#literally I can count on my hands the number of peers who have shared thoughts about KH's use of music in a narrative context

[bakugotrashpanda]

Hawks x F!Reader Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: I feel rusty af with my writing right now. Also reader is lowkey @kweenkatsuki coded :3

!!: sex, talk of having kids

Hawks is normally suave and charming… except for when you’re around.

It started so innocently.

Ding! The elevator door opens and Keigo watches as a tall stack of boxes labeled Bedroom wobbles precariously. 

“Careful now!” he says and swoops in to grab the top two before they topple off. “If you need help moving in, all you have to do is-” The last word dies in his throat. He can barely make out the top of your face peering over the rest of your boxes, but your eyes have already captivated his.

“Thanks for catching that,” you laugh. God your laugh is beautiful. “I don’t want to take any more of your time though.”

Keigo shrugs and smiles wryly. “If I don’t have time to help a pretty woman, then I’ve been slacking at my job.” He adjusts the boxes in his hands and takes another from your pile. Stepping to the side, he lets you lead the way.

“You might’ve seen me on TV before,” he says smoothly, “But don’t feel you have to call me Hawks. We’re neighbors now, call me Keigo.”

“Alright, Keigo,” you laugh, “I’m in unit 902.” Keigo’s heart skips a beat. Literal neighbors. He stares at his corner apartment, unit 903, not even four yards away. You fumble with the keys and he can make out a collection of keychains. There’s got to be something he can use here to keep the conversation going.

“You like raccoons?” he asks lamely. It was the first thing out of his mouth. What if it was a gift? Something you didn’t actually like but kept for sentimentality? Wincing, he scrambles for a plan of how to salvage this.

“Y’know that video of a raccoon accidentally putting cotton candy in water and then looking all confused about it?” you keep walking to the back of the apartment, your voice bouncing off the empty walls.

“Yeah, I’ve seen that once or twice.” Most of your major furniture is moved in, and your bedroom is no exception. The headboard rests against the shared wall with Keigo’s apartment. 

“It makes me cry,” you say, “Every single time.” There’s no hint of a smile, no ‘gotcha’ moment, just pure seriousness.

“Every time?” Keigo laughs and sets the boxes down.

“Every. Damn. Time.”

“There’s no way.”

“Pull it up right now and I’ll be in tears.” There’s something in your eyes, a challenge? Goading? He likes it. Someone who, for once, isn’t trying to suck up to him because he’s a pro hero. Not that he wouldn’t mind you suck-

He all but shouts the first thing that comes to his mind to end that line of thought. “The walls are thick, so you and your boyfriend don’t have to worry about being heard.” 

Smooth. Real smooth. 

“Funny, I don’t have a boyfriend. But I do have a phone number, and you should let me know when you’re free so you can show this new girl around town.” You pull a marker out of one of your pockets and write it on the palm of his hand. Damn. Here you are, pulling out all the stops, and he can’t get his fucking foot out of his mouth.

“If we’re exchanging things, you should have one of these.” His wings rustle and a feather darts out and hovers in front of you.

“A feather?” you ask and pluck it out of the air. Warm. Rolling the quill between your thumb and forefinger, Keigo watches you inspect the small red feather.

“It’s linked to me, so if you’re ever in trouble, just –” A shiver runs down his spine, and it takes all his willpower not to physically respond. Your finger runs along the edge of the feathers. So light and curious, but fuck all Keigo wants is your hands running along his – 

No.

That’s only because you’re doing it right now and it feels good. You’re neighbors. There’s no way he can think of you as anything other than a friend. For fuck’s sake, you haven’t even moved in properly.

“Just stroke it,” Keigo finally chokes out “I’ll feel it.” Your finger freezes. A ghost of a smile passes over your lips.

You clear your throat. “I’ll make sure to put this in a safe place.”

As Keigo closes his front door, there’s a soft click to his left as you also leave yours. “Morning, Keigo,” you call out to him.

“Hey, Chickadee,” he chuckles. Not even a week in and almost every morning the two of you happened to leave at the same time. It must be fate – if fate is another word for Keigo listening for the jingle of your keys and telltale singing as you get ready to start your day.

“Off to work?”

“Another day making sure everyone stays safe.” Keigo tucks his keys in his pocket and turns to see you standing by the elevator in a yellow sundress. He lets out a low whistle and lifts his glasses to see you in all your glory. The skirt hit your midthigh, and while the top had thick straps, the sweetheart neckline drew his eyes to your chest – and based on your smirk, you knew exactly how you looked in it. “Where’s a pretty lady such as yourself heading?”

“This really cute guy showed me a cafe a while ago, and there happens to be a bookstore rather close to it. I figured I’d get a book and a coffee and enjoy the sunshine,” you shrugged. “Oh c’mon Keigo, it was you. Like I’d let just anyone show me around.” Apparently he hadn’t been able to conceal his frown at your mention of a ‘really cute guy’. 

But his feathers stayed ruffled the rest of the day. You were on his mind so much that Keigo made blunders at work. You had him tongue tied and jokes with coworkers came out punchline first. Paperwork didn’t get done. The fastest man alive slowed down for a little bit. 

When he got home, he decided to call it an early night and catch up on some much-needed sleep. Maybe that was the problem, not that he couldn’t shake your dazzling smile or infectious laugh, but maybe he was simply sleep deprived. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

But even sleep is hard to get when his mind keeps drifting. 

Mmm… Keigo lifts his head from his pillow. His wings practically vibrate with energy. A small gasp fills his mind, a hitch in the breath. He feels it deep in his chest – his blood hums from one of his links. 

Shaking away his sleep, he sits up, silk sheets falling away from his bare chest. Absentmindedly rubbing an old scar on his shoulder, he runs through all his feathers. The one at his office is fine, as are the ones with his top three sidekicks.

Oh god… just like that.

It’s none of the ones he tucked away in potential hideout locations… That leaves –

I-I’m almost… Ha- oh fuck… oh FUCK

A short scream followed by breathy panting echoes in his ears. And then it’s silent. Even the low hum of vibrations that initially woke him up. 

That… was you. Right next door. Did you realize he could hear everything? Probably not. You said you were keeping his feather in a safe place, and what safer place than the bedroom?

Keigo spent all night staring at the ceiling trying not to replay the sounds you made. Every time his mind drifted, the glorious sound of you coming would stir him and he’d find himself hard. 

He debated the ethics of jacking off to you – he hoped the ‘ethics’ part of it would be enough for his raging boner to die down. On one hand, you didn’t have to know. Ever. Does anyone really know how many people get off to the thought of them? Or hell, even him, the number two hero, how many people in the country fantasized about him? He doesn’t know. But on the other hand, what if he started getting feelings or you got a boyfriend or something?

Somehow he was able to get you off his mind and sleep.

“Do you ever think of leaving from the window of your apartment?” you ask as his door shuts. You’re waiting for the elevator, back to him. Keigo looks you up and down. Another sundress. Is this your normal clothing? Do you wear this to work? A stab of jealousy rips through him at the thought of your coworkers getting to see you like this every day and getting to hear your laugh. “Or is that not allowed?”

“Morning to you too,” Keigo says carefully. The ruffle at the end of your dress stirs as his wings flutter slightly. A good gust and - “You’re… glowing this morning.”

“Got a good night of sleep,” you grin at him. Your smile falls though, replaced with concern, when you finally look at him. “You should try it some time.” Your lips turn down, a slight pout sending pure lust to his groin.

Not now. Please, not now. Nothing like an elevator ride with a hardening dick that you will notice because that’s how his luck is.

The door dings and slides open. You walk on and turn, holding the door for him.

“Are you coming?”

If only.

“I- No I forgot something,” Keigo waves you off. “Go on ahead.”

A shower. Oh god he needs a shower.

Cold water pelts his skin, each droplet a shock to his system.

Oh god

He tries to focus on the cold, but your voice persists. It curls around his ear, teasing him, begging him.

Just like that

Keigo’s nails dig into the palm of his hand. His cock twitches as he remembers the way you moan. 

Mmm just like that

His eyes close and he can imagine you bracing yourself against the shower wall. Your ass pressed against his dick. And he wants nothing more than to slip inside you. 

Oh fuck

Keigo’s hand wraps around his shaft and he starts pumping his cock. How he wants to grab your hips and thrust into you instead of his fucking hand. Your cute panting would fill the room, and your tits. Fuck. He could leave marks on them just high enough that they’d peak over the edge of your dresses. 

I’m almost…

What if he had fucked you in the elevator? Slipped your panties down and taken you against the wall? He’d slide so easily into you. He’d leave you with a love bite to remember him by, and he’d take your panties as his own memento.

Keigo grunts and thrusts once, twice more before shooting ropes of cum. He inhales deeply and braces himself against the shower wall. All at once everything assaults his senses; the freezing temperature of the water, the sound of water hitting him and the walls before running down the drain, the whine of the bathroom vent. It’s all too much. 

Keigo wouldn’t say he’s avoiding you… but he definitely went into work earlier and stayed later than normal. Whenever he sees you all he can picture is his head between your thighs, pressing kisses into your soft skin, your hands lacing through his hair trying to get his mouth to find its target.

He barely knows you. He doesn’t even know what you do for work, if you have friends in the area, anything. 

But he’d like to know you, if only he could get his brain, dick, and heart on the same page.

His wings hum with pleasure and he searches through his feathers to see who has grabbed his attention. Again, it’s you. He’s tempted to listen in, see what has you in a good mood, but he shouldn’t be eavesdropping. Another hum. Laughter. Loud, soul filling laughter. He can’t not peek now. 

Your voice is muffled, but he’s able to make out your conversation.

“But you know who I live next to? Hawks. I get a lil eye candy on my way into the office every morning… At least when he’s not swamped with work.” He can practically see the pout on your face. “Now he’s someone I wouldn’t mind having a productive one-night stand with.”

Oh?

Blood pumps to his face and groin at the mere thought of a one-night stand with you. If he heard you scream his name, he’d instantly nut.

“Ugh, yes, the baby fever is real, but you don’t understand. He’s so fucking hot. And c’mon. We’d have cute kids.”

Oh?

“And he looks like he needs to let off a little steam. He’s so… tense nowadays. Barely get a ‘good morning’ when I do see him.” Keigo stews in your silence as your friend no doubt responds. You seemed interested, but what if it was all talk? Your laughter breaks through his thoughts. “Yeah, if he showed up at my door asking me if I wanted to bang, I would say yes, but that’s not going to happen.”

Like hell it won’t. He tears his way to his front door and yanks it open. Frantically, he pounds on your door as if you’ll take back what you said. He waits. Each second you take drives his blood pressure higher and higher.

Cautiously, you open the door. He catches a glimpse of your breathtaking eyes through the crack. Your wary scowl is replaced with a wide smile when you realize who it is.

“Hey, I gotta go. Call you later.” You end the call and shove your phone in a pocket. “What’s up?”

Keigo opens his mouth only for nothing to come out. He’s smoother than this! Where are all the one liners that come to him so naturally? Where’s the suave motherfucker who can charm the pants off anyone? Who are you and what have you done to him?

“Wanna bang?” It’s the first thing he can think of – the one line that got him out of his apartment and scrambling for yours.

Your eyes widen for a moment before narrowing. Keigo had never seen you mad before. Annoyed, sure, but never mad. But now… now he feels like a storm is brewing, and you’re the center of it all. 

“How did you know that?” you ask slowly. 

There’s no easy way to explain it. Actually, scratch that. He probably could explain it, but it’s easier to show you. For some reason, whenever he speaks around you, his words betray the cool, confident man he portrays.

The little red feather he gifted you zips through your apartment and hovers between the two of you. Glaring, you snatch the feather out of the air and stroke the edge of it. Keigo barely catches and swallows a moan. You had to know what you’re doing to him. 

“You can listen with this.” It’s not a question, but he nods regardless. “You were listening to me?!”

You’re furious with him all right and he’s in no state of mind for an argument. “I thought you knew! I thought I told you th-”

“You told me no such thing!”

“I gave it to you for emergencies!” he says desperately. You’re still stroking the feather and he’s losing control. “How do you think I’d know if you’re in trouble?”

“YOU TOLD ME TO STROKE IT!” you snap, “You never mentioned that you could hear everything!”

“I- Okay that’s on me. And I’m sorry.” He braces himself against your doorframe and exhales deeply. He is fucking this up beyond belief. “I’m sorry.” Again, with feeling. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave y-”

Soft arms wrap around his neck and tug his body against yours. Your lips are against his, a hint of strawberries subtly playing with the taste of you on his tongue. He can finally feel you, your curves, your chest against his, your perfect ass. 

“If you’ve heard everything, what took you so damn long?” you demand. Your fingers are just as demanding, pulling him into your apartment and stripping him of his shirt before shedding your own.

“You’re not angry with me?” Keigo asks as you finger his belt.

“Oh no, I’m angry,” you arch an eyebrow at him, “But you heard what I said. If you came to my door wanting to fuck, I’d say yes. I’m angry, and you better start apologizing.”

Oh.

Oh.

He can do that.

Keigo scoops you up in his arms and rushes to your bedroom. He worships you, pressing kisses over your body, lavishing you with attention. You want an apology? He’ll give you the best damn apology he can. 

He may have struggled with words, but his tongue does wonders at conveying his thoughts. He doesn’t stop until your grip on his head reluctantly relaxes and your body is shaking with release. Your chest rises and falls rapidly

“That,” you clear your throat, “That was a pretty good apology.”

“Aw, Chickadee,” Keigo gently places a kiss below your navel, then ribcage as he works his way up the bed to you. You shiver each time his lips make contact with your body, your trembling inhale music to his ears. “I’ve barely started. What did you say again? We’d have pretty cute kids?” His body hovers over yours. “We can start working on them now if you want, and besides, I haven’t done my job until you’re screaming my name.”

With a smirk, you hook your arms around his neck and pull him into a passionate kiss. “So what are you waiting for, Keigo?”

Image in banner from unsplash

[luvdsc]

august.

Bad habits are hard to break, and you’ve made a terrible one of loving him.

pairing :: liu yangyang x reader genre :: fluff, angst ⋮ best friend + college au word count :: 10,500 words warnings :: none. playlist :: time lapse (taeyeon) ⋆ 2 kids (taemin) ⋆ daydreams (exes) ⋆ sharing you (lany) ⋆ august (taylor swift) ⋆ too close to love (will hyde) ⋆ sad stripped (lany) ⋆ strangers (taemin) ⋆ the 1 (taylor swift) author’s note :: can you believe that i literally wrote this entire 10k fic in one day aka today ??? whew this gave me the same rush that i got when i wrote my research paper in the class it was due for the day of, printed it out during break, and handed it in at the end of class :’) ↳ part of the almost collaboration series.

Liu Yangyang is jumping fences to escape late night parties, shared laughter over childhood favorite cartoons on February mornings, midnight dancing in the refrigerator light, and November kisses stolen in between the shelves of the nearby 7-Eleven. He is obscure doodles in the margins of your physics notes, good intentions laced in December’s mistakes, strawberry lemonade and broken truths wrapped in summer bliss, and September endings with honest lies.

He is your August, he is your everything, but he isn’t yours.

AUGUST 2018.

August has barely begun to fade away.

You’re eighteen years old, and you’re drunk off of your first taste of freedom, one toe already dipping into the shiny pleasures of adulthood. Your new roommate, Karina, has excitedly told you about the famous beach night themed frat party that kick starts every school year at your university. Everybody who’s anybody would be there, and your heart already races at the thought of going to your very first college party.

“Coral or blue?” Karina holds up a solid colored neon blue bikini and a striped, bright pink one for you to choose between.

“Blue.” You nod towards the first option, and she discards the other one back into the open drawer. You pull out a marigold yellow one and a black one lined with white strings, wordlessly gesturing towards them, and she immediately points to the latter.

“That one is gonna look so cute on you. Well, both would, but I love that one.”

You grin at her, silently thanking whoever decided to pair the two of you together for the random dorming. “Perfect, thanks. Do you know any of the guys hosting the party?”

“Yeah, Dejun? He’s really sweet and a year above us. I met him in the music elective I’m taking.” She turns to take off her shirt and tosses it to the side, pulling on her bikini and wriggling into a pair of ripped jean shorts. “You?”

“Kind of? Jaemin is in my project group in Intro to Engineering. He’s rushing for that frat.” You quickly change out of your outfit and into your chosen swim top and daisy dukes. You make sure to grab a pair of black flip flops from your closet. The bundle of nerves in your stomach grows as you step out of your dorm with your new friend, a bit anxious but also excited to attend your very first party.

Thank goodness for summer weather. It’s still a nice, warm 75 degrees Fahrenheit according to your weather app when you and Karina finally make your way to the frat house. The sun barely begins to set, but the party slash dayger had started earlier and is in full swing. There’s a DJ set up out front, blasting some sort of EDM music, and the lawn is absolutely covered in foam. You see the source of it shakily set up on the roof of the patio along with a couple of boys sitting up there, Hawaiian shirts barely covering their figures. You catch the eye of Jaemin, who happily waves at you from his vantage point, and you wave back at him.

“Oh my god, I love college,” Karina says, grabbing your arm excitedly as the two of you step into the foam. You reach down to pick up some of it before flicking it towards your roommate, who squeals before scooping some up and throwing it in your direction as well.

“Ready for our first shitty college drink?” You pull her through the mass of other students and towards the horribly decorated tiki bar stationed in the corner of the patio.

“Hell yeah, let’s do it.”

The two of you stumble over, still throwing handfuls of foam at each other amidst giggles before making a full stop in front of the bar. The older boy behind the makeshift counter lazily grins at you both, a shell necklace hanging loosely around his neck, and his unbuttoned orange Hawaiian shirt gives you a nice flash of his toned abs.

“Hey, I’m Johnny. What can I get for you two?”

“Two vodka shots, please.”

“Alright, ID?”

You freeze, and Karina’s grip on your arm tightens, and then Johnny laughs, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Relax, I’m just messing with you, freshie. Two vodka shots coming right up.”

He pulls out two small plastic cups and pours out the drinks for you. “How many do you want?”

“This is good for now, thanks.” You and Karina pick up the drinks, smiling a little nervously at him. He flashes another amused smile at you. “Alright, come back anytime if you want another.”

You move away from the patio, and Karina follows close behind. The two of you throw back the drinks and dispose of the empty cups quickly. The burning sensation in your throat disappears after a few seconds, and you turn to your roommate. “Should we find our friends?”

“I think I see Dejun back there! Let’s go say hi, I can introduce you to him.” Karina drags you through the rising foam, the bubbles clinging to your skin, and when you go past the DJ stand, you feel the pounding bass reverberating in your chest harder than ever. You trek past the gate and into the backyard where the foam has risen to your waist, thanks to the enclosed fences. She taps on the shoulder of a boy with the prettiest almond eyes you have ever seen, and you shyly smile at him when he greets you.

“Hey, I’m Dejun.”

Oh my god, even his voice sounds pretty. Older college boys are definitely better and hotter than high school boys. Heck, they’re better than freshman boys. Nobody wants to date a freshman dude, not even the freshman girls.

“Hi, I’m Y/N.” You extend your hand, but then realize how stupid that must be. You hastily start to retract your hand, but he laughs and warmly grasps your hand. Smiling at you, he shakes it firmly, squeezing your hand gently before letting go.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.”

The butterflies in your stomach grow in volume as the conversation goes on, and you’re positively enamored by the end of the night. Karina had given you a look earlier before walking off with Dejun’s friend and joining the dancing crowd. With the addition of his phone number in your pocket and a promise to show you a new song he’s working on with his guitar next Friday, you’re walking on cloud nine.

“Do you want something to drink? I need a refill, and I can go grab you one,” he asks, and you’re about to offer to go with him, but then you remember the teasing upperclassman and simply agree, asking for another shot of vodka.

After he disappears, you look around, eyeing the crowd and wondering if you can spot your roommate anywhere. You bump into someone lightly and turn around to apologize. Your eyes meet a pair of curiously bright ones.

“Sorry about that, I’m looking for my roomie.”

The boy gives you a Cheshire Cat grin. He’s wearing one of those dumb Hawaiian shirts, too, and it’s unbuttoned, but he has a white T-shirt layered underneath it. “No biggie, it’s a massive party and it’s crowded. Who are you looking for?”

“Ah, I don’t know if you know her, but Karina? She went off with this dude, Kunhang, I think?”

His eyes light up at that name. “Oh, I know him! I saw him earlier by the keg stands inside. Your friend might be there, too. I can—”

“THE COPS ARE COMING!” A loud voice bellows, and you freeze up. Suddenly, the music is shut off as everyone starts running away. You start to panic, the terror rising in your chest, and the boy in front of you grabs your hand and pulls you with him. “What are you doing?! Don’t just stand there! We gotta go!”

“Wait, but Kar—” You start to object, but cut yourself off when you bump into his back as he abruptly stops. He scans the backyard, quickly assessing the situation before turning to you.

“There’s way too many people trapped in here, we’re not gonna make it to the gate. We need to climb over the fence. I’ll hoist you up, and you can help me up from there.”

“I don’t even know you,” you protest, and he throws you a look.

“Hi, I’m Yangyang, nice to meet you, I don’t want to get my ass hauled out by the police and continue the icebreakers in jail, so let’s move now. We good?”

“Yeah, okay, we’re good,” you say faintly, mind still whirling around as you try to grasp the situation. “I’m Y/N.”

“Great, now up you go.”

He immediately picks you up without any warning, and you almost fall backwards, arms flailing before you grasp the top of the fence and pull yourself up. Balancing precariously on top of it, you grab his arm, tugging him up until he’s sitting right next to you, too. The both of you swing your legs over the fence and jump down to the other side. You let out a sigh of relief, squatting down as you clutch your heart.

“Oh my god, we made it. I didn’t get arrested at my first party.”

“What an amazing accomplishment.” Yangyang brushes off the back of his shorts. “We aren’t going to jail. Freshman year is gonna be a breeze if your bar is set this low.”

“Hey!” You frown at him, standing up and crossing your arms over your chest. “How do you know I’m a freshman?”

“It’s written all over your face.” You give him a look, and he relents. “Only a freshman would be this scared of getting caught.”

“So are you an upperclassman?”

“Nah, this is my first party, too. I’m rushing for Nu Chi. Hold on, wait here.” He sneaks around the edge of the fence, peering around for a few seconds before jogging back towards you. “Okay, the police are over there. I’m gonna have to wait a while before going back in.”

“You have to go back?”

“Part of tonight’s rush process,” he sighs before turning to you. “Do you live on campus?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna walk back now,” you answer, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “It’s late, and I’m not in a partying mood anymore.”

“I can walk you back,” he offers, and you shoot him a grateful smile.

“That’d be great, thanks.”

