the flood! Title: Ex's and Bo's Pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x Reader Fandom: Haikyuu! Word Count: 2,506

Life sucked.

Even the weather outside was agreeing with you as rain poured down, soaking anything that dared to be out. You were laying on your bed with as many blankets wrapped around you as possible as if the soft fabric could absorb all of your bad feelings.

How long had you wasted when you were dating your ex-boyfriend? You knew he wasn't good for you, you knew that from the start. But, what were you supposed to do when he was the first person to really show you any attention? He liked you in a way that was more than friends. When you had gone so long, watching everyone else get together while you were stuck on the sidelines, you couldn't believe that someone liked you. It was easy to ignore the red flags when you were just so excited that someone liked you.

Even though you were the one that broke up with him, it still hurt. It hurt because you felt stupid for ever agreeing to be in a relationship with him. It hurt because even though he was never good for you, you still thought he cared about you in some way. Yet, he had decided to go behind your back and flirt with some other girls. He thought you wouldn't figure it out. He must have thought you were stupid and you were starting to wonder if he was right?

"Hey! Hey! Hey! Stop being sad because your best friends are here!" Bokuto yelled as he walked into your room, trailed behind by Akaashi. If this was the first time they came to visit, you would be worried that your parents would get annoyed by the yelling but they had come to accept it now. It was impossible to have Bokuto over and expect to keep a quiet house. "We are going to take that frown and turn it upside!"

You forgot that you had texted either one of them. It started with a simple text to Bokuto, a single meme picture that hinted at how you felt. After fifteen minutes, Bokuto had already pulled the entire truth from you and invited himself and Akaashi over to take care of you.

"Bokuto, calm down." Akaashi slapped his friend's shoulder to pull him down from his energetic state. He had been crazy when he picked Akaashi up, ranting about how he would totally beat your ex up and how they had to make you feel better. He didn't say anything along the lines of a plan for making you feel better but he was as confident as he was on the court. You had helped him through his emo times and so it was his job to do the same thing for you.

The loud third year flopped down on your bed, arms wrapping around your waist to playfully tickle your sides. He knew you were ticklish and he was using it against you! It was hard to keep a frown on your face as you struggled not to burst out laughing. With his own loud laughter, Bokuto rolled over to pull you ontop of him with your back pressing against his chest.

"Come on, give us a smile! I'm not gonna stop until you smile for me!" He shouted, keeping you trapped like a turtle on its back. Somehow you were able to squirm out of his hold and quickly hid behind Akaashi, using him as a human shield. His face was as stoic as ever, shaking his head slightly at his friend's antics.

"We meant to go to the store before coming here but Bokuto couldn't wait." Akaashi sighed, glancing over his shoulder to look at you, "I was planning on bringing him here so you can babysit him while I go back out and get some stuff for us to eat. Maybe watching a toddler will help you get your thoughts off of your ex."

"I am not a toddler!" Bokuto sat up, arms hanging loosely with his hands in his lap.

"Do you want snacks or not?"

"....Yes please."

It was funny watching the two best friends communicate with each other as you rubbed your tear stained cheeks. It was easy to forget what you were crying about when you had the two of them around. This wouldn't be the first time they got you through a hard time. When you had sprained your ankle during your own volleyball practice, Bokuto (and Akaashi, when were they ever really apart?) was there in no time with your favorite drink and gave you piggyback rides to and from school for a week.

Akaashi gave you a questioning look, waiting until you nodded to leave your room. Nobody knew how much Bokuto could be more than this setter. He wasn't going to leave you alone with him if it was going to be too much for you. They were here to make you feel better, he didn't want to stress you out or make things worse. His friend may not always think things through but he did.

Golden eyes followed your form as you sat down beside Bokuto, a small huff escaping your lips. Silence had fallen over the room once Akaashi shut the door and you were reminded of why they had come over. The chaos of their intial apperence was fading and the pleasant distraction from a few moments ago was gone. You sighed, staring at your own lap in thought. Bokuto looked like a lost puppy, unsure of what he should do. He didn't like this feeling, he never liked seeing you this way. He felt helpless.

You moved to lay on your back, eyes staring up at the ceiling. Were you sad? It was hard to tell...Everything was going to be fine, this was just one small relationship but that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

"It sucks..." Your voice was soft, eyes fluttering shut.

"Yeah, I know." You could feel the bed dip as Bokuto took the spot next to you, laying on his back and taking up the rest of the space on your small bed. You didn't mind the proximity, his warmth was nice. Even without saying anything, the simple touches that were being shared between the two of you was comforting. The brushing of arms, the hints of sides pressed against each other. You weren't sure how long the two of you stayed like that in silence but after what felt like an eternity, you heard the creeking of the bed and a presence hovering over you. Cue you opening your eyes and almost fall off your bed when you see Bokuto's signature grin.

While the lower half of his body was still on his side of the bed, he was now holding his upperhalf above you with those strong muscles of his. Wait...What? You would be lying if you said that you hadn't snuck peeks of the ace during his practices. To you, Bokuto was never an option because he was just so more. The two of you were so close that the idea of doing anything more than playful flirting was nonexistent. He was just...Bokuto.

As he looked down at you with such caring eyes, you thought that maybe you were wrong. It made your stomach flip from the proximity between the two of you. This had never happened before. The two of you had laid on each other in the past, whether it was you laying with your head on his chest or Bokuto flopped on his stomach, laying over your legs. You had done that without blinking an eye but here he was, not even touching you in any way but still making you feel this flustered.

"You know this has nothing to do with you, right? You didn't do anything wrong." Bokuto spoke in a level voice, sounding more serious that he ever had. It was rare you saw this side of him. It was rare for anyone to see this side of him.

"You are one of the best people I know. It isn't right that this happened to you and I swear, 'Kaashi and I will do whatever we need to until you are back to being the same amazing person we know."

"I just, I feel so stupid Bo. I don't want to be sad over this jerk but I can't help it. It hurts...This is shitty. It isn't fair that he decided to lead me on. When...When I was breaking up with him, he said that he never cared. He just thought I was pretty and wanted to fool around. Why do people have to lie? It isn't nice..." Tears were streaming down your face now, blurring your vision until all you could see were the splashes of color of Bokuto's eyes.

Bokuto moved all of his weight onto his one forearm so he could cup your face with his now free hand. His thumb brushed over a stray tear, frowning. He didn't know what to do, you were too good of a person to be hurt like this. You should be treasured like the precious person that you were. He didn't know what to do, he didn't know what to say. He never was good with his words so he decided to act instead.

He kissed you.

It was a quick peck and nothing more. As you stared up at him, you were greeted with wide eyes mirroring your own confusion. You didn't know why he did it and he didn't know why either. Three seconds passed, three heartbeats passed, and then you pulled the boy back down to capture his lips once again. A spark shot through you, ignatiting a fire in your stomach that you didn't know you have.

Small gasps were exchanged in the quick moments the two of you pulled away. His hand ran down from your cheek to gently caress at your neck, causing a shiver to run through you. Bokuto was very outgoing with all of his actions but here he was, slowly dancing his lips along your own with gentle contemplation. The flush of your cheeks changed from being due to crying to something else, something that even your ex had never made you feel. Perhaps deep down you knew that you weren't meant to be with him.

As one of Bokuto's hands was placed right next to your head, his free hand slowly snuck under your loose shirt to ghost over your skin warm. His thumb traced over your top rib, just hinting where he could touch if he only moved a few inches higher. His rough and calloused palm from spiking ran over your smooth stomach, causing your breath to hitch and shivers to run up your spine. This was not how you thought today was going to go, but you weren't going to complain.

"Bo..." You whined, head tilting to the side as his lips attacked the soft skin of your neck. His teeth were nipping with just enough pressure for you to feel it, tongue soothing the area just as quickly. Bokuto was like a man dying of thirst and you were the oasis shimmering before him.

His kisses started at your jaw with nothing more than butterfly kisses but he slowly began to suck your delicate skin the further he went down. Simple kisses turned into ones with the intent on leaving purple marks that would remind you of that night. It wasn't until he reached just below your collarbone that his teeth nipped your skin enough for a small sting to be left but Bokuto didn't give you any time to focus on that feeling before he was kissing your skin again.

When had Bokuto learned how to do something like this? For all you knew, the boy hadn't dated anyone before. He never mentioned any late-night meetings with anyone. He had told you and Akaashi the first time he had kissed a girl (A girl had kissed him to convince some creep that they were dating. They were not). The owl was so excited, just going on and on how soft girls' lips were. He wasn't even talking about that girl specifically. He just went on a rant the next day at school about how amazing girls were. It was cute.

"I always thought that guy was terrible for you," He gasped out in between kisses, golden eyes staring up at you with such an intensity that only Bokuto could have, "Every time you complained about him, I always wanted to say how I would be so much better for you, but 'Kaashi always said that I was being overprotective."

A laugh escaped your swollen lips, the butterflies in your stomach being released. No longer were you feeling too shocked about what was going on. There was no way to keep yourself from getting flustered by the boy's actions but now you could enjoy it. You didn't have to feel guilty that you had just broken up with your boyfriend and that this would just mean you were sleazy. The nagging voice of your ex was slowly disappearing and Bokuto's voice was taking its place.

"But I was totally right, right?" His head pulled back, putting most of his weight onto his hand pushed against the bed so he was hovering over you once again. The gentle caresses evolved into Bokuto gripping your side as if afraid that if he let go, you would fade away like a ghost.

"Right." Your hands that had been gripping at the boy's shirt moved to wrap around his neck to pull him back down for a kiss. Your confidence was growing and that only egged Bokuto on to go further. Every action started with hesitation but as soon as you gave any sign of the go-ahead, the boy would go at it with everything he had. People couldn't say that Bokuto didn't try his best in everything that he cared about, that's for sure.

But all good things can't last forever and Akaashi could only take so long getting the snacks.

"I'm coming in so stop making out or whatever." Akaashi pounded on the door, causing Bokuto to jump like he was more of a cat than an owl. You shot up to fix your shirt as Bokuto pushed himself away. He may be an amazing volleyball player but he wasn't always the best at remembering his surroundings as a loud thump resounded in the room. Akaashi walked into the room to see you, still on your bed with red cheeks and heavy breaths, and Bokuto laying on his back on the ground, his foot being the only part still on the bed. Akaashi only sighed, walking in with the goodies he had gotten from the store.

You couldn't help but wonder what could have happened if the dark-haired boy hadn't interrupted. The thoughts of your ex were all but forgotten and replaced with the excitement of the future that awaited you with Bokuto.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haitober #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu! imagines #haikyuu!! fanfiction #haikyuu scenarios #bokuto #bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou #bokuto koutarou x reader #akaashi headcanons

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snackhobi · 4 years ago

Note

for the pairing ask meme...yoongi x y/n, #25 💚

25 - things you said in front of other people

I wrote this with the oc and yoongi from strike a chord in mind but it can be read as a standalone! I know some people were wanting a follow up or something similar from that verse so here’s a small one before I make the time to write that bartender!jin story I played a bit loosey-goosey with the interpretation of the prompt but OH WELL. and here’s my forever shout out to @hobi-gif

pairing: yoongi x reader / word count: 1.1k / genre: fluff, with hinted nsfw elements (but this is sfw) / warnings: none!

It’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

“It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” you say, and Yoongi lets out a quiet hum of agreement.

To people who don’t know him, Min Yoongi seems elusive and reclusive, cold and distant, unwilling to let people in. You’d thought the same, before, thought he was so far out of reach, too beautiful and talented for you to ever touch. But now you know better. You know of the endless warmth he keeps hidden, the depths of affection he holds for the people close to him, the people he cares about and loves. You feel it every time he looks at you or touches you, hear it every time he lays his fingers to those piano keys, each time he plays his music for you, songs he’s written for you.

“I want to buy it,” you continue, and he squeezes your hand with those lovely, talented fingers, the ones you’d fallen for so many months ago.

“You don’t need it,” he says, and you pout.

“But I want it,” you say, and before Yoongi can reply, your eyes widen. “Oh! I know! I’ll buy it for Holly!”

“You haven’t even met him,” Yoongi points out, though his words are edged with amusement, lips a tender curve as he watches you turn your attention back to the hand-crocheted dinosaur, already reaching for it.

“Listen, I don’t need to have met your dog to know that I love him and want to shower him with gifts.” You clutch the dinosaur toy tight with your free hand, unwilling to let go now that you’ve set your heart on it. “You can mail it back to Daegu for your parents to give to him. He’ll feel my love.”

Yoongi takes a moment to stare at you with his sharp, pretty eyes, and then just smiles. He’s already relented and he knows that you know that, as wrapped around your little finger as he is. “Okay,” he says. “Sure.”

He keeps hold of your hand as you walk to the till, gently but firmly tugging you back each time he sees you waver and long to reach for something else as well. You could fight against that tugging hand, and you know Yoongi would let you win, but you just settle down. You always do, easing back in the face of his judgement, letting him call the shots. (When you want to, anyway.)

At least, you do until you spot another dinosaur on a promotional display, the twin of the one in hands, bright red to its deep blue.

“Oh, oh, Yoongi, look!” You squeeze his hand to draw his attention to it. “Come on, we have to get that one too. Please?”

“Holly doesn’t need both, baby.”

“I’m starting to think I love him more than you do, Yoongi,” you say, a little petulant—even if you know Yoongi is right. “It’s like he’s my son and not yours.”

Before Yoongi can reply, respond to your admittedly playful ribbing, an older woman nearby smiles at you both, having overheard your conversation. “I think your son would appreciate both,” she says.

You latch onto this, even if the woman clearly thinks you’re talking about an actual child and not a dog. “See? Holly deserves both. He’s a good boy and a great son.”

“I think it’s very sweet that you care about him so much, even if he’s not yours,” the woman continues, looking at you, smile spread across her face. “How old is he?”

There’s a brief beat of silence as Yoongi stares at the two of you, and you worry that he’s about to correct this woman’s misunderstanding—that he’s going to tell her that Holly is, in fact, a dog—before he replies. “He’s four.”

The woman coos. “Oh, he’s still so young! Are dinosaurs his favourite?”

“His favourite toy is a ball, actually,” Yoongi replies, completely straight faced. “He loves it when we go to the park and play catch together.”

You swallow down your disbelieving laughter as the woman sighs with delight.

And so the conversation unfolds, and you watch as Yoongi wards off every question without letting onto the fact that Holly walks around on four legs and not two, slowly migrating across the store towards the till. He’s just telling the woman that Holly’s favourite food is peanut butter when you reach the front of the queue, and you tug at Yoongi’s hand to get his attention.

“We have to pay, baby,” you say gently.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you,” the woman apologises. “I just wanted to say that you’re very lucky to have someone who loves your son as much as you do.”

“I know,” Yoongi murmurs, surprisingly soft and sincere, and you have to tamp down the blush that threatens to spill onto your cheeks. “I’m very lucky.”

And when you leave the store, it’s with two dinosaurs secured in your bag; both are gift wrapped, of course (only the best for Min Holly). You can’t help but giggle as you recall the delivery of Yoongi’s words, how he’d been completely inscrutable, speaking about Holly like an actual son—but then Yoongi gives you a look, a touch of his dark eyes, and the laughter dies in your throat. You recognise that look. Anticipation trickles down your spine, liquid quicksilver that rolls under your skin, hot and cold all at once.

So when you step into Yoongi’s apartment, shedding your jacket and shoes, you’re expecting the hands that cup your face. You go still all at once, eyes fluttering shut at the cool touch of Yoongi’s fingers.

“Babygirl.”

You shiver despite yourself, shuddering at the pet name, the deep note in his voice. “Yes, Yoongi?”

“You lied to that poor ajumeoni,” he says, a quiet note of reproach in his voice. “That wasn’t very nice.”

You don’t point out that he was the one that carried the brunt of it, the one that let the lie ride, let her continue to live in her misconception. “I was just joking,” you say—and your voice is already weak, breathless, as you melt under Yoongi’s hands.

“I thought you were a good girl,” he continues, as if you hadn’t spoken at all. It’s a physical effort to swallow down the noise that bubbles in your throat, threatening to slip past your lips. “But I guess I was wrong.”

“I am,” you insist. “I am, I am a good girl.” Your heart rate is already picking up, pulse rising each second you stare back at him, return the gaze that’s laying you bare already, that knows how weak you are for him, always.

And Yoongi’s responding smile is edged with heat as his eyes gleam. “Why don’t you show me what a good girl you are then, hm?”

#yoongi x reader #suga x reader #yoongi oneshot #yoongi drabble #suga oneshot #suga drabble #bts #joy.masterlist

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illneverrecover · 5 years ago

Text

call you mine (M) | changkyun

➛pairing: Im Changkyun (I.M.) x reader ➛genre: friends with benefits!AU, non Idol!AU, angst, smut, fluff. ➛word count: 2,741 ➛rating: M ➛warnings: idk this is truly some sweet soft shit, mentions of alcohol, friends with benefits, standing sex, slight rough sex, biting/marking because clearly I have a kink, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of Mingi!!, lots of kissing, soft clown Chaingang truly. ➛summary: Changkyun knew he ruined your friends with benefits arrangement when he let his feelings be known, and now you’ve left him on read for weeks. So he does the only thing he can to stay sane - he religiously watches your Instagram stories. ➛notes: Another first for me - my first Monsta X fic! I’ve played around with writing Changkyun for a while now, mostly because I live to torture @taetaesbaebaepsae (which she deserves from all the PAINFUL and RUDE Baekhyun shit she’s written for me). However, she decided to actively commission her own demise, because she stays not listening to Namjoon and refuses to love herself. I’m glad I finally got a chance to take a stab at writing her ult, and I hope I did him justice! Enjoy your tomfoolery, Kristin! 💖 ➛song: Call You Mine - The Chainsmokers & Bebe Rexha | Horizon - I.M. & Elhae

It’s pathetic, he knows.

The way he can’t stop watching, the way he seeks your face out in an app full of millions of others. The way he can’t get you out of his bed, his head, his thoughts.

He fucked up, scared you off, and now he’s left with the aftermath of his own stupidity. Watching you through a screen to fight the withdrawals off, to keep his heart beating.

Changkyun knows you would laugh at him if you saw what he was doing.

Watching your Instagram stories is the only reason he’s heard you laugh in over two weeks, the only way he’s been able to see your eyes light up, your lips curve into a salacious grin. Things he fucking missed, thought he would have plenty of time to indulge in - until he couldn’t keep his mouth shut and ruined it.

He had taken you back to his place after a few shots of whisky at the dingy local bar, hands and mouth unable to leave your skin - just like the hundreds of times before. It had been four months since you had started this friends with benefits relationship, and despite having freedom to see whomever he wanted, Changkyun found himself only starving for you. So hungry that he couldn’t stand another moment in that place, watching you share your smile with anyone other than him. So he had tugged you close, nipped at your ear, told you that you were so damn beautiful that he couldn’t stand there another minute without you coming undone around him.

You had smirked, slid your hand down the front of his pants, grabbing his cock like you owned it, purring out the words “prove it” before following him outside, just like the hundreds of times before.

Pressed up against his wall, his pelvis flush with yours, Changkyun whispered filth in your ears as he ground up against you, swallowing your moans in greedy kisses. Desperate fingers had pulled at your top, freeing your breasts for him to worship as he worked your skirt up around your waist, thrusting his clothed length against your core until you were whining.

Changkyun always promised to take his time with you, to work you over until you were drunk on his touch and pleading for more - but you never let him, always knowing the right thing to say to get his gaze to go dark and lust to turn frantic, to unzip his jeans and press inside your dripping cunt right there in the hallway.

Just like the hundreds of times before.

You had come around him, digging your nails in his back so hard it left marks, made him growl your name against your collarbone as his thrusts picked up speed to fuck you through the high. You urge him on in the way only you can manage, begging for his release, whispering how much you want his come deep in your cunt. Biting down against the skin, he had spilled inside you with a final groan, hips twitching as he pumped you full of him, forehead resting against your shoulder.

Instead of pulling away immediately, Changkyun remained collapsed against you, breathing heavy. You had smacked at his shoulder, but he just chuckled, arms adjusting to continue a firm hold of your legs as he stayed inside of you, trapping you against his body and the wall.

“What are you doing, Kyun?” scoffing, you had grasped his jaw, forcing him to look at you. “I let you fuck me dirty against the wall without even demanding you buy me food after. Least you can do is let me get cleaned up.”

He had gazed up at you then, eyes piercing as they looked through you, and your heart clenched tightly in your chest.

He knew he shouldn’t say it. Knew it would scare you off. And yet….

“I would, you know.” Swallowing thickly, his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Take you to go get food. If you - I mean, if you wanted. If you’d let me.”

It was like he could see the carefully crafted defenses go up, the pain etching your brow and making your eyes go cold. Anxiety flooded his veins as you wiggled out of his grasp, sliding your clothes back into place as you moved towards his bathroom.

“You don’t mean that,” you murmured, faking a smile. “You know what this is, Kyun.”

“I do mean that!” He knew he sounded too eager, too pitiful, but he couldn’t stop himself. “I’d take you out to dinner. Or,” following you, he paused in the doorway, watching you appraise yourself in the mirror. “We could just get take-out and go somewhere private, drive to a park, bring a blanket and some booze, eat somewhere no one would know or bother us.”

Your answering laugh had sounded wrong, like it had cost you something - like it was the last thing you had wanted to do.

“Like a picnic? Changkyun, you’re saying you want to take me on a picnic? Like a proper date?”

Stuttering, he tried to explain himself, but you had cut him off with a single wave.

“Listen, we both know I’m not that kind of girl, and you don’t want me to be.” Leaning forward, you had pressed a kiss against his mouth, your eyes somber when you had pulled away, moved towards the door.

“What if I do?” His voice broke, wanting to reach out but his arms remaining stiff at his sides. “What if I want you to be that kind of girl, with me?”

Tears stung your eyes, your stomach sinking like you had been punched. You couldn’t do this, couldn’t handle the inevitable disappointment that would come when you got your hopes up.

“I’ll see you around,” you threw over your shoulder before shutting the door, and shutting him out.

Just like the hundreds of times before.

It had been two weeks now since he last saw you in person. It wasn’t for lack of trying; texting you at all hours had proven fruitless, even when he tried to send the usual ‘you up’ message like he didn’t just lay his heart out on the line. You responded airily, non committal, and he knew what you were doing.

You were trying to let him down easy.

So here he was, phone glued to his hand as he scrolled through to find your picture, clicking on it to see if there was any update. You didn’t post a bunch in your feed, but you had a tendency to update your stories often - filling them with silly memes and cute selfies, little videos of you going about your day. Cuddling with your cat, attempting to cook something for lunch. His favorite was when you would do tarot readings for your followers; the way your face would turn serious as you read the cards, passionate fire in your eyes as you helped deliver the message to its owner.

Seeing you that excited and genuine did something to him, made his chest feel like it was going to explode.

He knows you can tell that he’s watching, can see the icon of his profile showing up at the bottom of the video under “seen by.” He can only imagine what you’re thinking when you see it - that he’s a loser, this friend with benefits who turned lovesick puppy, but he can’t make himself care. It’s the only way he feels close, can pretend you’re still in his life.

He never thought that he would need you, now all he wants is to see you - for you to answer him, to come back to him.

Changkyun still sends texts, unable to stop his fingers from reaching out, despite knowing you’ll shut him down. He calls sometimes too, late at night when his blood is more whisky than plasma, though you never answer those. Instead he listens to your voicemail, eyes closed to stop the world from spinning, letting your voice lull him to sleep.

He convinces himself he’s fine with this arrangement, that things would be alright. He can just miss you from afar, observe you live your life through the pixels of a screen. That watching your stories is enough for him, will keep him afloat.

Until he sees you with someone else.

It was another Friday night he was spending alone, half drunk and on his phone, looking for your picture. Taking a deep breath, he had felt his heart stop when he saw the rainbow ring adorning your profile photo, meaning you had updated your story. Sighing, he tapped it, hoping that it would be a few videos so he could pretend for just a moment that he was beside you instead of wasting space on his bed.

The first clip was a selfie, your heavily lidded eyes staring seductively at the camera through your lashes, making his pulse jump and pants tighten. The caption “gonna get drunk tonight!” scrolled across the image, right below the pout of your lips. The next was a small video of you making a drink, giggling about the mixture of tequila and soju you were tossing in your cup, whispering to the camera how it was going to get you ‘all the way fucked up’. But it was the third clip that had his chest heaving, his lungs forgetting how to work.

You were walking out your door, a few people cluttering your front porch as you asked if anyone had a light. Some tall red headed kid - Changkyun refused to acknowledge him as anything more than that - had shouted out, and you squealed as you ran up to him, sliding directly onto his knee before switching the camera into selfie mode to capture the two of you. The next clip was you in his lap, one of your delicate hands sliding through his hair as he gave you a big dopey grin, a cigarette perched on your lips as you cooed at him and told him just how cute he was.

Fuck. He knew that look of yours, knew those moves. Knew exactly what you were doing, what you were hoping to do with that fucking Mingi kid, and he couldn’t stand it, not anymore.

Taking a few deep pulls directly from the liquor bottle, his fingers flew over the keys of his phone, sending you text after text - all of which were ignored. He knew calling would be pointless, that you would rather light yourself on fire than answer your phone - especially at a party - and he felt desperation creep up his throat, choking him.

Changkyun couldn’t let this happen. Couldn’t let you just forget about him.

Clicking back onto Instagram, he started sending you responses to the story video as he got dressed, throwing on the nearest pair of jeans and sliding on his boots.

<Baby?>

<I’m on my way. Don’t take that kid to your bed.>

It took painfully long for the Lyft to show up, and he gritted his teeth the whole route there, knee bouncing to stop himself from demanding the driver to go faster, to just hurry the fuck up and get to you.

When the car had pulled into your neighborhood, he tried to send another message, instead clicking a video. Too frustrated to change it back, he lets it record, his voice low and pained.

“I’m on my way, please let me in.”

You were alone on the deck when your phone started vibrating, the ding of an Instagram direct message making you click the app, eyes widening in surprise when you saw the number of notifications.