The two of you start the trek back, an awkward lull in the conversation making itself known. You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering slightly when a soft breeze picks up. There’s a light rustling noise, and you pay no mind to it until a soft cloth is draped over your shoulders. Eyes widening, you notice the colorful, palm tree-printed button down shirt wrapped around you and the boy next to you, looking straight ahead with his hands shoved into his pockets. Smiling to yourself, you slip on the shirt, loosely buttoning the front of it.

“So, Yangyang,” you casually begin, testing his name on your tongue for the first time. You decide you like it. It’s cute. He turns to you, raising an eyebrow, and you continue, “Since our lives are no longer in jeopardy, we can continue the icebreakers, right?”

His lips curve into a smile. “Alright, shoot. What’s your first question?”

“Captain America or Iron Man?”

“Oh, Iron Man, hands down. He’s so…”

You meet him in August.

FEBRUARY 2019.

“Hey, where’s your cereal? The Reese’s one?”

February marks six months of your relationship with Dejun. It also marks six months of your friendship with Yangyang. It is time for your weekly Sunday rituals of watching old cartoons and eating breakfast, and you could’ve sworn that box was still half full last week. You rummage through the top drawer Yangyang had designated for snacks and other foods in his dorm as he takes out the milk from his mini fridge and carries it over to his desk.

“I ran out a few days ago. There’s Cinnamon Toast Crunch somewhere in there though.”

With a victorious cry, you manage to pull out the slightly crushed box of the aforementioned cereal from underneath the packages of flamin’ hot Cheetos and spicy nacho Doritos and triumphantly bring it over to your best friend. He already pulls out two bowls (which were stolen from the dining hall) and hands over the plastic spoons in his grasp (which was also taken from the dining hall).

“Thanks.” After dropping a spoon into each bowl, you shake out the sugary cereal squares before pouring the milk because you’re not an absolute heathen who puts milk in first, like Sicheng. Yangyang clambers up to his top bunk bed, and you carefully pass over the two bowls of cereal, milk sloshing precariously near the edges. You climb up afterwards, and he gives you your bowl once you settle down.

“So, Scooby Doo or Pokémon?”

“Mm, we watched Pokémon last Sunday already, so let’s do Scooby Doo this time.” He nods in agreement, pulling up the cartoon from the queue in Netflix, and the two of you lean back against the ginormous mound of pillows and stuffed animals of his that occupy nearly half of his bed.

You’re shoveling a spoonful of cereal into your mouth when he casually asks, “So how’re you and Dejun doing?”

Choking slightly, you quickly swallow. “We’re doing good. I think he booked a table at the Italian restaurant down the street for Valentine’s Day. Are you doing anything for Valentine’s?”

“I’m forcing Renjun to come watch that “‘Happy Death Day’ movie with me.” The faint sounds of the Scooby Doo theme song plays in the background as you hum in acknowledgement, mouth twisting into a mischievous smirk.

“That’s so sweet. So who confessed to who? Not gonna lie, I thought you had a crush on Hyuck, not Jun.”

“... I would shove you right now, but I just did my laundry, and rewashing my comforter is expensive and I’m out of quarters.”

You stick your tongue out at him, and he rolls his eyes before lifting his bowl up to sip the best part of having Cinnamon Toast Crunch: the milk infused with all the cinnamony, sugary goodness. You let your spoon fall back into your bowl with a soft clink, a sudden worrying thought popping into your head.

“I bought him some customized guitar picks and a pretty composition book. Do you think he’ll like it?”

“That’s a pretty basic gift, isn’t it? It feels like something Kun would get him,” he teases, but his heart falls when he notices you chewing on your bottom lip, spoon held limply in your hand.

“Hey, I’m just joking, of course he would like it. He’s completely whipped. He’ll love anything from you.” Yangyang’s voice grows softer, and he fiddles with a stray thread on his comforter, avoiding eye contact with you. “I know I would.”

He looks up slightly and sees you smiling gratefully at him, eyes shining bright. He quickly ducks his head, turning away slightly to hide the hues of pink blooming on his cheeks. He feels you leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder with a quiet sigh, and his breath hitches in his throat.

“Thanks, Yang.”

Replaying the sight of your smile in his mind makes his stomach flip flop, and he resists the overwhelming urge to tell you you’re pretty, pushing it back into the farthest crevice of his mind.  Your head on his shoulder makes him feel like he’s carrying the entire world, and he doesn’t know what to do. He paints on a tight smile of his own, silently hoping you can’t hear the way his heart nearly pounds out of his chest.

Yangyang knows that having feelings for his best friend, specifically one of his good friends’ girlfriends, is something he absolutely should not be doing, but he can’t help it. His stupid heart refuses to listen to his brain. For now, all he can do is desperately hope that this dumb crush of his goes away soon because while 99% of his friends are oblivious (including you), Ten and Donghyuck are not. They’ll be able to spot his feelings from a mile away, like how Kun always knows when there’s a good sale going on at the Asian supermarket downtown (This week, it was the 50% off bean sprouts and chili paste).

Letting out an inaudible sigh, Yangyang carefully rests his head on top of yours. Clutching the empty bowl with one hand, he shoves his other one under his thigh to stop himself from reaching over and tangling his fingers with yours. He stares at the screen, watching until the bright colors blur together.

“Anytime.”

He likes you in February.

AUGUST 2019.

The earth spins around the sun for another time, and August makes its presence known once again. It’s Thursday night, and you’re sitting on the countertop in Nu Chi Theta’s kitchen, swinging your legs back and forth as Yangyang struggles to make some scrambled eggs because the half filled carton of eggs the two of you managed to find is the only thing that isn’t expired (besides Jeno’s protein shakes, but neither of you are gonna touch that cardboard tasting monstrosity).

“Maybe I should make it.” You peer over at the frying pan, wincing when you see the full damage of your future meal. “Did you use oil?”

“Of course I did!” he exclaims indignantly before pitifully pushing around the nearly charred mess of yolk and whites around with his spatula. “I’m not Mark.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you mutter, waving your hand around to dissipate the acrid burning smell, and Yangyang throws you a dirty look. He grabs a fork and stabs a small chunk of the eggs. Picking it up, he brings it closer to his mouth before hesitating. His eyes dart to you, and you raise your eyebrows at him, a silent challenge in your gaze. The sad piece of egg hovers in the air for a few more seconds before he defeatedly drops it back into the pan.

“Okay, what if we just Uber Eats some McDonald’s?” Turning off the stove, he then tosses the remnants of his cooking into the trash and drops the pan into the sink.

“Stellar plan. Best idea you’ve had all night.” You hop off the counter to stand next to him, propping your chin on his shoulder to see him pull up the app. He immediately puts in your usual order along with his before holding it up for you to see it better.

“Looks good?”

“Looks perfect.”

He clicks the confirmation button, and the delivery is set to come in 30 minutes. You’re suddenly hyper aware of how close you are with your chest pressed against his back and hastily move away, warmth spreading across your cheeks.

Glancing over at your best friend, you don't miss the way Yangyang smiles down at something on his phone before his fingers fly across the screen. When he looks up, you immediately turn away, focusing your eyes on anything but him.

“Hey, you’re going to the Alpha Sig formal, right?” Yangyang calls out, and you throw on a teasing grin.

“You mean Alpha Sigma Psi, also known as the sorority I’m in?”

“Ah, right, yeah.” He flushes, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “But you’re going, right?”

You nod, the sudden realization creeping up on you. “Oh yeah, I am, thanks for reminding me. I completely forgot to ask, but do you want t—”

“Ningning just asked me to go with her,” Yangyang blurts out, and you freeze, failing to hide your shock for a split second before you regain your composure.

“Oh wow, that’s great, Yang! I’ll see you there then.” You try to give him a convincing smile. He wrings his hands, biting his bottom lip. Something is on his mind. You can tell. He’s not someone to hold back with his words, but this time, he is.

“I… I don’t know if I’m gonna go,” he says at last. Your heart picks up a little at that. Does that mean he doesn’t want to go to the dance at all? Or does he not want to go with Ningning? If you asked him now, would it make a difference?

“I’ve never slow danced,” he confesses, leaning against the opposite counter, and your heart drops. So that was it. Of course, he wouldn’t reject Ningning. She’s an absolute goddess, heck, you wouldn’t say no if she asked you either. You stamp out that last flicker of hope.

“What if I suck at it?” he continues, absentmindedly carding his fingers through his hair. “Oh god, I bet Yukhei and Kunhang are never gonna let me live it down. I can do choreographed dances, but I’m gonna mess up over a stupid slow dance. But where am I supposed to put my hands?! Like on her shoulders? Her waist? Do I hold her hand?”

Your eyes follow the way his hair ruffles slightly, and you wonder if it’s as soft as it looks. You swallow hard before saying quietly, “I can teach you?”

His hand pauses mid-movement, and your eyes fly down to meet his. His eyes widen, and he contemplates your offer for a split second before nodding excitedly. “Yeah, that’d be great! Can you teach me right now? While we wait for our food to come!”

“S-sure,” you stammer, flustered at the sudden acceptance and his eagerness. “Um, here? In the kitchen?”

“Yeah, why not?” He shrugs before straightening up. “The lights should be dimmed, right? We can kind of mimic that here to set the mood or whatever.”

He goes over and fiddles with the light switch, flicking it on and off, and you laugh, walking over and placing your hand over his. “What are you doing? Some kind of Kevin Nguyen mating call to look for a rave bae?”

“First off, I’m offended that you think I’d be one of them,” Yangyang narrows his eyes at you. “Secondly, I’m trying to make this feel more formal dance-y. Oh, wait!”

He turns off the lights for the last time and reaches over to pull open the refrigerator doors, the artificial fluorescent light pouring out and mixing with the faint beams coming in through the window from the street lamps outside. He grins at you, satisfied. “Romantic, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but the amused smile on your face gives away your true feelings. “Wow, Romeo, you swept me off my feet. The food is gonna go bad, and Kun is gonna kill you for the high electricity bill.”

“What food? Jeno’s protein shakes probably never expire.” He snorts before standing closer to you, his hands resting on either side of you on the counter. You can see the pretty gold flecks in his irises, and your breath gets caught in your throat. “And I guess this means you gotta teach me fast before we waste more electricity, right?”

You place your hands on his chest and lightly push him away, and he laughs, stepping back. You let out a shaky breath, remembering that your lungs need oxygen in order to, you know, continue living.

“Okay,” you clear your throat before pulling out your phone and putting on a slow song. “Ready?”

“You chose Ed Sheeran? Thinking Out Loud? Really?”

You raise your hands up defensively. “Hey, he’s the king of sappy slow songs that all girls want to be played at their weddings for their first dance.”

When your legs don't work like they used to before,

And I can't sweep you off of your feet,

Will your mouth still remember the taste of my love?

Will your eyes still smile from your cheeks?

“Is this the song you want played at your wedding?” He raises an eyebrow at you, and your face grows warm. You ignore the question, and this time, you’re the one taking a bold step forward, a few centimeters now separating you and your best friend. You see his Adam’s apple bob as he gulps lightly before meeting your eyes.

And darling, I will be loving you 'til we're seventy,

And baby, my heart could still fall as hard at twenty-three,

And I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways.

“So, your hands go here.” You take his hands and place them on either side of your waist. His arms freeze up. “Relax, Yang. Precious cargo here.”

He lets out a chuckle, loosening his grip as he starts to relax. You reach up and slide your arms around his neck, interlocking your fingers. You gaze back at him, saying softly, “Now pull me closer.”

He does so.

Maybe just the touch of a hand,

Oh me I fall in love with you every single day,

And I just wanna tell you I am.

“And now follow my lead. We’re going to take one step. And then another. We’re just slowly turning in a circle.”

After a few spins and steps, you stop leading and let yourself be led. Yangyang continues to hold onto you carefully, and you can hear him muttering a 1, 2, 3, 4 count under his breath until he finally gets the hang of it. He grows a little braver, pulling you even closer.

So honey now,

Take me into your loving arms,

Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars.

“Are you going with Dejun?” he asks quietly, and you stiffen at the mention at him before shaking your head.

“No, we broke up in July.”

Yangyang falters in his step before recovering. “Oh. You never told me.”

“Yeah.” You struggle to keep your voice level. “I just… he’s your friend, and I didn’t want to make it weird.”

“You’re my best friend though,” he says firmly, looking you directly in the eyes. His grip on your waist tightens. “It’s his loss. That dumbass just lost the best person who’ll ever come into his life.”

You give him a tired half smile, one that doesn’t quite meet your eyes. He hugs you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your waist and securing you against his chest. You rest your head in the crook of his neck and hope that he doesn’t feel how quickly your heart beats in your chest.

Place your head on my beating heart,

I'm thinking out loud,

Maybe we found love right where we are.

“Thanks, Yang,” you whisper, your breath tickling his skin. He envelops you tightly, and the two of you continue to spin in slow circles, quietly dancing in the refrigerator light as the remaining verses of the song warble in the background.

You think you finally understand what Dejun meant when he said he’s breaking up with you because your heart was already occupied by someone else.

You fall in love with him in August.

NOVEMBER 2019.

[ 12:54 a.m. ] yang 🐏🤪: hey you up?

[ 12:54 a.m. ] yang 🐏🤪: 7/11 in ten mins?

Tiredly rubbing your eyes, you stumble out of your dorm building, one of Jeno’s sweaters draped over your figure. November nights are cold, but this one seems chillier than usual. Yangyang stands near the front steps, and he stiffens up when he notices whose hoodie you’re wearing. He makes no mention of it though when you join him.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” He glances over to you as the two of you walk side by side to the small convenience store just on the edge of campus. You shake your head, shoving your hands into the front pocket of your sweater.

“I was up cramming for midterms. I could use a break anyway,” you shrug. A wisp of your hair falls in your face, and Yangyang starts to reach out to fix it, but forces himself to keep his hand by his side. You reach out to carelessly brush it away, tucking it behind your ear.

“What about you?” You look over at him, noting the bags under his eyes. “Rough night?”

He smiles tiredly at you, shoving his hands into his pockets as he kicks a stray pebble along the sidewalk. “More like rough week. Two more midterms left, and they’re for electromagnetic theory and linear systems.”

“Oh god, good luck. I took linear systems today, and it was absolutely brutal.” You wince, brightening up when you see the familiar neon orange, red, and green lights up ahead.

“Maybe I should just withdraw and take it again next quarter,” your best friend grumbles, kicking the stone as far as he possibly can.

“You really want another quarter with Hwang?”

“You’re right,” he sighs, “I just need to get a C+ to maintain my GPA. C if I’m pushing it.”

The two of you hurry over to the 7-Eleven, quickening your pace, until you reach the store doors, and you pull them open. Entering quickly, you push the door open slightly wider, and Yangyang slips in behind you. The cashier doesn’t even look up, texting away on his phone. You make a beeline towards the chips aisle, grabbing a bag of flamin’ hot Cheetos and a pack of sour gummy worms.

“What are you getting, Yang?” You call out over your shoulder, eyes zeroing in on the Red Bull stand at the end of the aisle. When you hear no response, you halt in your steps, turning around. Yangyang stands in the middle of the aisle, looking dazed under the fluorescent lights.

Putting your items back on the shelf, you approach him, reaching out and touching his arm gently. “Yangyang, what’s wrong?”

He jerks back before silently holding up his phone for you to see. There’s a slew of text messages from Ningning a few hours ago, and a quick scan tells you all you need to know. Your heart weighs heavily in your chest when you look back at him, a forlorn expression on his face.

“She dumped me,” he says quietly, shoving the phone back into his pocket. “She said our relationship was like a friendship. She didn’t feel anything. She said we could still be friends if I wanted to be though.”

He jabs a large bag of Lays potato chips angrily as his voice raises slightly higher. “But I don’t get it. Do friends take each other on dates? Do friends spend the night? Do friends hug each other and hold hands walking to class? Do friends spend three hundred dollars to do a surprise weekend trip for their birthday?”

He whirls around to face you, and he’s so close that you can see those pretty golden sparkles in his eyes again. Suddenly, his hands are cupping your face, and the next thing you know, he’s kissing you. Your eyes widen for a fraction of a second before they flutter shut, and you press your lips against his. The 90s pop station music playing overhead seems to fade away, and all you can focus on is that your best friend tastes like spearmint gum and grape soju. He pulls away abruptly, the realization of what he’s done finally hitting him as his chest heaves up and down.

“Do friends kiss like this?”

His voice is barely a whisper, but it cuts through the silence. You feel like you’re spinning out of control, a split second from careening and crashing.

“No, we—they don’t,” you mumble, and Yangyang sees the starstruck look in your eyes, and he wants to apologize: to say sorry for kissing you. But he doesn’t. Because for some reason, he doesn’t feel sorry. He closes his eyes, curling his hands into fists before exhaling slowly. He sees you looking back at him this time, and he wonders if you feel as equally lost as he does.

Because you’re right. Friends don’t kiss each other like that. Friends don’t feel like this about each other.

He kisses you in November.

AUGUST 2020.

The sun still shines bright late into the day, and August greets you like an old friend. You’re absentmindedly doodling in the margins of your notebook designated for Quantum Mechanics. Yangyang sits next to you in the lecture hall, making a bunch of origami cranes before tossing them at Renjun’s head right in front of him. When the bird reaches its target for the sixth time in a row, the annoyed boy whirls around in his seat, glaring at your best friend.

“Stop that,” he hisses, and Yangyang innocently raises his hands in the air. Renjun angrily frowns at him before turning back around in his seat. After a few minutes, Yangyang flicks another crane towards his friend. If this was a cartoon, you would see steam blowing out of your friend’s ears. You silently watch as he wordlessly picks up his phone, seething as he presses on a particular number.

Suddenly, Travis Scott’s SICKO MODE starts blasting, amplified by the large auditorium-like room. The professor goes silent, and everyone turns to see Yangyang scrambling to pick up his phone. He fumbles around for a few seconds with it before finally shutting it off and putting it on vibrate mode. Cheeks burning red, he meekly puts his phone back in his bag and squeaks out a “sorry” before sinking down in his chair (You can see the culprit grinning like the cat ate the canary right in front of him. Karma’s a bitch who also goes by the name of Renjun).

You pat his arm consolingly as he sulks next to you for a few minutes, mouth jutting out into a pout. You decide to take pity on him and lean closer to him, whispering quietly, “Would it make you feel better if I bought you boba after class?”

Immediately, he brightens up. “One oolong milk tea, half sugar with white pearls and coconut jelly?”

“Yes, I’ll pay for your overpriced drink,” you huff, thinking about how his one seven dollar drink could buy you a whole rotisserie chicken that’ll last you a week. At least the fluffy dog at Cloudy with a Chance of Boba is cute and fun to play with. “I’ll even get the honey waffle fries.”

“Heck yeah!” he whisper-yells, fist pumping quietly before he suddenly deflates. “Wait, I can’t. I promised Lia I’d get lunch with her.”

Ah, right, there’s Lia now. Yangyang’s new girlfriend: the only other student who went to Düsseldorf, Germany to study abroad over the summer, and inevitably, the two of them became close. All you really know about her is that she’s pretty, she’s in Iota Theta Zeta, and she followed you on Instagram a few weeks ago (of course, you followed her back because of the unspoken best friend and girlfriend policy).

Her page looks carefully curated, and there’s a common pink tinted theme going on throughout her feed. She has over a thousand followers, and it seems like Yangyang fits perfectly in her magazine curated life, judging by how he occupies nearly every picture taken in the summer with her or how he’s tagged as the photographer. You can’t deny that they look good together, pointedly shoving the green eyed monster back under the bed.

You take a peek at your messy Instagram page where you only post pictures when you’re half drunk, so there’s no semblance of uniformity anywhere. You shrug at him, pocketing your phone.

“No biggie. I’ll see if Karina is up for some boba. She’s been holed up in the dance studio already, and it’s only week two of classes, can you believe it?”

“I remember Ten was the same way,” Yangyang hums, eyes fixated on his phone and fingers tapping away. He laughs quietly, lips curling into a pretty smile, and you glance over curiously.

“What’s so funny?”

“Hmm?” Yangyang finally tears his eyes away from his screen for a split second to look at you before another buzz takes his attention away. He’s distracted, lovestruck, and you wistfully smile before turning back to your notes.

“Sorry, what’d you say earlier?” he loudly whispers a few minutes later, and you barely glance up from the large bulbasaur doodle you’re in the progress of completing right next to the chart marking the wave functions for a bouncing ball that you had copied down from the blackboard.

“Oh, I just asked what was so funny,” you murmur, coloring in the flowers you drew around the Pokémon with your blue ballpoint pen.

He looks confused for a moment before lighting up. “Oh! It was just a German joke. It’s not really funny if I translate it though.”

“Got it, no worries.” You notice the professor starting a new example problem, and you abandon your drawing, focusing on the formulas rapidly filling up the chalkboards in front of you. A quiet chuckle echoes in your ears, and you pause in your note taking to look over and see your best friend still typing on his phone. You make a mental reminder to create a copy of your notes for him later on when you pass the library on the way to the dining hall.

“Hey, Y/N.” Yangyang nudges you gently. “Rain check on the boba?”

You offer him a soft smile. “Of course. Anytime.”

He gives you a quick grin in return before his attention returns to the device in his hand—or rather, the pretty girl behind those texts. Your best friend is sitting right next to you, but you’ve never felt so far away. You know distance makes the heart grow fonder, but you don’t think it’s possible to be even fonder of him than you are now. Bad habits are hard to break, and you’ve made a terrible one of loving him. No wonder it’s beginning to hurt so much.

You lose him in August.

DECEMBER 2020.

December is the coldest month of the year, yet it is also simultaneously the warmest with all the holiday festivities it brings. If Yangyang were to choose a month to describe you, it’d be this one. You are a walking paradox, a conundrum he might never solve, an oxymoron come to life. He doesn’t understand how you can be his best friend, yet feel like a stranger; a friend who he wants as a lover; someone who has created such an impact in his life, but disappears seamlessly here and there.

He wonders when you’ve gotten so distant. He wonders why he never noticed the way you seemed to slip away through the cracks until it’s now nearing the end of the year, and the last time he’s seen you in person was before the November autumn break.

But you’re here.

You’re standing right next to the punch bowl filled with spiked eggnog, wearing a garish knitted button down jumper with brightly colored Christmas lights decorating it. It’s perfectly in theme with the Ugly Christmas Sweater party Nu Chi is holding, and Yangyang is beyond ecstatic to know that you’re attending. He had texted you an invite two weeks ago, and you merely reacted with a thumbs up.

Yangyang swears he was going to follow up with you on that, but he got so caught up with midterms, then meeting Lia’s family for Thanksgiving, then studying for finals, and then finally, preparing for this party. Buying enough beer for twenty-three keg stands is a lot more difficult than it seems (Donghyuck’s car broke down halfway during one trip, and they all had to carry back the packs of beers to the house in 40 degree weather in their Sperry boat shoes and Patagonia long sleeves that definitely weren’t cut out for this kind of weather).

His girlfriend is somewhere in the room, wearing the other half of the reindeer sweater she forced him to put on, but all he can focus on is you. He hurriedly makes his way over, skidding to a stop in front of you, and you’re startled before a smile spreads across your face.

“Hey, you, I haven’t seen you in a while.” You grin at him, reaching out to poke the reindeer tail sticking out from the front of his itchy sweater (Lia got to wear the head half of the reindeer, while he was stuck with the behind).

“Yeah, how have you been?” He reaches around you to pick up a cup and pour himself some eggnog. He offers you one, but you decline with a small shake of your head.

“I’ve been doing good, a bit tired with finals coming up, but what’s new?” You joke, grabbing one of the sugar cookies from the table. You’re secretly surprised that they actually have real food (No, Hyuck, Jell-O shots do not count as real food). You suspect Jaemin has something to do with it. He always contributes to the annual Greek row bake sale.

“Are you here with someone? Did Karina come?” he asks, curiosity coating every word. He looks around for your roommate, but she’s nowhere to be found.

You shake your head. “No, I actually came with—”

“Me!”

Yukhei bounds over, slipping an arm over your shoulder. He hands you a new cup of apple cider, which you accept gratefully. He grins happily at Yangyang, who freezes up at the sight of his tall friend. “I asked her to be my date for the party, and she agreed. She also made our sweaters! Aren’t they so cool? There’s even lights that spell my name and play Christmas songs. She did a bunch of cool programming tricks to make them work.”

Yangyang realizes with a start that the two of you are indeed wearing matching sweaters, and that leaves a rather sour taste in his mouth (and it definitely wasn’t because of expired eggnog). The corners of his lips tilt downward as he presses his lips together tightly.

“So… you two are together?” He gestures between you and Yukhei with a forced laugh. Jealousy never did look good on anybody, and unfortunately, he’s not an exception.

“We’re just seeing each other and seeing how it goes for now,” you answer quietly, noting the way your best friend reacts. You have always been good at reading him, and you tread carefully now, not wanting to make a scene. Drunk Yangyang never holds anything back, and he’s had quite a few pre-game shots already (It definitely doesn’t help that he’s a lightweight, too).

“I see. How did you guys meet? Or I guess, start talking?” He attempts to look intimidating, staring down at Yukhei, but it’s a difficult feat to accomplish, especially when he’s trying to stare down a six foot guy who’s more like an overgrown puppy and his friend.

“Oh, she came by for one of your boba runs, but you were still out with Lia. So I asked if I could go with her.” Yukhei flashes his pearly whites at you, and you chuckle, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“I said yes, and we hit it off, I guess.”

“You guess? And you took him on our boba runs?”

“You were out with Lia,” you say defensively, and he blanches when he hears his girlfriend’s name come out of your mouth.

“You could’ve waited,” he mutters, but you still hear it, and you give him a scathing look, finally too tired of this push and pull game that’s been going on behind the scenes for nearly three years now.

“I did. I waited over an hour here for you, but you didn’t show up or even text me that you were gonna be late. Yukhei was nice enough to offer to go with me.”

He stays silent, and you gnaw on your bottom lip, unsure of what to say next. Yukhei looks at you in concern, but you reach up and squeeze his hand reassuringly, which your best friend doesn’t fail to notice, his lips pressing into an even thinner line.

“I don’t understand what the deal is,” you finally burst out, startling both boys. “What’s the big deal about me and Yukhei going out?”

Something inside of him finally snaps. “The big deal is that you’re basically sleeping through my list of friends and then breaking up with them! First Dejun, then Jeno, now Yukhei? Who’s next? Should I give Renjun a heads up? Pencil you into his planner? Or Sicheng?  Sungchan? You have a class with him, so you’re bound to flirt with him, too, right? When are you gonna stop fucking around with my frien—”

He gasps, stopping mid-outburst as he stares at you in disbelief. Apple cider slides down from his hair, dripping onto his face and soaking into his sweater, the sticky juice clinging to his skin uncomfortably. You’re absolutely seething, the empty cup crackling in your clenched fist. Shocked, Yukhei carefully tugs the plastic away from you and places it on the table before replacing it with his own hand, his thumb caressing circles on the back of your hand soothingly. Yangyang doesn’t dare to meet his furious gaze, lifting his chin to look at you instead. The entire room has hushed down by now, all eyes staring directly at the three of you in a mixture of surprise and slight terror.

“Screw you, Yangyang,” you say lowly, voice shaking with anger. Tears form on the edge of your waterline, but you blink them away before hastily brushing a stray droplet from your cheek. “They asked me out. I said yes. We went out. It didn’t work out. We move on. Just like how you’ve gone out with my  friends. And they didn’t work out, so you moved on. So what’s so wrong about that? What’s so wrong about trying again to find love?”

He can’t answer you, curling his hands into fists until his fingernails indent miniature crescents in his palms—until the pain overtakes the feelings that are threatening to spill from his heart. Yangyang may not be yours, but he doesn’t like the fact that he can’t call you his either.

Love. That’s what you want, that’s what you crave, but not if it’s from him. So what is he supposed to do with love that’s unwanted? It’s bursting at the seams, and he has nowhere to hide it anymore.

He loves you in December.

AUGUST 2021.

August sneaks up on you this time around, and you find yourself in Kunhang’s apartment. All of your close friends are here, starting the last year of youth with one final first day party. You think back to that day three years ago: when your eyes met a pair of equally bright ones for the first time.

Curled up next to Yukhei on the couch, you look across the room and meet those very same eyes, although they seem hazier this time around. Lia is wrapped around his arm, and you think it’s quite ironic how both your and his relationships remain the same after all this time. Perhaps you both were bad luck for each other, leading to the other’s demise with short lived relationships. He looks away from you.

The rules of truth or dare are simple. You cannot ask the same person again until three other people have been asked first, and no one can be asked more than three times in each round. And, for reasons you can’t understand, everyone seems to take the code of truth seriously.

“I’ll start,” Kunhang announces, leaning back in one of the several beanbags he has in his place. “Goeun, truth or dare?”

Goeun sighs, leaning back on the palms of her hands. “Dare.”

“You and Mark, seven minutes in heaven.” Hendery points towards the coat closet, and the immediate reaction of hoots and wolf whistles has the girl rolling her eyes. With an exasperated huff, she stands up and pulls a red faced Mark along with her.

“Wait, you gotta pick the next person!” Donghyuck calls out, and she stops in her tracks, throwing open the closet door and shrugging. “You can choose for me.”

With that, she and Mark disappear behind the door, and Donghyuck turns toward the rest of the group, eyes glimmering mischievously. You pay no attention to him, absentmindedly playing with Yukhei’s fingers. You tug one of his rings off his finger, and he smiles, plucking it from your grasp carefully before holding your hand. He carefully slides it onto your right ring finger, but it falls off. Grinning, he pretends to try it on every single one of your fingers until finally settling on your thumb. The ring fits snugly there, and you admire it, wriggling your thumb around.

“Well, look at that. It fits you. I think that means we’re meant to be,” Yukhei says, smiling broadly, and you laugh, interlocking your fingers with his again before glancing down at the silver engraved band resting on your finger. The weight of the metal feels heavy resting against your knuckle.

“Yangyang, truth or dare.”

Donghyuck’s voice cuts through your thoughts, and you instinctively perk up in your seat at the sound of his name before freezing up in your spot. Yukhei squeezes your hand softly, and you tighten your grip around his fingers.

“Truth.”

“You’re no fun,” Donghyuck sighs, slouching back against the armrest. Yukhei leans over and whispers something in his ear before settling back next to you, shifting slightly to wrap his arm around you. Donghyuck lifts an eyebrow at your boyfriend before shrugging. “Okay, here’s an easy one. Are you in love…”

“Yes.”  is his immediate response, and you notice how Lia absolutely preens next to him.

“… with Y/N?”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and you immediately turn your head to look at Yukhei, your eyes growing wide in horror. He looks apologetic, shoulders drooping. “I’m sorry, but just the way he looks at you, it’s so obvious, and I had to know.”

You whip around to face the boy in question. With bated breath, you look at him, but Yangyang stares at the center of the floor, struggling internally. Everyone is quiet, and it reminds you of the calm before a storm. At last, he looks up, gazing right at you, and you can almost swear that you see those pretty little gold flecks in his irises from here.

“Yes,” Yangyang confesses quietly.

There’s almost a collective gasp rippling through the room, and Yukhei lets out an inaudible swear under his breath. Your grip on his hand grows slack as you fumble to get a grasp on the entire situation.

He loves you. He loves you. He loves you.

The words echo in your mind like a mantra until it grows so loud that you can’t hear any of your own thoughts anymore. Lia is in absolute hysterics, demanding an explanation from him, but he merely shrugs her off. Standing up, he quickly moves to leave the room, glancing at you one more time before disappearing out the front door.

It’s like your body is on auto-pilot after this. You drop Yukhei’s hand, immediately standing up and rushing after your best friend, paying no mind to the hushed whispers that only seem to increase in volume once you leave. You step out onto the porch, and there he is, sitting on the steps.

You quietly stand behind him, contemplating what to say and carefully choosing your next words. But there’s only one question on your mind.

“Why did you say that?”

He stays silent for a moment, staring out at the moon shining brightly ahead. “Because I meant it.”

Your heart wrenches in your chest. “You shouldn’t.”

He finally turns to look at you, an indescribable look in his eyes. It reminds you of heartbreak. “But I do. And I tried not to for the past three fucking years, but I can’t anymore.”

“Since freshman year?” You feel the tears well up in your eyes, and this time, you let them go. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Yangyang grips onto the edge of the stairs tightly, frustration ringing with every word that falls from his mouth. “Because I was scared. And I thought you never felt the same way. You’re my best friend, and I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Yang…” You whisper, hand reaching out as you let it hover over his shoulder for a few seconds. Then, you pull back, curling your fingers into fists, pressing crescent indentations into the palms of your hands.

He stands up, whirling around to look at you, desperate. “Tell me I’m not too late. Please, Y/N.”

Something inside of you breaks. You open your mouth and start to say something when the door opens behind you. Turning around, you see Yukhei. His eyes widen when he sees the two of you standing there.

You know this is it. This is the moment. This is where you have to decide.

“I, I was just looking for you. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” Yukhei awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, taking a step back. “I’m sorry, I’m gonna go back in and—”

“No, wait, it’s okay,” you gently interrupt him. You reach out and slip your hand into his, and he relaxes, giving you a relieved smile. You smile softly back at your boyfriend before turning to face him, eyes apologetic.

“I’m sorry, Yangyang.”

He and you are asymptotes: two lines curving towards each other, but never touching; two hands reaching towards each other, but never interlocking; two people tangling their red strings of fate, but never tying.

You give him one last glance before going back inside with Yukhei.

You break his heart in August.

SEPTEMBER 2021.

September is supposed to be a new beginning: the transition from summer to autumn. Yangyang doesn’t think he can let go of you as easily as the trees shed their green for gold and red. Wherever he goes, wherever he looks, little reminders of you bloom in every crevice. You’re absolutely everywhere and nowhere, and it drives him crazy.

He thinks he’s gone completely insane when he hears your laugh while he’s walking to the laundromat one day. He shoves his airpods in and continues on his way until he sees you. Walking across the street, there you are. You’re on the phone with someone, and he contemplates going over to say hello. But suddenly, you’re hanging up the phone and waving eagerly at someone. When he turns his head to look, his heart drops and gets buried six feet under. He hurriedly ducks into a nearby bookstore and watches as you run up to Yukhei, slipping your hand into his like it’s second nature to you now. The two of you walk off together, and Yangyang is left standing at the window of the store until the shop owner politely asks if there’s anything he needs.

He doubts a time machine is something they have in stock, so he silently shakes his head and steps out onto the street once again. It is now silent and empty.

He loses you in September.

AUGUST 2022.

A lot can change in eleven months.

You’re twenty two years old, but you feel like you’re eighteen again. You know you’re going to see him for the first time since September at Kun’s housewarming. You had repeatedly assured Yukhei that you’d be fine. After all, life goes on; the world doesn’t stop just because you had a falling out with your best friend, even if it may have been a little more than that. Nevertheless, a year has nearly passed. Time is known to be the best healer, and perhaps your heart has shed its old skin and habits.

Your hand is safely enveloped in Yukhei’s, and the two of you walk towards your older friend’s new apartment. He playfully swings your interlocked hands back and forth, and you giggle, tightening your grip around his fingers. You stop in front of the door, the muffled sounds of a party slipping through the cracks. You suck in a breath, shoulders tensed. He’s in there.

“Are you okay?”

Yukhei squeezes your hand gently, voice laced with concern. You remember to breathe, exhaling slowly and relaxing before nodding. You smile up at him. “I’m okay.”

“If you want, we can go back home now, have another NCIS marathon, and drink this by ourselves.” Yukhei waves around the nice bottle of wine the two of you had brought for Kun. “We can even stop by the convenience store and get some ramen.”

You laugh quietly, the corners of your lips upturning with mirth. “It’s okay, I’m fine, Yukhei, I promise. Plus, I have you, right?”

He brightens up at that, practically beaming at you, and your heart skips a beat. “Right!”

You reach out and knock on the door. Kun greets the two of you, and you enter his apartment. Yukhei still doesn’t let go of your hand, and you follow behind him as you weave your way through the living room, greeting some of your friends. You hear Kunhang calling out to your boyfriend from the kitchen and feel him hesitate next to you. You squeeze his hand gently before letting go and nudging him in the direction of his friend. Yukhei gives you one last look, but you wave him off, smiling goodnaturedly and silently assuring that you’re okay. He swoops down and leaves behind a soft kiss for you before going.

You walk over to the alcohol table, pouring yourself something to drink. Leaning against the wall, you take a sip of your drink, your eyes flitting over the rim of your cup and slowly scanning the room. It feels like forever, like everything is moving in slow motion, like the world is submerged underwater, but it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds.

You find him easily. After all, it’s hard to forget someone whose features you’ve memorized over the past four years. Your eyes map the delicate outline of his face once more, and for a moment, you wonder if red is still his favorite color, or who he shares a carton of Ben and Jerry’s with nowadays. You wonder if he thinks of you sometimes, too.

But then, you wonder where Yukhei is. You search around until you see your boyfriend still standing in the kitchen, laughing at something your mutual friend said. Your eyes soften when you see him grab your favorite snack. You turn back around, your heart swelling in your chest tenfold, and your lips curl upwards, an endeared expression on your face.

That’s when you notice that he’s looking at you.

You brace yourself, waiting for the tidal wave of emotions to wash over you and the quickening of your heart rate to greet you like an old friend. Because that’s what always happens when you’re around him. After all, he is the biggest what-if in your life. He is someone you almost loved forever, someone you almost stayed for.

And yet, nothing happens. You wait a little longer. The world still goes round, and you’re still breathing. There’s no shortness of breath, no erratic heart palpitations, no sweaty palms, absolutely nothing. Liu Yangyang is a stranger in a familiar body, and your heart remains still.

You give Yangyang a faint smile, nodding towards him, and it feels like a sudden jolt in his heart. Time stops, and all he can see is you. You look beautiful. You have always been beautiful. This is his chance. Whatever higher entity out there has taken pity on him and given him a second try to make it right. He finally takes a step towards you, and the tender, encouraging expression in your eyes gives him the strength to take another one. After all, the eyes are the windows to the soul. Clutching his drink in hand, he pushes his way through the crowd. He’s only eight, seven, six, five steps away from you now. A smile grows on his face as relief curls around his heart like a bandage. You’re standing there, waiting for him, smiling at him.

And suddenly, you’re no longer looking at him.

You stopped looking at him.

Yukhei makes his presence known next to you, excitedly chattering about something and gesturing towards the kitchen as he hands you something to eat. It’s a snickerdoodle cookie. Your favorite. Your eyes are fixated on the tall boy, positively sparkling as you beam at him.

Yangyang feels like he can’t breathe. The bandage is ripped off, and all he can feel is excruciating pain like a thousand pinpricks into his heart before the numbness hits. He freezes, rooting himself in that spot on the scratched hardwood floor as his colleagues and friends continue to jostle around him. As his world crumbles around him, he can’t tear his eyes away from you. They stay on you, the barest traces of nostalgia lingering in the dimmed golden flecks of his irises that you had still admired all those months ago. It’s like he’s trapped in a silent film, stuck in a fish bowl and swimming in circles, and he watches in horror as you outstretch your hand and intertwine your fingers around Yukhei’s, leaning up to press your lips against his tenderly. Your boyfriend looks at you like you hung the stars in the night sky yourself (He would believe it if you said you did).

You don’t look at him like that anymore.

Yangyang remembers when you used to. When you used to love him. When you were almost his. He feels something inside of him break for a second time.

The world continues to spin, and yet, he’s still not moving. He’s stuck in quicksand, sinking deeper and deeper as everyone around him moves on—as you move on. He desperately tries to keep you in his view, and his feet finally pick up as he lurches forward. He’s not fast enough. You’re slipping away, walking away from him, hand in hand with Yukhei, disappearing around the corner of the hallway, and he can’t do anything about it. It’s too late. He’s too late. The sticky remnants of cheap beer run down his wrist, and it finally registers in his mind that he had crushed the flimsy plastic cup in his hand sometime in between now and then. In a crowded room full of people, he’s left standing there, alone and lonely.

Almost is the worst way to love someone, Yangyang bitterly realizes. It hurts to lose someone you almost love. No, it was never an ‘almost’. He most certainly loved—loves—you. And it should be impossible to lose someone who was never his to begin with, yet he has. All this time, he thought he had you, but it had always been the other way around.

He was your August, he was your everything, and he is yours.

But you will never be his.

You let go of him in August.

[jiminrings]

they're interactions would prob be always in campus like at the library, class or even in a café or sth cuz i don't think stem!koo is the type to go to parties eXCEPT he's dragged invited to a party and approaches y/n since they share classes and are kinda acquaintances

stem koo isn’t for the party scene and absolutely doesn’t know any better

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

jungkook wants to go anywhere but here

literally ANYWHERE

he’d actually enjoy studying on a friday night than to be here, a party, where he doesn’t know anyone besides jimin

JIMIN WHO ALREADY DISAPPEARED AND LEFT HIM?!??]%^{]!

it hasn’t even been a full hour since they arrived???

how the fuck did that guy even manage to talk him into accompanying him into this party :O

oh right

“i think i have a friend who has a friend that makes your lunches. it’s jUST a hunch but-“

jimin didn’t even manage to finish his sentence and jungkook already agreed

jungkook doesn’t care for the party scene at all. he doesn’t.

but that doesn’t mEAN that he doesn’t care for what other people think about him

he cares about your input pLS don’t say it to his face when it’s negative :((

uhhh he doesn’t exactly have party clothes

by party clothes, he doesn’t have what jimin has in his clothes

jeon jungkook does not own a sparkly sheer black long-sleeve shirt :D nor some leather pants :D or even a button-down shirt that in fact, does not have any buttons :D

what kook DOES have is a new red hoodie that he hasn’t worn before

it’s a red hoodie and that’s the equivalent of him dipping his toes in lava!!!

it’s spicy enough as it is

the only other change he’s gonna make is how the fuck he’s gonna tackle his myopia

he traded in his glasses for contacts tonight!!

they’re just clear and he might’ve had to struggle for thirty minutes to try and pop them in,,, inclusive of pep talks,,, but it’s still new!!!

(his glasses case is in his hoodie pocket)

that should be enough

the only thing that jungkook is lacking now is a familiar person

..... a familiar person.... who is in turn a safety blanket..... a comforting figure anongst strangers...... in a completely different environment

no

god there hAS to be a way that jungkook can find jimin so he could get home with ease, while simultaneously (passive-aggressively) chewing him out for abandoning him

easy!!! just easy breaths!!!!

it’s just like navigating a circuit that you made that you know the schematics of!!

only difference is that you didn’t make this circuit and there are no instructions!!!!!!!!!

<3 he’s doomed <3

jungkook bumps to numerous people and at some point, someone stopped him, nodded, and gave him a cup

what’s he SUPPOSED to with it????

alright think

a couch!!! yeah!!!!

jimin could be there and could be sitting because who doesn’t love sitting? right? why do people in parties not sit on couches exactly

“pick up, please. just pick up...” he keeps muttering under his breath, peering urgently to wherever his eyes could land on

OH MY GOD

IT’S THE BLONDE HAIR!!!!!

that must be jimin

“man, that was not cool! how could you-...”

jungkook immediately claps his hand to blondie’s back, even squeezing the flesh when he realizes that.... oh? why is the fabric not as coarse as what a glittery sheer shirt would be?

.... holy shit

that is definitely not jimin.

?!/!/!!/%]^]^[^^]

it’s his senior!!!!

his senior who’s blonde and looks intimidating and soft at the same time but dEFINITELY looks intimidating rn

d-did he just clap min yoongi’s shoulder

yoongi looks the furthest thing from pleased and it’s his sharp eyes that make jungkook’s impossibly wider

“i-i’m so sorry. i am so, so sorry-...”

his senior only casts a look to the person beside him, deciding to stand and completely walk away from jungkook

he is so.,,., lost

yoongi looks at you from beside your seat beside him and only pinches your thigh, making you knit your brows in irritation

WHAT WAS THAT FOR

did he literally just walk away from you

what was that about ://

you turn your head for what could be yoongi’s old trick, only seeing a face you clearly did not expect to be here

jungkook recognizes you before you could recognize him, chest immediately deflating

“y/n!!!!!”

oh that’s him alright

you sigh slowly, “jungkook.”

the boy wastes no time in eagerly yet shyly sitting beside you, occupying yoongi’s deserted spot

the cushion’s still warm tho

“thank god you’re here. i-i don’t know anyone in this party.”

your eyebrows raise at that, clearly finding no thought to it. “you should leave if you don’t know anyone here, jungkook.”

“b-but you’re here, so i’m good!” jungkook nods, correcting his statement, “i came here with my friend but he’s missing now.”

what???

that’s unsafe!!!!

who is this friend and why do you feel like giving him some stern words >:|

“i mean, i am here but you don’t want to be here.”

right

.... you’re right

jungkook clearly glosses over to what you just said because you are eXACTLY right

yeah sure he found you but that doesn’t necessarily mean he wants to be in this party

it’s nice he found someone familiar but it doesn’t mean he wants to stay!!!!

you could only chuckle under your breath, drinking from your cup and planning your route to find yoongi throughout

“you should probably go home, jungkook.”

the boy visibly mulls over that option but he looks nervous, his knee bouncing up and down then that you can’t help but notice

“or are you gonna wait for your friend?

did you just give him an even bigger dilemma

jungkook swallows the lump in his throat, a nervous giggle coming out from him even before he could restrain it

“i-i can’t find him anyway. but that’s okay, right? jimin always comes home one way or another.”