Changkyun, all from him.

Awestruck, you scrolled through every line, your heart throbbing with each word he had written.

You didn’t think he cared, not like that. Sure, he missed the sex, but that’s what you expected. That’s what all of them wanted when they sent you late night texts, when they called your phone at three in the morning. Empty promises and broken vows were what kept you company in the dark, when they’d predictably leave you alone with an ache between your legs and in your chest. None of them really wanted you, cared about you. After a few weeks of ghosting, they’d all disappear into thin air like expected, and your heart would harden just a bit more.

But now…

Another chime pulls you from your thoughts, eyes flicking back to the light of your phone. Instead of another direct message, it’s a notification that Changkyun had updated his story for the first time in months.

Shaking fingers slide against the screen, your vision blurring as you take in the shadowed back seat of another person’s car, the only light neon pink from the sign of the Lyft drivers decal. For a moment, all you can hear is the quiet chattering of a distant radio, of someone breathing heavily.

And then his voice croaking over the speaker, raspy with need.

“I’m on my way, please let me in.”

The video fades just as a car pulls up to your curb, a flurry of movement as Changkyun climbs out, stumbles towards you. He all but collapses into your arms, his breath dripping with liquor, eyes reddened but burning fiercely.

“Y/N,” he mumbles, hands coming to cup your face, thumb dragging against the smooth skin of your cheek. “I want to take you on a picnic.”

You laugh, though it comes out more like a sob. “What? What are you talking about? Did you call a Lyft and come all the way across town to tell me that, you clown?”

His finger taps against your lips once, twice. “Shh. Just let me-” he sighs, stomping a foot. “Let me talk.”

He waits until you nod before continuing, words surging from his mouth as if he couldn’t hold back a second longer.

“I came all the way here because I want to take you on a picnic. I want to buy you food and take you on cute little dates and do cheesy things that make you smile at me like you are right now,” he grins, pulling you until your chest rests against his own. “I’m here because I couldn’t stand you ignoring me anymore. I meant everything I said - that I miss you, that I want to be with you, if you’ll give me the chance. I want to call you mine.”

Pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes fall shut, his voice fervent and barely more than a whisper.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Tears brim your eyes, and you fight every old wound that tells you to shove him away, to call him a liar. Instead you allow yourself to follow your gut, your heart for what feels like the first time, leaning back to give him a watery smile in return.

“I love you too, Changkyun.”

His mouth immediately lands on yours, tongue eagerly tracing the seam of your lips until it’s slipping inside, tasting every inch of you, ravenous and unsatisfied until your knees are shaking. He’s walking you backwards towards the door, tugging at your clothes, and you giggle at his impatience.

Pulling away, you gasp for air, palm pressing against his shoulder to hold him back for a moment. “But listen, if I give you a chance, that means you have to stop stalking my Instagram, you creep. And don’t try to deny it, I see you all over my stories, lurking around.”

He chuckles then, nipping at your bottom lip as his eyes darken. “Please, don’t act like you don’t love the attention,”

Pushing the door open, he guides you inside, mouth working over your neck, arms wrapped around your waist until your back is flattened against the wall.

“Plus, there’s no need, now that I got you,” he confesses, his nose swiping against yours gently before he captures your lips between his own, hitching your legs to drape around his waist as he grinds against you, humming words of praise.

Just like the hundreds of times before, but now as his.

#changkyun x reader #IM x reader #changkyun smut #IM smut #monsta x smut #monsta x scenario #changkyun scenario #I.M. scenario #I.M. smut #I.M. x reader #ksmutclub #plotsofpastel #im changkyun #monsta x #monsta x fanfic #taetaesbaebaepsae #my writing #fic: call you mine #fic: cym

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brelione · 4 years ago

Text

Marvel Movies (Rafe,Topper,Kelce X Reader)

This takes place about a month after this.

Mentions of choking,fighting,Captain America Spoilers,Kelce being a Disney Hoe

Series Masterlist

You could hear the sound of “Lost In The Woods” from frozen two along with the sound of a car door shutting.You grinned,looking outside your window to see Kelce walking up to your front door.He had been obsessed with the sound track since you,Rafe,Topper and him had watched it last weekend.He swung open your door,pointing at you. “DONT YOU KNOW THERES PART OF ME THAT LONGS TO GO INTO THE UNKNOWN!”He sang,swinging his arms to the tune of the song that was now playing from his earbuds.

You smiled,taking out your phone to record him. “Kel,what are you singing?”You giggled,zooming in on his face. “Bitch,you already know!!!”He said it to the same tune,making you bite your lip to hold back a snort as you saved the video to your snap chat memories.He sat down nexto to you on the couch,pulling out his earbuds. “Rafe and Top are late?”He asked.You shrugged,checking the groupchat to check what time Rafe had left his house. “Kind of but like its fine.Its my night anyways.”You reminded him.Kelce nodded,pulling his legs onto the couch and resting them across your lap. “What are we watching?”He asked,looking up to see nickelodeon on the TV.

You smiled,telling him it was a surprise before throwing his legs off you and going into the kitchen to snack prep.He followed you,not wanting to watch nickelodeon. “Hey,do you remember those brownies we ate when we were little?Like the ones with the colorful chocolate things?”You asked,opening a bag of doritos and pouring the chips into a large bowl.His eyebrows furrowed as he thought about it,grabbing a capri sun from your fridge. “Debby Ryan brownies?”He asked.You turned to look at him,the empty chip bag in your hand. “Do you know who Debby Ryan is?”You asked,laughing at him.

The realization hit him,making him laugh too. “The girl from tik tok!The meme one!”He answered.You nodded,throwing the empty red bag away.You grabbed the bag of sharable m and m’s,pouring the colorful candies into a bowl as well before bringing them both into the living room and setting them down on the table.He somehow ended up laying down half on top of you,the back of his head resting on your stomach.You didnt even hear Rafe pull up,the door opening with him standing with a paper bag in his hand.You missed the way his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed at the sight of Kelce laying on you,he quickly covered it with a smile.

Topper was right behind him,you turned your head to look at the blonde.You immediately burst into laughter upon seeing the pink,purple,yellow and green striped shirt he was wearing. “That’s gotta be the ugliest shirt ive ever seen.”You grinned,running your hand over Kelce’s curly hair.He rolled his eyes,sitting on the floor while Rafe put the paper bag down on the table next to the M and M’s,pulling out the contents.Sour gummy worms,dark chocolate chips,werthers caramels and a can of your favorite soda.He held the can,sitting at the end of the couch by your head so you could rest your head on his lap.He held the cool can to your forehead,knowing that you liked the feeling of the coolness.

You removed your hand from Kelce’s hair,putting on Disney Plus. “OOH-are we watching Winnie the Pooh?”Topper asked.You laughed,shaking your head as you went down to the row of Marvel Movies.Rafe had only ever seen Iron Man 2 so he wasnt very familiar with the films.Kelce preferred DC and Topper just sucked.You eventually came to The First Avenger,pressing on it.You squealed as the movie started,excited to annoy your friends.

“I have a husband in this one too.”You smiled,remembering your huge Bucky phase in sixth grade that Rafe couldnt quite understand.He had only seen your Winter Soldier hoodie so he didnt really have a good idea of who Bucky actually was besides the fact that you loved

him.During the scene where Steve received the Serum Topper had sat up,glancing between Steve and Rafe. “Am I the only one that sees a resemblance?”He asked.You sat up slightly,Kelce moving off of you so you could turn and look at Rafe properly.

He blushed,turning his head and looking away so you had to cup his face and get him to look at you.He bit his lip slightly,looking down at you.Topper rolled his eyes,regretting bringing it up in the first place. “Steve is more handsome.”You grinned,returning to your place on his lap.Kelce broke into laughter along with Topper,Rafe just a red mess as you continued watching the TV. “Isnt Spencer your husband?And 10K?”Kelce asked.You nodded,still watching the movie. “I thought Spencer was the love of your life?”He waited for your answer.You rolled your eyes. “I can have multiple loves of my life.”You answered,still watching the movie. “Can you pause this?”Topper asked,looking up at you from the floor.

You paused it,a bit annoyed. “What?”You asked.He opened a bag of sour gummy worms,popping one in his mouth. “How many husbands do you have?”He asked.You bit the inside of your cheek,thinking about it.Spencer Reid,Newt,Draco,Percy Jackson,Jack Frost,Peter Pan,Zuko,Prince Eric,Kristoff,Aladdin,T’Challa,Killmonger,Dallas Winston. “Uh...16.”You answered.Rafe laughed,fingers brushing against his chin as Kelce just looked up at you with wide eyes. “Who?”He asked.You blushed,counting off on your fingers. “Spencer,Newt-”Topper interrupted you. “Who is Newt?”He asked.You glared at him. “Do you not pay attention on Movie Nights?Eight months ago we watched The Maze Runner,the handsome blonde boy with the british accent.”You explained.He tried not to laugh at your passion for the topic.

“Draco Malfoy,Percy Jackson,Jack Frost-”You were interrupted again,this time by Kelce. “The animated dude?The albino one?”He asked.You sighed,nodding.Rafe’s eyebrows knit together,frowning down at you. “You have a crush on an animated albino?”He asked.You sat up,looking between the boys. “You’re gonna tell me hes not cute as hell?Dont even act like you’re not a simp for Meg,Rafe.You too,Kelce,I saw the way you looked at Elsa when she let her hair down!”You reminded the boy.Topper laughed,forgetting that you knew all his secrets. “Dude,you were in love with Ariel when you were 10!”You exclaimed,making the boy shut up. “Who else?”Rafe asked,still curious. “Um...Peter Pan,Zuko-”You were cut off once again.

“Birth mark dude from Avatar?”Rafe asked.You huffed loudly,stealing the bag of gummies from Topper and eating one. “ITS A BURN!”You nearly shouted. “You have such terrible taste in men.”Topper rolled his eyes.You glared at him,biting hard on your lip. “Get out.”You told him.He bit back a smile,looking up at you. “What?”He laughed.You pouted. “Go stand in the rain for two minutes.”You told him.He shook his head until you got off the couch,grabbing his hand and dragging him to the door. “You’re being mean so you have to stand in the rain.”You told him,opening the door.

He blushed,stepping outside and into the rain.He would never do this for anyone else but the smile on your face was worth it.Rafe looked outside the window,recording Topper standing in a T pose as water drenched his ugly shirt and hair.Once the two minutes was up you opened the door again,letting the wet boy come inside.He smirked before hugging you tightly,getting you completely wet. “TOPPER!”You shouted,pulling off your wet t shirt. “Dammit.”You huffed,pulling off your wet shorts and leaving yourself in just your bra and underwear. Dancing in bikinis multiple times so it wasn't that big of a deal but you didn't notice their wandering eyes. You turned to walk upstairs to change into new into new pants while top or just stood a blushing mess.

At this point you'd forgotten about the movie and you were more focused on annoying your friends.Topper knew better than to sit on your couch in wet clothes but unfortunately he hadn't brought a new pair to change into. So when you return downstairs in a tank top and pajama bottoms you saw topper in just his boxers sitting on your couch watching the movie.You went to sit on the couch,being pulled into Topper’s lap.When the scene of Bucky falling off the train came along Kelce had become attached,standing up to shout at the tv while you started crying a bit,Topper kissing your forehead lightly. “WHERES THE NEXT ONE?”Kelce asked.You grinned,grabbing the remote and moving on to Winter Soldier.

“Theres like a ton of movies between these two but like we can watch those eventually.”You shrugged,ending up wedged between Rafe and Topper,Rafe’s fingers twisting your hair and tracing figure eights along the back of your neck. “On your left!”You spoke at the same time as Sam,grinning.Kelce grinned. “So thats why you always say that!”He put the puzzle pieces together.When Nat pulled up you saw the way Topper’s jaw dropped,you smiled. “I know,right?Shes like really fucking pretty.”You grinned,head against Rafe’s chest.Topper had began to doze off when Bucky came on with his metal arm,waking up fully again when he heard you whisper “He could literally choke me with his metal arm.”under your breath.He burst out laughing for a reason that Rafe nor Kelce could understand,plotting to use it against you in the future.

Somehow Topper had managed to fall asleep against your leg while Rafe had gotten you onto his lap,your head in the crook of his neck as you watched Steve get the living shit beat out of him.Kelce was on the edge of his seat,completely invested in the story. “Can we watch the next one?”He asked.You smiled,pleased with his excitement. “Tomorrow morning,okay?”You asked.He huffed but nodded,grabbing the blanket he usually used.Rafe pulled a blanket over the two of you,allowing you to sleep on top of him.The four of you must’ve slept in pretty late,waking up to your 1 P.M alarm that told you to take your daily vitamins.You groaned,attempting to move but being held by Rafe.

You yawned,seeing Topper in his deep,drooling double-chin sleep.You flicked Rafe across the head so he’d wake up,the brunette waking with a grumble. “Rafe,you gotta let go.”You smiled,kissing his nose tiredly.He grinned,letting you off his lap.You shook Kelce’s shoulder as you walked by,your shorts riding up.Kelce got up with a groan,the blanket rolling around his body like a burrito as he stumbled into the kitchen.You got yourself a glass of water,putting your four vitamin pills into your palm.He watched as you took them,grinning at you. “Good girl.You want breakfast?”He asked.You shrugged,still tired.Topper walked into the kitchen,wiping his face of drool and carrying the bowl of m and ms.

“Hey,do you still have those frozen strawberries?”He asked.You nodded,watching as he grabbed the bag of fruit from your freezer along with almond milk,whipper cream,hot fudge and banana. “Where’s Rafe?”Kelce asked,his question being answered by the universe when the Steve Rogers look alike walked in,turning on the keurig.Kelce put some bread in the toaster,taking out the eggs and a frying pan and starting to make some scrambled for Rafe,some fried for you and an m and m omlet for Topper.Speaking of the blonde,he was pouring frozen strawberries,fudge,banana slices and almond milk into the blender,switching it on and dancing to the sounds of the strawberries being crushed.As the eggs began to cook Kelce quickly handed Rafe his mug before grabbing a glass,putting a layer of m and ms and whipped cream at the bottom,adding two spoon fulls of sugar,some milk and mixing it all together until it was a colorful slop,pouring ice in the cup before brewing some italian coffee to top it off.

As it brewed he rushed to flip the eggs,cursing when he realised the edges were burnt.He tossed it onto a plate,sprinkling some italian seasoning on it and taking the toast out of the toaster for you.He grabbed a jar of your favorite jelly,spreading a thin layer on both slices,reaching over Rafe’s head to hand you the plate.You thanked him,ripping the slice of toast in half.Topper turned off the blender,pouring its contents into a glass and making a huge mountain of whipped cream before sitting across from you.You smirked,reaching your fork over to get some whipped cream.He gasped,jaw dropping as he stared at you. “So you’re gonna put me in the rain for two minutes and now youre taking away my whipped cream?Do you wanna fight?”He asked,leaning forward.

You used your fork,knocking over the mountain of whipped cream before getting up and running down the hall.He ran after you,grabbing you by your wrist and pinning you against the wall of the guest room,panting.You two stared at eachother for a while,his bare chest pressed against you.His eyes flicked between your eyes and your lips,leaning down so his forehead was pressed against yours.So much was happening at once,you couldnt even comprehend it.But then from the kitchen you heard an argument starting,Topper letting go of your wrists as they two of you went back to the kitchen. “The third one is the best!” “FUCK YOU IN THE ASS,BITCH!”You walked in,looking between the two boys.

“What is going on?”You asked.Kelce looked over at you,spatula in hand. “Which Descendants film is better?Two or Three?”He asked.You shook your head,sitting back down to eat your toast. “Fuck-dammit,Topper!You made my toast untoast!”You exclaimed,waving the uncrunchy bread.Kelce frowned,eyes softening. “Do you want me to make you more?”He asked.You shook your head. “No,its fine,Kelce.”You grinned,taking a sip of your coffee.It was sweet and creamy and pretty good,somehow Kelce always made the best coffee no matter what he put in it.Rafe looked between you and Topper,sensing that something had happened in the room.He hoped that Topper wouldnt intentionally hurt him like that,hoping Kelce wouldnt either.A plate of scrambled eggs was put in front of Rafe along with a bottle of barbecue sauce,making you stare at him in disgust. “I cant believe you put barbecue sauce on your eggs.”You shook your head,taking a bite of the toast and getting excited when you heard a crunch. “Oh-hey,dont worry!It didnt untoast”You grinned,enjoying it.

@sexytholland @28cnn @popcrone818 @fttayla @cherryobx @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @drewstarkeyobx @poguestyleskye @judayyyw @jjtheangel @outerbongs @copper-boom

If you’d like to be tagged in all future JJ imagines/headcannons/series comment with a heart,if you’d like to be tagged in all future Pope imagines/headcannons/series comment with a smiling face,if you’d like to be tagged in all future Rafe imagines/headcannons/series comment with a frowning face,if you’d like to be tagged in all future Kiara imagines/headcannons/series comment with a question mark and if you’d like to be tagged in all future Sarah Cameron imagines/headcannons/series comment with a plus sign.Or if thats too complicated you can just comment whose name you’d like to be tagged in.

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spiderman-homecomeme · 4 years ago

Photo

nuts about you

It’s simple. Thirty days. All of November. No nutting allowed. Can Peter survive? A friends/roommates to lovers tale of stupid bets, sabotage, and most important of all, nuts.

thotumn. day 11. free prompt day finale.

Thank you @spideysmjs for organizing this magical month for us!! Because I am TOO impatient, I’m posting this a day early (also to keep my tradition of not posting things at the right time). Enjoy this purely goofy adventure.

Of all of the stupid ideas Peter and Ned have thought of in their ten-plus years of friendship, this one’s up there.

Easily in the top three.

No, it’s more than stupid. It’s ridiculous. It’s pointless. No one in their right mind actually thinks this is a good idea or that there’s any reason to do it. It’s an internet joke that’s too old, a meme that has no right being funny anymore. It’s run its course, and the guise of it raising awareness for anything other than the masturbation habits of penis-havers is complete and utter bullshit.

Again. It’s stupid.

Still, Peter Parker is not one to turn down a challenge, no matter how stupid. He’s nothing if not competitive. What can he say? If he won’t do it, who will?

This is what he considers as Ned lays it on the table for him.

All of November. Thirty days.

Peter doesn’t know how the conversation even started or how they ended up betting against each other in the world’s most moronic challenge. All he knows is that Ned is more than convinced that Peter is weak and won’t last. In fact, he’s so convinced that he’s willing to bet money on it. His reasoning ends up being that Peter isn’t strong enough.

And Peter? Well, he’s convinced that he will make it, that he can survive an entire month without giving in to his desires to bust a nut, to beat his meat, etc. etc. And he, too, is willing to bet money—a stupid amount, maybe more than a hundred—on his own success and his friend’s failure. He doesn’t want to appear too cocky, but he’s more than a hundred percent sure he’s got this in the bag. Yeah, it’s thirty days of cutting out one of Peter’s favorite pastimes—if not the favorite—but there’s no doubt in his mind that he’s more than capable of practicing a little restraint.

Still, confident as he is, there’s still that part of him that can’t help but dread the coming month the more and more he thinks about it.

“So, definitely thirty days?” Peter asks, eyes narrowing in thought. He tries to appear casual, as if the idea of no release for that amount of time isn’t a big deal. It’s more for clarification. “November has thirty days?”

Ned scoffs. “Yeah. Thirty days.”

“Any strikes? Any free coupons?”

“Nope.” Ned shakes his head with a soul-crushing finality. “Why? You don’t think you can make it?”

It’s Peter’s turn to scoff, face scrunching dramatically as he recoils. “What? No. I’m worried about you, man. What are you gonna do about Betty?”

Ned fixes him with a deadpan stare, clearly not buying whatever bullshit Peter’s trying to peddle. “A bet is a bet. She will respect that.”

“How can I trust you, though?” Peter asks, eyes narrowing in slight accusation. “You’re always at her place. I mean, how’ll I know you’re not lying?”

Ned glares. “How can I trust you?”

Peter sputters, desperately thinking of ways to throw a reverse Uno at this situation. “Wha—I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m—I’m single, man.”

Ned blinks. Once. Twice. “Do we need to talk about Felicia?”

“That was—”

“Cindy?”

“Dude—”

“Johnny? Jessica? Gwen—”

“I get it. I get it—”

“Carlie? Oh—Debbie? Caleb! Then there was Angela—”

Peter’s expression contorts into one of confusion. “Angela?” He tilts his head, squinting, searching for any kind of memory.

“Cute red head. You met her in line at Aldi.”

“Ahhh…” A knowing, borderline too-telling smile of recognition pulls at Peter’s lips. “Angela...” he sighs, almost dreamily. Okay, so maybe Ned has a point. But just because Peter enjoys the company of other people so much that he’s got his own version of Mambo No. 5, doesn’t mean he’s incapable of living without the warm touch of another human being or his hand.

Peter freezes, glancing at his friend. “Okay. Well. What do you want me to do about that? It’s not like I’m gonna call any of them up or anything. I have some sense of self-control.”

Again, Ned blinks.

“And besides, Felicia was freshman year… she’s our friend now. I don’t hook-up with her anymore.”

Another blink. “Dude.”

“Fine.” Peter huffs, whipping his phone out, eyes nearly rolling out of their sockets and onto the floor as he starts swiping through his contacts. “But I’m not deleting any of ‘em, okay?”

“Peter…”

“I’ll change their names! How ‘bout that?”

A beat passes of silent, overtly-judgmental staring on Ned’s part. He huffs after another second, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Fine.” Then, his frown shifts into a nonchalant smirk. “Whatever makes it easier for you to lose and me to win.”

“Please,” Peter scoffs. “I’m not the one with a girlfriend. You’re going down.” He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes, lips pursed in mock-contemplation as he points a finger. “Or I guess… Betty’s the one going down.”

Ned nearly chokes on his water holding back a snort. “Come on, man.”

Peter shrugs.

“Okay, well, are you gonna change the contact name for your right hand, too?”

It’s Peter’s turn to spit out a laugh.

But before he can even come up with another totally awesome comeback, he hears the jingling of keys, the clanking of locks as their roommate comes home after a long day of classes. All he sees is a flash of her curly hair before he’s tearing his gaze away from the front door, suddenly finding the pads of his thumbs to be pretty damn interesting.

“Hey, MJ,” Ned greets casually, as if they weren’t just sorting out a bet where neither of them are allowed to orgasm for an entire month.

“‘Sup.” Michelle flashes them a brief, closed-mouth grin as she makes for the refrigerator, swiping up some baby carrots and the brita filter.

Really, the conversation from earlier should be done there. Nothing else needs to be said. Especially not in front of their roommate.

But Peter can’t help himself.

“Let’s shake on it,” he says, putting his hand out, knowing that the more he keeps talking, the more danger he’s in of saying too much.

Ned takes it readily, eyes narrowed in determination. “Let’s.”

The corner of Peter’s lip twitches upward, but he holds it back. “No… Peanuts.”

“No walnuts.”

They have that understanding, speaking in the code that the two of them have just made up on the spot, something that Peter can’t help but feel pretty damn proud of.

MJ glances between the two, carrot half-way to her mouth, frozen in place, brows pinched in suspicion.

“Peter and I are giving up all nuts for the next month,” Ned says proudly, answering the question that she most certainly did not ask.

“Cool.”

Ned throws a not-as-subtle-as-he-thinks-it-is wink across the table, giving a just as subtle thumbs up from behind one of his stray history books.

Peter nods.

“Why?” Michelle asks, her question—one that shouldn’t have been as much of a surprise at is was—causing them both to exchange wary glances.

There’s a silence that follows, one that might clearly show that these two guys have no idea what kind of hole they’ve dug themselves into. Ned watches Peter expectantly. Peter glares back.

“Is it like a health thing?” MJ offers, popping another carrot into her mouth.

Peter nods a little too quickly. “Yeah. Health stuff.” His stomach flips when her gaze meets his, her eyes squinting as she chews thoughtfully.

“May thinks Peter might have a nut allergy,” Ned hastily spits out. When both sets of eyes land on him, he laughs. “So his allergist suggested going a month without ‘em. To see if that makes it better.”

And honestly, Peter thinks that’s a pretty damn good save.

The best part is that MJ seems to buy it. She nods. “So why are you doing it, Ned?”

“Solidarity,” Ned offers quickly.

Nice save.

“Ah,” MJ purses her lips, though she still doesn’t seem to care all that much. “Well, good luck. I guess. I know how much you guys… love… nuts? I guess?”

Peter nods solemnly.

When she turns back to grab a cup from the cabinet, he throws Ned a quick single nod.

Well played.

“So, Peter’s doing no nut November.”

Felicia nearly chokes, snorting as she struggles to keep her vanilla latte in her mouth. “What?” She asks after a dangerous second. They were supposed to be having a nice study sesh, reading about Bloom’s taxonomy, not talking about Peter’s nut habits.

“He and Ned made a stupid bet to see who could last the whole month,” MJ answers, taking a quiet sip of her London Fog. “Apparently they bet a lot of money on it.”

Felicia’s face scrunches in amused confusion. “Why?”

“Do they really need a reason to do dumb shit?”

Considering that for a second, Felicia nods with a satisfied frown. “Fair.”

“I bet against Peter, though,” MJ continues. “After he left, I made Ned let me in on it. There’s no way Pete can last the whole month, right? Not even a week.”

“Oh, definitely not,” Felicia vehemently shook her head. “I honestly feel like he’d spontaneously combust after, like, a day.” Then, she lets out a quiet snort. “Combust a nut.”

Michelle wrinkles her nose. “Ew.”

“But for real. He’s not gonna make it.”

“That’s what I said. Ned seems to have some faith in him though—no idea why. I told him that Peter wouldn’t even last a week… and now I guess I’m involved.”

“This would be so easy to sabotage though.”

“Right?”

“Seriously,” Felicia snorts. “All I’d have to do is hit him up one more time and he’s gone.” And then, in that next instant, her face lights up like a Christmas tree. “That’s it!” Before she says anything else, she’s pulling her phone out, quickly scrolling through, looking for God knows what. “Girl, I am gonna win that bet for you.”

MJ leans forward, curious, yet still cautious. She’s not sure if Peter hooking up again with Felicia is the best idea, given that relations within the friend group would just make things a giant, tangled up mess of complicated awkwardness. “How?” Michelle dares to ask, craning her neck to see what the hell Felicia’s doing on her phone.

Her friend is quiet for a moment, locked in concentration on her screen, bottom lip tucked between her teeth, brows knit together. Then, she cracks a satisfied, sly smile, turning her phone to show MJ just what she was looking for.

Simply; a picture of Felicia’s relatively new tattoo which, in and of itself, doesn’t seem like it would get Peter’s peter going. It’s pretty. Floral. Nothing to lose one’s mind over.

No, it’s more the placement.

It’s a tasteful shot, the simple flowers lining the underside of her breasts, her hands acting as makeshift pasties, just barely covering her nipples.

Still, though there’s no actual nudity, it’s enough to make MJ’s eyes bug out of her head for a moment before she’s realizing what she’s looking at.

“Okay. So?” Michelle waits for an explanation.

“I send him this,” Felicia says simply, pulling her phone back and (seemingly) drafting up the very message. “Ask if he wants a closer look at it.”

Michelle considers it a moment, knowing that there’s a very strong chance that Peter could almost immediately fall into such an obvious trap. The corners of her lips twitch into a casual frown. She shrugs. “Honestly. Yeah. That might work.”

“Might?” Felicia almost scoffs.

“You’re a genius.”

A smirk tugs at Felicia’s mouth as she leans back in her chair, swiping up to send the message before putting the phone down on the table. “I know.”

They sit in silence, the two of them watching the screen with bated breath. They both gasp when the read receipt pops up, followed by a dead silence. MJ can only imagine how stressed that boy must be, opening his phone, thinking it’s an innocent text from Felicia, then BAM, he’s vibe-checked by her boobs instead.

She holds back a snort, her stomach jumping into her throat seeing the dot-dot-dot pop up at the bottom of the screen. It’s almost as if she forgets to breathe, waiting to see what he’s going to say to such a blatant come on.

It’s like he’s typing a damn novel with how long it’s taking him though, and Michelle’s not sure she can take it much longer.

And then, her phone dings.

Felicia’s lips pull into a frown reading the message. “‘Wow. Looks cool! No thanks, though.’ Aaaaand,” she spins her phone for MJ to read it. “Thumbs-up emoji. Smiley face with sunglasses.”

Even MJ’s surprised at that response. Maybe Peter is really taking this No Nut November thing seriously. Maybe he’s not as weak as she thought. But… it doesn’t make any sense. Nothing’s adding up.

And with this confusion, there’s a sense of relief, knowing his response. Waiting wasn’t fun.

“Huh.” Felicia sighs, biting her lip in thought as she starts typing out another message and sending it.

“What did you say?” Michelle asks.

“I told him I’d been thinking about getting my nipples pierced and wanted to know what he thought.”

At that, Michelle snorts. “You’re an evil woman.”

Felicia shrugs innocently. “I think he’d really like ‘em.”

Truly, it’s a genius move. It’s something that Peter has to address; Felicia’s nipples. The idea of them being pierced. It’s too much for his brain to handle.

And again, just like before, they get into a staring contest with the conversation, watching as the read receipt pops up again, immediately followed by the ever-cruel ellipses as Peter no doubt struggles with a response that’s not too-eager.

But then, he completely throws them for another loop.

“‘I support you, friend!’ with…” Her eyes narrow. “A smiley face.”

“Wow,” Michelle says, genuinely surprised.

And Felicia seems just as shocked, if not a little offended that one of her oldest tricks in the book seem to have no effect whatsoever. “Did he just… friendzone me?” She asks, absolutely appalled.

“You were already friends before?” Michelle laughs.

“But in this context?” She huffs, shaking her head. A beat passes where all she does is stare at her phone. “That’s weird,” she says slowly, lips quirking into a confused frown. “Huh.”

“There, there,” Michelle deadpans, patting her friend stiffly on the hand.

Felicia laughs. “It’s fine…” She draws out. “A hit to the ego is good for me every once in a while.”

“Oh my God,” MJ rolls her eyes. “You’re still hot. Don’t worry.”

With a sad, a little over-dramatic nod, Felicia’s frown deepens as she pretends to wipe at her eyes. “Yeah. I am.”

“I can’t believe that didn’t work,” MJ muses. Really, she can’t. Peter’s perhaps the easiest person she knows—and there’s nothing wrong with that at all; it’s just a fact of life. The sky is blue. Grass is green. Peter is a thot.

“I guess he’s really following through with this whole no nut thing…” Felicia’s brow furrows as she recoils. “How much money did he bet anyway?”

“A hundred.”

“Oh my God.”

“Yeah.”

“How much did you put in?”

“...A hundred.”

“MJ!”

“Listen!” Michelle reasons, holding her hands up in defense. “This is gonna be the easiest two hundred dollars I’ve ever made.”

Felicia sits back, clearly impressed. “Does Peter know you’re in on it?”

“Nope,” MJ says, emphasizing the ‘p’ with an audible pop.

“Well—” Felicia starts, shifting in her seat, crossing one leg over the other. “—I’m sure you’ll find some way to make that boy give in. Sorry I couldn’t help.”

Michelle lets out a light snort. “It’s okay. You tried.”

“If I think of anything else, I’ll let you know.”

But honestly, MJ already has a vague idea of what her next step is.

And it brings her to his bedroom, to his desk, messing with his laptop while he’s out for his Sunday patrol. His password is entirely too easy to guess—really, you’d think a guy as smart as Peter would have something a little more complicated than “webshooter69.”

If there’s anything she knows about Peter—maybe a little too much about her friend—is that while he mostly enjoys the company of a flesh and blood human being, he’s not above the occasional perusing of adult websites.

The guy likes porn.

The plan is to make his chrome homepage one of his regular sites. Confront him with the images that really get him going.

She browses through his history, hoping that he hadn’t thought to delete everything or go incognito. And… luckily for her, that particular idea seemed to have slipped his mind entirely. Literally not even a week out and she’s found a slightly-more-than-nefarious-looking website.

Easy enough.

And it’s exactly what she’s looking for. Nudity galore. There doesn’t seem to be a corner of the site that doesn’t have a boob or a butt. It is truly Peter’s domain.

For a moment, she wonders if she should make the homepage specifically something he searches for… his favorite genre perhaps.

She shakes the thought away immediately. It’s too invasive. Besides, the front page should be more than enough—there’s literally a video that frustratingly autoplays every time she goes back to that one page. And why would she need to know what Peter likes? There’s no reason for that. At all.

Making sure to close out of everything before logging out, she slams the laptop shut, sprinting out of his room as if he was just about to get home. Her heart races as she slams her own bedroom door behind her, catching her breath proving to be more difficult than usual.

And now, she waits.

It turns out, she doesn’t have to wait very long.

That evening, in fact, after Peter’s come back for dinner.

He takes his time microwaving his leftovers from the day before, whistling to himself as he bounces around the kitchen. The whole time it feels like MJ’s just holding her breath, anticipating his early demise the instant he opens up chrome on his laptop. And honestly, this does feel like a low blow, like she’s just snatching up that low-hanging fruit—God, MJ, phrasing—but then she’s reminded that this, again, is the easiest two hundred dollars she will ever earn.

And then she feels a little less bad about what she’s done.

The second he’s finished with his food and disappears into his room, her eyes are on his door, and then it occurs to her that there’s not really a way that she can know he’s, well, “lost.” It’s all based on his own honor, if he’ll admit to succumbing to his most basic need. She likes to think that he would, though. Peter’s too much of a good, honest guy—hiding his secret identity aside—that he couldn’t lie to his friends about it.

Ned comes home not two minutes later, deflating on the other side of the couch.

“Rough day?” MJ asks, the teasing hint to her tone not going unnoticed.

Ned rolls his eyes. “Told Betty I was doing this whole month thing.”

MJ winced. “Yikes.”

“Yeah,” Ned chuckles.

“Well, if it helps, this whole thing is probably gonna end in—” she checks her phone. “—five or so minutes.”

Ned’s gaze darts right and left. “What… What do you mean?”

Before she can answer, Peter yelps from the other side of his door. There’s a loud crash that sounds suspiciously like a laptop being yeeted across the room in a hasty, knee-jerk reaction. Before either she or Ned can move, Peter’s bursting through his door, eyes blown wide, his face drained of all color, and he’s frozen in place, one hand gripping the doorframe.

And it takes everything in her not to grin. “Everything okay?”

Peter coughs, scratching the back of his neck, before his gaze lands on Ned in a challenging glare. “DUDE. Not cool.”

Poor Ned looks as confused as ever, his jaw dropping, brows pinching together as he glances between the two. “I—What—what are you talking about?”

Peter narrows his eyes even more.

“Did I hear something break?” MJ asks carefully, as not to seem too suspicious.

He startles at her voice, sputtering out a response that mostly sounds like the macaroni glue art of sentences. “Oh—uh—no. It—It was the—the laptop. There was—a thing. And—I just kinda—threw it.” He laughs nervously. “It’s fine though. Not—not broken. All good—” He throws some finger guns. “—in the hood.”

Her lips twist as she nods.

Peter nods back, hands in his back pockets as he starts to retreat back into his room—though not before throwing another I’m watching you glare at Ned.

As soon as the door clicks shut, Ned’s in full interrogation mode.

“MJ, what did you do?”

She shrugs, toying with the loose thread of her hoodie. “Nothing much. Just… Set his default homepage to some porn. No biggie.”

Ned’s jaw drops, thoroughly scandalized, but there’s a hint of amusement behind his eyes. “Dude… That’s evil.”

Michelle gives another shrug.

So, her second plan had failed. Even after surprise-porn, Peter’s still in the running. He’s still holding out. Almost a two days into November, and he is surviving, a surprise to everyone involved, and already, MJ’s running out of ideas. Well, good—plausible ideas. There are plenty of ways she’s sure she could compromise him. Take him to a strip-club maybe, but there’s not a doubt in her mind that he’d be able to pick up on what she was doing. There’s no way he’d fall for it.

Hiring an escort was definitely out of the question.

Theoretically, both of those could work. Were they good plans? No. Absolutely not.

He’s already turned down a previous hook-up. He broke his laptop out of the sheer panic that seeing porn brought him.

There doesn’t seem to be much more that she can do.

It’s not until the next day, as she’s walking the clothing section of Target with Felicia that she’s struck with an idea.

Felicia specifically striking her with said idea.

They’re in the middle of the sleepwear section, MJ mindlessly rifling through the fuzzy sock bin, when she nearly collides with the underwear display. She’s distracted for a moment, wondering if it’s too soon since she’s bought new underwear to justify taking advantage of the sale, when Felicia nudges her with her elbow.

“Peter’s really into pretty underwear,” she says as if they’re not in the middle of Target. As if there’s not a mom and two kids in the actual pajama section two displays over.

Michelle recoils slightly, startled. “What?”

“He’s like, really into it,” she says, taking a casual sip of her iced coffee, reaching over to pick up a particularly lacy number. “Just saying. Might be useful.”

For some reason, MJ feels a strange heat rise to her cheeks. “I’m not gonna put these on for him!”

Felicia smirks, holding a hand up in defense. “Who said anything about you wearing it? You can just… leave it lying around for him to find, or something.” She tilts her head to the side, both brows raising. “Jeez, MJ.”

“Oh…” Michelle says, though her face still burns. “Right.”

It’s not a bad idea. In fact, it’s pretty good. If Peter’s as into fancy underwear as Felicia says he is, then maybe leaving them around like some kind of weird scavenger hunt is the best plan. She doesn’t buy much, picking a pair of relatively cheap lace and polyester. She could use her own underwear for this, but… that would be weird right?

(As if this isn’t weird enough already.)

And besides, the ones she’s buying are a little more extra in that department. They aren’t meant to be worn for long, not from comfort.

They’re perfect.

She feels like some kind of underwear fairy, planting them somewhere in the apartment, making sure they’re hidden, yet visible in a place that Peter frequents; it sticks up between the couch cushions, not subtle in the slightest. The second Peter’s butt hits that couch, he’ll see them. There’s no other way around it.

It becomes another waiting game as she sits in the living chair, knees curled into her chest as she pretends to read quietly. It’s pretend because she can’t focus long enough on any single letter to let her brain absorb anything on the pages. Finally, the front door opens. Peter greets her with a cheery smile, making immediately for the kitchen.

Good. Yes. He gets his after class snack. Important.

Just as she’d planned.

He emerges not two minutes later, bag of cheese crackers in hand as he launches himself over the back of the couch. “‘Sup?” he asks after shoving a mouthful of Cheez-its into his face.

Michelle wrinkles her nose, her eyes unconsciously darting between the guy on the couch and the panties peeking out from the cushions. “Reading,” she offers, brandishing the very unread book.

Peter nods, tearing his gaze from hers after a beat and reaching for the remote. When he sits back, his hand brushes the cheap lace and he pauses, curious as he looks down to see what he touched.

All of this while MJ desperately pretends not to notice.

When he picks the pair up though, his brows pinch together, at first unsure as to what he’s actually looking at. “Uh…”

At that, MJ looks up, seeing right as the realization sets in.

Of course, she plays dumb—by staying silent.

Peter quickly looks to her, eyes wide as if he’s seen a ghost. “It’s—it’s not—these aren’t—” His lips press together as he forces a breath through his nose. “I—Oh god—”

And then, for a split-second, she feels the slightest bit guilty. Is this actually a good plan or is she just tricking him into getting a boner over cheap department store undies? That, and is she technically lying to him by not claiming the offending undergarments? By making him freak out over nothing?

He seems to be having some sort of existential crisis, wondering if these really are from some recent hook-up and the psychological effect of not nutting in three days has caused him to forget.

This was a terrible idea.

She has to put him out of his misery.

“Oh, shit. Those—” Her laugh is breathy, short. “—Those are mine.”

And instantly, Peter drops the thong, as if his hands had been burned. “Oh!” he coughs, his gaze straining as if he’s trying to keep his eyes on her face. “S—Sorry.” He swallows.

“Yeah.” Rising on legs that are shaky—from sitting so oddly in the chair for so long—she goes to snatch up the baby pink lace, clutching it behind her back before Peter can get another look. “Sorry. Must’ve forgot. Uh, when I did… Laundry.”

Peter nods, breathing out a chuckle. “Yeah. Yeah. S’fine.” He waves her off, scratching the back of his neck.

But even after that, Peter still seems off. For some reason, he still doesn’t seem to be able to look at her for more than a split-second. He doesn’t say anything else, sitting in silence, his cheese crackers long forgotten on the coffee table.

Michelle wonders if she should say something else. Break the tension. It’s awkward, obviously, because he feels weird about touching his friend’s underwear. Anyone would, really. He touched something that theoretically would be on her body; something that normally, he thinks is really sexy, or whatever.

After another minute of some good old soul-crushing silence, Peter stands, excusing himself to his room without another word.

Huh. Weird.

It’s the movie night that finally gives her that clarity she’s been looking for; that moment where everything clicks into place, and she can finally see how she’s going to win this.

Ned’s out with Betty, leaving her and Peter alone not for the first time.

She and Peter are sitting on the couch together, her head resting on his shoulder—because that’s what friends do, obviously—the two of them sharing a gray fuzzy blanket. This is a normal occurrence. They’re close enough in their friendship that some occasional cuddling isn’t too weird. Especially given how chilly it’s been lately. And, it’s comfy. Just some nice head-to-shoulder contact.

But later in the movie, when MJ starts to get dangerously sleepy, feeling herself drooping further and further, unable to completely pull herself back to reality. Things are fuzzy, almost dreamlike, as she just pulls herself up from his shoulder, giving up entirely on watching the movie and just grumpily laying down right on his lap, his thigh her make-shift pillow.

This isn’t weird.

It’s normal.

She’s sleepy.

And Peter’s a surprisingly comfy pillow.

Peter doesn’t even have time to ask what she’s doing before she’s just nestling further into his lap. She misses the pure dread and panic that flashes across his face when her head lines up with his head. There’s no safety here. Just a few wrong movements, and she’ll definitely know what’s up. She’ll be an unwitting tourist to Boner City, population: one.

Peter has to do something. He can’t let this continue. Having his best friends head just straight up on his crotch is not helpful in the slightest.

“MJ,” he gently nudges her, grimacing slightly when she just burrows further into him.

He nudges her again, and she grumbles, finally opening her eyes and looking up at him. She puts a hand on his thigh to steady herself.

Peter swallows.

“What?” She asks, not opening her eyes.

“I uh—” Peter can’t seem to speak, trying desperately to come up with some excuse as to why he has to get the fuck out of there. “—I gotta pee.”

She cracks an eye open skeptically. “But I’m comfy,” she emphasizes her point by—once again—snuggling her face into his lap.

Peter’s about to lose his damn mind.

In MJ’s defense, this had started with the best intentions. She truly was just wanting to lay down and sleep on her friends lap—again, a perfectly normal thing—but now… even through the haze of sleep, she’s seeing how much this is effecting him.

It hadn’t occurred to her until now, that she could be the one that makes him “crack.” They’re just friends. Sure, she thinks he’s attractive, and yeah, maybe she’s had the one or two or three sexy dreams about him before (even some soft, fluffy ones), but that doesn’t mean she thinks about him in that way.

He's just Peter.

Sweet, adorable, kinda hot Peter.

Again, she doesn't think about him that way.

But she supposes it makes sense. Really, she should have known before putting her head on his crotch that he might get a little flustered from the proximity, that it might remind him of certain things. It's just the body's physiological reaction to a stimulus; the stimulus being her head. It's simple science.

So then, it would also only make sense for her to take advantage of that physiological response she's able to get out of him. Maybe not right at this second, given she's been a little blindsided by this whole thing. But maybe now she can rethink her gameplan. Now she has access to tools she didn't know she had access to before.

Her own sensuality.

She can certainly use that.

And it's not as if she'll do anything too out there. Just... make him feel the heat—the pressure—just a little bit. Make him sweat.

Felicia's of course delighted by this development, giving her full support in "seducing Parker into busting a nut."

(Her words, not MJ's.)

She'd also said something about how it's about time, but that'd been promptly ignored—mainly because MJ didn't know what the hell Felicia was talking about.

The problem is now, though, Michelle's not exactly sure where to start. After Peter had made a dead sprint to the bathroom the night before, he's been a little more, shall we say, cautious, around her. He bounces on his feet, trying desperately to appear casual, acting as if nothing was weird about their movie night.

She only has three days left in the week, so she has to think.

And fast.

Peter's not sure if MJ's up to something, but he can't help but feel as though she's acting... strange. First, the underwear thing, which made him feel all kinds of flustered and weird, and then her head being dangerously close to his dick. It's a lot. She can't possibly know about this No Nut thing, right? She wasn't there, and Ned wouldn't have told her... right?

Still, he tries to avoid her as much as he can, ready to fly away the second she's in the same room as him.

Truthfully, he's always had maybe the tiniest crush on his best friend. It's faded in and out over the years, especially in their college years. But it's always been there, even if just the ghost of one. And now, he's starting to see maybe how bad of an idea this was in the first place—No Nut November. His roommate is literally probably the prettiest person in the world and he's being constantly reminded of the one thing he definitely should not be thinking about under any circumstances if he wants to win. It's a disaster that should have never happened in the first place. This could have been prevented, he thinks.

He's not sure how he didn't think about that when he'd agreed to do this.

He just knows that he has to do something, though he's not sure what.

But any and all ideas of how to protect himself instantly leave his mind, crashing his brain, when he comes back to the apartment the next day to find it sweltering. He looks at the thermostat, thoroughly confused to find the heater set to eighty. He peels off his jacket, recoiling when the humid air sticks to his skin. It's hot. Too hot. Even for early November. It's not that cold outside.

He's about to call out for his roommates when MJ emerges from her room, and he feels like he has to pick his jaw up from the floor.

Her shorts are too short for it being fall. They show too much of her legs for his eyes to not be immediately drawn to them. Her white tank top is tight against her skin, hugging her form in a way that almost makes him jealous. And then, it's almost too much, too dangerous, when he can very clearly tell that she's apparently decided to forgo a bra for the evening.

"Oh, hey Pete!" She says, as if she's not looking like that.

"Hey—hey. Em..." He clears his throat.

Dear God. It's been less than a week. Hold it together.

"Is it..." Peter swallows. "Is it hot in here? The—the heat? Is it—is it on?"

MJ's eyes widen a fraction.

"Oh, yeah. It is," she replies casually. "Is that okay? I was just a little cold."

"So you turn it up to—" Peter stops, craning his neck to look at the thermostat on the wall. "—eighty-two?"

She glances left and right, as if there's nothing wrong with that temperature whatsoever. "Yeah," she says with a nonchalant shrug, her lips tugging into a frown. After a beat, she lets out a faint snort, apparently finding something particularly funny, before turning to the fridge. She opens the freezer, sighing as the cool air hits her face.

Peter doesn't realize he's staring as she reaches in, pulling out a box from the top shelf. When he sees what's in the box, he knows that his doom is near. It's bright, colorful. It's popsicles. He has to leave immediately if he knows what's good for him, if he has any sense of sanity left. She grabs a crinkling wrapper from inside the box, casually whipping it out. She holds one out to him.

"Want one?" She offers.

Peter can only shake his head, swallowing a near-silent, voice-cracking, "Nope."

And it's at this point, as she shuts the freezer door, as she starts peeling the wrapper off the way-too-phallic popsicle, that he knows he should run. It's not safe here.

But he's frozen in place, trying to burn his gaze into the intricacies of the granite countertops, tapping his fingers in an erratic rhythm.

He's an idiot, for sure, because he looks up at exactly the wrong time, right as she wraps her lips around the tip of the pop, her eyes meeting his for a fraction of a second.

How can it only be eighty-two in here?

Thankfully, he gains some sense, tearing himself away from the counter and going over to actually turn down the thermostat. "Is it okay if I—" He coughs. "—Turn this back down?"

"Sure." MJ doesn't stop him. She wets her lips, hiding her satisfied smirk by taking the popsicle deeper into her mouth.

But again, he makes the fatal mistake of looking at her again, because now... well, now she's just messing with him. She has to be.

No one eats a popsicle like that.

When he thinks it can't get worse, she has the fucking audacity to hum as she pushes it further into her mouth. "This is so good," she says, half-way a moan.

Who actually says that about a fucking popsicle?

It's evil, truly it is, because it makes him imagine her swirling her tongue around it inside her mouth, and suddenly, the tightness in his pants gets even more uncomfortable.

He hurries to somewhere else in the kitchen, pouring himself a nice glass of water. It's still too hot in here. MJ sidesteps him easily, still inappropriately eating—sucking off—her popsicle. And he nearly chokes, because as his eyes meet hers again, she takes the damn thing out of her mouth—he thinks he's safe, but oh no—she slips her tongue out, licking a long stripe up the base, swirling it around the tip before taking it into her mouth again.

"What?" She asks—she fucking asks—when he can't look away.

And unsurprisingly, Peter can't speak. Can't even get a single syllable out.

"Is my tongue red?" She asks, sticking said tongue out that was just seconds before all over the popsicle.

"I'm gonna go hop in the shower," Peter spits out, dropping his water in the sink and making a mad dash to the bathroom, not waiting for a response.

A shower is what he needs right now.

A nice, cold shower.

He needs to take a deep breath. Think of not sexy things. Things that don't make his life out to be a bad porno.

Then, he needs to leave. Hide in the forest. Live among the trees, away from temptation, until November is over. Only then can he be at peace.

That's it!

Trees. Nature. Forests. Cold. Snow. MJ in the snow. Kissing MJ in the snow—NO.

NO.

He slams the bathroom door, leaning back against it. He heaves out a shaky sigh, running a hand over his face in frustration. How he can possibly survive the rest of the month, he has no idea.

MJ has to be messing with him, right? There’s absolutely no way in hell she’s not doing this on purpose. And why? Why is she torturing him like this? What has Peter ever done in his life to deserve this torment? It isn’t fair.

No matter how desperately he wants to take care of the not-so-little problem in his jeans, he holds himself back, clenching every muscle in his body as he switches on a very cold shower. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to will the image of Michelle—his best friend and roommate—eating a popsicle out of his mind. It has absolutely no right to be there.

And still, as Peter stands under the stream of freezing water, letting it run down his back and front as he holds himself up with one hand, he can’t help but think that the worst is yet to come. That somehow, someway, MJ would top simulating a blow job on an ice pop. He doesn’t know how she’d do it, but he knows it’s coming.

He must be ready.

Not to MJ’s surprise, Peter avoids her the rest of the day. He keeps his head down, not daring to even glance up at her as he walks past. Weirdly enough, this is a good sign. It confirms her hypothesis that her actions can have some sort of an effect on him. It helps her to know what to do next.

And, well…

She’d be lying if she said it weren’t at least a little bit thrilling.

There’s something deep inside her that finds all of this so interesting, so amusing. She wants to know how far she can go, how hard she can push before he cracks under the pressure. And the fact that it’s her that has all this power over him—it’s certainly a revelation.

But still, even if this is “fun,” she can be professional about this. She would never let it get “too far,” whatever that would be. No, the goal here isn’t to seduce her way into Peter’s pants, but to seduce him—innocently—enough that he just does it to himself.

Her next plan might be a little more unfair, a little more direct, and perhaps a little more daring than the last one.

And—she should add—much more difficult than she had anticipated.

For one, she just can’t seem to get the right angle, holding her phone above her body, making sure to get both the underside of her breasts—a tasteful amount of boob, thank you very much—and the same cheap, pretty pink undies she bought from Target. It’s awkward, tilting and twisting her phone, her thumb just barely reaching the shutter button. The first few shots aren’t anything to be particularly proud of. Too blurry, her arm cramping up from holding the camera up so long. This isn’t something she’s really done before, given she’s never seen the appeal. Why send pics when you could just, you know, show them the real thing?