OH SO IT’S JIMIN

you’re gonna pulverize him when you drop by yoongi’s chess club again ://

“then go home.”

your affirmation makes jungkook nod resolutely, making his mind up

he stands up rather unsurely, sheepishly nodding to you before he takes two steps away from you

FUCK IT

jungkook turns to you almost nervously, eyes wavering that you only then realize that he isn’t wearing his glasses, seeing his bambi eyes a bit more clearly

“i-i’m very sorry to ask, and if it’s not too much trouble, a-and you don’t have to if you don’t want to but uhm — can you uh, can you walk me home?”

oh

oh

you’re pleasantly surprised from what jungkook’s asking of you, head tilting that he misinterprets and tries to backtrack

“i-it’s just that i feel safer with you. b-but i completely understand if-“

huh

that’s nice

you stand up abruptly, leaving your drink by the table because it might seem a little funky to walk down a street with a blatantly red cup lol

“okay.”

he hears you reply simply, seeing you walk ahead of him with your hands in your pockets

:((

jungkook is so grateful for you

you only share some classes here and there, and he’s only properly interacted with you once, and he doesn’t even have your number — but here you are, walking him home from a party he can’t stand to be in and is too anxious to walk away from alone

at some point, jungkook placed himself beside you so he could tell you where his apartment’s at,,

and also for the reason that he feels safer beside you and not behind you

you’re a warm presence if that makes sense

you’re team captain of your soccer team and you’re yoongi’s right-hand woman (and he’s your right-hand man slash nemesis) and he feels like everyone could count on you if they needed to

you’re not exactly outgoing nor warm nor approachable,,,, but jungkook doesn’t exactly mind

jungkook doesn’t mind because his senior is walking him home and he’s never felt more comforted before.

he starts tearing up at the edges of his eyes and it’s with a faint sniffle that you only turn your eyes at him, narrowing at the sight

you don’t even ask but he explains anyway, pointing in front of him

“nothing. just the wind. a-and i’m wearing contacts!”

you only nod curtly, continuing on walking when jungkook sees you pull out a goddamn bottle of eyedrops from your pocket, offering it to him like it’s no big deal

:(((((

his eyes ARE scratchy

“how did you-“

“i carry it around. yoongi and i have dry eyes.”

you don’t exactly stop when he drops them to his eyes, but you do slow down in the slightest

jungkook finds himself in front of his apartment complex soon enough, almost disappointed that the walk home was quick

you turn without even waiting for a thanks from him, completely surprised when he yells out for you and tries to jog in an attempt to your retreating figure

“t-thank you so much, y/n! it means a lot and i-i probably would be still in that party crying or whatever until i could find jimin. i’m so sorry still and i hope i can make it up to you and-...”

“good night.”

you only flash a small smile, similar to yoongi’s :] before leaving jungkook in front of his complex

he’s still a little perplexed but he doesn’t question it

jungkook’s still holding your bottle of eyedrops in his hand, the only thing reminding him that his senior did walk him home

he’s gonna return this to you

he will

:)

[spacedikut]

exam help ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

summary: a self-indulgent blurb about spencer helping with exams :) 1.7k

a/n: first fic of the year :D happy 2021!

masterlist

Another anguish-filled screech reverberates from your and Spencer’s shared office, bringing even your pet fish in the tank to attention.

It’s the third one this hour. Spencer tries to ignore it, just like you told him to, but God you sound like you’re in pain and Spencer can’t exactly ignore that, can he? He loves you and cares for you and- oh. A thump reaches his ears. A textbook, maybe? Did you punch your textbook?

He considers for a moment that the neighbours will be alarmed, perhaps call the police or tentatively knock with a, “Is everything okay in there?”

It wouldn’t be the first time.

What would he tell them? Oh, my apologies, my partner has exams coming up and just told me they get why unsubs do that now. I am also terrified.

There are many instances where Spencer feels useless. During his job, when his mother would have an episode, when his friends have problems he just wouldn’t understand. But, somehow, and maybe controversially, this is the worst type of uselessness. The type that leaves him staring at the wall, questioning everything, the type that makes his stomach drop because all he can do is watch.

He’s been watching you for the last two weeks. He’s sick of watching, of being no help, and he needs to do something before he breaks and does something illegal.

(The illegal thing is doing your exams for you - not illegal as in, perhaps, murder)

Your frazzled head pops out from the office, one hand rubbing your eyes and a permanent frown etched on your face, and with a fragile voice you ask, “Can you make me a coffee, please?”

Now, Spencer feels hypocritical, but he has to say it. “Another? Are you sure?”

He sees the internal battle within you, how you try your hardest not to snap. It’s not his fault you’re stressed. He’s just trying to help. “Yes, I’m sure. Please, Spence,”

“Of course. I’ll bring it in.”

“Thank you.” With a pained smile, you’re gone again into the dark abyss of where you’re studying.

With quick, ingrained movements, Spencer makes your coffee with too much creamer and marshmallows. Unusual, yes, but your current diet consists of coffee and whatever he can force you to consume – like marshmallows.

But then, hello, he spots a chocolate bar haphazardly close to the bin, grabs it, and hopes you let him watch you eat it.

Stepping into the room as quietly as possible, he’s smacked in the face by the smell of lavender. It makes him nauseous, the intensity of it, quickly followed by a lurch of his heart because you poor thing, you’re being crushed by the weight of your degree – literally. The other day you purchased an insanely heavy weighted blanket and you’re drowning in it.

Now, if you were to ask Spencer who the most beautiful person on the planet is, he’d say you in a heartbeat. He’s thought that since you first met and, years later, still stands by that. But now, right now, glowering at him in the dimly lit, lavender drenched study that you used to love oh-so-much? You have the face of a French bulldog, all grumpy and furrowed and too many creases on your face to make Spencer feel like he’s actually helping when he places the coffee and snack on your desk.

Despite the crabby expression, your words are filled with love and appreciation – which happens to be Spencer’s favourite mix. “Thank you, my love.” You take a sip of the coffee, hum in delight, and for the first time in days there’s a spark of something other than torment. “You’re the best.”

Spencer’s hand holds the back of your neck and he places a series of soft kisses to your temple, mumbling, “I love you. Very much. Is there anything else you need?”

“Death.”

“Okay. I’ll work on it.”

At that, you grace Spencer with a weak half-smile. It’s enough to overwhelm Spencer, overflowing and only able to be shown through a chaste, encouraging peck on your lips and a half-hug, Spencer bent at the waist to hold you in your desk chair. He noses your hair, hoping his closeness will alleviate some stress, before stepping back and praying his eyes tell you everything he wants to say but know will elicit annoyance from you.

I love you. Take care of yourself. Rest, please. You can do this, but not if you over exert yourself. I love you.

Your eyes tell him, I’ll try. I love you. And that’s all he can ask for.

But when he leaves, shuffles past his bookshelf, his eyes catch sight of an old file that reminds him of when he was preparing for his own exams.

He gets an idea.

+++

It takes another two days, full of late nights involving work that isn’t staying up and distracting himself with books to avoid worrying over you and how late you go to sleep, and reading that leaves Spencer in awe of you and everyone in your field.

A part of him is amazed by how he wheelbarrowed the resources behind you without you noticing, another is worried about that fact, and the rest of him is excited that he can finally do something that will actually help. At least, he hopes.

(When everything is said and done, despite being endlessly grateful, you also inform Spencer that simply being there and being him and getting you coffee every time you ask is more than enough, really)

With pride, he leans back on the couch, observing his creations on the coffee table. There’s plenty of different colours, all representing a different topic, and he presses the thumbs up to like the Youtube video he was using to ensure his handwriting is easy to read.

Flashcards. Hundreds, if Spencer counted correctly. The textbooks he stole – borrowed – from under your nose lie next to his feet, the weight of them combined more of a workout than he’s (voluntarily) done in eons.

He only hopes you don’t think it’s too late, think he’s overstepping or-or that he’s doing those things that he’s been accused of before – thinking he knows best (he does, but whatever), overbearing arrogance, an unwillingness to hear and accept other people’s way of doing things.

He just wants to help. He wants you to know he’s here for you, no matter what you need. This is the thing that lets him believe he’s doing something, something good and useful. Spencer just wants to be useful.

He’s convinced you to eat a proper breakfast – fruit, oats, bread, meat, a whole buffet – and you sense something is amiss when you hear slow, tentative footsteps creeping from your bedroom.

Spencer, still in his pyjamas, glasses perched on his nose, approaches with a shallow box in his grasp. You swallow your bite, turn to face him. “What’ve you got there?”

The box is slid onto the counter next to your plate hesitantly, as if he regrets his actions as he’s doing them. Peering in, you see a blur of colour, stacks on stacks of rectangular paper filled with writing and questions and even a tips! section.

You pick up the first batch, all light blue, and flick through them, heart getting bigger and bigger with every word you read. And when you realise what they are, what Spencer’s done ­– for you – your heartrate has skyrocketed and the watch on your wrist is asking you if you’re okay.

“You made me flashcards?” You ask, in awe, again looking at the love of your life to find he’s already staring at you.

“I did,” He tells you, apprehensive and scared, already backtracking, “But, if you don’t think they’re useful, or-or you think I’m overstepping – I’m not trying to, I promise, I just thought…” He starts nervously shuffling and reshuffling some of his creation. “Flashcards are known to engage active recall and metacognition. Research consistently finds that applying metacognitive strategies tends to ingrain memories deeper into your knowledge, and that this kind of active recall retrieval practice leads to one-hundred and fifty percent better retention than passive studying, so…”

Your hands have a mind of their own, pulling what feels like an endless amount of cards out and turning them in your hands, from the questions on the front to the answers on the back, the ones with hints and advice and there’s several with doodles that are so Spencer you hold them to your chest. You’re so enamoured by this man that is still rambling and bumbling because he takes your silence as distaste.

“I just- I hate seeing you so stressed, so I made these. You don’t have to use them, of course. They’re not even that great. It’s not that I don’t think you’re capable, you’re beyond capable, or that your methods don’t work- Just, personally, I love flashcards. I used them all the time when studying, even though I didn’t really need them, so perhaps a change of medium would do you good-“

A warm hand on his own that keep fidgeting stops him mid-stream of consciousness.

“Thank you,” You say, earnestly, “Really. These are lovely.” You leap from your seat, wrapping Spencer in warmth and love and care, and he shivers when he feels your hot breath on his ear when you repeat your thanks again and again.

When he pulls you even closer, so your torso curves into his own, you feel the lightest you have in weeks. You’re in the arms of the man you love, who knows you love him too and you know loves you so much – enough to spend several nights reading your cursed textbooks so he could create something that might help – and now you’re confident that you can do it. With the help of Spencer and his lovingly hand-made flashcards, you can do it.

And if, somehow, it goes awry, that’s okay too. Because you’ll still have Spencer, your number one fan, who will be there to comfort you and advise you in any way he can. He’ll never let you doubt yourself, never allow a self-deprecating joke if he can help it, because if he has to, he’ll love and support you enough for the both of you until you can do it yourself.

The world feels a little brighter, your breaths feel a little lighter, all because of Spencer. So you kiss him, murmur love against his lips, and get ready to take on whatever dares to come your way.

+++

tags: @pinkdiamond1016 @bluerose512 @andreasworlsboring101 @roses-and-grasses @ta-ka-shi-ma @ogmilkis @chiffonchronicles @rexorangecouny @unmistakablyunknown @goofygubler14 @gublertoon @averyhotchner @wheeledup @shadyladyperfection @joodeduarte @calm-and-doctor @

[sup-hoes-its-me]

Emotion (Kakashi x Reader)

A/N: Kakashi again...can't get enough of this mans tbh. U r an empath due to your kekkei genkai and Kakashi has always been difficult to read. Friend to lovers. Sharing one bed folks, we got some steamyyy shit here. Angst warning as well.

Word count: 6000

He was always alone. Ever since his childhood, he walked the world completely alone with only a few people there to support him. No mother, no father, no mentor, no teammates. He was at the mercy of fate his entire life, things being stolen from him time and time again. 

He just prayed that he could keep her. Y/N L/N, the only woman to have wormed her way into his heart and made a home there.

When they first met, Kakashi and Y/N, she cursed him for being such a weirdo. Apparently his mind was empty and his heart was seemingly full of sand. He was conditioned that way, and that is how he lived for the longest time. It wasn't a surprise for him to hear that.

But she thought it was stranger than anything she'd ever seen, and so she followed him. She would figure him out, bring him back down to Earth from his supposed high horse. That woman was determined, and frankly he didn't mind her being around. She was quiet enough that it didn't matter. Not to mention on the missions they had together, she was quite the partner.

Over time, she'd learned to read him like a book. It was part of her clan's kekkei genkai. The ultimate empath, I suppose. The ability to read a persons every single emotion and then turn that, if they so choose, into power. 

She was never the greatest fighter, but her negotiation skills were the best they could possibly be. She would dive into the emotions of another and manipulate them backwards and forwards to get what she wanted. 

It was overwhelming, walking into a room of people and immediately being bombarded with so many feelings coming at her all at once. Occasionally, if the situation was bad enough she'd have to take a seat and clear her mind, organizing each person in her mind like a filing cabinet of empathy.

But damn, did she try to weasel out every bit of feeling she could. It was just something that came so naturally, she couldn’t help but instigate whatever was brewing up inside him.

"Kakashi, if you're happy, you know you're allowed to express it. You don't have to hide it away," she told him, staring at the masked man sitting across from her at the table. He was watching as she sharpened her kunai, and she could feel the content running off his body in small bursts. He was feeling better. Better than he had in a little while. Of course she picked up on it.

He sighed, rolling his eyes. She was always reading him, he knew that. He just preferred when she refrained from mentioning it. It did, most times, feel like a bit of an invasion of privacy, how she could deep dive into the corners of his mind. There were things no one else could ever possibly know that she did. It was strange, but he was used to it.

"What? Want me to smile or something?"

"No, but you should let yourself go. Just drop the facade."

"Stop doing that. Getting into my head."

Quietly, she set down her blade and picked up the next one, taking a cloth and softly wiping away any dirt. Her eyes slide up to his for a moment, her all knowing gaze filling his vision. "It's basically impossible. Especially if you're the only one around. There's nothing else to focus on except you." He knew that. It wasn't like she had an on or off switch. That was the downside of this dojutsu. Unlike sharingan and byakugan users, hers was always pulling the strings of her brain.

"You've got that mission next week. With Naruto and a few of the other kids, right?"

"Yes."

"It's A rank, isn't it?"

She hummed in agreement. He had a habit of knowing about all her missions, more importantly being the dangerous ones. He wasn't necessarily scared for her, probably not. He was more cautious than anything. There was this nagging feeling in his head that he shouldn't let her go on these missions alone. That it was too dangerous for her to handle. 

But he was wrong. She was stronger than he thought, and could hold her own in battle. He was just a worrier. He'd just lost too many, seen too many bodies in front of his eyes to trust. God, he wanted to trust her, but he couldn't. She was too vulnerable. His friend, one of the only ones who hadn't died yet. For all he knew, her days numbered, that's how paranoid he was about everything.

"You'll be careful?"

"That's a silly question." He gave her a look that said he was more serious than anything, and she sighed. "Of course I'll be careful. I have people that would miss me if I wasn't." He was one of them. She could sense his fear whenever she said goodbye and his relief when she returned. He really tried to remain objective, but his heart said otherwise. 

And she would be a liar to say that she did not experience the same relief seeing him come home from missions, even if he was beaten and bruised to the bone, she was just happy he made it back. So many never got to come home. It was a sick world, they lived in, but she could relish in the little comforts.

"Don't worry about me. I'll always turn out fine. It's you and your dumb students we have to worry about."

"I hear you. Those kids are enough to drive a person mad." He rested his chin in his palm, the mere thought of those kids causing his blood pressure to rise.

"Thankfully my students never gave me any trouble. Sweet little things."

"Well, aren't you just lucky, Y/N?"

"What can I say? Kurenai and I got the luck of the draw with our students. You men had it rough, I have to admit," she laughed. It was funny that he was so unfortunate to have gotten assigned the Uchiha and the Uzumaki, two completely opposite but persistent forces. "Despite your perverted tendencies and your perpetual lateness, you still did a great job teaching them."

"Thanks. But do you really have to call me a pervert? I'm really not."

"Yeah? That explains why you read porn in public. Admit you're a pervert, you dumb old man."

"We're the same age-" he began to argue, but she just cut him off with her harsh words.

"Creep," she muttered, running the sharpening stone along her blade. He narrowed his eyes. She was being awfully annoying, and he knew she could sense his irritation building up. Yet she continued just to be a pain in the ass.

 He warned, "Hey. Watch it, L/N."

"Okay, okay, I'll stop...Pervert." She ducked her head when his hand reached out to wring her around the neck for being so frustrating, and she continued to laugh. It was nice, having a friend she could joke with and be around without having to worry about what she said. He might pretend to be mad, but she could feel the happiness still rolling off his body thickly under all that fake neutrality. 

He was happier than he'd been in a long while, and she found herself swelling with pride knowing that she might have helped make that happen. Her lips curled into the gentlest of smiles as she peered back up at him, and he found himself smiling back even if it was just through the mask. 

He swore in that moment, he'd make sure Y/N didn't end up like all the others. She would live. He'd break this wretched curse just for her. He was sure of it.

______

"How could you be so reckless?! Do you want to die?" Kakashi shouted at his friend who could only stand there angrily, arms crossed over her chest and one foot in the other direction. She didn't need to be lectured by someone who took just as many risks every single mission as she did.

"Kakashi, I really don't want to hear it. You have no idea how it went."

"Yeah but Naruto does, and we were just talking."

She placed her free hand over her chest and exclaimed even angrier than before, "You're going to trust a kid over me? Naruto even?" It was just low to trust Naruto when she was right there to explain herself. Just let her speak for once, she wanted to say but he of course, had something else to say.

He waved his arm toward the ramen shop, eyes glaring. "Don’t be rude. He's right there. What is wrong with you?"

Indeed, Naruto was sitting inside Ichiraku with Jiraiya at his side, munching on pork ramen while the pair fought outside. Kakashi was eating with them, taking a break from his work to just relax with his master and student when out of the corner of his eye he noticed Y/N stumbling down the street on her crutch. 

He heard when she got back home that she was in the infirmary for a couple days. He had no idea for what reason until Naruto explained to him what happened. She was being needlessly reckless on the battlefield, relying too much on her kekkei genkai and not enough on her brain. She threw herself right in the way of an enemy, for what reason, he didn't know. All he knew was that she could have died and she didn't seem to care one bit.

Rightfully so, he was mad. Normally he preferred not to make a scene in the open like this, but there wasn't anyone else around and he was red-hot.

She huffed. "He knows I don't mean anything bad by that. How could he not? I'm also his sensei, you know."

"Doesn't matter," Kakashi brushed off her words. "What you did was dangerous and you don't seem to care. Next time what are you gonna do? Run right into the arms of the enemy?"

"No, I would never. Kakashi, you're just being a jerk right now. I'm literally injured from the hip down and you have to yell at me? Jeez, just be grateful I'm alive, okay? Things happen," she tried to reason with him, but he didn't acknowledge it. He wasn't exactly feeling all that rational.

"Things don't just happen like that."

She groaned, "Well apparently they do, because it happened to me."

His eye narrowed and she noticed the way he clenched and unclenched his fists a couple times by his sides. Clearly he was just trying to channel his anger, but he really had no reason to be so upset. She hadn't done anything to him. He really needed to relax. "This is so like you L/N's. Always so emotional. Always thinking you're stronger than you actually are."

"Excuse you-"

"Get a grip, you aren't going to live forever."

"First off, don't interrupt me. Second, don't talk about my clan ever again, you hear me, Hatake? We don't live to please your dumbass," she cursed, how dare he say shit about her clan. That asshole. He was just being so...so unlike himself. She had no idea what had gotten into him, but she hated it and just wanted to continue on her way before he said something else stupid. 

Normally, she didn't expect to be bombarded in the street nearly the second she leaves the hospital, but Kakashi never fails to surprise her.

"I've got to go. Don't bother following me." With that, she took off past him, rushing as fast as she could on her crutch, which was pathetically slow. Silently, she cringed at how ridiculous she must look waddling around like this in a fit of rage. Nevermind that. She had better things to do.

He huffed out the breath he had been holding to walk back into the ramen shop, taking his seat beside Naruto and slouching down into the stool. Immediately, Master Jiraiya met his eyes, wisdom about to drip from his tongue once again. "You need to go apologize."

"Why? She clearly doesn't want that right now."

"Well, to start, you insulted her clan which is a big no-no. Imagine saying that to an Uchiha. You're lucky she let you off so easily."

"Yeah, Kakashi. You kinda just attacked her out there in the street," Naruto added.

Jiraiya continued, "Mainly though, the longer you let her stay angry, the worse it'll be for you in the end. Trust me."

"She said don't follow her."

"And you're actually going to listen?" The older man laughed. "You and her fighting reminded me a lot of young Tsunade and I. And let me tell you, you don't just let a woman like that go. I sure did. It’s not a fun time."

"Yeah, Kakashi sensei, go find Y/N."

The jounin stood from his stool and slapped a ramen voucher onto the counter top to pay for his meal. This really didn't seem like a good idea, he had to admit. But he would trust the process. This was the author of his favorite romance series, after all. How could he get something like this wrong? To put blind faith into Jiraiya on realistic romantic matters was probably the not the wisest thing to do, but it was the only thing he had to go on. "I'll go, but this doesn't sound like good advice."

"If you let this go, she's might run into the arms of another man for comfort. Do you want that?"

Tch, there was no way she was gonna do that. She barely had any friends. If anything she would go see Kurenai. Still, he pulled back the cloth at the entrance and muttered, "I gotta catch up to her."

"'Atta boy," Jiraiya cheered, waving off the copy nin. "Another bowl, Naruto?"

"Yes, please!"

Kakashi walked down the streets, looking for the woman he was sent on a mission to find and apologize to. He searched through the shops and the stands for her, walked by her apartment no sign of her. It wasn't until he stumbled by the bookstore that he found her eyeing down the display out front, leaning comfortably on her crutch.

"Y/N," he called to her, and he watched as she tensed up without a second. He caught up to her, walking to stand beside her in front of the store windows. "I need to talk to you."