But for some reason, it makes her heart climb into her throat, makes her face almost unbearably warm.

It’s when she changes her positioning on her bed, finding some nice light filtering in from the early evening sun. Golden hour has always proven to be exceptionally kind to her. She finds a decent pose, covering both breasts with her forearm, arching her back, making sure to get that perfect “booty tooch” that would make Tyra proud. She breathes out in an attempt to cool her heated nerves, parting her lips in a way that’s sure to incite some kind of reaction.

Click.

And then, she’s got the shot.

Okay, technically it’s not a nude, but there’s something about the idea of sending this picture to Peter of all people that gets her stomach twisting in knots.

And as her hand hovers over the send button, her heart hammers in her chest, hesitation holding her still. She takes her bottom lip in her teeth, beginning to wonder if this is the best idea. Her plan had been to send the picture, play it off as some kind of mistake, and hope that he goes to… take care of himself. Sure, it might get a reaction out of Peter—one big enough that causes him to give up this whole no nut thing—but it almost feels as if she’s crossing some kind of line.

Miming a blow job on a popsicle was one thing—one that she can’t decide if she’s proud of or not. That was just a performance. It wasn’t something she was doing to Peter. This—sending him a racy picture when he’s literally in the next room—is a direct interference.

Plus, there’s no telling what this would do to their friendship. It could ruin everything. Catastrophically.

Awkward would be an understatement.

She puts her phone face down on the mattress, avoiding the picture all together, before getting up and pulling on one of her comfy robes.

God, all of this was a terrible idea.

Wallowing in her own self-pity and regret, she flops back down onto the bed, grabbing her phone with the intention of deleting the picture once and for all. It’s still there in the text conversation, just waiting to be sent. She scoffs, shaking her head at herself, only for her heart to stop in her chest when—in her frazzled state—she hits “send” instead of that little “x.”

“SHIT.”

No no no no no NONONONONO.

She drops her phone immediately, wrapping her robe tighter around herself as she scrambles for her bedroom door, nearly tripping over her rug in the process.

Peter’s sitting on the couch, blissfully unaware, when his phone pings. And to Michelle’s utter horror, he picks it up.

“NO!” MJ shouts, jumping on top of him. It’s a futile attempt really, seeing as her best friend—she stupidly forgets—is an actual superhero.

Peter yelps as she pushes him down into the couch, tumbling onto the floor, holding his phone away from her grabby hands as she straddles his hips. “What the fuck—” And while he could push her off of him with a ridiculous amount of ease, he stills, becoming suddenly aware of their precarious position.

“Gimme your phone!” Her voice comes out in a half-plea, half-demand. All panic.

Peter still holds it away from her, his own brand of panic flashing across his features when his other hand naturally falls at her hip. He yanks it away, instead holding her back by the shoulder. “Why?”

It’s also then that he sees what she’s wearing—or rather, what she isn’t wearing.

And in his distraction, Michelle snatches his phone, instinctively throwing it across the room. She winces apologetically when he looks up at her, jaw dropped and brow wrinkled.

“What the hell, MJ—”

“—I’m sorry! I panicked!”

“Why?!”

“I—”

It’s then, as they both stare at each other in shock, that they both realize the position they’re in—but neither of them seem to be able to move away, frozen solid on the living room floor.

Peter can feel his heart beating relentlessly in his ears, his throat suddenly going dry when he notices how tightly Michelle’s thighs are holding him in place. Another problem starts to arise when he sees how her cotton robe is pooled around their aligned hips, his eyes catching the sliver of shiny pink underwear when one side falls back. “What—” He clears his throat, his voice coming out uncharacteristically breathy. “—What was on my… my phone?”

“Uh—” She presses her lips together. “A picture.”

Peter’s gaze drifts lower for a split second, dipping to the exposed dip in her chest, drawn to the rise and fall with each breath. “Of?”

“Me?”

“You?”

MJ breathes out a laugh, glancing down. “I, uh—accidentally sent… You a picture. Well—I meant to send it to you, not that like, it wasn’t for you, but I kinda decided not to send it… and then… I did. Accidentally.”

And even though he’s trying everything in his power to keep his eyes on her face, he can’t help the way they seem to travel lower and lower with each second. He’s confused at first, but then, it hits him, like a train, what exactly that picture was. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The air crackles between them, static in their ears. Michelle finds her own gaze drifting lower, lingering on his parted lips, a warmth pooling in the pit of her stomach. She shifts slightly, her breath catching as she suddenly feels the hardness pressing into the inside of her thigh. Peter stares up at her, something in his eyes bringing her closer, inch by inch. The warmth and weight of both of his hands tentatively, slowly moving to her waist causes something to ignite within her, and in a split-second, her lips are on his.

Michelle’s surprised to find herself… well—surprised—at how this kiss doesn’t immediately turn into an all tongue-and-teeth, ripping-eachother’s-clothes-off kiss. It’s sweet. Slow and tender—as if the two of them are savoring it. Nothing like she’d expected Peter to be capable of. Nothing like how he’d painted himself to be from all of his hook-up stories.

And she’s not entirely sure who’s “fault” it is when it turns into more.

It could be the way she’s subtly grinding her hips against his, her body alight with the friction.

It could be how his tongue swipes over her bottom lip, innocently at first.

It could be her soft, breathy whines as one of his hands moves lower to cup her ass, pulling her closer, the new angle against his hardness bringing an indescribable feeling.

And then again, it could be her robe starting to fall off her shoulders—she’s not sure who starts that, but all of a sudden she’s feeling cool air on her skin.

She almost smiles into the kiss, thinking about how easily and quickly this “chaste” kiss had shifted.

And it’s immediately after that thought that she snaps out of it.

“Wait!” She says, pulling back and sitting up—but still staying in Peter’s lap. Before this can go any further, she has to tell him the truth. He has to be able to… back out of it.

Where this sudden sense of generosity’s come from, she has no idea.

He follows, sitting up with her, brows creasing, his expression a concoction of worry and panic. “Oh, fuck. I’m so sorry—”

“No!” She puts a hand on his shoulder after fixing her robe. Her thumb smooths over the fabric of his shirt. “No. It’s… fine. I just…” Surprisingly, she finds herself chuckling, unable to bite back her smile as he looks at her with concern.

“What is it, Em?”

It’s the nickname for her nickname that does it for her. Truly.

“You good?” He asks, wincing as she shifts in his lap again.

“Yeah, uh—” She coughs, trying unsuccessfully to hide the way her lips are twitching violently as she fights her smile. It takes her more than a few moments, the deep breaths she’s taking not doing all that much to help mask the humor in her tone. “—I know about No Nut November.”

At first, Peter’s confused, staring back at her with furrowed brows, his mouth in a cute little ‘o’. He tries to play dumb, maybe thinking that he can get away with one final attempt to save his pride—letting out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck, he shrugs. “Yeah, my new diet. Crazy, huh?”

She blinks, blankly staring at him. “Peter.” There’s some amusement there, especially as she pointedly glances down to their current position.

“What?” He asks dumbly.

“Ned told me.”

Peter curses, wincing. “Damn it, Ned.”

“Yeah…” In a strange, very unwelcome bout of insecurity, Michelle removes her hands from Peter’s shoulders, twiddling her fingers together in front of her. “I made him tell me… and I kinda… also made him let me in on the bet.”

His eyes nearly bug out of his head. “What?!”

“We kinda made our own bet that like… If you lasted less than a week, I would get all the money.”

“You didn’t think I’d last a week?” Peter almost takes offense at that, even if there’s merit to her prediction. “Damn, MJ…”

“I mean… I also wanted to win. So… I kinda tried—or I guess have been trying… to sabotage you?”

At that, his jaw drops. “No! Wait—You—What? I—” He stammers like that, his brain short-circuiting as she still watches from his lap. “That was—what? The porn? On my laptop?”

MJ nods, grimacing.

“The… underwear? Just in the couch?”

“Yeah…”

“And you were gonna…” He looks down at her, the cotton robe still just barely tied around her—the journey his eyes make also coinciding with his mouth going dry once again. “...That picture you took…?”

She nods again, looking down at her hands.

“Putting your head on my lap?!” He asks, as if he of all people is scandalized.

“That wasn’t part of the plan. That was kinda what helped me figure out that… I could just… do it myself.”

“Oh my God,” he puts a hand on his face. “The popsicle. The fucking popsicle.”

“That was probably my best work, honestly.”

“That was so cruel.”

And when he laughs, his eyes crinkling, she starts to see that maybe this will all be okay, and a sense of relief fills her chest. “Yeah, sorry. I also had Felicia help.”

“You put her up to that?!”

“Nah. She offered. I felt kinda weird about it—” She says the last part without realizing it, immediately shutting her mouth.

“That’s why I said no,” Peter replies.

It’s Michelle’s turn to be surprised. “What? Really? I thought it was just ‘cause you were so dedicated to this whole no nut thing.”

“I mean, yeah, I was but—” He laughs, reaching a hand up to smooth the curls at the base of his neck. “—I just… felt weird about it. With you guys being friends and all.”

The way MJ’s heart flutters is strange, but not entirely unwelcome. “Why would that be weird?”

“Why did you think it’d be weird?” He throws back, his lips twisting into a curious grin.

And not for the first time when talking to Peter, Michelle feels all knowledge of the English language leave her body. It’s strange, how much confidence she can have while literally dry-humping him on the living room floor, but how scared she can be trying to explain something about how she feels.

She only shrugs.

A beat passes, and still, Michelle can’t bring herself to move.

“So…” Peter draws out after another moment. “All that—” he clears his throat. “—stuff… that was just to win that bet?”

“Well, I mean—yeah?” The look of hurt on his face makes her heart lurch in her chest. She’s quick to correct herself. “But—I… I think maybe that could be a good thing.”

His brows raise in careful curiosity, though he still seems apprehensive. “A good thing?” He asks slowly.

Michelle nods, swallowing. “Uh—Yeah. ‘Cause… If I hadn’t then I wouldn’t have figured out that—um… I might—” It’s weird, how frustrating it is that she can’t seem to find the words she wants to say, that her brain seems to have completely abandoned her in her greatest, most dire time of need. And this shouldn’t be this hard. She’s an adult. She’s in her third year of college.

Confessing the feelings that you’ve just realized you have for your best friend since high school should be easy right?

Right?

And she’s only just figured this out. In the last five seconds. That all these years of weird feelings, long glances, warm faces has actually lead to something, they’ve actually meant something other than a weird stomach bug or whatever.

All it took was attempted sabotage during No Nut November for her to realize that.

The power it has.

“MJ?”

His voice grabs her attention; the caution in his tone snapping her gaze to his. And for a moment, she just looks at him, mouth hanging open as she tries to say something, anything. But still, she can’t.

So, she does the next best thing.

She kisses him—again—trying her best to put all of the words she can’t seem to figure out into it. And although he kisses her back—easily—he doesn’t seem to understand what she means, because he pulls away not ten seconds later.

“Listen—MJ—” Peter stammers, running a jittery hand through his hair as he breathes out a huff of laughter. “—I don’t think I can do—” He gestures between the two of them. “—This… if it’s just… casual.”

So, he really didn’t get it, and now, she’s feeling the impatience creeping up her neck.

“I really like you, MJ,” he confesses, and for a moment, she’s not sure if she heard him right, or if she heard him speak at all. Her brain must be playing some nasty, cold-hearted trick on her, because Peter—perpetually single and ready to mingle Peter—just said that he liked her.

God, she feels like she’s a teenager again. It feels so high school, the amount of butterflies in her stomach hearing him say that.

Even more so when she finds herself responding automatically, “I really like you, too.”

“Cool,” he says lamely, his breathless chuckle making her heart flutter in her chest.

He doesn’t waste another second before he tugs her back to him, capturing her lips to his, one of his hands moving to cup the underside of her jaw. She tilts her head, letting out a gentle sigh as he deepens the kiss. His tongue brushes against her lips before slipping into her mouth. The weight of his other hand on her waist is comforting in a way, heavy and solid as he holds her in place.

Truly, she hadn’t expected any of her plans from earlier in the week to come to this.

Instinctively, her hand snakes down to his hips, sliding underneath the hem of his t-shirt and dragging across his stomach, smiling into the kiss as his muscles twitch underneath her touch. It’s then, as her hand dips even lower, palming him over his sweats that he seems to snap out of whatever trance she put him in.

He grabs her wrist—gently, of course—pulling it away and breaking the kiss.

His chest is heaving with each breath, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in an apologetic smile. “I—I can’t—the… the bet.”

And it dawns on Michelle then, that she’s been cockblocked by No Nut November.

Even though she tries to appear understanding, he must be able to see the disappointment in the twist of her lips, the way she nods quietly.

“But—” He starts, pressing his mouth together into a thin line. He nudges her, pointing his finger as he’s hit with a revelation, talking slowly. “—You’re not… doing… No Nut November…”

MJ lets out a surprised laugh, shifting in his lap as her face warms even more. A beat passes as she stares at him, giving him a chance to take it back. “Are you sure?” She finally asks.

Peter nods quickly, insistently. He’s got this. Clearly. “Oh. Yeah. Definitely. I’ll be fine.”

Yeah, she’s not sure how much of that she actually believes.

Probably none of it.

But, that doesn’t mean she’s turning down the offer.

“Okay…” She trails off, unable to bite back her grin at the brief self-doubt that flashes across his features. “What do you—what do you wanna do?” She asks, her face burning, suddenly finding herself the slightest bit tongue tied. It takes everything in her to at least look calm and not like she’s about a half-second away from just jumping his bones.

Or, one in particular.

Peter clears his throat, the tips of his ears turning an adorable shade of red. “Uh—” He huffs out a laugh. “I mean… Whatever you’re comfortable with? I’m cool with whatever you want.”

He’s cool. Okay. Yeah.

She shifts her weight again, biting back a smirk when he inhales sharply as she brushes against the hardness in his gray sweats. “Sorry.” Feeling merciful, Michelle climbs off of his lap, sitting back against the couch, curling her legs underneath her. “Any ideas?”

Though, Peter can’t seem to tell if he’s happy with this new development or not—as hard as it was having her sitting on him. “Um—” And his expression tells her that he does have one. “I could…” He coughs again. “I could go down on you?”

It’s funny, how casually he says it, like he’s offering to give her a ride to the airport, or something. But it still makes her ears ring.

“Yeah,” she says, nodding slowly. She swallows. “That sounds—that sounds good.”

“We should probably—” He gestures to his bedroom door, huffing out a laugh. “—not do this out here.”

“Probably,” she snorts.

The speed at which he scrambles to stand and runs to his bedroom, compared to her somewhat-leisurely pace, makes her let out the most undignified laugh.

A silence falls between them as he shuts the door, the click echoing. MJ takes a moment to glance around his room—literally a single moment, because in the next he’s wrapping his arm around her waist, yanking her to him and crashing his lips to hers. His hands are greedy, twisting handfuls of the soft fabric of her robe, finding purchase on her ass and grinding her against his hardness.

MJ revels in the groan he lets out as she melts into him, her hands winding themselves in his soft curls, twisting and tugging ever so slightly.

He guides her to the bed, pausing to gently lay her back on the mattress before crawling over her, his mouth finding itself on the underside of her jaw, his lips and tongue dragging along the column of her throat. With one hand, he prises her legs apart, happily settling between them while his other fumbles with the tie of her robe.

His eyes meet hers first, silently asking for permission, before pulling the thick string back. His eyes darken as Michelle helps him slip the robe back, leaving her almost completely bare underneath him. He unconsciously wets his lips as his eyes hungrily rake over the expanse of her body—he feels as if the only accurate description for how he feels at this moment being a deer caught in really well-defined headlights.

She thinks for a moment that he’s just going to do this—stare at her—instead of, well, what he said he’d do.

But he doesn’t seem to have that kind of patience. He lurches forward, his mouth hot on her neck, trailing open-mouthed, wet kisses down to her collarbone, her sternum, the swell of her right breast.

She bites back a gasp as he takes her nipple into his mouth, her back arching off the bed as his tongue swirls around it, palming the other with his hand. It’s a sight to see for sure, Peter’s head on her chest, his curls tickling her skin.

His trail continues, back to the dip in her chest, lower and lower, his kisses hot on her stomach, down to her hips, the lace trim of her thong.

Peter sits back on his heels, breathless as he looks down at her. “Fuck—” He curses, drawn to the damp patch in the middle of the soft faux-satin, how it clings to her.

He doesn’t give it another second, hooking his thumbs around the lace and roughly pulling them off of her legs.

He’s diving his head down in the next instant, his lips leaving scorching kisses on the inside of her thighs. He thinks that he can maybe tease her, trying to slow his pace as he gets closer and closer to where she wants him to be.

(Okay, it’s where he wants to be, too.)

He pulls back a little, trying not to smile too much at the disappointed edge in her shuddering sigh. As much as his mouth waters with her so close to him, he controls himself. Kind of. To a degree. He takes a finger, experimentally teasing her entrance, his sweats—somehow—tightening at Michelle’s quiet gasp as he touches her. There, he collects her wetness, coating his finger in her arousal, swirling it over her cunt, around her clit. And he sits there, marveling at how impossibly wet she is already.

Though, it’s not long, probably less than a minute, before his impatience kicks in again.

He thinks he might actually die if he doesn’t eat her out.

Dramatic? Maybe.

Valid?

Who’s to say?

But he can’t help himself, and any thought about slowing down is thrown out the window as he licks a long stripe up her center, his eyes rolling back as he tastes her. He dives right back in, his tongue circling her entrance, lapping her up.

And Michelle can’t help but notice how at home he looks between her legs, how in his element he is as he moves to start sucking on her clit, flicking it back and forth with his tongue as he teases her with two fingers.

His eyes meet hers and she wonders how on earth she’s going to survive this, especially when those two fingers push into her, curling as he pumps them in and out.

“Shit—Peter!” She cries, her back fully lifting off the mattress as he picks up his pace, moaning against her.

Clearly he’s enjoying this, too.

A choked gasp slips from her lips when he slows suddenly, his eyes locking with hers again before picking back up even harder and faster than before. She reaches down, tangling her hand in his messy curls, holding him in just that right spot. Her thighs try to close on him, trapping him in as the coil in her tightens, but his free hand grips her, holding her in place. And she can’t fight the way her hips buck against him as she begins to grind herself against his face.

It builds and builds, teetering just on that beautiful edge, when Peter adds a third finger—and then, she’s seeing stars, her brain going fuzzy as all of her muscles tense, electricity shooting from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She comes with a strangled moan, panting as her body’s overcome with pleasure.

Peter’s movements slow, and he pulls off of her sensitive clit, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm, before taking each finger into his mouth, sucking them clean.

MJ sits up on her elbows, her chest heaving with each breath as she watches him—and at that moment, her eyes drawn to the hard line in his sweats, she curses No Nut November again, because honestly, she’s never wanted him to fuck her more, never been so angry at a single month.

He seems to be in the same fire, his expression wrought with the inner turmoil he feels. His eyes screw shut, and he pinches the bridge of his nose, trying desperately to ignore how painfully hard he is, how he can feel his dick pulsing already, and how stupidly hot and beautiful MJ is.

His decision’s made before he opens his eyes.

Michelle lets out a surprised yelp as he leaps on top of her, his mouth on hers before she can start laughing. Somehow, his hands are greedier as they explore her body, squeezing and kneading her breasts, her waist, her hips, down to her ass.

None of that’s to say that she’s complaining, though. Peter just ate her out like it was his full-time job, like he was stopping crime as Spider-Man. As far as she’s concerned, he can do whatever he wants right now.

It’s when he starts to take his sweats—and boxers—off that she gets confused, if not a little too hopeful.

“What about the bet?” She asks breathlessly when he pulls back.

He holds her gaze, his lips curving into a sly grin. “Fuck the bet.”

If there’s a god, Michelle wants to thank her right now.

Peter’s hands grip her thighs, his fingers digging into her skin as he wraps them around his waist. He takes his dick in his hand, pumping a few times, swiping it down her center, tapping her clit, before Michelle suddenly remembers to use their one collective brain cell.

“Wait—” she gasps. “Condom.”

Peter curses under his breath, hanging his head for a moment, biting his lip. “Yeah. Yeah. You’re right.”

If she thought he was fast running to the bedroom, watching him scramble through his bedside drawers looking for a rubber is something else. A giggle—a fucking giggle—bubbles up out of her at his relief when he finds one.

He rolls it on quickly, expertly, days of No Nut November clearly not slowing him down.

He’s back on her in the next second, eager as he gathers her arousal and coating himself with it.

They both let out a string of curses as he pushes into her—finally. Peter screws his eyes shut, taking a shuddering breath as he feels how warm and snug she is around him, almost unable to believe how well she fits him. MJ grips his shoulder, face burning as he gives her a moment to adjust, a moment to take all of him in.

When he starts to move, they both wonder again why they hadn’t been doing this in the first place.

As with everything else, Peter doesn’t waste their time. Even though he revels in how fucking amazing she feels around him, how he can’t even remember the last time this felt so good, so right, he picks up a steady pace, fucking into her like it’s the last chance he’ll get. He hikes her leg higher on his waist, the new, deeper angle causing Michelle to arch her back, a wet moan ripping through her.

“Peter—” She chants his name over and over, unable to say anything else as his hips snap into hers. “Fuck—”

“God, MJ, you’re so fucking good,” his voice is almost a growl, lower and more desperate than he’s ever sounded. “Taking me so well.”

Michelle should’ve guessed he was one for dirty talk, though she can’t say she’s surprised.

Or that she minds.

Peter bites back a groan, stilling momentarily as she clenches around him, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He’s already so close, teetering just on the edge, but he’s filled with a sense of determination at the sting of her nails digging into his shoulders.

His hand trails down her stomach, his thumb pressing her clit, scrubbing furiously as he pumps in and out of her. She squeezes him again, head thrown back, slack-jawed as he tilts her hips even further, the new angle causing a string of curses to spill from her lips. Her muscles spasm around him as she comes for a second time, her eyes screwed shut as she clings to him for dear life. His own orgasm crashes over him, and he moans loudly into her skin, holding her to him , fingers digging into her hips as he comes undone.

It’s something MJ can’t help but want to see again. And again.

He flops down on top of her, his head on her chest as he struggles to catch his breath.

Her hand comes to smooth down his curls at the nape of his neck, and she smiles as he shifts his head to look up at her.

“God, fuck No Nut November,” He breathes into her skin.

A light laugh bubbles up out of her.

He lets out a heavy sigh. “What day is it?” He asks.

“November fifth.”

He groans, squeezing his eyes shut. “Damn.” He pulls out of her, standing up to throw the condom away, almost missing the bin in the corner of the room.

“You made it longer than I thought you would,” Michelle laughs.

Peter flops down next to her, his eyes narrowed, though there’s still a smile on his face. “What?”

“Well, yeah. I bet Ned that you wouldn’t last a week,” she replies, patting him on the chest as she gets up, disappearing into the bathroom.

Peter’s eyes widen before he covers them with his hands. “Oh. Shit. Ned.”

He’s still there when she comes back; still naked, too.

“Ned, doesn’t have to know,” MJ says, falling back into the bed with him.

Peter peeks out from underneath his arm. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. We can like, pretend you’re still doing it.”

There’s a crooked grin on Peter’s face as he stares at her—a look that makes her insides gooey and heart fuzzy.

And she hates how much she doesn’t hate it.

“And when Betty inevitably breaks Ned,” she shrugs. “We can split the money.”

He shakes his head, amazed and somewhat scandalized. “MJ, you’re a genius.”

Again, she shrugs.

“So, we can keep doing—” He gestures between them, brows raised. “—And let Ned lose. The money’s ours.”

“Right.”

He lamely sticks his hand out, offering for her to shake on it.

“Deal?” He asks.

She kisses him. “Deal.”

#spideychelle #petermj #petermjane #peter parker x michelle jones #peter parker #michelle jones #thotumn #day 11 #no nut november #rated: e

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kaistarus · 5 years ago

Text

UA’s Freaky Friday

Pairings: Bakugou X Reader

Words: 3.4K

Summary: You and Bakugou switch bodies because of a quirk. Antics ensue and feelings make it awkward

Notes: This idea has been haunting me for months, so I just needed to get it out. I hope somebody enjoys it lol

Masterlist // Ko-fi

At first, when Bakugou made the offer for you to join him on his morning workouts you flat out denied him. It didn’t matter how much your heart fluttered when he walked into the room, you were not built to walk up before 7 am. However, after some coercion from Mina—endless lectures and threats of ending weekly movie nights—you found yourself agreeing to his awful proposal. Which was why you were now curled into a fetal position on uncomfortably dewy grass beside a track.

“Are you just going to fucking lay there all morning?” Bakugou asked, seated on the asphalt to stretch out his legs. “Get up and start stretching.”

You whined pathetically and rolled into a half-assed sitting position, laying on your leg and flimsily holding your foot, imagining yourself tucked into the warmth of your bed. You were definitely going to get back at Mina for convincing you this was worth alone time with Bakugou.

Bakugou started a lecture about the importance of building endurance and running or something you were trying to tune out when you heard what sounded like a kid crying nearby. You were the only two outside this early, and there shouldn’t be any children near the dorms.

“Do you hear that?”

Bakugou furrowed his brows, crossing his arms in irritation at being interrupted. “What?”

You spotted a young boy walking towards the end of the track and you stood quickly. “That.”

You weren’t sure if Bakugou was behind you, your focus was on the child wandering around UA’s school grounds—a place that’s impossible for anyone to enter besides staff and students. You leaned before the sniffling boy with a wide smile.

“Hello,” you said soothingly. “You look like your lost?”

The boy shrunk away, eyeing you cautiously before nodding his head.

“Well, this is an awfully strange place for you to end up.” You laughed and outstretched your hand. “How about we find someone who can help?”

The young boy, who appeared no older than six, sniffled once more before reaching to grab your hand.

“What the fuck is a brat like this doing in the middle of the schoolyard?”

The little boy’s eyes welled up and he pulled his hand away from you, once again curling up onto himself. You whipped around and glared daggers at Bakugou standing defiantly above you.

“You’re scaring him.”

“I didn’t do shit.” Bakugou rolled his eyes and you puffed your cheeks in frustration.

“I’m trying to get him inside,” you said through gritted teeth. “I was calming him down.”

�� “Well, you did a piss poor job. He’s fucking crying.”

“I was doing just fine until you came and—"

A bright light illuminated behind you and you spun to see the boy had begun to glow a neon orange. You put your hand out, but before you could try to calm the child you were surrounded by a strange static. A buzz coursed through you for several seconds before the weird sensation was lifted and the boy returned to normal. The momentary response without pain made you think it was just an uncontrollable reaction from a kid who didn’t have a grasp on their quirk yet, so you just smiled in relief.

That was, until you looked beside you to check on Bakugou and your jaw dropped.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“There has to be something you can do,” you paced around the infirmary, gripping the spiky ash-blonde locks that shouldn’t be on your head. Your now scarlet eyes flickered around the room as if an answer would come from the various medicinal materials lying about. “I can’t stay like this.”

“You can’t stay like this?” Bakugou shouted, his voice several pitches higher than normal, making you cringe. “You should be so fucking lucky to look like that. Look at me!”

You stomped the combat boot you now adorned offended as he gestured wildly towards himself. His new appearance was familiar in the worst way. It wasn’t what you were used to seeing on him, but features you’d memorized since a child, years of looking in mirrors.

“As if looks are my main concern. You’ll ruin my reputation,” You groaned, palming your eyes before pulling your hands back with a gag. “Why are my hands so gross?”

“’Cause your cutesy ass won’t ruin my reputation?” Bakugou growled, attempting a lackluster version of his usual sneer that was hardly intimidating with your softer features. “And it’s from my fucking quirk, dumb ass.”

“Well, I didn’t realize your quirk made you so gross.” You snorted, waving your obnoxiously sweaty hands in Bakugou’s face snootily. Bakugou opened his—your—mouth to yell, but you were interrupted by Aizawa clearing his throat.

“Well… sorry to interrupt, but I have both good and bad news.” Recovery Girl walked to her desk and hopped onto her chair. “It appears that there is nothing I can do to reverse the effects of the quirk; however, the quirk is rather weak considering it’s from a child. It should last no longer than 24 hours.”

“24 hours?” Bakugou shouted, mumbling strings of curses as he stomped around the room. You just stared blankly at an eye chart against the wall, unable to process the information as you watched Bakugou continue to throw a fit in your body. You were getting nauseous.

“Unfortunately, the child wandered off this morning. We were studying his quirk, but we weren’t aware of how early he’d wake up.” Aizawa rubbed the back of his neck. “The school takes full responsibility for the situation.”

“If you’re lucky, the earliest it could be done is the end of the day.” Recovery Girl smiled.

You narrowed your eyes at Aizawa. You had a sneaking suspicion that there was more to just the boy sneaking off, and it probably had something to do with the huge cup of coffee in his hands. The way Bakugou was glaring at him made you think he was on a similar thought process.

“Well, as unfortunate as this situation is there is nothing we can do.” Recovery Girl hopped off her stool easily ignoring Bakugou’s threats as she sauntered to the door with the assistance of her needle-like cane. “I suggest you both set some boundaries while you’re together.”

You felt your face begin to burn and your stomach drop as the situation began to sort itself out. A lot would happen in 24 hours. Bakugou was eyeing daggers through the door Recovery Girl and Aizawa exited, and you were just hoping for the sweet release of death.

“Okay,” you looked away when Bakugou turned to you. It was too freaky seeing yourself sneer at you. “Obviously there should be no unnecessary clothes changing. And if you have to go to the bathroom just hold it as long as possible.”

The room fell deafeningly silent and you glanced up to see if he had even heard you. He was turned toward the door, but you saw the tinted red ears. You were glad because it meant Bakugou heard you but frustrated because it meant people could easily notice when you were embarrassed.

“I think… we’ll be fine.” You mumbled, staring at his shoes that were fitted to you. “I trust you.”

He glanced back to you with wide eyes, but quickly turned away. “Same. Or whatever.”

You bit your—his—lip and nodded to yourself as he walked out of the room. This wouldn’t be terrible, you told yourself. It was just one day. All you had to do was survive it.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“No way!” Kaminari snickered, leaning into Bakugou’s face as he growled in your smaller body. Bakugou pushed Kaminari’s face away, and instead of it striking its usual fear with the help of explosions Kaminari just swatted the hand away and giggled. “This is so great!”

“Fuck you!” Bakugou shouted, raising his hand to strike again. A mist of light blue began to form around Bakugou’s hand and panic shot through you. You leaped over a desk and grabbed his smaller wrist, forcing it downwards. “What the hell, let go of me!”

“You were using my quirk!” You pointed out lifting the hand that was still glowing. He blinked a few times then furrowed his brow in concentration until it stopped.

“This is so weird.” Mina narrowed her eyes at you. “Is that really you in there?”

“Yep,” you chuckled, gesturing up and down at the gym uniform you couldn’t change out of. “In the gross and sweaty flesh.”

“I told you that’s my fucking quirk.” Bakugou growled while Kaminari and Kirishima burst into laughter. He tried to swing at them both, but Kirishima easily blocked the strikes.

“That doesn’t mean it’s not gross.” You shook your hands that were now literally dripping sweat. Bakugou picked one up with a grimace.

“They haven’t been like this since I was five.”

“Well, I haven’t had twelve years to learn how to not be sweaty.” You wiped your hands on Bakugou’s pants.

“Better not light those up.” Bakugou warned and you froze mid-action before holding your hands out as far as possible.

“What?” You said weakly as Aizawa walked into the room. “Your clothes explode?”

“My sweat explodes, idiot. And now it’s on my clothes, so watch where you set off my explosions.” Bakugou rolled his eyes.

“You don’t make your clothes, like, explosion-proof?”

“Oh sure, let me just walk down to the fucking explosive-sweat-proof clothing store for some quality apparel. I hope they have compression shorts.” You puffed up your cheeks in frustration and heard half the room choke. “Get that look off my face!”

“I can’t change how I make faces!” You threw your hands up. “I’m not going to scowl all day.”

Bakugou crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat annoyed. It’s not like you enjoyed seeing yourself look so pissed off, at this rate Bakugou was going to give you premature wrinkles after just one day. You leaned your forehead onto your desk as Aizawa started his first lecture.

This was the worst day ever.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

This was the best day ever.

“Say it again,” Kaminari said, leaning over the lunch table with pleading eyes. You smirked evilly.

“Kaminari, I think you’re a hilarious meme god and I respect you.” You said while placing a hand on Kaminari’s head. His eyes started to well up and he sniffled.

“I think I’m going to cry.” Kaminari clutched his chest at the spot over his heart and smacked his forehead against the lunch table. Bakugou went off with Midoriya somewhere after the bell rang, which gave you and Mina ample time for scheming. When Kaminari first asked you to give him a compliment it made you laugh, then you and Mina gave each other an evil look at the same time and five minutes later you were in business.

The current deal was $5 dollars per Bakugou statement. Mina was collecting the cash and all you had to do was speak a sentence or two. The best part, Bakugou was none the wiser. You two would make off with a shit ton of cash and spend it before he even knows what hit him. You two were true geniuses.

You made $20 off Kaminari alone.

“Don’t you think it’s a little… morally wrong to do this?” Kirishima asked as you collected $5 from Iida to say you respected him as a class rep.

“I mean, maybe, but it would be a crime to not use this opportunity at all, right?” You narrowed your eyes. “My best friend Kirishima whose hair I think is awesome as fuck.”

Kirishima’s eyes widened. “If he asks, I saw nothing.”

You saluted the boy in acknowledgment and was a little surprised when Todoroki walked up to your table, handing you a slip of paper on top of $5. You read it a couple times and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Todoroki you are my friend.”

Todoroki nodded with a straight face before walking back to his usual table without ever speaking a word. You and Mina gave each other confused looks but shrugged it off. Somebody tapped your shoulder and without looking back you stuck your hand out.

“You know the drill. $5, buddy.”

“Fucking what?”

You blinked at the sound of your voice and slowly turned around. Apparently, Bakugou had gotten pretty good at sneers throughout the day because you were almost too impressed to be nervous. Almost.

“Hey, there.” You chuckled awkwardly. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Making serious bank.” Mina started fanning out the obnoxious amount of cash you’d collected so far.

“I was planning on giving you half.” You lied while Mina gasped beside you. You tried signaling her to shush in hopes she wouldn’t blow the cover, but Bakugou seemingly didn’t care either way.

“You’re dead.”

“On the contrary, I’ve never felt more alive.” You winked. Uraraka skipped up to the table completely ignoring Bakugou staring her down, and she gave Mina $5 and you a slip of paper. You read it several times, glancing between Bakugou and Uraraka’s mischievous smile as she stared directly at him.

“I am a big bitch baby. The biggest little whiny bitch baby. I could never beat Uraraka in a fight cause I’m just that much of a big… stupid… bitch…” You looked up at Bakugou who was absolutely fuming. “…baby.”

Uraraka was flipping Bakugou off and he lunged at her before she ran away giggling. They started a chase around the cafeteria, and you watched amazed at how fast you could apparently run. After that, you and Mina decided it was, unfortunately, time to shut down the business. Lunch was almost over anyway.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

You tapped your foot on the ceramic floor of the locker room and sighed dramatically. You were trying to be a decent human being and get Bakugou’s things from his locker, but the asshole wasn’t texting you back his combination. He also had school shoes in there, and if this did continue until tomorrow you both needed those.

You were typing out another dramatic text when someone came barreling into the locker area.

“Bakugou! You’re still here.”

You’re tilted your head at Tetsutetsu leaning against the lockers out of breath. Since when were these two friends?

“Well, I’m actually not—”

“Look, Kirishima let it slip that you have a crush on (Y/N), so I just wanted to check if that was true.” Tetsutetsu was standing defensively as if expecting an attack at any moment, but you were frozen. Your jaw had gone slack, and your phone that started to vibrate slid out of your hands.

“What?”

“Before you kill him it was completely my fault, so you can fight me later.” Tetsutetsu continued. “I was planning on asking her out this weekend, but if you like her, I don’t stand a chance since I think she’s kind of into you.”

Your eyes widened and you felt a weird tickling sensation on your palms. You glanced down and realized that they were beginning to spark, so you held them out at an awkward distance. “I—I don’t know.”

“So, it’s fine that I ask her out?”

“What? No.” You shook your hands trying to snuff out the explosions. Tetsutetsu raised an eyebrow at you. “I just—go away. I’ll do… something. Don’t ask her out.”

“Okay…” Tetsutetsu’s shoulders sunk. If it wasn’t for the fact that your hands were literal bombs, you’d feel more guilty about whatever had just happened. When the sparks died down you picked your phone back up and saw the three grumpy texts from Bakugou and several missed calls from Kirishima. You ran a sweaty hand through spiked hair.

Tetsutetsu had a crush on you? Except Kirishima told him Bakugou had a crush on you? And he thought you had a crush on Bakugou? Well, you kind of did… so that wasn’t new information, but the rest of it? You took a deep breath and left for the dorms.

Could Bakugou really have a crush on you? Sure, Mina and the others always made jokes about him looking at you during class or treating you differently than the rest of them. You guys bicker a lot, but you know it’s playful and you’re usually laughing at the end of it. He offers to train with you when you don’t need it or walk you into town when there’s no reasonable threat. If you were being honest, it wasn’t an unreasonable idea.

You just never wanted to get your hopes up.

Without realizing it you had arrived at the building and were mindlessly standing outside the entrance.

“What are you doing?”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

You looked over your shoulder to see yourself slouching with hands deep in your pockets. It was so bizarre to see someone identical to you, but with mannerisms so unlike yourself. It made you dizzy. Or maybe it was all the life processing you’ve been doing in the last few minutes.

“I don’t know.”

He raised a brow. “Did you grab my stuff?”

You looked down at your empty hands realizing that after making a big deal over the combination you didn’t even use it. You glanced back up at him. It was probably because he adorned the face you were so used to giving you pep talks in the mirror that instead of an apology your mouth leaked out.

“Do you like me?”

His shoulders shot to his ears. “What the fuck?”

You chewed your lip and dug the toe of his boot into the concrete. “Apparently, Kirishima let it slip that you have a crush on me…” You figured the least you could do was cut Tetsutetsu some slack since you basically shut him down without him realizing it. Bakugou would go easy on Kirishima, but he’d destroy Tetsutetsu.

“Fucking Shitty Hair….” Bakugou growled, clenching his fists and scowling at the overcast sky. You glanced upwards, finding nothing of importance. “I… maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Yes. Okay? Fuck, this isn’t—” He threw his hands up and stomped in a small circle. “This is fucking weird. You’re supposed to be you and I’m supposed to be me. This isn’t what I wanted.”

You bit your cheek, trying to hold back laughter. “Honestly, I kind of figured this might turn you on.”

“Fuck off.” He stated, but you saw the smile creeping onto his face.

“I like you too,” you muttered, barely above a whisper. “The me you. Not you me.”

Bakugou sighed exasperated and palmed at his—your—eyes. You stared at him with a fond smile. “Stop looking at me like that.” He scowled, pointing a finger accusingly.

“I can’t I’m happy.” You said, cupping your cheeks with sweaty hands.

“Well, stop being happy as me.”

“But you’re happy too!” You sing-songed leaning over to poke his cheek. He swatted your hand away and pouted.

“No, I’m fucking not…” He rolled his eyes, but the soft smile proved otherwise. “We’re doing this over. When things go back to normal.”

“A redo?”

He nodded his head. He scolded you for skipping after him into the dorm building, and again for humming happy tunes during dinner. You couldn’t help it though. You were excited. It wasn’t until you were both going your separate ways for the night that you felt the tingle spread throughout you again. When you looked down to see your own body, your dry hands you could touch things with, and your own voice that, although a bit scratchy from Bakugou’s yelling, was familiar and comforting. You’ve never been happier to be you.

Bakugou was quick to appear in your hallway to check that you made it back okay and your heart skyrocketed at seeing him across from you. Before he could get a word out you flung your arms around him in a celebratory hug, unable to contain your excitement and giggles. In that moment, you weren’t sure things could get any better. Until you pulled back and Bakugou was leaning down to press his lips against yours did you realize just how much greater things could become.

“That’s more how I pictured it.” He said, leaning back with a smirk.

“That… that was nice.” You nodded, a smile spreading across your face. He snorted at your response and pulled you closer.

You couldn’t say you were grateful for the experience you had to go through today, but without it, you wouldn’t be kissing Bakugou goodnight now. So, maybe you’d have to figure out who that little boy was and thank him. The risk had definitely been worth the reward.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha #bnha imagines #boku no hero academia #this has been haunting me #i haven't been able to focus #so now it exists and i dont know how i feel #yet here we are #lol

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magioftheseas · 4 years ago

Note

Lotus-eater machine with World Destroyer x Nagito for your bingo meme? I think this prompt really fits them.

SORRY FOR THE WAIT, ANON, OH MY GOD.

Anyway, for the @badthingshappenbingo whoaaaaa and cross-posted to Ao3 here. It’s still pretty short tho. Sorry.

Warnings: Mentioned instances of violence. But it’s pretty mild for a danganronpa fic, even based on the sdr2.5 ova.

For as long as his life had been bright and dazzling, there’s always been a shadow looming over his shoulder. A blight always threatening to eclipse the sunshine, and something that he had to continually ignore to the best of his abilities. He doesn’t know when, exactly or why—but it’s just something he has learned to live with.

“That is a deception,” the shadow murmurs to him, gripping his shoulders. “You truly are so troublesome.”

The shadow was an annoyance. But, it’s fine. No matter what the shadow says, the world remained bright and sparkling as it was supposed to.

As it had to.

“Komaeda!” Souda is waving at him frantically, with a grin splitting his face wide open.

(Not like how when the shadow had ripped his jaw clean off just the other day—)

“We’re going to the arcade!” Souda announces, then, upbeat as ever. Beaming like he should. “You, me, Kuzuryuu! We haven’t had the chance to hang out in way too long!”

“Idiot,” Kuzuryuu griped. “We see each other in class all the damn time.”

“That’s different!” Souda harrumphed before smirking. “Besides, you spend all of classtime making googly eyes at your girlfriend.”

“Wha—?!” Kuzuryuu’s face lit up, red and furious. “How many fucking times do I gotta tell you that it’s not like that?! Peko’s just a childhood friend of mine! Not... Not...” He trailed off into a flustered sputter. “N-Not my girlfriend...”

“How are things going with Sonia-san again?” Komaeda asks cheerfully, and Souda gets even brighter.

“She’s beautiful as always! You’d make Pekoyama a happy girl, too, if you weren’t such a coward, Kuzuryuu...”

“What was that?!” Kuzuryuu snapped heatedly. “You want to say that to my fucking face?!”

“Hey, come on, don’t get that serious, haha! I’m joking! We both know she’s already pretty happy!”

“O...Obviously... Idiot... What the hell ever, let’s just go.”

Komaeda giggled at them. Isn’t it nice? Isn’t this nice?

“Komaeda, what about you?” Souda wonders then. “Are you happy?”

“Of course!” He doesn’t hesitate. “Why wouldn’t I be? Oh, please don’t tell me it’s because I don’t have a girlfriend...”

“Please don’t tell him that,” Kuzuryuu deadpanned. “You know how he is.”

This time, Souda gets rattled, pinker than his hair.

“I-I wouldn’t! I get it, I do! I really, really, really—”

The shadow twists his head off, but it only lasts for a second.

“I do! I do get it!”

Kuzuryuu grunted, but he gave Komaeda the kind of supportive, considerate glance that he was so prone to. It made him happy, it really, truly did. Souda trying so hard also made him happy.

See, this world was perfect. Ideal. Even when people were confused or insecure, others were willing to support them and help them understand. And people always tried to do better, with little in the way to stop them. Determination and good intentions ran everything. Nothing more, nothing less.

People liked and accepted him, even if he wasn’t significant in the cosmic sense. And his own existence helped others. Wasn’t that wonderful? It really was wonderful, especially when at the arcade, him almost getting knocked out lead to Souda getting one of the best prizes.

Souda was cheering, Kuzuryuu helped him up graciously, and the shadow—the shadow’s stare bore into him, piercing under the drones of arcade machines and little pew, pew, pews from the several rounds of Galaga being played.

“See,” he says, holding a bag of ice to his head. “This world is perfect. I don’t need your interference.”

To make up for his injury, Souda bought him strawberry bubble tea. It’s pretty obnoxiously sweet, but it’s the thought that counts and he likes strawberry. It’s just fine. Kuzuryuu and Souda are bantering good-naturedly even as Komaeda stares down the shadow.

“It’s fine,” he insists. “Everything is fine. Not only is everyone getting what they need, I’m able to get them what they want. And nothing stands in our way.”

“Hmph.”

The shadow takes his drink, pinching at the straw as he sips from it. It’s such a ridiculous image that Komaeda wants to break into hysterical laughter, but he stops, stops, stops.

Across the street, there’s a happy couple sharing ice cream. It’s such a nostalgic image, one that makes him think of—of something. Something he can’t quite grasp. Under the eternally summer sun, where waves lapped along an endless beach. Wasn’t Mioda there playing a song? Weren’t his classmates playing in the water? All except for—

Komaeda blinked. Everything froze.

“Everyone gets what they need and you get them what they want,” the shadow drones. “But what about you? Isn’t there someone you want that this world won’t give you?”

Kuzuryuu and Souda have been scribbled out crudely. Even as Komaeda frantically tries to remake them, the images just get more and more muddled until they, too, become shadows. Shadow upon shadow upon shadow, staring him down with piercing red eyes. All with that same image.

“Komaeda,” one of the shadows says, then, but without a gaze at all. “What are you doing sitting by yourself? Don’t you get lonely?”

“I... I-It’s fine! It’s absolutely fine!” he exclaims quickly, forcing out a laugh. “Just seeing everyone else happy is enough for me. I don’t... I don’t need to ruin that happiness for them just to brazenly indulge. It’s enough...”

Everyone is carefree. There’s no need for wishes, for desires, for hope. Everything comes naturally, because people are so wonderfully capable. He doesn’t—

Then shadow before him shifts. In several forms. One he only passed by and only spared a glance. One that so brilliantly shot him down. The one that had been haunting him for so long, tearing everything else around him asunder. All in that same dark suit, until finally, they don something simpler. Warmer. A plain uniform consisting of a white shirt, a green tie, and dark pants. Komaeda’s stare bores into the heart-shaped pin on the breast pocket before going up and—

Ah.

The shadow smiles at him. Touches his cheek. It’s such a warm smile, contrasted against that amusingly prickly appearance. He’s always known that this person was so kind, so wonderful... How they press their forehead to his, humming softly.

How they disappear in an instance when Komaeda tries to cup one of their hands with his own.

“Komaeda?”

He blinks several times, coming to. Souda and Kuzuryuu are staring at him. They’re immediately worried. To be cared for like this is almost too much for his heart to take.

“Is everything alright?”

The shadow stares up at him, cold and knowing. Another shadow wraps its arms around his waist, holding him tight in ways he never dared to dream.

“Everything’s alright,” he lies, and his expression doesn’t even change when with a flick of the shadow’s wrist, both Souda and Kuzuryuu are slumped over and dead, blood pooling around their skulls. What a mess.

The shadow holding him squeezes him. Whispers his name, “Komaeda.” Pleads with him, “Wake up.”

Komaeda shuts his eyes, rebuilding the world once more.

#Magi fics #anonymous #Magi answers #bad things bingo #KomaHina

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heyitsyn · 4 years ago

Text

Manager!Seijoh IWA ROUTE

a/n: uwuwuwuwuwu my mans iwa chan :’)

IM A SIMP FOR IWAIZUMI HAJIME (27) ATHLETE TRAINER

uwu filo!iwa in this :)

and also, listen to lauv while reading this since i wrote this and that song was playing on repeat O_O and also this song

this is my self-request uwu

HES SUCH A POUTY BABIE BLS LOVE ON HIM

onwards we goooo

hihihihihihi yey im so excited for this yall dont even know

ANYWAYS

so,,,,

when iwa first saw you, he thought you were just a cute little thing

your shorter height, your puffy cheeks, and the wide eyes you had whenever you saw someone, or him, do a really cool spiking move

he initially thought of you as a cute little sister hes never had

ehehe that finna change

then the,,,, bullying thing happened

if youd like to read this part, its right here

when he saw you bloodied, all battered,

dear lordie he was finna break some ankles

ONG I WAS JUST TALKING ABOUT SANGWOO YET HERE I AM

like that image of you will probably stay in his memory until he dies of the ripe age of 200

ngl it kinda traumatized him a little bit of how tired and pained you look with the tears rolling down your face and the blood that was escaping your body through your wounds

god you didnt deserve any of that

you deserved the world and the universe yet some people dared to take away your worth

ooo he was so mad

miyo was,,,, hurt??

can i say that??

i dont wanna,,,, explain bara arms iwa hurting a girl so youre gonna have to imagine that for yourselves

but at the end when they said slap, he didnt just ✨S L A P ✨ her

he ✨ B R O K E S O M E A N K L E S ✨

oiks is actually scared of him after that

like oiks had to peel him off of her and towards the infirmary where you and the team were

‘IWAIZUMI HAJIME, STOP!’

oof the first and last time oikawa tooru ever said that full name

he was breathing heavy and he was so ✨ A N G R Y ✨ with what she did to you yet he hears your soft scoldings, telling him off for hurting a girl

he wanted to see you

like right now

iwa tore himself from oikawa’s grasp and ✨ N Y O O M E D ✨ himself to the nurse’s office

there, you sat on the bed with the others scattered either on other beds or on the floor

you smiled at the sight of him and he walked towards you and engulfed you in his arms

‘youre okay now. im here’

he whispered and you buried your face into his chest, breathing in his unique scent

lavender mixed with peppermint

he refused to leave your side so he ✨ M A D E ✨ some room on the bed beside you to sit and he wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you close

you held his hand while oikawa talked to you and as you shamefully bowed your head

but you were forgiven and everything was all good until the third years really got into plan

makki and mattsun promised to handle it all as they had family in the justice field while oikawa would go and get the girl suspended

‘but what about me?! i want-’

‘iwaizumi, you literally hit her. it’d be best if you’re not involved right now as you were the only one who physically touched her in a harmful manner like that’

ong when it come to y/n, the meme team is replaced by the assassin team

he tried to fight but in the end, 3 overpowered 1 and he was forced to sit back and opted to comfort you instead

he made sure you were safe to walk home but that day, you were the one who asked him to spend time with him

just you two

like after seeing him seethingly enter back into the room, you reached out and held his hand in yours, eyes trained on your fingers fiddling with his

‘iwa-san,,,, you said you downloaded the new godzilla movie?’

you whispered but he could still hear you and his heart swelled at your meek voice

‘yea, i did. and my mom bought those chips you like’

your eyes flitted up to meet his eyes and a soft smile spread on your lips and there was this thumping in his heart

maybe that was the first time that iwaizumi hajime felt differently towards you

a smile that seemed to be differently perceived than the rest

and it wasnt for the whole team

it was for him

and him alone

the trek to his house was quiet but you would hum nursery rhymes or the songs you heard earlier in the radio while skipping every few steps and tightly holding on to his hand

iwaizumi’s olive eyes watched you still radiate energy despite being so hurt for a long time

they then trailed to your linked hands and he unintentionally squeezed it, only figuring out he did it when you looked up to him and squeezed it back with a smile

he wanted to do something to make you forget of what happened

he didnt want you to think about the cruelty and pain so he was going to make sure you would continue smiling

thankfully, his parents werent home so he wouldnt have to explain why he has a bandage-covered girl with him

iwa led you upstairs to where his room was and your eyes widened when you saw what was inside

tiny action figurines of animes like bakugo from boku no hero academia or a tiny pikachu on his desk

there was a large country flag that you didnt recognize and a few godzilla posters and volleyball players decorating beside it

however, besides those normal things you wouldve expected,

there were many polaroids

polaroid pictures that were everywhere with no specific layout pattern and just placed anywhere that had room

iwa watched as you dazedly walked forward and entered the room to move towards the wall by his desk that had the most pictures against it

from pictures of him and oikawa to the third years to him and his parents or just the sunrise and human silhouettes

your fingers reached forward and traced the picture of him and the third years when they were still first years and took a spontaneous trip to the beach