"What do you want?" She questioned, peering over at him with a quirked brow. He seemed calmed down by now. Thankfully. "Also, didn't I tell you not to follow me?"

"You did, but Jiraiya told me to apologize."

"So this isn't even on your own accord, you're doing it because Jiraiya told you so." He groaned. Of course she would twist his words and find some way to make things bad on his end. She was angry with him, what did he expect to happen? Her to accept him with open arms?

"Listen, I'm sorry for yelling at you. I was just overwhelmed."

"With what? I wasn't paying attention to anything but the anger." She picked at her finger nails in an attempt to remain casual, but really she was just itching to hear what he had to say. She was willing to give him a second chance, only because he was normally so sweet. This was just out of character for him.

He replied, "I was scared for you. Naruto told me about how you nearly died, and I was upset that you did that. I was upset because I could only think about what if you had been overpowered and the enemy killed you." His explanation was weak, but he hoped she would accept it as truth. He really wasn't lying. When he heard she was in the hospital indefinitely, he nearly had a heart attack himself. He worried for her every time she left on a mission without him. It just meant that if she failed, he wasn't there to protect her himself. He couldn't handle that thought.

"So you were worried?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's sweet of you, isn't it?"

"I'd miss you, you know. If you died."

She froze. That wasn't what she expected him to say. When she looked over at him, he was just staring into the storefront window, but she could feel the sadness in waves running off his body. She wobbled around on her crutch to face him, a hand getting coming up to rest on his shoulder. "It's okay."

"I don't want you going on missions without me because every time it scares the shit out of me thinking they'll bring you back dead. Every time. I don't know why."

"It's normal to worry for your teammates."

"It's not the same, and you know it."

"Ah." And she felt it. Even if it was just a little hint of something, she felt his infatuation roll off his body and she took it in like a drink of cold water. So refreshing. Was he attracted to her? She had no idea before this that he cared so much but from the sound of it, he had some strong feelings attached. She wanted to reach out and hug him, tell him it was going to be okay, but that felt too personal. Instead, she leant back and muttered, "You know, Kakashi, I worry about you too."

"It's good we both have someone who cares, right?"

"Right."

"Well, I should be on my way, but, uh, if you need some help getting up to your apartment-"

"I should be fine."

"Okay, good."

"Yeah, so uh, see you," she turned on her heel and started heading in the other direction toward her home when suddenly, his hand reached out to stop her. 

"Wait, Y/N. I think..."

"What is it?"

"It's just that I need you. Please be careful from now on."

She stopped, turning around just enough to get a good look at his face. He only watched her, a glimmer of something she didn't recognize in his eye. 

"As long as you take care of yourself too, Mister."

"Y/N, I…"

All she could feel was a rough fabric rubbing against her face for a second before the full picture came into view. 

Mask to lips. I repeat, mask to lips.

She stared at him, as he kissed her right there in front of their favorite bookstore. When he pulled away after a second, he seemed just as shocked as she was. She pressed a hand to her forehead and struggled to find the right words to say. 

Kakashi Hatake just kissed her. 

And she definitely liked it. More than any other kiss she’d ever had before. She loved it. Mask or not, that was one of the best surprises of her entire life, and she honestly had no idea how to react. She settled for the easiest possible thing, running in the opposite direction, give herself time to think over what that meant for the two of them if anything at all. Kakashi wasn’t the type to have a girlfriend, he was always single. There just wasn’t room in his life for her.

There was plenty room in her life to fit him in comfortably. And there was more than enough room in her bed as well. 

Flustered, with heat coming to sit in her cheeks and run up her neck, she turned and motioned in the direction of her home. She just had too many thoughts to sit here and pretend she wasn’t dying inside from the tension.

"I've got to run home now," she managed to say. "Well, not run, with these crutches and all, but you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I should be going too. I'll see you around,” he mumbled, running his hand through his hair and down the back of his neck. 

"See you."

And into separate directions they went, just as confused as ever.

______

"Kakashi, I swear to God, if you don't stay on your side of the bed, I'm gonna-

"You'll what? Hit me? Go ahead. You're the one that keeps snoring."

"Shut up!" she exclaimed, rolling over in the bed and planting her fist directly in the middle of his chest. He didn't even flinch, she hadn't meant to hurt him anyway. She was just so annoyed. You would think that the stoic Hatake would be easy to sleep beside but no, he was a pain in the ass. He was rude. He was way too hot under the sheets. He still smelled like dog even after taking a bath. Just overall a bad experience, definitely 0 out of 10.

"What? It's the truth."

She groaned, throwing one of her arms over her eyes, burying her nose in the crook of her elbow. "Whatever. Don't ever mention my snoring again. It’s embarrassing me." She was self-conscious. She was usually so good at maintaining a cool and calm presence and now Kakashi was seeing that all crumble. Great. 

"Fine."

"Can't you just stay on your side so we can both sleep comfortably?"

"Can't you just stop snoring so I can sleep comfortably?" 

What a bastard. She could practically feel him snickering beneath his mask, and she felt frustration bubbling up in her chest. He was annoying. The audacity of this man, laughing and causing trouble in the night when they clearly had a mission to continue tomorrow. She could actually feel the delight radiating off his form.

She jumped up from her spot and threw herself onto the man beside her, attempting to make a vicious grab for the throat so she could maybe shut him up for just a few seconds. He dodged easily, taking her wrists in his calloused hand and lowering them to rest on his chest. Still, he continued to laugh at her. She felt like an utter joke sitting there on his stomach, looking at him through loose strands of her hair. 

She grumbled under her breath, her cheeks puffing out full of embarrassment, "Stupid."

"Me? Stupid? Look at you."

She replied swiftly, "What about me? You're the one with that ugly grin on your face." Quickly, she snatched her hands out from under his to cross her arms over her chest. She rocked back a bit on her knees to get a better look at his indeed ugly face. 

Except he definitely wasn't ugly, and that grin was more devilishly handsome than anything else. And honestly, she felt herself starting to get flustered in the position she'd put herself in. Of course she didn't hate Kakashi. He was one of her friends and coworkers. It was just that sometimes he could be casually attractive and she found herself falling under his spell. 

He just looked so fucking good lying there, staring up at her with a glimmer in his dark eyes. She could see the smile outlined under his mask. His hands had felt warm and firm around her own fingers. She missed his touch, there she said it, any touch on her body from Kakashi Hatake felt like heaven. He was far too cute, and the soft contact between them drove her crazy.

She wanted to punch herself for thinking such silly things. This was Kakashi, one of her frenemies. Not boyfriend material. Stupid. Silly. 

If only he didn't look so good, Jesus christ. Get your brain out of the gutter, Y/N.

Little did she know, his mind was already waist deep in those damn gutters and he was loving it.

"You really think that?"

"What? That you're ugly?" She asked, tilting her head to the side just a bit as if to think about it. Only a second later, another mischievous smile crossed her lips. "Of course."

He lifted his fingers to slid along her waist and down to her hips, fingers curling ever so slightly around her curves. She shuddered as his hands slid down to hold the sides of her bare thighs in his hands, his warm, strong hands with the softest fingertips. She wanted to die.

Had they kissed before? Yes. We're they somewhat romantically involved? Maybe. Did that give him any good reason to rest his rough hands on her thighs like that? Probably, and her thoughts were running a mile a minute at this point. 

"Kakashi...stop that," she said softly, her voice lowering from how it was before. She suddenly felt a lot smaller, scared even. Hooking up with Kakashi wasn't something she planned on doing anytime in the near future, if at all. He was her friend, and she felt strange sitting in his lap with his hands all over her. It felt so right but wrong at the same time, like she was breaking the law. Well, laws of friendship that is.

She cared about Kakashi, more than she wanted to admit. He wasn't just a friend, he was something weirdly in between and she couldn't exactly put her finger on how she felt about him. All she knew was that if she was going to have sex with this man, it would be the right way. They would have to date first. She wasn't just gonna sleep around this time. He was different. 

She wanted to impress him, to make him smile and laugh, to take him out to dinner and hold hands on their way home, to kiss at her doorstep. She wanted all of that before any of this.

His hands dropped from her sides and she crawled away from him, grabbing her blanket and cradling herself in it. "Listen, Y/N, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"I know, it's not your fault. Don't worry about it."

It was quiet. Just the sounds of both their breaths filling the air and the crickets chirping in the darkness outside. She shifted in her blanket to rest her head on the wall, leaning against it with her shoulder. He remained on his back, staring up at the empty ceiling tiles. 

It was now so terribly awkward. Thanks, Y/N.

Finally, he broke the silence. "You, uh, don't snore all that much. I was just teasing you."

"Thanks," she exhaled. "You're not as ugly as I said."

"I know."

Wow, Kakashi. So modest.

Her words fell right into place as she spoke, emotions slipping out with each breath. She looked at his profile in the dark, the way his bedhead stood on end, his nose pointed upward and his lips sat calmly, the curve of his chin under the edge of his mask, the way his eyes just sat there unmoving and gentle, brows soft above the eye. She took in all of him as she confessed, "I just don't want it to be like this. I don't want to fall for you this way."

"I get it."

"I just think that you and I could be something different. You're not like the other guys to me, at least, I don't think of you that way," she took a deep breath. He still stared deep in the ceiling, and somehow it made her comfortable enough to confess everything she'd been feeling. It was as if he could just lay there and listen without words forever. "I don't want you to just fuck me before we really...well I don't know, we've never even been on a date. I...I think I'm ready to fall in love with you."

"Then let's do it."

She peered over at him, lips agape with surprise. She hadn't expected much at all, but certainly not that. "What?"

"When we get back to the village, I'll take you on a date, more if things go well. We can take it as slow as you want," he told her, turning to lay on his side, facing her. He watched as she cuddled further into the comforter, only a peek of her face in his view. She was actually kinda cute through all those worn and torn layers. "I don't think I can let you go this time."

"Really?"

"Anything for you."

She ducked her head down to stare at the hardwood beneath her feet. She was overwhelmed by how nice he was being. Normally, it didn't go like this. Things normally got sexual so quick there wasn't even a chance for these sorts of conversations. It was just different with Kakashi. She could say no to him and expect better, because she knew he could deliver. "No one has ever treated me like this before."

He smiled. "Well, it's about time someone did."

"Can you hold me?"

"Come on." He lifted his arm up with the covers attached so she could crawl over and burrow herself next him, tucked right against his side. He rested his arm around her shoulders and held her close to his chest. Things were looking good for the both of them. Better than they had in a long time.

He wished this kind of thing could last forever. The beating of her heart, the laughter in her voice, the shine in her eyes. He just wished he could have bottled it all up and held it close to him for the rest of his life. 

But he waited too long, and the opportunity slipped from his grasp.

______

The pair fought hard. Kakashi was better than her, everyone knew that. The enemy targeted her for that reason. It was clear as day that she was important to Kakashi, and the enemy quickly caught onto that. He was quick to bring the knife to her neck, pressing the woman’s back tightly to his chest. The blade stung her skin, already piercing the flesh from the bit of pressure he applied.

She cried out, feeling a trail of blood begin running down her neck. Her nails clawed at his arm, desperate to get him to release her from his clutches, but he persisted. One hand held onto her chin tightly, keeping her face from thrashing, and the other continued to apply more and more pressure into the blade. 

For the first time in a long time, she found herself feeling unrestricted fear. She was scared. Scared for her life. She’d never been in this situation before, feeling so completely and utterly helpless like a deer caught in the headlights. Kakashi was right there, she should have known everything was going to be okay. After all, she had the village’s strongest veteran on her side.

It wasn’t the pain that caused the tears to bubble up in the corners of her eyes, no, it was Kakashi. The way his eyes darted over to the them, and she could feel his heart beginning to race, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, and the fear creeping up into his heart. He never wore his heart on his sleeve. He was so closed off, sometimes she could only get a wisp of emotion from him, especially the ones that showed such vulnerability. 

Now it all seemed to come tumbling out like a landslide. She was drowning in fear, his and her own. 

“Let her go,” he called out, practically pleading with the man across from him, but it was in vain. 

“Like I’d listen to some filthy leaf shinobi,” the spy replied angrily. He felt so hot, burning up with so much anger she wanted to throw up. What had they done to upset him this badly? Her jaw was starting to ache from being held so tightly, and she swore she could taste blood running down her throat. This was bad. This was so terribly, miserably bad. 

Kakashi stood there, his hands hovering at his sides, unknowing of what to do. She was already bleeding out all over the collar of her shirt. If he made a single move, the man could easily finish the job with one fatal swipe. The copy nin felt cornered. Hopeless. What was there left to do? He’d let the love of his life fall in the hands of some petty criminal. 

Come on, think of something. Anything. Just think of something.

“What? You upset I’ve got your little girlfriend here?”

God, he was so desperate. The man taunting him didn’t help at all. He just felt himself spiralling deeper into hopelessness. He bargained, “Please, just let her go. I’ll give you whatever you want.” 

It wouldn’t work though. This man was set in his ways, and there was no changing that. He came into this fight knowing exactly what he wanted to do. And he was going to finish the job. 

“This is for what you shinobi have done to my people,” he sneered before she felt the knife dip further into her neck, sliding painfully across her throat. He dropped her head from his grasp, and as soon as he had, her body crumbled down to the ground. She collapsed in a bleeding heap on the dirt. 

The criminal quickly ran into the forest behind them, getting lost among the trees and the bushes within seconds. None of that mattered though. Kakashi could only run over to her limp body lying there on the ground, sputtering and coughing on thick blood filling her throat and lungs. Her cheeks and lips painted red now from spitting so much up. He fell to his knees beside her body, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a tear drip down his face.

She cried, hot tears running down her cheeks into the dirt on either side of her head. She cried for her pathetic self, having been attacked and injured in this way. She cried for Kakashi, feeling the pain and sadness, the panic, radiating off his form. She took in every emotion he was feeling, wanting to savor being with him for as long as she had, to fully take him in one last time. 

“Y/N, it’s gonna be okay,” he whispered, his hands running over her hair and cheek, smearing blood on her skin and his fingers. “We’ll bring you back to the village. The Hokage can fix you.” His words were so soft into the air, like if he spoke any louder he would hurt her.

They both knew that none of what he was saying was true. She was as good as dead.

She lifted her hand weakly to sit on his other hand. “I…” The woman took a labored breath.. “Love you, Kashi.”

“No, no, no. Don’t say that,” he hushed her, feeling his heart grow heavier in his chest with every second that passed, every look at her bloody neck and face, her laboring chest as she took hopeless breaths. He was falling apart in this moment, desperate for fate to change, for her to magically be better. He choked, “You can’t die, Y/N.”

“It’s okay.” Her words were slurred and hard to hear, liquid bubbling up in her throat to the point she was almost incomprehensible. “I love you,” she confessed once again. She wanted those to be her last ever words to him, the words he would remember for the rest of his life. To know someone out there loved him more than anything else.

He had to know that he was her everything. He was the best thing that ever happened to her, and she was going to miss him so terribly wherever her soul went after this. She just wished there was more time to tell him everything she felt. Yet, time was passing faster than she thought, and all those words felt impossible.

“I love you, too. You have to live for me. Just keep breathing, it's going to be okay.”

“It...hurts.”

More misery erupted his chest, and he found himself wanting to scream. Tears dripped steadily down both his cheeks now as he watched this woman die in front of him, one of the only people he truly needed in his life. “I know, baby, I know. I’m sorry I let this happen to you.”

She nodded faintly, her eyes beginning to close. He was starting to panic. Was this his last moment to say goodbye? Their time together was so short, how was this fair? He’d already lost everyone he ever cared about, and now this? He felt like the gods were laughing down at him and his misfortune. 

“You were the best thing that ever happened to me. I don’t know how I’ll do this without you.”

She didn’t respond, but she was still breathing. 

“Y/N, please.”

And he watched as her chest fell still and her labored breaths were silent on his ears. He found himself gathering her form up against his chest, her head cradled in the crook of his neck, just sobbing into her hair, weeping for a long lasting love gone in an instant. 

 He carried her body home that day himself. Something he never anticipated happening, but should have prepared for. He always thought he was going to watch as someone else carried her home to him, death long gone before he had the chance to see. He never thought it would be right in front of him. He thought he could protect her, save her from the clutches of fate. He was so wrong.

Kakashi was alone once again.

[moldisgoodforyou]

the screenplay

hello i am splitting these up tried to put them together but wasn't working

one scene wonder !!

wordcount: 2k short n sweet

________

Sophie had been begging for months now to see the project Rafe had been working on for one of his classes, especially with how often he added to it. He was constantly jotting down notes in his phone when he thought of something to add - at dinner, when they were hanging out, or the second he’d wake up. He’d always shift to the side whenever she tried to peer over and see the screen, nudging her aside.

All she knew was that it was for his screenwriting class in his minor that he took in the spring, and she swore she’d never seen him so invested in school before. He kept editing it after the class finished, working on it a little throughout the summer, but finished it before he went out to see Sophie in Spain.

When they were back to school in mid-August, she’d mainly forgotten about it - until the end of the month, when he strolled into her room and dropped a bound stack of papers on her desk.

She glanced up from her planner, confused. “Hello to you too, Rafe Cameron. Did I know you were coming over?”

“No, I invited myself. It’s done.”

“It?” She picked up the papers and read the first page. It read “UNTITLED,” BY RAFE CAMERON. Once she realized, she lit up, grinning at him. “Is this what I think it is?”

He flopped onto her bed and locked his fingers behind his head, glancing over with a grin. “Dunno, what do you think it is?”

“Your screenplay? Can I read it?”

“Yeah. Go ahead. It’s only twenty minutes or so, just a short film, so don’t expect too much, but.” He shrugged. “You can read it.”

She beamed and moved to the bed to read, facing the opposite of him. As she read, he was buzzing with nervous anticipation, trying to look over when she laughed or grinned at the page, or when she bit her lip - she’d just nudge him away to finish it. When she finished, setting the papers down, she raised her eyebrows at him.

“Do you like it? Is it okay?” He asked eagerly.

Sophie beamed, nodding slowly. “It’s familiar.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed at being caught. “Is it?”

“I mean -” She laughed, running her finger over the main girl’s name, Sloane. “If you were trying to be more subtle, you probably wouldn’t have used my middle name here. Where’d the guy’s name come from?” She cocked her head curiously, hoping to make him blush yet again.

“Uh.” He scratched his head, giving her a sheepish smile. “My middle name’s Asher, actually.”

A grin spread across her face, slowly. “You told me you had no middle name.”

“No, you asked if I had a middle name, and I said no. I have two. Asher and Clifford. Clifford’s my mom’s maiden name.” He corrected, fishing out his driver’s license and handing it to her, with Rafe A. C. Cameron on it.

She glanced it over, then glanced back at him with a teasing smirk. “Rafe Asher Clifford Cameron. That is the most pretentious name I’ve ever heard -”

“Hey!” He nudged her shoulder. “Watch it, that’s your boyfriend you’re talking to.”

“My boyfriend, who wrote our love story into a screenplay.” She beamed as he blushed even harder. His character had confessed his crush on the girl to his friends much sooner than she began to give way, something she’d always suspected for a while, but never confronted him about it.

He tapped the bound pages again. “Did you make it to the end? You missed my favorite part.”

“Yeah, I finished reading…” She furrowed her brow and flipped back through to what she thought was the end, then one page further. There was a dedication inscribed to her in the middle of the page: “inspired by a true story. for my favorite.” She bit her bottom lip hard, tearing up a little.

“Oh. Rafe.”

“Is that okay?” He took the screenplay out of her hands, gently setting it aside, and rolled on top of her to kiss her, slow. “I know it’s kind of cheesy, and you don’t really do cheesy. But I figured you played a part in this just as much as I did, so I wanted to give you some credit.”

“It’s perfect.” She reached up and threaded her fingers through his hair, smiling as she kissed him back. “My sweet boy.”

“Keep your voice down, you’ll ruin my rep.” He joked, laughing when she scowled and bit his lip gently in retaliation. “Hey! Hey, play nice.”

“Did you get an A?” She asked, kissing him again with a little more heat behind it. “Can I keep it?”

“Not sure yet. Yeah, I bound that copy for you, it’s all yours.”

“It’s really good, Rafe. I’m serious. I know I don’t know about movies like you do, but the writing, the directions - I’m really impressed.” She complimented, loving the way he looked away out of embarrassment and blushed red. “You only started this in April or something, right?”

“Uh...yeah.” He lied, rolling off of her to look up at the ceiling when she narrowed her eyes to catch him. “Okay, fine. Um, you know that navy journal I carry around? I’ve been writing notes in there.”

“But I’ve seen you with that since last December.” She furrowed her brow, confused. “We didn’t say I love you for months after that.”

He shrugged, casting her a grin as she climbed onto him and pressed her head to his chest, snuggling close. He wrapped his arms tight around her, tracing patterns on her back lightly. “When you know, you know, I guess.”

“You sap.” She accused, poking her finger against her chest. “My character’s a bitch for the whole first quarter of the screenplay, I can’t believe you wrote that in.”

He laughed, tugging gently on the ends of her hair. “Asher argues right back, I guess it’s how you look at it. The character growth is important, though, they can’t just fall in love like that without conflict. Rule number one of storytelling.”

“Are you gonna produce it?”

“The screenplay? Nah. Well, I don’t know, my professor picks two out of the ten and then we produce them in the spring semester. He did, um, encourage me to enter it in some contest for students, so I submitted it recently, but yeah. Doubt he’ll pick it though.” He dismissed himself easily.

“Hey.” She flicked his chest. “Be more confident. I want someone really hot to play me. Like Megan Fox-caliber.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, okay. I’m sure she’s in the film department’s tiny budget.”

“You have money.” She pointed out, smirking, and leaned up to kiss him.

“Not hire-Megan-Fox money. Besides, you’re hotter.” He met her lips first, shifting so his leg fell in between hers.

“We both know that’s not true, baby.” She raised her eyebrows, skeptical.

“It is true. You’re fucking gorgeous.” He kissed her again, hard, smiling against her lips. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. 10/10, would bang.”

“Thanks for the Yelp review.” She giggled and rolled her eyes simultaneously. “For the record, I always thought you were hot, even if you were arrogant and annoying when we were growing up.”

“I’m glad we waited, both of us.” He threaded his fingers through hers and kissed the tip of her nose. “If we had just one hate fuck and then you got over me I think I’d be so sad.”

“You wouldn’t get over me?”

“I haven’t been over you since junior year of high school, sweetheart.” He pointed out, making her blush bright red.

“What happened with Brooklyn then?” She asked point-blank, feeling bold.

He scowled, pressing his hips against hers. “Do we have to talk about her? Because I have other ideas for topics of conversation. Literally anything else.”

“We don’t have to, no. I’m just curious.”