‘mattsun stole his dad’s car and drove us to the beach without a license’

iwaizumi’s voice answered your questions and you looked back, shimmering eyes

this room,,, wasnt just a normal, teenage boy’s room

this was a room that represented iwaizumi hajime

from his natural character description like his love for volleyball evident in the volleyball player posters to the underneath description that was hidden like his love for godzilla and his love of taking pictures of the people he cares about the most

it was all that made up iwaizumi hajime

your feet took you to stand in front of him, still standing at the doorway, and you stood on your toes to try and be eye-level with him

‘youre really cool, iwa-san’

you whispered and his ears turned red, not from the compliment, but by the close distance between you two

iwa clearedhis throat and ruffled your hair roughly, pushing you down slightly back to the balls of your feet

‘i already knew that, brat. now go and sit over there and be comfortable or whatever while i go get the food’

he hurriedly turned to hide his growing red face but you stopped him

‘iwa-san,,, ano,,, can,, i borrow a hoodie?’

you mumbled, nervously thinking he might refuse

but he grunted a response, not bothering to turn around

‘take your pick’

you smiled and thanked him before bounding over to the wardrobe that was pushed against the wall across his bed that was against the corner by his window

inside had so many hoodies and there were also shirts that were hung up on the other half

they were all graphic tees that either had american bands or anime or game references

opting for a mint green hoodie that says ‘SONIC NYOOM’, you had an undershirt under your button up and as you slipped the bloodied long sleeve off, he swung the door open, eyes focused on the tray of coke filled glasses

then he looked up and almost dropped it at the sight of you,,, like that

‘OH MY GOD SORRY’

he shrieked and carefully but hurriedly backtracked back to the hallway

ofc you were shocked too but you quickly put the hoodie on and went to get him

iwaizumi’s heart was hammering in his chest and he was VERY red with embarrassment

how could he see you like that?!

a girl who wasnt his shouldnt be seen like that by his eyes!

a touch on his arm reminded him of his position and he was still holding the tray but it was clear from the liquid in the cups that he was shaking slightly

‘iwa-san, its okay. i still had a shirt on so dont misunderstand’

you reasoned and he nodded, still not looking at you

the beginning of the movie was quite awkward as you both were sitting next to each other on the floor, backs against his mattress while the laptop played godzilla in front of yall

but it seems it was just him who was feeling this way bc you were intrigued at this weird monster that was squshing building under its foot and you continued munching on the food

iwa stood up and coughed

‘im going to take a shower’

you paused it and stared up at him, a chip halfway in your mouth

‘oh? you want me to wait for you?’

he agressively shook his head

‘no! its okay i watched it already. just,,,, watch it’

at the end, his words came out jumbled in his hurry to go and calm his heart down

you shrugged and unpaused the movie to continue watching

iwa spent his time in the shower, thinking and trying to think of stupid thoughts like the time oikawa almost choked on a peanut when they were in middle school to distract him of thoughts of how adorable you were

ONG HE WAS JUST SHOWERING AND INNOCENTLY DOING SHOWER THINGS

‘no, i said she was like a sister to me. and a sister she’ll remain’

okay ngl even though theyre not related, im worried yall would be like ‘iNcESt’ but bls a lot of people have tried to sibling-zoned people yet realized they liked them in THAT way

as he wrapped himself with a towel, he then realized

oh my god he didnt bring clothes

LMAO NOOOO IWAAAAA

iwa frantically looked around and he saw his mother’s sakura themed robe and he paused, arguing silently with him if he should wear it

well, it was either that or he went back into the room and showed you,,,,,, this

sucking in a sharp breath, he kept the towel around his waist and slipped his arms through the tight arm holes and he awkwardly tried to keep it tied since he was so much bigger than his tiny mom

what is happening

you saw the door opening and excitedly turned to tell him about this one scene when your voice died down in your throat at the sight of him

here was iwaizumi hajime, ultra muscle buff man who gets abs with a simple glance of the gym, wearing an all too-tight pink, cherry blossom print robe that was so tight the tie around it was shaking to keep it together

‘dont’

he whispered and that snapped your remaining surprise to double over in laughter

‘its so cute! iwa-san, youre so cute!’

you shrieked and he growled and hurriedly went to to grab grey sweatpants and a shirt before running straight back to the bathroom

when he finally came back out, his face was still red and he was pouting as he sat next to you back to his seat

he could feel you staring at him while looking constipated as you held your laugh in and the second your eyes met, your giggles fell out

iwa rolled his eyes

‘yes yes let it out’

‘hehe, iwa-san, i didnt know you had that style’

‘it isnt! i didnt want to walk in here practically naked with you in the room!’

he growled and you nodded, still not quite believing it

‘hai hai. just say you like pink, i wont tell’

you waved and iwa felt offended

‘what do you mean ‘hai hai’?! its really not!’

your lips pursed to keep more giggles in and iwa growled again before lunging to grab your sides and tickling you

of course being careful to not touch your wounds

you shrieked at the ticklish feeling and iwa laughed as you made weak attempts to push him off

‘huh? what was that? whatd you say? cant talk anymore, can ya?’

he teased

‘NO!!!! IWA-SAAAAN!!!!!’

you shouted in between your laughter and he finally let up when you squealed out your apologies and promised to never say it again

you breathed air into your lungs and sat back up to recollect yourselves

iwa saw the strands that escaped your bun and they were scattered everywhere looking messy with your flushed cheeks and teary eyes

oh my god you were beautiful

he was so happy that you still kept that smile despite what happened and he was going to fight to keep it there

forever

it was about nearly the end when you finally realized how different iwaizumi’s hair looked

‘oi, iwa-san, your hair is not naturally spiky?’

he continued eating the chips while still watching the movie

‘what would you expect? even shittykawa’s hair is like this. did ya know that he wakes up extra early to curl it into that shitty mess?’

your jaw dropped

‘EEEHHHH???!!!!!!!’

later, you asked him how he does his hair for school and he blindly reached for the gel that was resting on his desk before tossing it to you

‘here’

you looked at it and flickered over to his hair and then you had the greatest realization

‘GODZILLA-SAMA!’

you pointed and he stopped eating, turning to give you a confused look

‘ha?’

you shrieked in an another round of laughter

‘IWA-SAN LIKES GODZILLA-SAMA SO MUCH HE DOES HIS HAIR AFTER HIM!!!!’

you doubled over to the floor, clutching your stomach and iwaizumi’s flustered expression made you laugh harder

he knew you were smart but,,, not this smart

you figured out his secret

the secret he’s hidden since he was practically a toddler

even his best friend, the guy hes known since he was born, never made the connection

yet here you are, figuring it out not even a year of knowing him

was this part of the many reasons he,, felt his heart beat for you?

oikawa was relieved that you had the bright twinkle in your eyes the next time he saw you and you were actively talking to iwaizumi in that early morning practice

‘oh? y/n-chan, is iwa-chan your best friend now?’

he tried not to sound jealous for his own best friend’s closeness to you and he added a teasing smile for extra measure

okay that hurted me a bit

iwaizumi snarled and blasted the volleyball towards his face before he could even yell or shout

‘iwa-san, dont do that’

you chided softly, small hands wrapping around his muscly arm

but iwa patted your head

‘deserving people deserve things to happen to them’

you rolled your eyes but smiled at him

‘hai hai’

the next week, iwa still kept a close eye on you in case someone else decided to mess with you

but you told him that you swear youd tell him if someone did and he trusts you so he backed off a little

one day, he was eating lunch with the other third years in their classroom when you busted through the door, excitedly holding your phone

‘iwa-san! i figured out what country your flag was!’

he was halfway of shoving rice in his mouth when iwa looked at you

‘oh? you couldve just asked me though?’

you pouted and went to pull a chair from another desk to sit beside him

‘nooo. i wanted to work for that information. so you’re from the philippines, iwa-san?’

he nodded proudly

‘yep’

your eyes shone with interest

‘really?! you look japanese so it must be one of your parents. hey, iwa-san, which island are you from? i read about them and they have like 7641 islands-’

the others watched as you read through the article in your phone and iwa wasnt even following your words, instead staring at you with a dazed look and a lovesick smile

mattsun, makki, and oikawa exchanged looks of surprise because in all the years theyve known him especially oikawa, iwa was never interested in girls and such

he was a straight forward man with goals and straight sight to get them done with no distractions like relationships or love

yet here he was

slowly falling in love with you without even knowing he is

he continued to fall with the simplest things about you

from the perfume that you wore everyday to the way you would tuck your hair behind your ear when you were talking to someone

little quirks he used to miss was now being noticed even if you were right behind him and not in his line of vision

now, the boys were starting to see the difference of their precious ace

it was as if when he started to like you, they knew immediately by how he was acting

then one day during practice, you were late and they were all looking around for you and when they couldnt find you, they met back in the gym with nervous looks

iwa was already pacing around, a scary aura radiating off of him, and kindaichi, who went with him to look around the school, warned the others of iwaizumi’s worry

‘he was slamming doors open and he was walking so fast i had to run to even keep up with him’

then you busted through the gym door

you were actually picking up food for the team and sweets and you were held up when makki’s puffs were still being cooked

they rallied around you to make sure you werent hurt and you assured them but iwa pulled them away like picked them up and threw them off to the side and took you in his arms

iwa thought you were hurt and he was so worried something happened to you again

the hug was bone-crushing with how hard he was squeezing you but you felt his worry though and you freed your arms to wrap them around his neck

‘im okay, iwa-san’

you whispered in his ear and he nodded

‘let me hold you for a second’

he mumbled and you nodded

‘oi, theres food in the bags so make sure you eat it all. coach paid for it all so dont leave behind anything’

the mention of the food distracted them from you and iwa and they piled on top of each other to reach their food first

iwa was grateful that you distracted the others from seeing him being vulnerable towards you

‘i thought-’

‘shh,,, you have me right here, right now. safe and sound’

you knew how much seeing you all battered messed him up and his attempt of making you forget about it has been

and his worry of you being gone without no sign of where you went will forever be there and he will always have that thought in the back ofhis mind

the next time you came over, you actually met his parents

since you went home early before, you didnt catch his parents when they came home around 10 minutes after you left

but this time, they were already home with his mom cooking dinner while his father was sitting on the dining chair reading a newspaper

iwa walked through the door, shouting he was home, and you did the same thing to be customary

oof his parents were surprised

his mom turned around to share a look of surprise with her husband

sure they havent seen tooru in a while but they were pretty sure his voice wasnt that high pitched

right?

‘hajime, did you hit tooru so much you ruined his-’

then his mother stopped talking at the sight of you holding iwa’s hand tightly when yall stepped around the corner

you sheepishly smiled at them and bowed your head in greeting

oh my

so this was why iwaizumi hajime-san was really really really handsome

his parents were freaking good looking

like his mother was aphrodite with her flawless melanin skin and doe shaped eyes with a mole under her left eye

and his father was like ares, so handsome yet still manly and his appearance was a special type of good-looking with his buffness and ruffed appearance

‘iwa-san, i didnt know your parents were gods’

you mumbled, still staring at them

iwaizumi choked and coughed, flustered

‘oh my!’

his mother placed a hand over her mouth

‘hello’

his father stood up to walk in front of you and held his hand out

‘i’m hajime’s father’

you let go of hajime’s hand to shake his own with both of your hands

‘really nice to meet you! i’m l/n y/n! seijoh volleyball manager! first year!’

you introduced then stepped aside to fully bow 90 degrees

iwaizumi thought it was so cute of how flustered you were at meeting his parents

‘ay nako! nak, i didnt know you had such a beautiful girlfriend!’

she squealed and hurriedly went to stand in front of you and gently grasped your arms to stand you back straight and took a good look at you

‘youre so beautiful, iha. nice skin, pretty eyes, ang ganda!’

even with your research of tagalog, you didnt quite understand what she was saying

iwa noticed your slightly confused expression and he laughed, tucking his hands in his pockets

‘sorry, my nay speaks in taganese when she gets excited’

‘t-taganese?’

‘tagalog and japanese’

you nodded in understanding

it was time to put your basic reserach to test

‘hello po’

you greeted her and nervously took her hand and pressed the back of it to your forehead before slowly lowering it down and letting go

her wide eyes made you think you did something bad or even offensive!

‘i-i’

‘HAY NAKO, HAJIMEE~!’

she shrieked

‘YUNG-!!! YUNG-!!!’

okay im terrified

iwa noticed his mother’s malfunction and gently wrapped his arm around her shoulder and veered her back to her kitchen

‘sorry about her, l/n-chan. its just,,,, hajime hasnt brought home a girl before. and you doing that mustve done it in for her’

you worriedly watched hajime calm his mom down with a smile and talking to her hushed

in their perspective,,,

‘shes so nice, nak! marry her, okay? shes very pretty and she made an effort to please your nanay, so go and marry her!’

ohmylord im nervous

initially, iwa only wanted to go and hang out with you and watch a movie

not have a full dinner with his family

lmao i shouldve told you that youve been friends for months now

his mother cooked sinigang and adobo and more filipino dishes, adding even more when she saw you were joining them

the dining table was covered with a large plate full of food and you were so fascinated because this was a side of iwa that you wanted to know more about

‘wow!’

you said, not thinking, at the deep-fried fish that still had its eyeballs intact

iwa genuinely thought you would’ve shyed away from it in disgust but your eyes were glistening with genuine interest

‘iwa-san! youre so lucky you get to eat this stuff!’

you told him, looking over at his direction

while mrs iwaizumi was lading in the soup into the big bowl, mr iwaizumi was sitting at the dining table, watching your interaction and hajime telling you what each food was and your noises of surprise

he watched his son laugh when you said the palabok reminded you of the orange boy hinata

and he also watched his son look at you so lovestruck and exactly like how he looks at his wife

soon, his mother finished and they rounded the table before saying a quick prayer to bless the food and digging in

‘so, what do you want to start with, iha?’

mrs iwaizumi asked and your wide eyes looked around

‘hm, im not sure. whats your favorite iwa-san?’

you looked to your right towards hajime who was busy eating and stopped before pointing his lips towards a direction

‘that one’

‘hah?’

you asked

mrs iwaizumi laughed at her son’s actions

‘sorry, l/n-chan, my son has adapted my traits. he was pointing to this, adobo. do you want some?’

‘yes please’

the smell made your mouth water and you started to tuck in

maybe it was your managerial instincts, but you used your napkin to wipe hajime’s lips and he was also used to this and turned his head to make it easier for you then he went to grab the water jug and re-fill your glass

once it was done, you both silently went back to eating

his parents watched his exchange and it was like watching a married couple taking care of each other

‘so, l/n-chan, you said you were their manager’

mr iwaizumi started and you nodded, wiping your lips

‘yes. i have been for a while now and please, call me y/n’

‘hajime actually told us he had a new manager for his team and tooru told us too. but we didnt know you were a girl. its just so interesting for hajime to bring you home as he has never really had any female friends’

mrs iwaizumi’s comment made you chuckle and iwa’s eyes widened in embarassment

‘nay! of course ive had female friends! ive had friends from all genders!’

he reasoned but you teasingly smiled at him

‘ah, im not really surprised. iwa-san doesnt exactly have the appearance that girls are brave enough to approach’

he sent you a betrayed glance

‘hah?! what’s that supposed to mean?!’

you shrugged, going back to your food

‘im just saying that you always have this intense look in your eyes and youre always frowning. but its cute so its fine. and besides, i dont think theyve seen you laugh since you dont really smile a lot, iwa-san’

‘but you’ve seen me smile!’

‘eung. but its only to me. if they knew the stuff i knew like you being a godzilla fan or your collection of succelents, theyd see you like oikawa-san’

‘HAH?! YOU SEE ME LIKE SHITTYKAWA?!’

mrs iwaizumi held her husband’s hand on the table as they watched you both bicker and tease each other with a smile

hajime has always been on the rougher side of things and he doesnt really have many close friends other than the team and even then, tooru is the only one he can really be himself around

yet here you are, bringing out the boy hajime really is and making him laugh, a sound his parents dont really hear outside the house

and your eyes

god, your eyes held admiration, life,,,, and you might not know this yet,, but love

her eyes trailed her son who teasingly headbutted you and you faking a surprise and doing the same

then you heard his father’s cough which brought you back to where you were and the situation and the people that were there

you felt embarrassment creeping up inside you and you bowed

‘im sorry for acting like that, iwaizumi-san. i-’

‘no, dont apologize, darling. please, dont’

her soft smile made the nerves in you ease and hajime’s father winked at him and he knew exactly what his father was trying to say

after dinner, you volunteered to wash the plates but they veered you away from there and towards the living room

‘oh my god, pops! stop her!’

hajime whined because he knows what his mother was going to do

she was going to show him his baby pictures

you sat on the beige couch and watched as she reached under the coffee table and revealed a few albums that had iwaizumi hajime written on the cover

‘now, y/n-chan, hajime wasnt always this pouty. in fact, he used to always have a smile on his face and laughed at the littlest things! like right here! a leaf fell on him and he-’

stories of his childhood was exchanged throughout the night and you were laughing so hard that tears were falling out of your eyes while hajime wrapped your shoulders with his arm and he would squeeze you tightly whenever you made fun of him

‘oh dear! iwa-san! you-!’

you didnt finished as you continued to laugh and he sighed

‘nay, can we go eat dessert now?’

he asked his mother and she was beginning to feel sorry for him so she smiled and nodded

‘okay. hajime, come help me’

‘iwaizumi-san, i can-’

‘no, y/n-chan. dont you worry your pretty little head about anything and just look through more of these pictures’

hajime followed his mother to their kitchen before she stopped and turned around

his mother’s height was around 5′1 so she had to look up to meet his eyes and her hands were clasped around his biceps

she is definitely beautiful and he cursed at how little he got from his mother other than her skin color

mrs iwaizumi married her husband and immigrated to japan to have a family and your polite action from earlier moved her as she hasnt experienced that in nearly 2 decades

‘nay, shes,,,, just a friend’

he reasoned, a wobbly smile to cover up his want for that title to change

yet mothers def knows best and saw right through it

she gave him a firm look with furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips

‘nak, dont lie to yourself. i raised you to never tell a lie and lying to yourself is considered lying to someone. she’s not your KAibigan, shes your kaIBIGan’

now, hajime knew a little bit of tagalog as his mother made sure he was able to at least speak to his relatives back home

so he got a hint of what she was saying yet was confused

then he realized it

his blush creeped up his neck and he chuckled, ducking his head low to avoid his mother’s eyes

‘nak, listen to me. papunta ka pa lang, pabalik na ako. youre still growing and you may be confused right now, but make sure to think wisely and dont live with regrets. nanay doesnt want you to go through it all by yourself since she knows how hard it was. so please, listen to me and pursue her. shes special, hajime. she makes you so, so happy. i see it in your eyes, her eyes, god has fated you together. i feel it’

now if a filipino mother actually tells their son to go after a girl, thats a pretty big thing as its known that mothers are the hardest to convince and are fiercely protective of their sons, especially if its an only son, but mrs iwaizumi literally tells hajime to go court you because she sees how happy you make him and is willing to let hajime go to you

definitely his mother’s words stuck to him and as he walked you home, he was busy thinking that he was quiet and you were worried as he would be talking right now

‘iwa-san? you okay?’

you asked and he blinked, taken back to reality from his daydream

‘hm, yea’

he answered to look at you

hes been pining for months now and he slipped his hand into yours, holding it tightly

uwu if you want to see iwa moments with y/n, read through the seijoh manager series as theres a lot of them in there

he wanted you yet, he knew it would be selfish of him to keep you in the future

he would be a college student while you’re in your 2nd year

would you want to be so far away from him?

could you handle it?

‘yanno, iwa-san, your dad told me something interesting’

you suddenly said, squeezing his hand and kicking rocks while looking up at the night sky

‘what was it? something embarrassing?’

he immediately feared that they told you that story when he was still potty training and he fell straight into the toilet

‘hmm,,, no. he told me that he met your nanay when she was a high school student and he was a in an intern at your lolo’s company’

iwa listened and he had a smile at how you said the tagalog word for grandfather

‘he said she almost ran him over by her bike and she fled but they met again when she visited your lolo. through that, they became friends and then she confessed to him. apparently, he declined because she was younger than him, although just 3 years, and he was leaving for his own country in a few months so he didnt know if she would wait for him’

were,,,, you reading his mind?

iwa knew of his parents story yet with you telling it, it sounded a million times more interesting

‘yet she promised him. thats it, just a promise. that she would remain faithful to him, she would keep herself for him and when she finally graduates, she would go and find him and they could be happy together. he said it was the longest 3 years of his life yet when he saw in the airport, he felt like the wait was worth it. because he gets to hold the embodiment of happiness in his arms for the rest of his life’

you finished and he hummed

‘times have changed, y/n’

‘even you?’

you stopped walking and he naturally stopped too

‘would you wait for me like he did if i promised myself to you? if i promised you that despite the few years of waiting, i would still be yours and remain yours until we’re ready to be together?’

WHAT IS HAPPENING!!!!!!!

iwa’s heart was drumming in his chest and he wanted so desparately to look at you in the eyes but you were making that impossible as your head was bowed and your eyes were fixed on the concrete you both stood on

‘of course, i would’

your head snapped up and e/c clashed with olive eyes

‘i would wait for you. we may,,, be young right now. and they might think we’re,,, being impulsive. but i dont care. because right now, all that matters, is you and me. we can think about the consequences later, but right now, i just want to kiss you’

he admitted, red ears seen by the moonlight

your body shook

‘do it, no balls’

well,,,, he has the balls

and under the moon, at 8:34 pm, iwaizumi hajime kissed you

OML THIS REMINDS ME OF THAT SEIJOH SHORT WHEN HE WAS TALKING TO OIKAWA AND HIS NEIGHBORS ARE LIKE ‘AH SHITE HERE WE GO AGAIN’

it didnt come as a surprise to the team when yall announced your relationship

well,, you both actually didnt tell them outright until like weeks later

what can you say?

you and iwa are very private people and you dont really like to show off in public

even though yall lit rally are stuck to the hip and he does things that he doesnt even think hes doing but he is totally doing

you were only caught by,,, guess who

mrs iwaizumi

it was weeks when she met up with mrs oikawa bc theyre totally best friends and thats why their sons are best friends

she told her of her son’s girlfriend and how sweet you were and how mrs oikawa should be jealous that her son doesnt have a girlfriend like that and the standards for oikawa’s future girlfriend was raised just by that teasing

oikawa literally came into after school practice after a phone call with his mother, fuming

you were talking to kindaichi and yahaba with iwa beside you, arm around your waist totally not obvious guys

and yall just saw an angry oikawa stomping towards yall

‘y/n-chan, iwa-chan, why the hell did my mom just call me and tell me that im not allowed to bring home a girl if she doesnt have h/c with s/c (skin color) and e/c and h/m (height measurement)?’

you shrugged

‘oikawa-san, i’ve never even met your mom before’

but iwa had a hunch

‘ahh,,,, my mom mustve been bragging to your mom. yanno how they are’

oikawa shot him a disbelieving look

‘IWA-CHAN! ITS BAD ENOUGH THAT YOU GOT A GIRLFRIEND AND I DONT! BUT ITS WORSE THAT YOUR RELATIONSHIP IS AFFECTING MY FUTURE ONE!’

he ranted, completely unaware that he just outed your entire relationship to the team

tbh they werent even surprised

like they were all ‘damn now shes taken. but cant say i didnt see that coming’

they took it pretty well too

they know how iwa is and they literally respect this mans and if anything, out of the whole team, he is the best candidate for your boyfriend

dating iwa is totally normal and yall just have increased touches?? like i dont know how to explain like he’s constantly holding your hand or arm around your waist or shoulder etc

literally nothing changed

you still have dinners at his house and iwa also knows your family and all that

and the most important thing is,

he kept that promise

even when he was literally at the other side of the world,

he still remained yours and you kept your own promise and waited patiently for his return

OOOOO TIMESKIP IWAIZUMI HAJIME (27) ATHLETE TRAINER

a little girl with bouncing dark brown hair was giggling as she maneuvered herself around the tall people

a shout from her parents and little sister was only making her run faster until she crashed into the legs of the person she’s been looking for

his blue jersey was similar to hers and she raised her arms up with a bright smile

‘uncle!’

she yelled and he chuckled before hoisting her up to his arms

‘ah, reyna-chan, didnt mom and dad tell you to wait for them? look! tala-chan is crying because you left her’

she followed his finger to her little sister, who was in her father’s arms, crying and reaching out for her

‘nee-chan!’

she screeched

finally, her parents were there and you were scolding her for running off

‘reyna, just dont do that again’

you said and she nodded, pouting and holding her uncle’s thumb

‘thank you, tooru-san. i dont know what i would do if she got lost’

oikawa grinned then gently patted the hat-covered head of the newborn baby girl that was strapped to your chest

‘hehe, its okay, y/n-chan. after all! uncle is always there to save reyna-chan!’

she shrieked when he held her up and hajime shook his head in his antics

‘where’s the others? i saw them in the stands but-’

he was cut off when he heard the shouts and yells from the other side that could only belong to your boys

‘woooo!!!!’

kindaichi’s voice echoed through the place and mattsuhana were rushing to greet their goddaughters

tala shyly accepted the arms of mattsun while makki was squealing quietly when darna was holding his finger tightly as she slept

‘taka-san, wanna hold her? she’s easier to hold when she’s sleeping’

‘oh can i?’

his eyes held the stars as the 11-month-old raised her fist then lowered it back down, sleep still heavy on her

‘waaa~ darna-chan is growing really quickly’

kunimi whispered, peering over his senpai to look at the baby whos eyes kept fluttering

you chuckled while looking at oikawa and him playfully bouncing reyna

‘tooru-san, congratulations on your win. it seems you’ve beaten hajime this time’

you complimented and the brunette smiled brightly at you, adjusting the little girls in his arms

‘ei, y/n-chan, i’ll beat him next time, and next time and the next time!’

every time he said ‘next’ he gave his goddaughter a kiss on her cheek making her giggle

your husband was pouting at the reminder of japan’s loss and you reached over to wrap your arms around him causing hajime to turn his head away from you

‘aww, my 4th baby is sad now’

you cooed and cupped his face delicately on your hands making him sulk and whine

the others, watching the scene, continue to be surprised at this side of their captain that remains to only be caused by you

‘ugh, nearly a decade later and theyre still sappy’

yahaba gagged and watari slapped his back

‘let them be happy’

‘come on! im in the mood for spaghetti! you like spaghetti, tala-chan?’

‘eung!’

mattsun cheered with kindaichi and she raised her hands to share the same energy

once everyone was situated in a restaurant and ordered, small talks were shared around the table of the past

‘haha, spaghetti is how your baba found out about you, tala-chan’

yahaba’s comment made the walking group laugh at the memory of seeing the video you sent in the seijoh group chat

‘i wanted to be creative with my second child since my firstborn was revealed by this loudmouth’

oikawa winced at the indirect diss at him

‘y/n-chan! i was really excited to find out i was going to be an uncle!’

‘youre already an uncle, bakakawa!’

hajime has toned down the insults to keep it pg for the children

‘but-!’

they started to argue, the oldest daughter looking disinterested as she sees this happening or hearing it whenever her dad and uncle video chat

‘it took me forever to find a ‘prego’ pasta sauce in the grocery store like i dont know why. was there a shortage?’

you complained, remembering the frustration

your fellow first years snickered at you and kindaichi prodded fun at you

‘is that why you just outright told him you were pregnant the day you found out?’

you rolled your eyes and watched makki and mattsun and tala watch the youngest as she wiggled her fists in the air and was awake enough to babble ‘makki’ over and over again

that was her first word and although she is now able to say a few words, she still repeats her first word over and over again

‘we had a fight and it just came out so of course i didnt have time to prepare!’

you defended and hajime finished his antics with oikawa just as you said that

‘what-what was your words again? ‘i really want to push you off the roof right now but i want my baby to meet their bastard father first?’‘

you gasped at that regretful statement and punched him in the arm

‘hajime! stop!’

you whined and covered your face with the sleeves of your his hoodie

‘hehe, y/n, you should do that again’

kyotani teased and you glared at him

‘shut up kyotani’

eyebrows were raised

‘eh? are you more hormonal?’

‘do you realize you already have 3 daughters?’

‘iwaizumi-san really wants to have a volleyball team family’

‘at least wait a year and a half, you animals’

‘so,, like hes that good huh?’

hajime growled and leaned over to intimidate but you snarled and jumped on your feet, being held back by the arms by kindaichi and hajime to stop yourself from leaping across the table to kill yahaba

‘keep talking like shite and i’ll make sure none of you become the godfather of this baby’

okay what

one, did you just curse

and two, this baby?!

‘im big sister again?!’

reyna ruined the surprised silence and then chaos ensued

‘WHAT!’

‘BABY?!’

‘THIS BABY?!’

you just realized what you said and smirked at the chaos you created and sat back down, leaning on the back of the chair and smugly taking a sip of your water

‘oh the power i hold in my hands’

you teased and oikawa pointed at you

‘when! how long!’

you looked at hajime who was so shocked that his eyes glazed over and a passerby wouldve thought he was dead

‘apparently 3 months’

oikawa started counting and his eyes widened at that thought

‘you-! you stayed in argentina! in my house! my house-!’

‘yep. both of them created under your house’

what

!!!!!

hajime fainted

oikawa screamed

a/n: okay i admit i got a little too carried away with this one. i just love filo!iwa and this was mostly written in his pov bc cmon we all know we love iwa and fell in love w him the moment we saw him

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momentofmemory · 4 years ago

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FICTOBER 2020 - day twenty-five

Prompt #25: “Sometimes you can even see.”

Fandom: The Old Guard

Characters: Nile Freeman, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani

Words: 1937

Author’s Note: In the aftermath of a rough mission and all the philosophical questions it entails, Joe takes Nile to the Aarhus Art Museum in Denmark. All pieces mentioned were displayed in the Objects of Wonder: From Pedestal to Interaction exhibit, which ran from Oct. 2019- March 2020. Nile POV.

>> the sweetness remains

Nile scrolls mindlessly through Pinterest, wishing for not the first time that she’d been allowed to recreate her socials.

Copley had barred her from practically all of the actually useful ones, but she’d bullied him down to just having an account on Pinterest, with the argument being that no one cared about the site. Granted, she doesn’t really want to be on Pinterest either, but sometimes the comfort of an app with infinite scroll is all she’s looking for in a distraction.

And right now, she really, really needs to be distracted.

Overly photoshopped cat pics.

Memes ripped straight from tumblr or twitter.

The most white girl aesthetic imaginable.

Three slugs ripping through her abdomen and spitting her liver out the other side—

Nile breathes in sharply. Exhales.

Her thumb resumes scrolling.

Photos of downtown that feel like home.

Recipes for harvest butternut squash soup.

Tips for keeping braids fresh longer.

Nile scrolls, and scrolls, and breathes.

Her abdomen still aches every time her lungs expand, even though she knows it really doesn’t. It’s perfectly healed; not even a scar for her troubles. But it’s hard to forget how her instincts had screamed that a gut shot like that shouldn’t be survivable, even as she pushed herself towards the next target.

(She didn’t survive it.)

(She didn’t survive the next half dozen times it happened, either.)

“Did that phone of yours do something to offend you?”

“Whoa!” Joe’s sudden appearance next to her only makes her clench her phone tighter. She forces out a laugh and eases the tension out of her fingers. “Feel like you should know better than to sneak up on someone that’s part of a bunch of immortal warriors.”

“Most of them would have caught me coming long before you did.”

Nile snorts. She scrolls a few more seconds, then closes the app and opens Temple Run. The game’s ridiculously old, but she’s a millennial. Sue her for being nostalgic.

She can feel Joe watching her as she starts the round.

“Am I correct in thinking you enjoy the arts, Nile?”

It’s not the question she was expecting, and she winds up tilting the screen to the left a half second late, and her character falls off the bridge.

It’s okay though, because she can just use a gem and respawn in the same place, so it’s basically like not dying at all.

Right?

“Uh, yeah,” she says. She winds up restarting the round entirely. “The military was supposed to pay for my degree, but I don’t think I can cash that if I’m technically KIA.”

“That would present a certain set of problems,” Joe agrees. “Andy talk to you about that?”

“Yeah.” Nile’s stomach twists. “Guess it depends on how easy it is to schedule classes between firefights.”

She’s practically laying the opening for a talk out herself, but Joe seems uninterested in taking it.

Instead, he shifts beside her, propping an elbow on his knee. “What kinds of art did you want to specialize in?”

She dies again. This time, she begrudgingly uses the in-game save. "I prefer classic sculpture, but I’m not against modern.”

“You like what was modern art for me, then.”

Nile rolls her eyes. “I dread the day I become as weird as you guys.”

He laughs, patting her on the shoulder as he stands. “I suspect by that time you’ll be too busy tormenting our next recruit. But unfortunately, the exhibit we’re going to will be more in the contemporary style.”

It takes Nile a half second to register his words. “Wait, what?”

“The description said it would be 1960s to the present only. If it suits you, we could hold off on our discussion of it for another thousand years or so. I’m sure we can claim it as classic at that point.”

“What?” Nile locks her phone and zeros her attention on him, registering the mischievous glint in his eyes this time. “Museum?”

“The Aarhus Art Museum has a special exhibit on loan from the Tate Modern at the moment.” He glances down at her phone, the corner of his mouth forming a grin. “I’m told its purpose is to help move its audience’s attention from their devices.”

Nile scowls and looks back down at her phone. “I died a dozen times yesterday. I’m allowed my coping mechanisms of choice.”

And.

Whoops.

“Of course you are,” Joe says, offering his hand to her, and she’s once again surprised he doesn’t force the conversation. “But phones are portable. You can take it with you to the museum.”

Nile worries at the edge of her lip with her teeth. She doesn’t really want to go anywhere right now, but…

But Joe’s brown eyes are warm and welcoming, and his callouses help steady her when she takes his hand.

“You said contemporary sculpture?”

The grin he gives her is blinding. “For now.”

_________________

It’s a twenty-five minute drive from their safe house to the museum, and the route takes them next to the Bay of Aarhus for most of it.

Nile stares out at the water, determined to not give Joe any more ammunition for making fun of her regarding her phone.

It’s hard. She’d never considered herself a technology addict—never had enough time to be one—but she really, really wants to stop thinking about the fact that she knows what the inside of her liver looks like.

Or did look like, she guesses.

Nope, nuh-uh, not going there—

“D'you know about the Ship of Theseus?” She spits it out before she can decide against it. She figures if she’s thinking about it, she might as well talk about it. “And don’t say you were there for it. You’re not Andy and I at least know enough about you to know when you’re lying.”

The grin on his face tells her that he was very much intending to before she called him out on it. “It’s a thought experiment. The character Theseus owns a ship that, over a long span of time, has all of its parts replaced, until nothing of the original still remains.”

“Yeah, and so then the question is, is it even the same ship,” Nile finishes.

Joe weaves in and out of traffic, a pensive look on his face. “I assume you aren’t asking simply to test my knowledge of early western philosophy.”

“No.”

Nile looks down at her hands. She can still remember how horrifically mangled they were from her impromptu dive off a skyscraper, but at least—at least she’s pretty sure they’re the same ones she had before.

Though that might not last long.

“In your opinion,” she says, cautiously, “if—if there’s nothing left of the original—if you have to rebuild something that many times—”

“Nile.” The sound of the car’s turn signal distracts her spiraling thoughts. Joe nods towards the windshield. “We’re here.”

It’s a large, red brick square building, fairly nondescript but for the circular and multi-colored glass walking track at its top.

“Come on, he says, parking the car. “I find physical objects superior to mental ones for solving such issues.”

Nile doesn’t understand why the one time she wants to talk about something like this is the one time Joe decides to go full mysterious.

She climbs out of the car and follows him inside.

Despite her misgivings, she quickly discovers Joe was right. The exhibit is genuinely incredible, and there are pieces from multiple names she recognizes—Anish Kapoor, Donald Judd, Rasheed Araeen—and pieces she finds herself strangely moved by, such as Damian Hirst’s Away from the Flock, Richard Long’s Red Slate Circle, Rachel Whiteread’s Airbed II. Nile stares at that last one in particular for a long time: a concrete casting of an airbed, the artist’s presence made known in the negative space where her body had pressed the material down.

Joe, however, seems to be moving with a specific purpose in mind, and it’s not until they round one of the walls of the orange-pink room that Nile has a guess as to what it is.

In the far corner, bathed in the additional light of a single fill light, is a massive pile of multicolored cellophane wrapped hard candies.

Joe walks her over to it, an almost reverence to his steps.

“Untitled: Portrait of Ross in LA,” he says. “Are you familiar with the piece?”

She shakes her head, bending down to inspect it. It doesn’t look like much more than what she’d seen from a distance—candy, multicolored, on the floor. She looks to Joe for an explanation.

“Felix Gonzalez-Torres’s partner died from AIDS,” Joe says. The grief on his face is hard to look at. “To honor him, he made this as a portrait—one hundred and seventy-five pounds of candy, representing Ross’s weight from when he was still healthy.”

Nile looks at the pile—it’s a lot, but it’s not a hundred and seventy-five pounds worth of a lot.

Joe notices her confusion and smiles. “Take one.”

“What?”

“Take one,” he repeats. “The purpose of the work is to invite you to partake in both enjoying his presence and lamenting the lack of it. A sort of communion—choosing to take part of his body into your own. It was a powerful statement when so many were afraid to even be in our presence at the time.”

Nile looks at the pile again, and just like with Airbed II, her heart aches at what isn’t there, rather than what is. She selects a red piece and brings it out of the pile, cupping it in her hand and considering its weight.

“What happens when it runs out?”

Joe selects his own piece—a green one—and it rolls around in the palm of his hand. “It has. Many times. But that’s the beauty of it—it’s the curator’s responsibility to replenish the pile, metaphorically granting immortality and new life to the loss.”

The cellophane crinkles in Nile’s hand as she unwraps the piece. “How do they decide where to get the candy from?”

“The only firm rule is the original weight. Outside of that, there are no set instructions for the candies themselves.” He chuckles, threading his fingers behind his neck and leaning back against the wall. “Sometimes you can even see these strange combinations of greens, oranges, and purples.”

Nile considers the candy. “Not your favorite?”

“It has an almost Halloween quality to it. I tend to prefer the rainbow.”

The candy in her hand feels heavier than it did before—weighed down with the knowledge of what it represents, what it’s taking away.

She slips the candy into her mouth and her eyebrows raise in surprise. “It’s sweet?”

“It’s candy,” Joe says, unwrapping his own piece. “Did you expect something else?”

“I thought it’d be…” She pauses, trying to parse out her feelings. “Bitter. Or sad, somehow. Considering.”

“It could have been,” Joe agrees. “But the portrait isn’t meant to represent just grief and loss. Candy is a happy thing—a reward for yourself, or a lover’s gift on Valentine’s. And even when it’s gone, the sweetness remains. Still lingering on the tongue, or dwelling in the mind. It is the love of friends and partners that keeps the memory alive—and what keeps this the same portrait, even though its pieces have been cycled through many times.”

The candy melts away on her tongue, and she closes her eyes in grief for its loss, appreciation for what it was, and hope for the pieces that would come after it.

She swallows the last piece of it down.

Her stomach settles.

#fictober20 #fanfiction #the old guard #nile freeman #yusuf al-kaysani #joe | yusuf al-kaysani #philosophy and art #memsfic

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weeklyfangirl · 5 years ago

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Frat Boy Pt. 20

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19

Happy New Year!!!!!! Here’s a party and a hot guy loving on you - and you don’t even have to leave your home ;)

I haven’t been to many therapist offices after I started high school. This one was free, on student-life. Reproduced images of the sea were comforting enough, but it was the dreary stained carpet that reminded me where I was.

“Do you think they’re related to the night you were assaulted?”

“Yes. But I don’t know how to get rid of them. I lose sleep and then when I do sleep, I have these nightmares and I wake up more restless than if I’d just stayed up all night.”

“Hm. And how do you feel about Harry?”

“Harry?”

She nodded. “Yes, the boy in your dreams.” Her French manicured nails squeezed the top of her clipboard.

“That’s not an easy question.”

“Try.”

I sighed. “Okay…” The painted seagull in her office looked like an on-clearance print at TJ Maxx, and suddenly I wished I’d called my mother for her own version of therapy instead. Bargain shopping. “I think I hate him. But then I know I don’t. But then… I don’t necessarily like him either.”

“Do you love him?”

I laughed. “No, I don’t love him.”

“Why do you laugh?”

“I said I almost hated him and you ask me if I love him!” But my voice was a little too loud. The question stayed with me, stirring in my mind. “I think I’d know if I loved him.”

“Love looks different to different people. Finding a healthy version of love for yourself and your partner is where things can go awry. Or right.”

I remembered Harry and I talking at Alta about Madame Bovary, and how I’d told him that people love to the best of their abilities, from what they’ve learnt by their circumstances. Silence weighed in the room, and I knew she was waiting for me to elaborate on my feelings. Bleh.

“I don’t know,” I finally said. “But if this is what love looks like to him… We’re not even technically dating so this question doesn’t even apply!” I laughed again. “But then… even if we were, then... it’s not enough.”

“And what would be enough for you?”

“Stability.”

“And do you think this is possible with him?”

“Umm…” Zayn’s voice popped in my head - Harry was a magnet for infamy - and I laughed. I laughed, and I laughed...“No.”

“And why is that?”

“Because he self-sabotages. And he says things he doesn’t mean.”

“Such as...?”

A puff of breath left my lips. “Like last night, he said I didn’t have a life. And then he was comparing me to another girl. Viv. She’s like his… sister, basically. She grew up with him. But… he got really defensive and said at least she fucks me. But the fact that he said I don’t have a life?? A LIFE?? I mean shit, it’s not my fault he’s infiltrated my dreams is it?”

She shook her head. “It’s very important for you not to blame yourself. Show yourself the same kindness you’d show your friends. Renny, for example.”

Be kind to yourself.

I nodded. Those were the words my mother would say whenever I’d critique myself. Just like all those times before, the words registered, but it didn’t change anything about the frustration I felt. I was the one dumb enough to let him in. I’d let myself be dragged into him, even with every red flag hitting me in the face. I was collecting them for a meme bouquet at this point!

“Do you believe him?” she asked.

It took me a minute to hear her.

“The words he said to you,” she said. “That you don’t have a life.”

A timer beeped on her phone. She muted it. “I’d like you to write out what you want in your life for next time. Not what anybody else wants. But what Y/N wants. When you see it written out, no matter how silly it seems, having concrete answers might help.”

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

I was staring at my notes page, trying to think of what I wanted. I didn’t exactly have the chance to ask her what she meant by that. Did she mean career goals? Education goals? Relationship goals? What did this have to do with ending my nightmares?

A text at the top of my phone distracted me from the blank page.

Kiki: “Don’t worry, we didn’t forget about you. Get your hands on the special airhead pills from Harry’s and bring them to the DG Pretty Please Party next week. On the DL obvi.”

Viv chimed in on the group chat. “Congrats bitch! It’ll be fun for all of us.” She included the devil emoji.

This is what I got for stalling up until the last minute to walk into work. The practice was now a blatant reminder that Harry was out of my life and it didn’t help whenever I saw Lionel. It felt weird that I was seeing his dad more than him. Wrong, even.

Voices carried through the lot along with the clicking of heels. I turned my head.

Boss Lady Samantha was headed towards the elevator.

Shit, Y/N. Shit shit shit.

I got out, quietly closing the door. Better to walk with my boss than walk in late after her, right? Her red hair was let down today, ringlet curls in full effect. I could meet her at the elevator before it arrived.

But right when I was about to shout out hold the elevator Lionel walked right behind her. And I mean RIGHT behind her - there was hardly room for a Bible between them.

I hid behind my car, unsure if I was supposed to be seeing this.

Their voices were too low to hear, but his arm lingered at her lower back before the elevator opened. She got in. Alone. Lionel looked over his shoulder and I ducked further.

Through Grandpa’s windows, I saw the elevator door close. Lionel waved goodbye to Samantha and he pressed the button again.

Before chickening out, my shoulders straightened. I shouldn’t have to be the one hiding. I jogged to make it. His brows shot up in surprise as he held the elevator for me. The kindness I’d gotten used to seeing in his eyes looked hesitant this time.

“A little late today?” he asked, as soon as I’d made it in.

I avoided his eyes, nodded. It was a quiet elevator ride.

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

My family’s house was a ten minute drive from the practice. Enough drive time to sit on what I’d seen outside Coast Shores Medicine. It could’ve been friendly. I didn’t have to do anything about this. But in my bones, I knew that friendly isn’t what I’d seen. Lionel avoided me the rest of the day, assigning me to print out billing statements. I hadn’t seen them make out or anything, but there was a certain intimacy I couldn’t write off right away. Did Mrs. de Saude know about his close work relationships? Did Harry?

The sickening uneasiness dissipated when I heard my parent’s Home Improvement HGTV hour. Dad was already passed out on the couch, snoring at a whopping 8 PM when I walked through the door. Ignoring Mom’s tutting of “they keep you too late,” we went to my bedroom.

“Pick the nude ones,” Mom said, adjusting the spectacles she only pulled out on rare occasions (magazine reading and shoe selections). “It makes your legs look longer.” It looked like there was something more she wanted to say.

I adjusted them in the mirror, wearing the blush dress I’d bought for my aunt’s beach wedding almost a year prior. It’d never been worn. Her Spanish fiancé she’d met three months prior stole her TV set and ran off with his gay lover a week before. As I stood, the dress just barely touched the floor. Simple, really, but the way the thin straps exposed my chest rendered it elegant. I felt like I needed a long cigarette and fur coat to make it complete.

Without context, Mother suddenly burst into an annoyed huff.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Hm?” Her lashes fluttered as if she hadn’t realized she’d made a noise. “Oh, yes. I’m fine. Your father just took another one of those sleeping pills. You should never get too dependent on medication, Y/N. Drink warm milk or something.”

“Mom.”

“I’m serious!” Her stony face certainly wasn’t comical.

“I know.”

She looked me over in the dress again and caught herself, pulling me in for a rushed hug. “I’m sorry,” she breathed. She rocked me a little. “It’s just been a little rough this week.” She squeezed me tighter, then let me go. All negative energy shoved into a box that’d spring open when we all least expected it. “Have a good night tonight. Say hello to Harry for me!”

When I walked to the car she threw out, “And tell him next time he can ask you with a Cartier ring! HA! I’m joking!! ... Kind of!!!”

I smiled, waving to her at the gate as I got into my Grandpa mobile. I didn’t have the heart to tell her Golden Boy wasn’t my date.

---------

There were two cops for every solo cup I could see littered on the ground. They patrolled the streets, but the frat house seemed unphased and restored to its former glory as I walked with Andre. Club music pounded beyond the doors, practically shaking the windows. Girls huddled up outside, holding each other’s hair back and trying to block anyone’s view from the bile, as the guys snickered over their shoulders and some pretended not to see. But the cops weren’t here to reprimand for underage drinking and public intoxication tonight. They were on watch. Stationed around the perimeter of the house and on either end of the street.

They were waiting for something else. For somebody else.

Andre seemed oblivious, practically skipping past them he was so excited. I, on the other hand, was already limping from the nude pumps.

“Wanna switch shoes?” he called back.

“Don’t make a deal you aren’t willing to keep,” I smiled, quirking a brow. “The nude would actually match your navy suit…”

He’d already walked on, fist bumping the bouncer who raised up a professional-grade camera and snapped a photo of us. When my eyes recovered from the flash, I spotted Officer Ramirez from the uniforms just beyond the frat’s ramshackle fence. He was already watching me. He raised two fingers above his brow and I nodded, curtly, even though I wanted to shrink inside myself. I hadn’t had the time to think about what I would say if he contacted me again, or if I should be the one to reach out to him.

Andre led me inside, and for once, I was glad I couldn’t hear my own thoughts. It raised ten degrees just from stepping inside. The boys were in Bond suits, but most had abandoned their jackets wherever they could - on the banister, the couch beneath the staircase, or the entrance hall. The girls had dressed up, too. This was the most covered up I think I’d seen some of them, though others still opted for above-the-knee slips.

“Oi, where’s your drink?!” Niall’s familiar voice shouted above the bass.

He pulled Andre into a side hug before we reached the dancefloor. When he saw me, Niall practically fell over.

“Y/N! What’re you doing here?” He spluttered, whiskey in his breath. The knot of his tie was already to his chest, but he loosened it even more. He looked over his shoulder, then back to me. “Renny’s just gone to the bathroom.”

“She’s my date,” Andre stepped in, placing an arm around my shoulder. It was completely platonic but Niall’s face went to stone.

Suddenly it cracked, and he laughed, running a hand over his stubbly chin. “Oh, shit.” He laughed again. “Shit!”

Andre smiled, unaware of anything else besides the fact that Niall must be proud he showed up with a date. He patted Niall’s shoulder. “We’re going to see the big bro, I’ll find you later.” Andre nodded his head for me to follow, leaving Niall cackling to himself in the entranceway.

“Niall’s THE. MAN,” he put his hands up for emphasis. “He’s my favorite in the house besides my big. We gotta say hi, then you can run off. Oh, Renny’s here too!” He squeezed my shoulders as if to excite me, as if she’d be the reason I’d stay. Loved the girl, but I knew she’d be back on top of Niall five minutes after she was out. I just didn’t want to have to watch.

I wrung my hands together, growing nervous. I knew the reason Niall had reacted that way was because Harry was going to be here. I knew this coming into it. But I’d been expecting him to ignore me the entire night. With Niall’s reaction, I wasn’t so sure anymore. What had Harry told Niall?

Someone sloshed their beer on me as I passed, and I turned sour, rolling my eyes as Andre pushed us forward. I picked up the pace before he could notice I’d stopped and wiped the glare off my face. Or, tried. I probably just looked constipated now.

WHY WAS HIDING EMOTION SO HARD??

I felt bad feeling so annoyed. Andre was excited. I should be excited, right? Sloshed beer and sweaty bodies came with the territory. Though I’d forgotten how humid it got in here. Hell and Florida were probably cooler. I picked up the ends of my dress, hoping for some sort of ventilation to reach parts of me that were on the verge of overheating.

The coffee tables and couches had been moved from the center of the living room to the fringes beneath the stairwell to make designated smoking and dancing sections. I could’ve stayed on the outside of the dance crowd. Hell, I could’ve joined the spaced-out smokers on the couch. But I didn’t. I followed Andre to the middle of the dance floor. I could barely see above the tops of people’s heads until we reached a bit of a clearing. And by clearing, I meant the sweaty dancers in front of us who made a break for freedom and gave us about ten seconds of space before other bodies rushed to fill it.

I felt him before I saw him. A tiny prick of consciousness that directed my gaze. And Andre’s finger.

“AYYYY!!!!!” Andre pointed to the DJ booth, waving his hands as he hollered.

Even with the rocking vibration of the bass that chattered my teeth, each nerve in my body went alert. Harry stood, flashing a white smile to the crowd before downing the rest of whatever potion was in his cup. I hated how my stomach clenched just by seeing him. He saw Andre and his smile grew, grabbing the mic. I was still unnoticed, hidden by dim lighting and nameless peers.

“Who’s ready for us to win tomorrow!?” His voice was low, demanding. It was a question for the crowd, but he was looking at Andre. I could sense the intensity even there, and it was then I realized it couldn’t be just me who feels so vulnerable around Harry. Each person he traps in his gaze stays there, until he lets them go.