“I dunno. Good timing, I guess. It kind of started out of convenience, knowing both our families would get along, then turned into a little more.” He shrugged, teasing his thumbs over her hip bones and along the hem of her shirt. “Longest mistake of my life.”

“Hey. You didn’t know she was going to end up that way.” Sophie frowned, then her frown gave way to a smug smirk. “It’s fine, I was sleeping around back then anyways -”

“You’ve slept with one other person, Sophie -” He started with an exasperated sigh, laughing when her jaw dropped in indignation. “Technically, your body count is just two.”

“So’s yours!” She retorted, sitting up on top of him and crossing her arms.

“No. Still four.” He corrected. “And I’d like both of ours to stay that way.”

“So that’s a no to a threesome?” She teased, punctuating her question with a roll of her hips.

“If you think I’m letting another person touch you like I get to, you’re delusional.” He scowled, gripping her hips a little tighter to keep her firmly in place. “I don’t even like other guys looking at you at the bar.”

“You’re too jealous.” She chastised with a flip of her hair. “People are gonna look at me. I’m hot. Bangable, in your words.”

“First off, I was joking, and I’m pretty sure I did not say bangable -”

“You absolutely did! Might as well have called me a slut -”

He raised his eyebrows at her teasing tone, unamused. “Why, do you want that? ‘Cause if you do you can just ask.”

“No.” She pouted, moving off of him.

“Where are you going?” He reached out for her, tugging at the hem of her shirt. “C’mere, I want to snuggle.”

She smiled, endeared by the 6’3” boy in her bed asking to cuddle. “Okay. Just that though, we have that dinner reservation soon, the one downtown.”

He grinned when she crawled back into bed. She looped her arm around his waist, spooning him, and he sighed contentedly. “I’m so excited for those fancy drinks.”

“We can make fancy drinks at home, y’know. Just buy the alcohol and we can try it.” She nudged her nose against his neck, making him flinch and wiggle away for a moment.

“Not the same. $18 cocktails in the fancy glasses just hit different.” He flipped over so he was face to face with her and rested his arm over her waist, scratching little circles on her back.

“Mm.” She closed her eyes but gave him a nod. “Are you gonna order a dumb whiskey drink again then drink half my fruity drink?”

“You like whiskey.” He protested. “We were sharing.”

“Free alcohol is free alcohol.” She replied, her voice taking on a sleepy tone. “How fancy do I have to be for this place?”

“You can just throw on a dress.” He continued to scratch her back, loving her little hums of contentment. “We can take a nap before we go. Twenty minutes. You can do eyeliner and lipstick and whatever in the car.”

“Ideal.” She murmured. “Rafe?”

“Yeah, angel?”

“I really love that screenplay. You’re very talented. I mean it.” She squinted one eye open just so she could see his blush and shy smile.

“Yeah, well. I had good inspiration. Thank you, Soph, that means a lot.” He reached out and stroked his thumb over her cheek as he reminded himself how lucky he was to be with her.

“Always my favorite.” She whispered, leaning forward to peck his lips and cuddle closer into him. “I’m gonna sleep.”

“I love you too.” He murmured back. “Sweet dreams.”

taglist: @drewstarkey @lemur46 @jjmaybanksbaby @edgeofgr8 @quxxnxfhxll @obxtess @hoodpankow @vtgirl802 @outerbankies @messagesinthesky @nicolecarsley @svechnikolan @ilovejjmaybank @obxtess @abbyj1822 @oopsiedoopsie23 @g4bster @jjmaybankzz @freddymaybank @dontjinx-it @illbesafeforyou @moniamaybank @tovvaa @jailcalledlife @sunshineitsfine44 @randomficsandshit @outerbankspreferences @outerbanksbro @karsinner @kkmaybank @whoeveniskendall @lemur46

[candychronicles]

bodyguard // s. todoroki

A/N: my take on the rockstar/band/performer au for bnharem! i’m not a big fan of au’s normally but this one was a lot of fun to write! todoroki is definitely ooc in this one but i took a lot of liberties with his character in order to better fit the au storyline.

CHARACTER PAIRING: Todoroki Shouto x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5,091

WARNINGS: mentions of blood, gore, fighting, death, oral sex (f!receiving)

SYNOPSIS: you were in it for the money, he was an unhinged popstar. how could you two ever possibly get along?

want to read more rocking stories? click HERE !

the days at work were tiring, the nights even longer, but the pay was good and it was always satisfying to make a grown man cry as you knocked him to his knees and manhandled him away from your client.

Todoroki Shouto, one of the elite, the famed, the rich, and absolutely fucking annoying. sure, he was hot (anyone with an eye could see that) but he was just like everyone else in his industry: a cocky bastard. you didn’t mind his lifestyle too much except when it interfered with his job, like having to pry off whiny people who clung to him like their life depended on it, and for some, it probably did.

his biggest claim to fame was being in a now wildly famous band, namely the main singer. he was charming with a sultry voice and a personality that oozed confidence but he wasn’t always that way. in fact, he was originally a shy, anxiety ridden teen when he first joined, not sure how to use his voice or deal with people coming up to him in the streets. the life he lived was sheltered before that, training under his dad to take over the family business, but when sweet, innocent Todoroki confessed that he much rather be artsy and sing at the age of sixteen, things quickly changed for him. his father, Todoroki Enji, tried to convince him otherwise, told him that he didn’t know how the real world worked and that he would never be successful, but Shouto wouldn’t budge and eventually Enji caved in, or so it seemed.

Enji immediately enrolled Shouto in lessons, instructing him to shape up or ship out. if he couldn’t become successful in the industry, he would take over his father’s business instead, but that didn’t happen. Shouto excelled in lessons, blowing his instructors away with his timbre and control. he was a natural, and frankly, good enough to be a star. they weren’t so concerned with his stoic yet endearing personality. they had broken enough pop stars, molded them to be perfect model citizens, so what was one more?

the plan backfired immensely. as Shouto’s talent grew, Enji seeked out the biggest in the game, convincing them to give his son a chance at stardom. while reluctant, the board agreed, not wanting to piss off one of the most powerful men in Japan but were thoroughly surprised at the fact that his kid didn’t suck at all. in fact, he was actually good, really, really good.

they signed him immediately, whisking him away into the life of fame and fortune at the young age of seventeen. his range, the slight rasp to his tone and the ability to reach into somebody's soul and pluck the very feelings they try to hide so deeply from it’s depths pushed him towards the life of a rockstar. the freedom he had never been able to experience living at home pushed him over the edge and spiraled him out of control.

Todoroki drank, smoked, and fucked his way through cities big and small, getting himself into a lot of trouble along the way. the behavior went on for years, only getting worse as time went on. nobody seemed to be able to get control over the boy with the pretty hair and wild scar. after almost killing several women and one of his bandmates in a drunk driving accident, his team, label, and most importantly his father had enough.

the conversation between the two did not go well. Shouto was now an adult, legally free and clear from his father’s power. he had his own money, enough to live comfortably for awhile, even if he dropped the band, and all of the repressed rage, longing and anger that was pent up from his childhood. he was not stopping his lifestyle for anyone. that was, until you came along.

you were always a scrapper, getting yourself in trouble more times than you could count. it was just in your nature to defend those who couldn’t defend themselves and you spent many days on the playground beating up the bullies who picked on the sweet girl braiding flowers into her hair, or the boy who liked to play with baby dolls instead of trucks.

as you got older, your fights got fewer and farther in between, at least when it came to the public.

when you turned sixteen and kicked some kid who was trying to look up your skirt so hard in the chin that he saw stars, you were approached by a few men who slid you a card and told you if you wanted to make money fighting, come meet them.

you were a dumb kid and instead of running in the opposite direction and telling the police, you showed up at the seemingly dingy door behind the alley of a fairly run down ramen restaurant. knocking on the door and rocking back on your heels, you waited to see what would happen. it took a few seconds before a panel slid open, allowing you to see nothing but someone’s eyes peering at you in the mid-afternoon sun. hesitantly, you raised the business card in your hand, showing it to the person and jumping in surprise as the panel slammed shut and the door creaked open, inviting you in.

you nodded your head politely at who you realized was a rather bulky, burly man, before a woman dressed in a silky black dress plucked the card delicately from your hand and led you through the hallway. when she opened the door, you were taken aback by the scene.

people of all shapes and sizes stood cheering as two rather muscular men fought in an arena across the room. spit and blood flew across the floor as the two pummeled each other over and over again before one tapped out, the other man raising his fist in the air in victory. you stood, gaze fixed on the scene in front of you, blood racing at the thought of you being in the ring.

“addicting, isn’t it?” the woman whispered in your ear, a knowing smile on her face before she gently took you by the sleeve and guided you away from the screams and shouts into a private room that was much quieter.

you sat down in front of a man who was rather tall and thin, graying hair across his head and a clean shaven face.

“so, i heard you’re a good fighter. how good do you think you are?”

“uh-” you stuttered, not sure how to respond, “i think i can kick someone’s ass if i have a reason to.”

“is money a good enough reason for you?”

“money is a nice reward, yeah, yeah it is,” you confirmed, not pondering the question over for a second.

“good, you start on Saturday. come in comfy clothes that you won’t mind getting sweaty and dirty in. you’re my new ace, a secret weapon. give it six months time and you’ll be defeating guys like that out there in seconds.”

and defeat you did. over and over again, men, women, anyone who thought they were better than you were defeated by your own fists. you worked hard and then some, through literal sweat, blood and tears, to reach the status of champion of the underworld by the age of eighteen.

you were a wild card, unpredictable in your stature. you didn’t have hulking muscles and a sturdy frame, but what you did have was speed, the element of surprise, and the ability to calculate in a split second, all of which allowed you to defeat your enemies time and time again. this relative victory didn’t come without your share of sacrifices: hiding the bruises, blackened eyes and bloody lips from your family as you trained relentlessly, having to figure out a way to manage the steady flow of income that started coming your way as you fought in your first official matches, defeat after defeat as you trained, chipping a tooth and having it promptly filled in like nothing happened, having to learn how to disarm and fire a gun, work with knives and most importantly, losing a bit of your empathy along the way.

it came as no surprise when people who were much more powerful and much, much richer started taking an interest in you, placing large bets upon your head at some of the higher staked matches, a feat you worked your way up to after many years. you never failed to disappoint, knowing that these fights were the ones that mattered the most, the ones that brought you, and your boss, the biggest pools of money.

it was at one of these fights on a dreary, rainy night that you met Todoroki Enji, a hulking man that failed to intimidate you. you were used to people his size and bigger thinking he could take advantage of someone like you and it only made you chuckle thinking of how easy it would be to have him on his knees in seconds.

“i’ve made a proposal to your boss that he couldn’t refuse. he said he couldn’t and wouldn’t force you to do anything, but since you’re quite motivated by money, i think you’ll be intrigued by my offer,” he started, sitting down next to you in one of the VIP booths, sliding his business card on the table with a sly smile.

you were interested and entertained him, listening to him ramble about his shitty kid and his bad behavior. amused, you sipped on your drink as you absorbed his rants and whines about the negative reputation his kid was creating for himself, how he abused his freedom and power to the fullest extent and how his life was spiraling out of control.

“what does this have to do with me, exactly?” you finally questioned, setting your drink down and turning to face him, eyes met squarely with his own.

“i’d like to hire you to be his personal bodyguard.”

“sounds like he needs a babysitter, not a bodyguard,” you retorted, getting ready to stand up and move away from this blathering idiot.

when he spit out a number so outrageous, however, you sat back down, now thoroughly intrigued by the situation at hand. satisfied that he had your full attention, he went into details, laying down a fairly thin stack of papers in front of you as you listened to every detail.

“so let me get this straight. i’m to be his personal bodyguard, keep his shitty behavior a little more under control, whip him up into shape sort of situation. that’s it? and i’ll get paid that much for being a glorified babysitter?”

“you will have to protect him, of course. there are some crazy fans out there that climb windows, seduce themselves into his bed, stalk him, chase him down, but i don’t think it’s anything that, with your expertise, you can’t handle.”

you continued to ponder the situation before gesturing him to continue with his story. he rambled for another moment or two before picking up the papers and going over them with you: standard non-disclosure agreements, a detailed list of your job description and a contract agreement that he was subleasing you through your boss.

after a few minutes of reading the contracts over and discussing them with your boss, you agreed to the scenario, locking yourself into what would be a rather entertaining six months.

the first time you met Todoroki, he instantly tried to hit on you, but when his hand lowered down to grab your ass, you had him on his knees with his left hand behind his back before he could even blink. after that encounter, your conversations were curt. he knew what you were here for and he wasn’t about to let you get his way.

what he wasn’t expecting was for you to be so relaxed about the whole situation. he still drank, still partied, fucked almost whatever girl or guy he wanted, but anytime things got too out of hand, you stepped in, firm but gentle, guiding the crying groupies out of his bedroom after their time was over, driving him every time he got too drunk, cutting him off from any supplies when he was getting out of hand and most importantly, keeping him safe during his travels.

he never realized how much danger he was always in until you mitigated the problems with ease. he just assumed that being assaulted on the daily was something that came with being in the public until you broke some robbers finger when they tried to swipe the wallet out of his own back pocket. after that, he almost clung to you like a koala on a tree anytime he was out in public. you provided stability in a time where he was drowning in his own worries.

that didn’t mean he was ever nice to you though. in reality, he was actually sometimes meaner to you, the simple fact that some girl could be stronger than him set him off, always feeling on edge around you. you weren’t necessarily quiet, offering up any and all small bits and pieces about yourself that he ever wanted to know, but he never really knew you: not your last name, where you were from, if you had any siblings, parents, where you went to school, what your job was, who you were on the inside. it bugged him like crazy to know what your favorite color was and that you liked cheese on your ramen but not anything important, anything he wanted to know.

you liked to keep it that way, however, and would stay as friendly yet aloof as possible. this was a job to you, a job that would set you up easy for awhile and gave you a break from fighting for the most part. you wouldn’t admit to yourself that you liked the man more than you would’ve expected. you felt the way he clung to you as fans swarmed him, the way he always looked to you in reassurance as you walked the streets at night, hearing his sobs in the shower, sobs that were so broken and confused. it showed to you a side of him that was vulnerable, that showed emotion.

he broke down towards the end of your stay, realizing a little too late how much easier it was for you to do your job when he was cooperative and nice. in fact, he began to be more open about enjoying your company and spending time with you. it made it harder for you to continue with your job knowing you were falling for the pretty rich boy, for the man you were hired to protect, for the man who looked at you like you could do no wrong but vehemently would deny it. you began enjoying the little moments with him, the stolen glances, the laughing. you didn’t know what changed in him but you were glad he was someone you could get along with. underneath that crazy exterior, he was just a guy who wanted a friend.

your six months came up relatively quickly. it sucked that your cushy job living in five star hotels, eating decadent meals and working out in state of the art facilities would be over soon but you felt yourself getting lazy, weak and losing your rather sharp edge. it was time to get back into the grind and despite your heart panging at the fact that you would leave the pretty boy with the angry and sad heart behind, you were ready to go.

your last night of work consisted of the final show in Tokyo. tens of thousands of guests were set to attend what would be the bands biggest concert ever. you were calm, cool and collected as always, but the singer, not so much.

he spent the day pacing back and forth, warming up his vocals, hydrating himself, stretching and generally doing his best to calm his nerves.

in a rare act of affection, you reached out to grab your hand with his own, looking him dead in the eye and telling him that this night would be one he would remember forever; and you were right, just not for the way either of you thought.

the show went amazing, the crowd loud and receptive, the choreography flawless, the singing perfect. Todoroki ran off stage with the biggest smile he had ever seen and in his own rare display of affection, twirled you around with ease, adrenaline still pumping through his system.

you congratulated him on the great show and waited patiently for him to remove all the makeup and his costume. he emerged a little while later, hair flat against his head, wet from the shower, sweatpants and an inconspicuous gray hoodie donning his body. you bid a pleasant farewell to his bandmates before escorting him back to the car. he had requested that you drive him back to the hotel and spend one final night in the comfortable hotel beds before you headed back to your hometown.

when you arrived, however, things felt quiet, a little too quiet, and the hair stood up on the back of your neck.

“Shouto, you need to get into the driver’s seat right now, turn on the car and lock it. do not let me in until i tell you to. do not get out of the car, okay?”

he began to question you but before he had a chance to argue, you were pushing him out of the way as a knife sliced towards him, figures cloaked in black emerging from the shadows.

one, two, three, four.

you counted out the four assailants as you shoved Shouto against the car, prompting him to unlock and scramble in through the back seat. only when you heard the click of the lock did you breathe a sigh of relief and begin your attack.

the first man with the knife was tall and lanky, using his height to his advantage, trying to overwhelm you, but with a quick kick to the back of his kneecaps, he went tumbling onto his knees. now shorter than you, you were able to control him by grabbing onto the top of his head and slamming it into the ground, effectively knocking him out.

one, two, three.

the next man thought his muscles would save the day, but his size lacked any true speed, and you were able to land fingers to his eyes, a punch square to his nose. a quick chokehold and he was knocked out against the concrete as well.

one, two.

they both came at once, knives flailing in the air as they sliced your way. one managed to gouge out a chunk of flesh in your arm but you paid no mind, too focused on the task at hand as you grabbed the knife with your hand and used the other arm to knock into their elbow, making them loosen their grip enough to let go of the blade that you then embedded into their shoulder. the other assailant took your distraction to swing the knife your way and as you were trying to dodge the serrated edge, used their other fist to swing up into your chin. you felt your teeth chatter against each other, blood mixing with saliva as you bit your tongue. spitting, you slammed your hand down against their wrist, grabbing the knife with your hand and yanking, not caring that it sliced into your palm as you flipped the weapon around to shove it into their abdomen.

with both men distracted, you slammed your fist against the car door, telling Shouto to quickly unlock it so you could get in. when you heard the telltale click, you instantly dove into the backseat, yelling at him to lock it and drive as fast as he could back to the hotel. he did as he was told with an eerie calmness to him, backing out and around the attackers that were attempting to survey the damage that had been dealt to them.

once you had made the relatively quick trip back to the hotel, you hurriedly jumped out of the car, telling Shouto to carry his own bags so you could be on alert if anything were to happen, scanning each and every corner for a possible other attack. thankfully, everything was safe as you made your way into his hotel room.

you dropped him off quietly, not even attempting to walk into his room, but only fifteen minutes had passed before he was knocking on your door, a first aid kit he had gotten from the front desk securely tucked under his arm.

you let him in without a word, locking the door behind you and turning to face him. before you had a chance to ask what he was doing there, he had dragged you into your rather grandiose bathroom, sitting you on the steps leading up to the jacuzzi tub and pulling out the contents of the kit onto the floor.

he began by assessing the damage to your wounds, cleaning and disinfecting them before wrapping both your hand and arm rather efficiently.

“i had to wrap a lot of my own wounds as well as my siblings. dear old dad let the temper get the best of him sometimes and it wasn’t always so pretty,” he explained, teeth clenching together in an attempt to remain calm.

“thanks for this. i’m sure they’ll heal just fine,” you replied, not wanting to put him in a situation where he had to talk about his troubling past.

“you could’ve died protecting me today, you know?”

“that’s my job Todoroki. i was hired to protect you, i protected you, and i’m fine, thank you very much. this is not my first fight and it definitely won’t be my last.”

he sighed, rubbing his temples as he sat down on the marble floor in front of you, holding your wounded hand in his own, tracing the fabric that surrounded your palm.

“i recognized one of the cars in the parking lot. it was a company car, one of my dad’s cars to be precise. i know they can seem relatively inconspicuous but i memorized every car my dad ever had, big or small. it was definitely his car.”

you mulled over his words for a moment before sighing yourself, slumping against the stairs as your head rested against the rim of the tub.

“your dad sent those men, huh? that’s why you were so eerily calm driving away. you knew you weren’t really in any danger, that those men were secretly there to kill me,” you finally concluded, anger boiling deep within the pit of your stomach.

“yeah, i think they were. i don’t think dad is too fond of the fact that you and i got close. i-i like you a lot more than i let on, i’ve told him so. i thought that would make him happy, knowing i have someone in my life that i could rely on and trust, but he didn’t like the fact that he couldn’t control you after these six months were up, think he wanted to teach me a lesson.”

“wouldn’t be the first time i’ve had a hit out on my head. this one, however, is probably going to be a lot tricker to deal with.”

Shouto sunk deeper into himself, body shaking with rage as he saw the fight flash in his head over and over again.

“i’m going to protect you. if you want to, that is. i’ll sign you on as my own bodyguard, however much money you want. i’ll be by your side always, make sure that nobody tries to kill you, tries to hurt you like that again.”

“i can fend for myself Todoroki.”

“it’s Shouto. and why won’t you let anyone else take care of you? listen, i know i’ve been kind of an ass but i thought we were at least friends, and yet i know nothing about you. i know your favorite color, your favorite animal, that you like sunsets and the rain and snuggling under comfy sheets at the end of the day, that your eyes sparkle when you get a chance to fight but secretly crave peace and comfort, but i don’t know who you are. your name, your story, why you’re really here.”

you heaved as you sat back up, staring him straight in the eye to find no malice, no anger, only confusion, empathy and maybe even a bit of longing. so you told him, you told him everything: who you were, what you were, where you grew up, about your childhood dog and all the scraps you had as a kid, how two strange men in suits approached you and groomed you to fight at the age of sixteen, how it was the only thing you knew how to do, the only thing you were good at, how you scared yourself sometimes because you enjoyed the pain that came with the fights. he sat there watching, eyes wide and unblinking as he absorbed every word you said, every bit of pain and anxiety, of longing for someone to love and understand you, of not having to fight all the time, of wanting to be vulnerable for once.

“let me take care of you,” he declared, standing up and outstretching his hand towards you, helping you up from the cool tile, hand coming to rest behind your head once you had steadied yourself.

he leaned forward, unsure and hesitant, before placing his lips against your own, soft and gentle, tasting of mint chapstick and coffee. you were unsure of yourself, awkward, full of aches and pains, wanting so badly to let go but never wanting to get hurt.

“it’s okay, you’re safe with me. let me take care of you, please.”

that was all it took for you to open up, looping your arms around his neck as he led you back to the bedroom, careful to not run you into anything. your knees hit the back of the bed and you reflexively tensed up, like a deer in headlights.

he shushed you, rubbing his hands up and down your arms, heeding the bandage and wound underneath. you laid back after that, body attempting to relax as his hands ran themselves soothingly over your body, across your breasts, the flesh of your stomach, your thighs, the corded muscles in your calves, slipping your shoes off, your socks, kissing every inch of your body along the way, making sure you were comfortable. you shimmied out of your pants, your tight shirt, bra, underwear, finally bare for him to see, scars, bruises, all the imperfections of your life.