The house erupted in cheers, but I was locked in place. The suit he was wearing looked similar to the one from the Halloween gala, and every bit of him looked just as stunning. His beautiful body swayed on the makeshift stage.

“Then let’s see you jump in-” His hand held up 5, 4, 3, 2… He spun another song and the crowd sprung from the floor before crashing back down. They jumped to the beat he made. A modern-day puppet master.

Andre wrapped an arm around me as he jumped. So I did, too.

“That’s my big!!” he yelled, mid-air.

“WHAT??”

He pointed to the DJ booth, but there was no one there besides Harry.

“.... HARRY??! HARRY’S YOUR- your…” I stopped jumping the same second Harry saw us together. It’s funny. It takes only a second to flip a dime on its head. His party boy mask dropped in an instant. The low lighting turned his eyes black, but they couldn’t conceal the daggers he shot straight at me.

“I have to use the bathroom,” I muttered.

Andre nodded. “S’UP THE STAIRS!” He found a friend nearby and latched on to him instead.

The small (okay, medium) part of me filled with nothing but Petty™ wanted Harry to see me with his little. But another part of me couldn’t handle his judgmental glare. Somehow, I was embarrassed. I didn’t want him to think I’d come here tonight to make him jealous. That I was so obsessed with him I’d found another in to the frat. I didn’t want him to think he controlled any part of my heart. What did it say that I ran away at first sight, though?

I’d already done it. It didn’t matter. Either way, I didn’t win.

I raced upstairs, weaving my way between couples sitting on the stairs, hoping that the line for the restroom was really long and Renny hadn’t already left. It was, and she was next in line.

“Oh my God, what are you doing here?!” she screeched, arms out and eyes squinted until I could no longer see her pupil.

“Why do people keep asking me that.”

She pulled me into an extra-long, extra-tight Renny hug. “Love yousoooomuch,” she rushed. Her breath smelled like Niall as she pulled away. She lifted the cup to my lips and I shook my head. She frowned.

“I talked with Niall,” she said. “He says Harry’s just going” - she hiccupped - “through a lot right now. S’best to leave him alone.”

The other girls in line perked up at the mention of his name, subconsciously leaning closer. I huffed. “Trust me. I am.”

When three girls stumbled out of the only bathroom stall, Renny rushed in. “Thank God I was about to pee on the carpet.” She tried tugging me in with her, but my eye was on the end of the hall. And the stupid DG pretty please.

“I’ll be back,” I muttered, squeezing her hand.

“Nooooo,” she drawled.

I squished her cheeks, checked her pupils. She didn’t need me to hold her hair back this time. I gave her cheek a lil slap.

“I’ll go with you next time you have to go. Which will be in like... twenty minutes. You broke the seal rookie!” I teased.

I didn’t even bother looking over the railing at the party below to see if he was watching me. I still had my DG task and a nonrefundable deposit to think about. I didn’t think I’d get many chances to be in this house again unless I swindled Andre or Niall into letting me in. But that would require an explanation, and I wasn’t sure I could tell them that.

Forget explanations. I needed to do it now. Lots of noise. Tons of distractions. I’d just think of it as… borrowing?

His door was locked and I groaned, kicking it and leaving a smudge beside all the others. I reached for a bobby pin in my purse and put it to work. I’d done it before in his bedroom, I could do it again here. The curve of the hallway protected me from onlookers waiting in line in the bathroom. Downstairs was a mixed bag. People could probably see through the railings running along the top floor.

Not that they’d think to look.

My knees were starting to hurt by the time I heard it click. I crept in, and for some reason, I expected his room to look different. But it was still the same. Dusty desk across from a queen-sized bed. Only one photograph atop his bedside mantle. And it didn’t smell like sweaty soccer clothes, but clean. With hints of a woodland spice and books. It felt like eons had passed since I was first here, undressing him like the drunken baby he’d been. As an act of betrayal, my body rushed at the thought of how his fingers had looped around my belt loops, tugging me closer. I swallowed, the image of his tightened pants expanding in my head. He’d almost been hard, then.

It was then, at that moment, that I decided that the one sip of alcohol I’d had must have been spiked with SOMETHING because I would NOT be that girl. I would NOT. I reFUSED TO LET MYSELF-

Seconds later, my fingertips grazed his soft gray sheets. He’d been sprawled out right about here, and the rush of seeing unseen skin on Harry had been too intoxicating an offer to refuse. The ghost of that rush flowed through me again as my memory played it over like a movie. Close-ups and panning shots - Down his toned chest to tattoos speckled along tan skin, tattoos that had been seemingly doodles, but now held much more meaning now that I knew of his history with the ocean. For his sister. My body leant down before I knew what I was doing, and I inhaled. The lingering aroma of his body chemistry altering his cologne: musky, a little spice, and warmth.

Even if every ounce of me wanted to dislike him, the legitimate biology behind my body responded to a chemistry I couldn’t control.

“What are you doing?”

He caught me on my knees, with one hand clutched in the sheets.

Fuckity FUCK-

He could whip out PSYCHO magazine informing people of highly-dangerous murderers with my mugshot plastered across the cover - and I’d believe him in that moment. Oh my gosh. Omgomgomg. He didn’t say what I expected him to say when he swayed in, though.

“Andre. Really?” He laughed to himself, but it was cold. “Fucking” - he stumbled, leaning on the desk chair to catch himself- “really?”

It wasn’t the alcohol that’d put him on edge. I’d seen him handle liquor before, but this time he looked… different. I stood up, realizing his eyes were racking down my dress. I crept towards him, hoping to make it past the door. Not because I was scared of him. But because I was mortified. I’d just looked like an absolute fucking psychopath AND I’d snuck into his bedroom. Maybe I could distract him. Maybe he was too drunk to ask me-

“What’re you doing here?”

“What are we… all doing here? At parties?”

“…in my room,” he clarified.

Welp. My philosophical question fell flat. Wouldn’t be the first time.

I waltzed past him, tight-lipped. In defense of my dignity, I still didn’t owe him anything. Not after how he’d treated me.

“Hey,” his arm jutted out, blocking my way. His brows crossed as he turned to a petulant boy. “S’rude to not answer.”

My blood boiled. “You are not about to give me a lesson on how bad it is to ignore people right now. Nor on being rude.”

“Can give you another one.”

He reached for me, but I stepped back, somewhat living in the hurt that flashed in his eyes at my rejection.

“You’re not leaving.” But his demand sounded like a plead.

“Thought you didn’t want me around you,” I scoffed, tearing past him. “Just because you’re drunk or high or whatever the fuck it is you are right now, doesn’t mean you can just… get a free pass! For a week! A whole week of awful-” I turned quickly, too frustrated to find the words. I took a step towards the door but-

“Y/N.” He was right behind me. His breath warmed the nape of my neck, the delicate hairs standing on end. No matter how much of an absolute mess he was, my body didn’t know better. I could practically feel him behind me, his presence radiating an alarm that blared through my veins. I wanted him. Badly. He trailed a finger down my arm, and his hand brushed against my own against my side. “I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

His fingers gingerly interlaced with mine, turning me around.

Something wet was on my cheek. I touched it, quickly rubbing it away in horror. Why were tears running down my face?! What unfair cruelty was this!? He saw my tears and leant down, suddenly defeated, pulling my body with him.

“Why did’ya ever want me hm?” His nose went along my jaw. Full lips pressed against the base turned my legs weak. There was an underlying desperation to his words though, a prayer in his kiss. But my thoughts were turning anything but holy.

“Who says I did…” I wanted to pull away, ask him why he’d used past tense or why he’d completely ignored me this past week, but I was frozen by the softness of his hands. Self-respect was surely slipping away each moment I lingered. I could literally see Jane Austen parting the heavens and sticking her angelic head through Harry’s room to shame me with a glare. I do all this mental work to try and figure this guy out and… for what? I should be waltzing out that door, declaring I’d never talk to him again. I should give up messy and confused and pursue my own sanity. But the air only ever turned electric with him, in all his messiness, in all this confusion… and each time the spark appeared, it pushed us closer together until he was here, like this, soft hands gently running along my lower back, skilled fingertips feeling the dress fall slightly inwards at my waist, tracing a map of uncharted waters…

“You’re not thinking straight,” I breathed. And that went for both of us.

“Au contraire, I’m thinking clearer than I ever ‘ave.” There was a swirling madness shining through, but he bat his eyes and it was veiled again, vanished beneath the dark surface. He tilted his head, appraising my body, noticing my legs were no longer tensed to run, but in apprehension for another reason completely. A smirk settled in. “Why do you still want me?” he demanded, pulling me against him towards the bed.

“Arrogant ass,” I sniped, but I landed on him anyway. His fingers tightened around my waist, a hand snaking up behind to entwine with my hair. I felt him harden beneath me as he pulled my head to the side, just the right amount of rough. But he stalled over vulnerable skin, lips ghosting featherlight up to my ear. He let out a soft breath and I clenched in anticipation. For once, I had no thoughts. “You should be with me,” he breathed. “Should be mine.” His voice grew frustrated and he practically growled, lips kissing my neck, steady, before they started to suck in a rhythm. The shock of the sensation masked the shock from his words and my back arched, a spider’s shiver crawling down my spine. He stopped suddenly, shooting back like he’d been shocked. His grip softened ‘round the nape of my neck, and he looked so… confused. “Can’t mark you again,” he noted, despondent. But then the corners of his lips twitched up in a smirk. “Least where it’s visible.” My breath caught. His black ink eyes showed the slightest ring of green. I don’t remember lifting my hand, but fingers trailed along dark circles. These were a new development. I shook my head lightly. Something was wrong. This was wrong. I leant in, resting my head against his. “Harry-” but his lips cut me off before I could mention it.

I felt like I’d been feeling his lips everywhere but my own. They were eager, but kept pace, switching it up just when I was getting comfortable, slowing to make me feel the soft fullness of raspberry-pink lips. They were pillows, and clouds, and everything else soft and wonderful that I’d want to feel forever. He slipped in his tongue, deepening the kiss, and I ground my body against him, using his shoulders as leverage.

This wasn’t me. But I didn’t care enough to think about ‘who I was’ anymore. What did I want?

I felt him pulse between my legs.

“Harry,” I bit my lip, and I knew then. I’ve been wanting more, I’ll always want more. I was more aware than ever of an emptiness he could fill.

“Been hard ever since I saw you bouncing in that dress,” he said gruffly. “With fucking Andr- ahh...fuck.” I rocked my hips against him in spite, putting a hand over his mouth to shut him up.

But his head jutted back and came forward again. He looked at me through hooded eyes, and just like that I was sedated by his gaze, my body pausing. He looked like he was about to scold me. “Do it again.” His voice was low. I stalled, looking at the way his lips barely parted. “Don’t be shy now, Y/N.” My hips replied on command, but rebelliously, slowly, feeling the length of him run between the thin underwear that’d cocooned itself against my ridges and folds. I ran my hips back down against his thigh. “Fu-uhck-” He jutted his hips up, turning something wicked when I moaned. The friction from the dress and pressure from my own body rocking against Harry built a tightly coiled knot I wanted desperately to release. And then we were kissing again. Fervent. Eager. A skilled tongue slipping in to dance with my own. He was rock hard against me. I could feel the full outline pressed tight against his slacks now, creating my own mental map. My hands wrapped in his hair, and I pulled, relaxing our pace, rutting myself up with purpose to rotate in a circle at his clothed tip. The noise from his throat wasn’t human, and I felt heavy and light all at the same time when his thumb dug into my chin just under my lower lip.

“Wanna help you,” he rumbled. “Will you let me? Won’t you do that for me?”

I nodded, wordlessly, and with both hands tight on my hips, he tugged us further back until he was against the pillows, and me, repositioned above him. He pulled us down and we built a rhythm against his thigh, the determination in his stitched brow as he did half the work making it even sexier. He was almost needier than me. There was an urgency to his strong hands as they hiked up my dress, fingertips dancing around and just beneath the band of my underwear. He didn’t pull it off, just gently pushed my hips up and down, then harder, faster, to the damp patch already on his slacks. I was buzzing, every inch of me, the wound coil growing bigger, tighter, the build of release making my heart race. He stared at me as we moved together.

“Tha’s it. So good at this,” he mumbled. “So beautiful.”

My breath caught, and his wide eyes watched wondrously as I moved frenzied above him. His chest rose, bits of tattoo spilling past the white button-down collar. My hand clutched his shirt as I felt myself begin to peak. This was as intimate as I’ve been with someone, and the pressure of being seen through his eyes like this was a lot of pressure. I didn’t want to think about how many other girls had been in this position before. What he spoke to them, how they looked, what they’ve done, or how recently they’d done it. His hand cupped my face and brought me down, lips claiming me to the point of bruising and silencing voiceless thoughts. The pull of his lips, and the sturdiness of his thigh made me whimper. My swollen bud hit his clothed cock with each surge upwards, his hands guiding me, making sure my breath hitched each time. And each time, I’d feel him tense. Again, and again, just knowing his thick hard cock was against me, right against me, almost…

“Almost… Harry…”

“Y/N,” he rasped. I felt his hot gaze as I shuddered above him. He kissed me, slow, swallowing another whimper as a current of electricity ran from the crown of my head to my toes. His hands helped me ride out my high, slowly coming to a halt.

He opened his arms, letting me cuddle up against his chest. Silence stretched on over quiet breathing. “Been waiting a long time for that,” he finally mumbled. I quirked an eye open, realizing he’d been watching me. I almost didn’t recognize his eyes. For once, they seemed sated. Unhaunted. The clouds had seemed, for a moment, to have parted. “To see you cummm.” He hummed the last word, leaning down and nuzzling the nook of my neck. Still nuzzling, he quirked half his face to look at me. We shared a long kiss, then a shorter one to my forehead. “You’re magnificent.”

Though I hadn’t removed a stitch of clothing, I hadn’t felt more naked. And for all the times I’d felt embarrassed around Harry, at least in this moment, he made me feel comfortable about what we’d just done. We lay there, my scent now mingling with the rest of his in the room. I still felt him hard beneath my legs that were strewn across his lap, and I wondered if it was … painful. He stirred, placing one hand behind his head, the other wrapped around me.

I traced shapes into his chest. He hummed, smiling softly. It was his boyish smile. The one I’d hardly seen, the one that you want to wrap up and cuddle and protect from the world to keep this one second of pure happiness intact. I pecked the corner of his mouth and his smile broke, squeezing my side. “Thank you,” he mumbled. I checked to make sure his eyes were still closed when I looked down at the black slacks. Since I finished, he should, too. I swallowed nervously as my fingers traced lower, down the button down as I tried to remember the porn Renny and I had watched together one late summer night. His eyelashes fluttered open, and he watched me, curiously, darkly, until I stopped at the tip of his pants. I slipped my fingers beneath the belt, just barely feeling the coarseness of hair before he took my wrist in his hand. He practically hissed and I stilled, not noticing I was holding my breath. I couldn’t possibly be doing this wrong…

His index finger stroked the top of my hand, and I relaxed.

He looked at me gently. “Tonight was for you. S’all I wanted.” His touch was just as gentle, and he placed his thumb between my lips, running over them gently. I didn’t want him to see me as some pure untouched thing he should be scared to do anything with. My lips parted as seductively as I could make them appear, and I moved to let his finger in my mouth, but he cheekily closed my lips instead.

He stroked my cheek, almost giggling at my attempt. “This just isn’t how I picture it happening.”

The way his eyes were memorizing my lips told me he’d thought about this before, but I didn’t miss that he said how, and not where. Muffled EDC music vibrated his door, and faraway voices travelled through his open window from the yard below. The cops were waiting there, too. Was that the situation he was referring to?

“You deserve a lot, Y/N.”

I heard the hesitancy in his voice, some unforeseen disappointment he wouldn’t just spell out for me. “What’re you saying.”

“Just that there’s few things I want t’be sober for these days.”

The thought hit my stomach like the sharpened blade of a knife, and it hurt worse than any wound from my nightmares. “Why would you say something like that?” I demanded.

“Because it’s true.” His eyes searched mine, and I saw the sadness pulling him in. Like the tumultuous water of the middle of the ocean spirally inwards into itself. A treacherous water hole that’d carry you into its deepest abyss.

I shook my head as if to find a way out, as if that would clear away what I was seeing. “I never… know what’s going on with you,” I admitted. I thought to the interaction with Lionel and Samantha. “Is home life really that bad?”

“What home?” He huffed when I looked at him. “M’serious. I feel more alone when I walk in there than I do when I’m here. And nobody even fucking knows me here.”

“Everyone knows you.”

“You’re smarter than that, Y/N.”

“What’d you take tonight, hm?” I cooed. My hand traced the dark circles under his eyes, and he leant against my touch before looking to the window, still allowing me to touch him. No doubt from whatever stimulant or depressant he’d taken, his words had been more candid than ever before.

“A cocktail of sorts. Will fucking regret it in the mornin’. Probably.”

He looked back to me, and I didn’t have time to wipe the concern from my face. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. It’s okay. It doesn’t matter,” he stated.

He really believed it when he said it, and the way there didn’t seem to be enough energy left in him made me settle back in his arms with a frown. Because it did matter. It mattered a lot. A few moments later, he squeezed my sides. “You didn’t answer my question,” he mumbled.

“What question?”

He waited until I looked up at him, and even then he was hesitant. His voice was quiet when he spoke, intimate, so if even if someone was standing at the foot of the bed they couldn’t hear what he was about to ask.

“Why do you want me, Y/N?”

The vulnerable question hung in the air. And though it was presumptuous of him to ask, he wasn’t wrong. His eyes read me like a book he’d read a hundred times over. He saw me. I swallowed, my brain and heart at an all-out war. Unfortunately for me, they captured my tongue in a stale-mate. “I don’t know what I want.”

And it was true. The dilemma was the following:

The only thing my body wanted was him.

But my brain didn’t know if that’s what I should be wanting anymore.

And my heart was left in the middle of them both, not sure what it was feeling.

I felt him shrug. “I get it. I have so many opinions shouting at me in my head right now. About soccer, my fucked family, about” - he threw his hands between us.

After Niall had greeted me at the door, I was sure Harry had talked about us in some capacity. But how many people had opinions on our relationship? “Let me guess. Viv shares her opinion about us.”

“I don’t listen to hers.”

“But hey, at least she fucks you right.”

He sucked in a breath, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean that.”

“But it’s true, right? So no need to apologize.”

The room froze over. Just the thought of her whispering in his ear was enough to trigger an entire week’s worth of pent-up animosity.

“So maybe people are confused why Viv and I aren’t together but I couldn’t give a fuck about what they think. I fucking hate that we’re even talking about her right now.”

“What do they say?”

He rolled his eyes, hurriedly slanting his voice, “Viv’s gorgeous mate, she clearly wants you. What the fuck are you doing now?”

I flinched. He noticed. “Look, I seriously hate talking about this. Can we talk about the fact that I didn’t invite anyone tonight?”

“Aw, was Viv busy?”

“Alright, stop.”

A chill shot down my spine at the rejection. As much as I wanted to appreciate the fact he didn’t invite anyone, it didn’t help. This wasn’t helping at all. “I’m sorry if I want to talk about your relationships that directly affect me,” I said, rolling out of his arms.

“Y/N, please. It’s not like that.” His voice was tired, pleading, coaxing me to forget.

“But why are you like this? Why did you just say what you did to me?”

“You asked me-”

“It was very belittling.” I changed my voice to a dopey British accent, “Viv’s gorgeous what the fuck are you doing with Y/N?” I ignored his scowl. “Really, thanks for the best compliment of the night.” I pushed against his chest, annoyed. “And why are you being like this now? All cuddly and-”

“It’s not one-sided.”

I felt my cheeks heat. “Not tonight. But it’s one-sided any other time.”

“S’that what you really think of me?” He pulled me closer, and I fought the urge to twist away. His forehead pressed into my hair. “Firstly, you’re fucking beautiful Y/N. You have to know this. And you have to know you’re important to me. And secondly…”

“Thirdly,” I corrected.

His eyes turned somber. “They’re watching,” he mumbled, pleading. “This is hard for me, too.”

The gang, the cops, both, whichever it was, it didn’t matter. The effect was the same. No matter how special he claimed I was to him, we always went in circles. Maybe he had gotten it right. Maybe it was better for both of us if we weren’t together. “Why is it so hard then?” I whispered.

“Nothing good comes easy.”

I remained silent. It was a cop-out response.

He ran a hand down his face and sat up. “Because I’m fucked! I’m fucked, Y/N and there’s only so many people I can hide from. And you aren’t one of them.”

It was the most candid he’d ever been with me, without revealing anything at all.

A knock sounded at the door.

I went to move, but he kept me against him, covering my ears as he shouted-

“FUCK OFF!!”

But even with his hands over my ears, it wasn’t very muted. The knock grew louder, more obnoxious.

“Sorry,” he grumbled, moving to open the door. When it opened, a boy wearing a snapback around the same height as Harry leant against the doorframe.

“Wassup, man-” Snapback almost burst in.

Harry’s back went stiff as the stranger’s snapback practically poked Harry in the eye. If their overcompensating confidence and too-familiar smile told me anything – freshmen. At least Snapback’s friend wore a Bond-inspired bow-tie t-shirt.

Harry put a hand to Snapback’s chest, backing him back out of the room. They watched me walk up behind him.

“Hey, relax man, we just wanted to get some zombies,” Bowtie bargained.

“You’ve got some fucking balls,” he snarled.

My ears pricked. He was looking for the same thing, then. From Harry. My heart sunk to the lowest part of my belly after remembering why I’d come here in the first place. The sliver of hope I’d had was that maybe what Zayn had witnessed was just Harry’s past. A summer blunder. A summer fling with an illegal hobby. You know, some kids did drugs, some kids sold drugs... It was a ridiculously stupid comparison now that I thought about it. But still, I had hope. Now my undeniable denial was being shred up right in front of me.

The cops, the gang, the drugs circulating campus…

Harry had made his bed, and I was lying in it.

I squeezed past him.

“Wait, are you leaving?” He still blocked his doorway.

I ignored the pang of guilt I felt at his boyish disappointment. He looked at me, body still intimidatingly rigid, but his eyes, impossibly soft. Snapback tried to move past him again and Harry whipped his head back with a growl. “Get the fuck out of here.”

“Excuse me?” Bowtie came closer, puffing out his muscled chest. Testosterone, angst and alcohol were never the best combination. I grew nervous at the tension, looking from my escape at the end of the hall, back to Harry.

“C’mon, we have the cash. We’ll pay double!” Snapback whined, cornering him.

The words made me nauseous, conjuring the image of Viv sliding Harry the cash. I didn’t want to see this again. I didn’t want to see anything again.

“I don’t do that shit anymore.” He strode through their barricade, determined, but Bowtie tugged him back. His nostrils flared and I could tell he was trying to keep his cool. He could ruin these guys if he wanted to. I don’t know why he was letting them keep him. But I also didn’t know why I didn’t run away. It was like watching a train wreck seconds before it happened.

I stood alone, in the center of the hall, the only person on Harry’s horizon. A lighthouse hoping to steer the sailor home.

“C’mon, please man, everyone’s talking about them. We just need one,” Snapback exhorted. He put up his hands, pleading. “We’ll split one. We’ll seriously cut it in half.”

Even from here, I could see the muscles in his neck tense. I tried doing to him what he did to everyone else. I trapped him, wide-eyed, anchoring him to me. He didn’t break our stare.

As if each word scraped against his skull, “I said I don’t do that shit.”

“That’s a fucking joke. Mark got some last week,” Bowtie barked.

I saw the moment I lost him. In what world I thought I could be enough to harbor him, I had no idea. Harry snapped, kicking the steroid-pumped kid so hard in the knee, it knocked him down. It wasn’t a broken bone, but it’d leave one hell of a bruise.

“Dude, are you crazy?!” Snapback cried.

Harry raised his fist, bringing it flying. I gasped and hid my face. But I didn’t hear an impact. I faced them again.

Harry’s fist froze inches before his cheek. Facing what would have been a badly broken nose, Bowtie shook on the floor. Slowly, ever so slowly, Harry relaxed his hovering fist and folded his arms, squatting next to the quivering guy. “You’re fucking welcome I was in a good mood ‘fore you came, otherwise I wouldn’t be acting so polite.”

The squeak of a floorboard shook Harry back to Earth. He caught me walking away and his whole body straightened, once again hyper-focused on me, trying to tune in and trap me exactly where I stood. Taking advantage of his distraction, Snapback and Bowtie ran for it. Bowtie limped, running into me and knocking me off-balance as he passed.

In a second, it was just us.

“Y/N,” he began, walking towards me cautiously.

“No.”

He stopped in his tracks. He was tall, but his shoulders hung in despondent defeat.

“You were right, Harry.”

I could see how tired he was. I could see the broken pieces fitting into something beautiful. He looked so sad and regretful, I already felt guilty for saying,

“You can’t hide anymore.” And with one last look at the broken boy before me, “You are fucked.”

Suddenly, the beer on the floor was just stale and sticky. The couches were filthy from strangers’ mistakes. And the air would never be clear. Harry had been right. This entire house was filled with people who didn’t care and if they did, they were trying to forget; a place more empty than if it were vacant. It was a mess just like the boy living in it. And just like the grand house, impressive at first glance, not all of his parts were beautiful.

I ignored the way his broken pieces seemed to shatter as soon as I said it and the way it hurt me ten-fold. I ignored him calling out my name as I maneuvered through the blur of bodies, until I lost his voice on the dance floor. I could breathe better outside and I walked past the cops without acknowledging them.

From complete chaos to relative quiet, my ears rung, filling the new silence.

Maybe this was the last time we’d speak. Maybe this was how it all should’ve ended that first day in September. Because in that house, that wasn’t the Harry I thought I’d knew. That was a boy far-gone, confused, and I was falling down with him. I was ANGRY. I PITIED him. And I was angry for feeling something else I should never have felt for him.

Somehow, in this fuzzy ringing world buzzing with heated thoughts and cop lights that blurred my vision, I heard a notepad scribble as soon as I passed a squad car.��

Lucky for me, Momma always said I had selective hearing.

part 21

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