“so, so beautiful,” he murmured, taking his time to kiss every single blemish and scar that you had, wanting you to feel his dedication.

after what felt like hours of soft kisses, his thumb came to rest on your clit, rubbing in quick and precise circles, fingers gently parting your folds to press into your body, back arching at the feeling of him already.

“it’s all about you tonight, okay? just relax, let me show you how much i appreciate you.”

and appreciate you he did. he dropped to his knees, nose nuzzling into your pubic bone as he kitten licked your clit once, twice, three times, testing your reaction. you whined and squirmed at the feeling, already overwhelmed by his fingers lazily dragging in and out of you. you wanted, needed more, but Todoroki wouldn’t hear any of that. you deserved to be treated right, treated gently tonight, to allow your worries to melt away, if only for a few moments.

his fingers began picking up pace, pistoning in and out of you, his fingers curling in all the right spots, fists clenched into the downy comforter as you attempted to ground yourself from the overwhelming situation. his tongue worked against your clit, changing speed and pressure, trying to find what was the right combination to set you off, watching your every move intently as you squirmed around on the bed. before he even got a chance to get into a routine, you were already cumming over his fingers, creamy liquid coating the digits.

he hummed in contentment, pulling his fingers out to lick up the syrup, you watching with your pupils blown wide.

you went to sit up, body aching from the adrenaline of the fight, but he pushed you back down into the plush bed, tutting as he settled his head against your thigh, kissing, sucking and biting along the plump flesh, leaving little marks only he would know about.

his tongue began lapping at your clit again, this time harsher, more in tune with what your body wanted. you clenched your legs around his head, fisting his hair with your good hand as you tried to ground yourself yet again to reality. his velvety tongue felt like heaven against your body, coaxing moans and sighs out of your mouth. you felt your second orgasm hit you like a freight truck, tingles running up your spine. you tried to push his head away but he only held your body down, a frighteningly feral look on his face as he continued to lap against your clit, unrelenting in his pursuit to pull orgasm after orgasm from you.

after, two, three, four more highs, you couldn’t tell where one began and one ended, he was finally satisfied, pulling his face away, chin glistening in the dim light. your eyes were teary and red, overwhelmed by everything he had put you through. you had never been more satisfied in your life, and by the look on Shouto’s face, he knew it too.

your eyelids began to droop and your body relaxed into the mattress as you came back down into reality. Shouto shuffled around the room before settling you into your bed, tucking the sheets around your body and propping your head against your pillow.

he was enamored by your, by your story, how you opened up so willingly to him after tonight. nothing would get in between you two now. he was just starting to truly know you, know the real you, and nothing was going to stop him from wooing you until you were his, not even his father., and if her life was ever threatened again by him, well, Shouto would just have to kill Todoroki Enji.

[secondhand-trash]

Friday I’m In Love

commissioned by @xaki

A/N: no, the fic has nothing to do with the song it just so happens that it fits in the most literal sense lmao much thanks to xaki who gave me my first commission and my friend for helping me out when my brain was going all sorts of illogical directions uwu

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x f!reader

Description: You saw Kuroo Tetsurou once every week, where you tried your best to not let the fact that he was your high school crush distract you too much.

Warning: unprotected sex, spanking, dirty talk, slight degradation

Word count: 5052

-

You saw Kuroo Tetsurou once every week, during the single Wednesday morning lecture you shared.

You had allowed yourself the luxury of stealing a few glances his way during that one occasion, but never do more than just looking from afar.

Actually, it was ironic that you had gotten to the point of limiting yourself from even looking at him when there was a time you would see him nearly every day.

Getting into the same high school was a pure coincidence, but you had also noticed early on that no matter where he was, your gaze was following his figure before you even realised it. Who could blame you, really. Who wouldn’t want to spare even just a few more seconds looking at the boy who was taller than the rest of his peers even in his first year, only growing more and more breathtaking as he ditched the boyishness and slowly gained the edge on his face and the hint of maturity in his eyes.

You were far from being the only one that harboured a bit of a schoolgirl crush on the eventual volleyball club captain. In the few years where you shared the same class, you had witnessed him being called out of the classroom by blushing pupils more times than you could count. It always brought a bitter taste to your mouth but what could you do about it? At least they had the guts to confess. 

You liked to believe that it was not a cowardly move for you to hide your affections all throughout your high school years. It was just that as early as you had noticed your budding feelings, you also realised that you two belong with two seperate groups of people with very different interests, and the chances that he would opt for you was slimmer than slim. So you never did much to try and win him over, maintaining a friendly distance where you only interact in class and nothing outside of it. 

At least it could be a nice memory to look back on when you were way past the age to be conflicted over things like this.

You were just as shocked as any other person when you learned that he did not go the pro-athlete route everyone thought he would go, nearly as shocked when you walked into your first lecture of the semester to see him sitting right at the very front.

He seemed to have noticed you too, giving you a slight nod after his eyes widened. You returned the polite gesture, before heading straight to the very back of the lecture hall without a hint of hesitation.

You could deal with one more semester of friendly distance. Couldn’t be that hard, right?

-

It was Wednesday morning again, and you sinked into the seat at the very back of the lecture hall you tactfully occupied with a yawn.

It was from pure bad luck that you managed to register the one 8:30 lecture available in the course. Everywhere around you, people were either half asleep or laid down on the table at the very least. From the corner of your eye, you even spotted someone catching up on the latest episodes of the new tv series that just aired with subtitles on.

You sighed, leaning your jaw on your palm. You wanted to say that this was a bit too much even for a lecture but who were you to judge when your soul was starting to escape your body to somewhere more interesting than the lecture hall anyway.

The amount of people who were actually paying attention to the lecture could probably be counted with one hand, let along the ones that seemed to be genuinely enjoying it. You thought to yourself, your glances floating to the boy who blocked even more of your view with his roaster head on top of his existing height.

He was probably the only one who still had the strength to chuckle when the lecturer tried to liven up the dying atmosphere with unfunny gags.

“...for the upcoming event, students who volunteered as committee members would receive bonus marks based on their performance,” you perked up at the distant call of ‘bonus score’ from far away, “the form will be placed by the door, Please fill in your name before you leave if you are interested.”

Your mind was occupied by numbers and calculations of your gpa for the rest of your class, even as you lined up mindlessly behind your other classmates after the lecture was dismissed. Another thing about morning lessons was that the amount of effort you were willing to put in was also diminished by the limits on your mind and soul, meaning that any chance at a higher grade was worth trying. You had decided that free labour in exchange for that good grade was a decent enough bargain.

“Hey.”

You snapped out of your trance when it was your turn at the form only to feel your heart skipping a beat when you looked up to see the familiar handsome face you stared at as your recharge every morning.

You blinked, trying hard to maintain a calm front even though your mind went haywired at the rare direct interaction you had with Kuroo.

“Do you need the pen?” he asked, holding out the thin ball pen he was gripping in his hand to you.

“Oh,” your eyes widened, putting on a polite smile as you took it from him, “oh yes. Um, thank you.”

It was only a while later when you put down your name right below his that it finally hit you that you two had signed up for the same event. It took even longer for you to realise that the strange tingle you felt at the back of your hand was from his fingertips brushing past yours as he let go of the pen, but by then he was gone and it would be a few days later when you saw him again.

-

You now see Kuroo Tetsurou two times every week. Once during the dreadful morning lecture on Wednesday and on Friday evening where you were stuck in the committee meeting together.

But unlike the stolen glances on Wednesday, you were forced to acknowledge Kuroo as more than just a distant being you were merely acquaintances with in those few hours.

It was very inconvenient for you, considering how each time you felt smaller and smaller under his concentrated gaze as he listened to your input on whatever topic of discussion it was. In fact, you felt rather resentful that you couldn’t quite stand as firm as you did on your stance that you wanted to keep what was clear to be a admiration from being known under your own free will instead of a lack of self-assurance.

You had no choice but to be reminded that he was smart and brilliant on top of just being good-looking. He always knew what to say when the rest of the room was stuck, moving the agenda forward with each valuable input. He was easy to work with, reliable and always efficient.You found that you genuinely liked working with him, crush or not. He listened intently to what other people had to say and never said anything less than constructive.

Worst of all, you were starting to have the illusion that he had started paying more attention to you too. When you looked around the room as you were about to speak up each time, you would always lock your eyes with him at some point, even before you started talking like he already anticipated that you would have something to say.

Maybe it was a mistake, you thought to yourself as you stared outside the pitch black windows of the bus that was rocking steadily, feeling your mind drifting away after using up all your energy in the meeting, maybe those few bonus marks were not worth all this inner conflict.

“Hi, um,” you looked to the side, your mind going blank like you just got caught doing something guilty when you saw the exact person you were thinking about standing by. You cursed the uncontrollable heat that raised on your face, “can I sit here?”

It wasn’t like you could say no. “Sure,” you said as you picked up your bag to clear out the seat for him, flashing a cordial smile of someone who did not have a reason to be nervous when you could already feel the beating in your chest speeding up, “of course.”

“Thanks,” he said with a relieved sigh, throwing himself on the empty chair with a soft thump. You tried to pretend that you did not secretly really care about how close he was to you now, looking back out of the window again. Kuroo looked at you, pondering if he should say something first.

“So…”

“Hm?” you turned around to face him at the dragged out note of his voice.

“Have you gone back to Nekoma after graduation?”

You sighed and gave a light shake of your head, "No. Just surviving college is hard enough, who has time to think about going back?”

You tried to dismiss the knot in your stomach when he replied with a light chuckle and the corner of your lips curling up against your will when he leaned back. “Makes sense," he said, running his hand through his unruly hair before swiftly carrying on to ask you about what you were up to now.

It would have been easier if it was awkward or uncomfortable but sadly, Kuroo was also very easy to talk to and by the time you regained your senses, you were already at the door of your apartment with him walking you there the whole way after getting off the bus at the same stop.

Next Friday, he came up to you with a grinning face when you packed up your stuff after the meeting. “We go the same direction, right?” he had said, walking next to you casually as you headed out the meeting room. He started the conversation before you could say anything, and like last time, he walked you back to your apartment, claiming that he lived nearby anyways.

You saw him twice every week. Once during the morning lecture that was starting to feel less painful to endure and the Friday committee meeting, where he naturally walked you home without fail each week. At some point, he started saving you the seat next to him before each meeting and there was less and less of a reason for you to not take it when he was already leaving with you anyways. All of the above had reminded you once again why you were so hellbent on staying away from him in the first place.

He was far too easy to like, even more so now that you were somewhat friends by the end of the series of meetings.

-

The voice of your instructor was distant as you stared at the clock, the sound of Kuroo’s pencil tapping against the table keeping you in touch with what was going on. It was the last meeting you had to attend and quite frankly there was nothing interesting going on at this point. You glanced to the side, before pulling out your phone that has been buzzing in your pocket since the meeting started.

You tried to conceal the irritation rising in your chest as you looked at the glowing screen underneath the table. Your old friends had been bombing you with questions ever since they learnt that after years of looking on, you somehow had a leaping development with your crush on accident after graduation. It was a mistake on your part, given how the topic of their heated discussion was sitting right next to you. 

“(y/l/n)?”

The sudden mention of your name startled you, and you threw your phone down almost a bit too hard. “Yes?”

“Can you help hand these out?”

You let out a relieved sigh that you were not being called out for not paying attention as you stood up, pushing the conversation that was no doubt still ongoing in your group chat to the back of your head. “Of course.”

Kuroo watched as you got out, taking the stack of minutes from the instructor. After today, he would go back to only seeing you when you walked into the morning lecture hall. He felt the nerves building in his stomach, wondering if he should bear his teeth and threw his shot in changing that.

‘So you’re just going to do nothing?’

The screen of your phone that was laying on the table lit up as the speech bubble appeared. His curiosity got the better of him when the next message popped in before he could look away.

‘You have liked Kuroo for years and you’re just going to let this chance slip?’

He froze in place when he read his own name. You liked him? His eyes flicked to you, his heart in his throat at the realisation that he had just learnt something he was not supposed to know. 

But despite the slight guilt of overstepping his boundaries, it took all the fiber in his body to stop himself from grinning ear to ear when you returned to your seat next to him.

“What?” you asked with an amused quirk of your eyebrows at how stiffly he was sitting.

“Nothing,” Kuroo replied, feeling the muscle around his mouth going sore as he bit the inside of his cheeks, “nothing.”

The ride home felt so much longer with him next to you, knowing that this was to be the last. He did not say anything even as you got off, only walking in silence like he was deep in thought. You wondered what it was that made him so quiet today, he was usually the more chatty one out of you two.

Kuroo felt the tension building up in his head as you got closer and closer to your door. 

“Can I tell you something?”

You snapped around, your hand on the handle of your doorknob when he suddenly spoke up for the first time since you left the meeting that day. “Yeah?”

“My place is at the opposite side of the neighbourhood.”

“What?” your voice came out as a whisper. Your breath hitch at the back of your throat when he took one step closer to you before leaning down. His face was right in front of yours, his defined features dangerously close to you.

“I said,” you could feel his breath fanning on your face as he spoke and the pounding in your ear was thundering as you held your breath, “I’m only here because I want to be around you.”

Kuroo watched intently as your eyes widened, your jaw clenching as you gulped. His gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips, almost like he was waiting for you to show him any hint of rejection before he made the irreversible move. 

When your hand slowly crept onto his shoulder and stayed there, he latched onto you. You were taken back by his force, his tongue evading your mouth at your moment of lowered alert. His kiss was demanding, stealing away the oxygen in your lungs bit by bit as he held you close. 

You were panting when he pulled away after his initial outburst, your pupils dilated as your lips swollen up. You paused, before gathering the courage that had surged in your chest.

“Do you want to come in?”

Kuroo did not waste another second when the door clicked, his hand getting rougher now that you were within the privacy of your home. Your arms hung around his neck as you desperately held yourself up, your toes barely touching the floor as he demandingly kissed down the side of your neck. He lost patience at your struggling, lifting you up with his arm under your hips before pulling you down onto him with a stumbling step to the cramped couch.

“Help me strip.” He whispered in your ear, adjusting your position on his lap as he brought your hand to the opened collar of his shirt. You gulped when he gave an encouraging knead on your upper thigh, far too consumed by the want of seeing more of him to feel bashful by his bold request.

His gaze burned on your skin as he stared at you, not moving away even for a second while you tear apart the row of buttons to reveal more and more of his toned body. You felt like your fingers were not listening to your commands, a clumsy stiffness in your joints as he unhooked each button. The subconscious way you darted your tongue out to wet your lips at the rise and fall of his chest did not go unnoticed under his attentive stare, his much larger hands guiding you to palm his tend over the firm material of his jeans as your finger grazed past the cold metal of the zipper.

Kuroo’s stomach tensed up when you pulled down the fly, pushing your hips against his legs as you pushed away the heavy jeans. He held you down as he sat up, drinking in your soft moan with an open mouthed kiss. Your hand ran down from his shoulder to the firm pecs adoring his abdomen, each mound rippling under the tip of your fingers. His circled one arm around your waist while the other fumbled to pull his aching cock out of its refines. You felt the vibration of his chest as he groaned into your mouth when you allowed your hand to wander down his body, cupping his balls as he fisted his own length.

You let out a shaky sigh when he slid his palm down the elastic band of your panties, groping the soft flesh of your ass as he peeled off the thin piece of cotton with a push down the small of your back to have you arching for him.  He chuckled when he felt the wetness that was seeping through the fabric, earning a glare from you that looked more like a kitten pretending to be defensive out of embarrassment than truly threatening to him with your heated face and slightly swollen lips from his earlier nibbling when you pulled away. A thin strand of silver connected your lips, looking all the more erotic now that you were both half bare and exposed to each other’s hungry eyes.

Your finger dug into the muscle of his arms when he lifted you up from his lap with ease, much thanks to the firm grasp of your thighs in his warm palms. Your lips fell agape but no sound came out when you felt the hardness prodding at your entrance. He looked shamelessly at where your bodies met, not bothering to hide the grin on his face when he felt the pain of your nails against his arm as he brushed his tip along your slit. You whined at the friction that was barely there, not able to sink down with him holding you back but your legs were starting to go weak with each push of his length against your clit. He took his time, spreading the leaking pre-cum across your folds and watching the mixture of your arousal slowly coated his cock.

“Kuroo…” you called out for him, hoping that it would be enough for him to give you what you wanted.

“Aw... What’s with this formality?” his arm flexed under your touch as he tilted his head to the side, lowering you down just a little, “What should you call me when I’m about to fuck your brains out, hm?”

You bite onto the inside of your cheeks when you felt him barely dipping in, his tip just positioned at your pussy.

“Tetsurou-” 

his own name felt foreign as it rolled off the tip of your tongue and he let out an approving hum. “Good girl,” he purred, placing a chaste kiss on your trembling lips. 

His grip on your legs tightened as he leaned closer to you, pushing his cock just a little deeper. Your brows locked together as he stretched out your entrance, clawing at his arm for more. You thought he was finally going to show some mercy on you, but the beating in your heart skipped a beat when you felt his hot breath fanning across your lips instead.

“You’re in love with me, aren’t you?”

Your eyes snapped open, his handsome face right in front of yours. “Wha- mph!”

You yelped at the sudden drop of your hips onto his lap, your nails scratching down his arm as he hilted inside of you with one motion. Your head threw back at the waves of shocking pleasure that sparked down your spine, your juicings running down the base of your thighs as your walls tried to accustomed to his thickness and length.

“What is it? Did you just say yes?” his laugh was wolfish as he took in your expression, a mixture of infuriated and primal desire.

“You-” he did not give you the time to bite back, thrusting up with a lift of your hips and turning whatever you wanted to say into nothing but incoherent moans.

Your body did not feel like it was under your control as he guided you to grind on his cock, the slaps of your soft flesh against his thighs taking over your senses. Your toes curled at how deep he could reach inside you each time he pulled you up and bottomed out of you. His hands were fondling your ass roughly as he bounced you on his cock, reducing you to nothing but a panting mess laying weakly on his chest.

“How does it feel to have the man of your dreams stretching out your tight cunt, hm?” he emphasised each word with a thrust, grinning ear to ear when you made a frugal attempt at slapping his arm you were holding onto. You buried your face into his chest, your muffled moans coming out as hot breath on his skin. He looked down from above you, watching as your ass jiggled under each thrust and your spine arching from the pleasure. 

A loud smack echoed in the room and he groaned at the feeling of your walls clenching around him at the slap of his palm against your ass cheek. He gave the flesh a firm knead, rubbing at the area that had heated up from the spank before pulling his hand away to give the other side the same treatment. You felt the numbness on your skin as your skin burned, the pain making every hair on your back stood up. 

“You like it when I get rough with you? You are squeezing down on my cock so hard,” his voice came as gravel from his chest. Your mind was in a frenzy, not even thinking straight as you nodded feverishly. “You’re such a slut for me, it’s really inflating my ego,” his filthy words made your stomach tighten as he continued, “bet this is what you have been thinking about whenever you check me out.”

You felt your face burning up. He knew all along?

Your surprise came out in the form of a squeal when he stood up, still holding you up. Your panting got more rapid as your only leverage from falling was the frantic clawing at his arm, having nothing but his strength to trust as he bounced you on his cock while marching down the hallway.

He hissed at the sharp pain on his back when your hands scratched down, kicking the door open with a hasty shove at the door with his heel before throwing you down the mattress. He did not waste another second as he perched on top of you, hooking your legs around his waist before rolling his hips to completely take over the pace of his cock pistoning at the spongy spot that made your mind foggy with nothing but his name and the overwhelming feeling of being towered over in your head.

The squelching got louder and louder as he ruthlessly snapped against you. You felt the knot in your stomach tightened up as he leaned down, sucking on the sweet spot at the side of your neck. His hand roamed all over your body, kneading your tits that bounced under his force. 

He could not get over the fact that you were actually here, folded beneath him right now, and that it was his name you were moaning out. 

“I’m-” your legs clasped around him as every muscle on your limbs tensed up, “I’m close-”

“Yeah? Tell me what you want,” he growled in your ear, his thrusts starting to get sloppy as your walls spasmed around his cock, “what does my girl want?”

You had imagined what it would be like if Kuroo Tetsurou ever set his eyes on you, if he had wanted you the same way you had absentmindedly started wanting him despite your best efforts to convince yourself that you knew that would not happen. But nothing could stop the heat that exploded in your chest and spread all through your body at how natural it came out of his mouth.

His girl. You were his girl now.

You let out a choked mewl when he switched from erratic plowing to slowly dragging his cock along your walls. The sudden drop from your near high seeped into your senses, tingling down from your core all the way to the tip of your toes. 

“Tetsu-” your back arched off the mattress when he pulled out all the way only to halt in you with a sudden thrust, “want you to make me cum- ah!”

The shocks that sparked through your body when he set his sight on making you fall apart underneath him with his vigorous thrusts had your toe pointing stiffly and curling under the pleasure. The fist in the pit of your stomach curled and unfolded as he gripped your chin roughly, turning your head to look right into his eyes.

“Fuck, you wanna cum?” he hissed, feeling the shivers on his own back as he got closer and closer to his own high, “Then look at me, look at me as you cum on my cock-”

You felt your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed over you. His eyes were all you could focus on as you succumbed to the weakening of your limbs, the pounding in your ear gradually returned to a regular pace with Kuroo’s languish strokes allowing you to ride out your high. 

You were sure you could never forget how the defined arch of his brows knitted together as he pulled out of you, his head throwing back just a little with his lips slightly parted. A sinful moan leaking out as spurts of white painted across your lower stomach. 

Your vision was hazed over with a veil of fog as you blinked, collecting your breaths before focusing on the roof of your room that suddenly felt so unfamiliar. The claminess on your skin and the smell of sweat slowly took over. You felt the weight on your chest, breathing out a heavy exhale.

You really did just have sex with your crush, huh?

As if noticing your train of thought, Kuroo leaned over and placed a quick kiss on your jaw, his grin reaching his eyes as he stared at you. Much unlike his earlier dominance, the lazy curl of each syllable on his lips sounded more so like he was trying to play cute.

"Wait here,” he said, adding another peck on your lips, “I’ll grab you a towel.”

“The bathroom is the one right outside…” you muttered, feeling the dent on the mattress sprung back as he climbed off of you.

Your tensed muscles slowly relaxed as he moved you to lean against his broad chest, his hand gently caressing your skin as he dabbed the wet towel on you. His lips ghosted along your ear as he cleaned up the marks and trails left from your earlier passions, trying hard to conceal his satisfaction when you whined as he brushed past the bruises on your thighs.

“You should start getting used to it from now on, plenty more chances for us to- ouch, ouch.. ok, I’m sorry…”

The corner of your lips lifted up, burying your face into his chest as you tried to get comfortable, “I was right, you are way more attractive without opening your mouth.”

“Awe, don’t say that,” he pouted but the wolfish grin on his face told you he was not apologetic at all.

Kuroo watched as you slowly leaned onto him more and more, until your eyelids closed up with a flutter. If you had stayed awake for just a little longer, you would know that he could not be any more careful when he tucked you under the blanket before slipping in next to you. On this rare occasion where he would not get caught, he allowed himself to stare at your serene expression as he dozed off to sleep with a content smile on his face.

You did not need to know that his grade for the one course you shared was high enough already and he signed up for the committee purely because you were signing up too. He certainly would not let you know that he had always noticed your lingering gaze on him or that he secretly enjoyed it, even back when he saw you more than twice a week. That and the fact that he was overjoyed when he saw you appearing from the door of the lecture hall that Wednesday morning, followed by the ever growing frustration that he couldn’t find an excuse to talk to you when you were literally in the same class.

Whatever. Kuroo thought to himself as he gently threw his arm over your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he inhaled your sweet scent. At least he didn’t have to go all the way from your apartment complex back to his place every Friday anymore.

[dirtyoatmeall]

Bokuto’s Cool Sister (Tsukishima Kei x Reader)

A/N: Here is an actual fic! I have a list of shit to write I’m slowly working through, next will either be more head canons or a one shot. I’m re-watching AOT rn to get caught up with the new season so sorry about being absent! Luv u guys a lot

Pairing: Tsukishima x Bokuto sibling reader (No pronouns or gendered language used toward reader, not referred to as sister just used for title purposes), Bokuto x Akaashi, Kenma x Kuroo

Word Count: 2k! (longest ever!)

Warnings: Mentions of underage drinking (everyone at least 20), mentions of secs

~~~

You groaned as you neared the door to your apartment, seeing that the door was not cracked open a little for you to nudge open like you had asked your brother to do as you pulled into the complex. You remember him vaguely mentioning friends coming over, and you can hear music faintly coming from the apartment, but he always checks his phone, especially when you're coming from the store. 

You try to balance the milk on your knee to open the door, and just as you think you have it, the door doesn’t budge. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Your brother never locks the doors, why would he now? His car is in the parking lot and you can hear noise inside, so he’s home. Instead of putting groceries on the ground and fishing your keys out of your purse like a normal person, you make the decision to kick the door, not very hard, but hard enough to be heard in the apartment. 

“Kou! Why is the door locked? Will you come open it for me, I have groceries!” You can hear your brother tumbling towards the door, apologies flying out of his mouth a mile a minute. The door swings open, revealing your brother, grimace on his face. “Sorry! I totally forgot you were at the store, I think ‘Kaashi might’ve locked it.” You sighed, not being able to stay mad at your brother’s friend. 

You walk in, jerking your head in the general direction of the parking lot, “I have some more in my car, can you go grab it?” He nods, grabbing his key ring and jogging out. Both of you had the spare key to each other’s cars, which turned out to be more convenient then you originally thought. 

You move toward the kitchen, yelling out a greeting to your brother’s boyfriend. “Akaashi! Next time you come over to fuck my brother let me know before so I can have my keys out, or just leave the door unlocked and go in his room!” You had a joking, yet scolding tone of voice, imagining his flustered state at your words. What you did not expect, was a hyena-like laugh to come from the direction of the living room. You were almost positive your brother said Akaashi was here. 

You place the groceries on the counter and make your way to the living room, freezing in the doorway. Akaashi was there, but so were 3 other people. Akaashi was red, shaking his head that was resting in his palms. There was someone playing on a gaming console on the couch who had their legs thrown over the lap of the laughing one, and one on the other couch, tall and blonde, who looked weirdly familiar, who had a faint smirk on their face. You grimace, you didn’t realize your brother had actual friends over, he usually just meant Akaashi or the occasionally Hinata. “Oops sorry ‘Kaashi, didn't know Kou was having other people over.”

He lifted his head, face still slightly flushed and smiled. “It’s fine (Y/N)-san, do you need help with the groceries?” You shook your head, pointing behind you in the direction of the kitchen, where you could hear your brother rummaging around. “Nah, I made Koutaro get the rest. If you guys are staying for dinner let me know and I’ll make something instead of making him go to the food truck for me. By the way, who are the rest of you? I literally thought Kou was lying about having friends.” 

The blonde one snorted, you narrowed your eyes slightly, he looked so familiar, you just couldn’t quite place it. The one playing the console seemed familiar too, you think you might’ve seen him on Twitter. The only one you didn’t recognize was the first to speak. “I’m Kuroo Tetsuro, we all played volleyball together in high school, I’m surprised he hasn’t talked about us before.” 

You nod in understanding, “Oh so that’s where. I’m sure he has, I just probably wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying. I mean you guys seem kinda familiar, more the other two than you, were you like benched a lot?” The quiet one next to him looks up to see his reaction and snorts at the disbelief on Kuroo’s face. “Yeah, Kuro wasn’t very good.” The half blonde says, giggling softly as Kuroo gasps and yells at him. “Kenma!” He turns to you, “I was the captain and a very good player actually.” You laugh as Kenma behind him makes a face that says ‘That’s what you think.’ Before Kuroo could whine some more, Akaashi speaks.

“Kenma-san is a YouTuber, which is probably where you’ve seen him. He and Kuroo-san played for Nekoma, I’m surprised you didn’t remember them from that, you remembered Lev-san.” Kenma actually laughs at that, and Kuroo is pouting as Akaashi continues, a cheeky smile on his face that told you he purposefully sprinkled that last little tidbit in. 

“Tsukishima-san, aren’t you a museum-studies major?” The blonde on the loveseat across from the other three nods, and you snap your fingers, finally realizing where you know him from. “Oh, that makes sense! I think we’ve had a class or two together. I’m an archaeology major.” Tsukishima’s eyebrows raise in surprise, but before he could speak, your brother finally comes in from the kitchen.

“(Y/NNNNN), I put everything away, we were going to go to Onigiri Miya tonight, wanna come?” You nod and swat at his had when he ruffles your hair before plopping down to his boyfriend. You go to leave your brother and his friends, taking one last glance at Tsukishima, who seemed to have the same idea, he averted his eyes the moment yours met, and you smirked to yourself on the way to the kitchen to re-put away the groceries. You loved your brother, but he definitely did not know where to put things, your thought validified as you pull the eggs from the pantry, switching it with the instant ramen packets in the fridge. Good thing he was a great volleyball player. ` Later that night, you join the boys for dinner at Onigiri Miya. You take two separate cars, you driving your brother and Akaashi and Kuroo driving Kenma and Tsukishima. Kuroo made a joke about racing there, which you took as a personal challenge, much to the dismay of Akaashi. You would’ve won too, but you had to pull over to kick Koutaro in the backseat for playing Nickelback. He buys your food as an apology, and Kuroo’s food because he won (you venomed him later for your share of food, which he promptly venomed back to you with angry faces in the description.). The 6 of you sat in a corner booth, you were sandwiched between Akaashi and Tsukkishima with Kuroo between your brother and Kenma on the other side.

The table was loud with jokes, laughing, and yelling as everyone ate their meals. You snuck drinks of ‘Akaashi’s’ margarita when the waitress wasn’t looking (You were 20 and Akaashi submits to peer pressure from you easily). “(Y/N), are you not 21 yet?” Kuroo asked as he watched you nudge the drink toward Akaashi as the waitress talked to the other table. You turned to Kuroo, cheeks just barely flushed. “Hm? Oh no I’m not, I’m two years younger than you guys, I turn 21 in a few months.” 

Kuroo hummed in understanding and got a suspiciously mischievous look on his face. “Oh, you’re the same age as Tsukkishima, and you guys have similar majors, how interesting” Your eyebrows furrow and you snort. “So do over a thousand other people Kuroo, its not a super niche subject.” You turn to Tsukkishima and continue, “Hm I didn’t realize we were in the same year, I thought you were older, must be your grumpy grandpa like disposition.” Akaashi explained what disposition meant to your brother and Kuroo snickered before he was shut down by Kenma, who has been doing an excellent job of roasting Kuroo at every chance he gets. “You laugh like everyone doesn’t call you old man behind your back.” 

You laughed for the umpth time that night, Tsukishima watching you, he could really see the sibling resemblance when you laughed. You throw your head back and laugh loudly, from your gut much like your brother. Tsukishima looks away from you, catching Kuroos eye in the process, the blonde rolls his eyes at the smirk on Kuroos face. Out of the 5 of them, he was the only one not in a relationship and Kuroo has been trying to set him up since Bokuto and Akaashi finally got together at Akaashi’s graduation. 

Tsukishima looks at you again, watching you take a sip of the margarita, and subsequently watches it almost come out of your nose as you laugh at something Akaashi said to Bokuto, clutching the former's shoulder, hand over your nose. There was no doubt that you were pretty, and you did have similar interests. His thoughts were interrupted by you turning to him, knee-knocking against his thigh. “Have you taken Anth 267?” He nods “I took it last quarter.” He replies and watches you sigh in relief. “Oh thank god, I’m having trouble meeting her insane essay expectations. I usually have ‘Kaashi read through mine but would it be ok if I sent them to you? Or at least bounced topics off you?” When he agrees you smile, unlocking your phone and sliding it towards him, a new contact open. “Oh great, here, why don’t you put your number in?” As he fills it out, his eyes involuntarily flit to the text message appearing at the top of your screen. From: That Sunny Bitch

Ew you think Tsukki’s hot? He’s a good volleyball player but he was a meanie in high school 😝

He held back the urge to smirk. That must be Hinata based on the name. He quickly finished the contact and gave your phone back before giving his to you, and you quickly typed in your contact info, as well as snapping a quick contact photo. It was super close to your face with your tongue out, a good tell of your personality. You give his phone back and the two of you talk more about school and classes before everyone gets ready to leave. 

Your brother stands up first, and you take advantage of his large frame and chug the rest of the margarita down, smiling big at Akaashi who chastises you about drinking it so fast. You all wave to Osamu as you leave, and before Tsukishima can get to Kuroo’s car, he turns to the group, smirking. “I've got to run Kenma by our apartment to grab his charger, we’ll meet you guys.” You nod, handing your keys to Akaashi and turn to Tsukishima. “You can sit in the back with me Tsukishima!” Though you might be promoted to passenger if Bokuto makes bad music choices again.” You glare at your brother as you finish the sentence, and he whines about how his taste ‘isn’t that bad!’ 

The car ride back to your apartment is short, and you spend it chatting with Tsukki, as you’re now allowed to call him, and you spend the rest of the night with the boys, playing games and watching movies until early morning. Kuroo and Kenma leave first, and Kenma made your night when he looked you in the eye and said goodbye. Tsukki left about an hour later, his roommate picked him up. Akaashi ended up staying over, and you were glad your bedroom was on the other side of the apartment from your brother’s. You fell into bed content with the day, happy you were able to meet your brother’s friends.

You awoke mid-day, and you browsed your notifications before dropping your phone on your bed when you read one text message, heat spreading over your cheeks. You definitely do not remember changing his contact name.

From: Hot classmate Tsukki

Hey, how about we go over your essay over some coffee tonight?

[denkamis]

hq characters as cheesy valentine’s day tropes.

masterlist. | valentine’s day event masterlist.

warnings: none! aside from some swearing, it’s just some fluffy valentine’s day scenarios for you. reader is gn.

characters: keiji akaashi, kenma kozume, yuu nishinoya, koushi sugawara.

notes: dedicated to @koushisun,, for being an exceptionally kind individual and having immaculate taste in 2d men. i hope we can get closer the more we talk, kris. thank you for being my first friend here on da tumbz. <33

keiji akaashi

confessions behind the school building

were you nervous about finally confessing your feelings to akaashi on valentine’s day of all days? absolutely

he was one of, if not the prettiest, impressively athletic, and overwhelmingly intelligent boys in your class

he probably got at least ten confessions on the daily

and valentine’s day simply doubled the number

and here you were, with your tiny valentine’s day card and box of chocolates in hand

you had heard from all the girls that he had been turning down confessions left and right, only adding onto your mountain of nerves

little did you know that he was waiting for you

cherry blossoms bloomed above your heads, falling gracefully like something right out of a shoujo anime. you tapped the tip of your shoe against the pavement, a nervous tick you had garnered that helped keep you grounded. this was it. this was the moment today was leading up to. you and akaashi were standing behind fukurodani, stealing away a bit of privacy. you didn’t need the prying eyes of the other girls watching as you confessed to your year long crush.

akaashi waited with a patient gaze, unmoving from his spot a few feet ahead of you. he gave you space, and didn’t force you to talk right away. it was as if he already knew the intricacies of your thoughts, the way your mind spiraled if you were suddenly put on the spot, especially when it was as intimate and open as confessing your feelings.

“i wanted to tell you, i mean- what i’ve been trying to tell you for years is that i, well,” your tongue felt like it was two sizes too big. your fingers fidgeted behind your back, holding onto the tiny note and chocolates you had made for him yourself. “i like you a lot more than i really let on. you’re always so thoughtful and considerate. you listen to me when i ramble, and you help me with homework or even small things i don’t completely understand. that’s um, that’s really nice of you. i know you’ve probably received a lot of gifts today, but if you could spare a bit of your backpack space to accept mine, it would mean the world to me.” you bowed towards him, eyes glued to the floor as you held out the small box of chocolates and the note you had written.

you didn’t catch the way a smile tugged at his usually stoic features, or the way he tilted his head in thought while wondering how much courage you mustered up to confess like this. still, you felt nimble fingers brushing against yours, the weight of your gift leaving your grip.

“thank you, y/n,” akaashi told you gratefully as you stood up to your full height, “i’m glad that you feel the same as i do.”

“... wait what.”

kenma kozume

heart shaped candies

kenma rarely has plans for valentine’s day tbh

he treats it like any other day because it’s just a day to play some animal crossing and farm more on stardew valley

however, when you waltz into his life, he panics a little bit as the date draws closer

he wants to make you feel special on valentine’s day

he settled for those tiny heart shaped candies, knowing that you had quite the sweet tooth

he wasn’t gonna leave you hanging on valentine’s day, sweetheart

kenma held your hand in his as the two of you walked home together. the day was rainy, small droplets of water pattering against the shared umbrella the two of you were situated beneath. you were talking about school, something or other about the clubs you were in and how passionate you were about starting your very own this year. kenma listened tentatively, an easy smile on his face as he watched your eyes light up and your free hand gesture and fly about as you spoke.

you were adorable.

the two of you soon arrived at your house, and you promised kenma that you would call him tonight so the two of you could play games or watch some netflix together over the internet. you two had been particularly invested in some k-drama that always left the two of you at the edge of your seats. you planted a gentle kiss to his cheek, his face erupting in crimson right to the tips of his ears. giggling quietly, you wished him goodbye, your hand beginning to slide from his as you went to leave. to your surprise, he held on tighter.

with his gaze cast down, you watched as he pulled out a tiny bag of heart shaped candies from his pocket. “i know it’s not much, but i saw everyone else getting their partners gifts and kuroo said that it would be good if i got you something too.”

you accepted his small token of affection with shaky hands and flushed cheeks. peering inside the clear bag, you saw a whole collection of multi-coloured candies reading cheesy phrases such as ‘b mine’, ‘true love’ or even a ‘cutiepie.’

“kenma, i love it. oh my.. haha! i thought you forgot since you didn’t mention anything about gifts for today.” kenma’s hand squeezed yours, his eyes lifting from the wet ground to meet your own with a small yet confident smile.

“i wouldn’t forget something as important as you.”

yuu nishinoya

big teddy bears

an absolutely chaotic mess on valentine’s day

he’s so excited that he finally has someone to spoil, so he wants to go all out

he figured that the best present to get you was the biggest teddy bear he could find

he went to 6 stores and dragged asahi and tanaka with him

he saw a teddy bear that was literally twice his size and went “I’LL TAKE IT”

mans has no chill, he spent literally his entire allowance on it

his grandpa didn’t even bat an eye PFFT

when nishinoya showed up at your doorstep with a chunky teddy bear in tow, you had no words. truly. it had been at the stroke of midnight when he texted you to come outside and see the valentine’s gift he had gotten you. you had said that this could wait until morning, but he insisted that this could not wait another moment. it was technically valentine’s day, after all! this resulted in you dragging yourself down the stairs of your home to greet him at the door. to your surprise, yet at the same time not surprising you in the slightest, was noya carrying the largest teddy bear you had ever laid your eyes on. not only that, but tanaka and what appeared to be a very exhausted asahi accompanied him.

“y/n-chan!” nishinoya shouted boldly and triumphantly, getting down on one knee which instantly made you panic. he wasn’t going to propose, was he? no he wouldn’t. would he? oh god. your words got caught in your throat, trying to formulate some kind of response to his sudden and incoming declaration. yet, a proposal never came. he held up the teddy bear as if it were simba from the lion king, the entire stuffed animal basically shielding his shorter form from your view. you suppressed a snort with your hand.

“i searched far and wide for this gigantic teddy bear for you, please accept it this valentine’s day!” nishinoya said loud and clear from behind the bear. you were having trouble stifling your laughter because from your angle, it looked like the bear itself was saying these words to you. you attempted to take the huge bear from his arms but it ended up being a lot heavier than you anticipated.

“noya, really this is-”

“take the picture!” noya whisper shouted to tanaka, who was holding up his phone camera with a thumbs up. noya posed beside you with an arm tossed around your waist, throwing up a peace sign and sticking out his tongue. leave it to yuu nishinoya to spoil you with the biggest bear he could find. it was incredibly endearing, especially when you found out from asahi that he nearly got kicked out from a walmart after knocking down the entire teddy bear display. he could be the biggest dork sometimes. but you wouldn’t trade him for the world.

koushi sugawara

baking together

he saw the idea on pinterest and he had to try it out with you

they were cupcakes red velvet with pink, buttercream frosting

easy, right? it would be a cute little date, you could even stay over at his house while you watched a romcom or something of the sort while they were baking

turns out it wasn’t easy

at all

“shit fuck, oh god- shit!” koushi mumbled to himself as he was spilling some of the red cupcake mix over the side of the bowl. you were trying your best not to laugh too much but you couldn’t help your giggles when koushi shot you a playfully annoyed glare, his nose powered with sugar and flourmaking him look straight out of a victorian magazine. baking with koushi had gone just as well as you thought it would. there was a lot of flour being thrown around, a few stray chocolate chips and sprinkles now on the floor serving as reminders of past quarrels. koushi had always been a rather chaotic individual behind his “soft boy” demeanour he liked to flaunt. he could be so goofy and fun. he could be your greatest hype man but also the person you knew could be in your corner when it counted. and here the two of you were, making a mess in your shared kitchen at nine at night for a valentine’s day date.

“honey, you’re mixing it too fast!”

“i’m mixing it just fine, see look! it’s supposed to be this thick,” his ahoge bobbed back and forth atop his head as he mixed with quite literally his entire torso. his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he focused hardcore on the making sure the mixture was abolished of any and all chunkiness present. you rolled your eyes, a wide smile on your face despite his stubbornness. “the oven’s been preheating for thirty minutes now.”

“well the oven can wait,” he huffed, tapping the neck of the whisk against the bowl to remove the excess mix before grabbing a ladle to begin scooping all the mix into the muffin tin. not without another mess, of course.

“kou, stop moving the—”

“i’m not moving anything, you’re just making me laugh!”

“hand me the spoon, hand it over.”

“it’s not a spoon!”

“it’s a big ass spoon.”

“y/n!”

you were bickering like an old married couple as your hands reached greedily for the ladle that already had some cupcake mix in it. koushi held it out of your reach, causing him to back up into the counter while you hopped in an attempt to get it back. in your desperate attempts, you slipped on the flour from your little past war and caused the two of you to collapse to the floor in a heap of giggles and laughter.

yeah, you two would definitely never be touching any sort of recipe after that day, you absolute menaces.

all works © denkamis 2021.

tags:

@meilbox

want to be on the taglist? see this post!

[zukkoxx]

first dates! :)

w/ bakugo, kiri, deku, shoto

bakugo 💥

let’s be honest...going on a date was not bakugo’s idea.

in fact, he despised the idea of having to put off hero work for a night to pay for some extra’s meal and force himself to have a conversation he didn’t want to.

but the people he called his friends, mina, kirishima, denki and sero urged him to do this. (mostly mina)

they all complained about how he was so pent up and angry more than usual, and that one normal night where he went on a date to get to know someone might let him blow off some steam.

there’s were three outcomes to this planned date:

1. bakugo would be annoyed the whole time, counting the minutes down before literally bursting himself away from the date

2. he’d get himself laid, which was another way to blow off steam, to be fair.

or 3. he’d meet the love of his life.

and that’s where you come in.

you were one of mina’s closest friends, who had met everyone in the squad except for bakugo. he claimed he didn’t have enough time to meet irrelevant people. and the four idiots he semi-tolerated was enough for him.

but mina was persistent. she bribed bakugo with all types of things (most of them having to do with all might) to get him to go on just one date with her friend

and surprisingly, he agreed.

and now, you’re at one of the classiest restaurants in town, sitting across from pro-hero bakugo and eating all that your stomach could hold.

the beginning was a bit awkward. small talk here and there where bakugo would just reply with one word answers or even a low grunt.

but as soon as you asked him about his career, and why he chose to become a hero, it seemed like he could suddenly talk for hours.

he explained a little about himself, talking about his “hag of a mom” and his “arch nemesis deku” with a scowl.

and you explained what you did, your career and some parts of your life. bakugo listened. he was surprising himself. he never imagined being so interested in some extra’s life.

but your eyes were captivating and your words were ear pulling. and he honestly couldn’t help but think....maybe this was a good idea

bye the end of the date, you two were gently smiling at each other. his a lot straighter than yours, but it was something.

he walked you to your car, and you started to say goodbye

“this was really fun bakugo, i’ll be sure to look out for your pro-hero duties on the big screen.” you went to step in your car when he put a hand on your shoulder.

“put your number in.” he grunted. “what’s the point of watching behind a screen when you could get the story from the man himself.” he handed you his phone, and watched as you put your digits in.

when you finally said your last goodbyes and you were back home, your phone dinged, and a notification form an unknown number popped up.

i had fun too i guess. call me...whenever.

-b.k.

deku 🥦

izuku was conflicted.

he loved his life, don’t get him wrong.

living as the number one hero was literally his dream come true.

but he always felt something missing. he just didn’t know what.

it wasn’t until he was hanging out with his friends on one of his rare days off. smiling and laughing at the carefree atmosphere.

he soon realized something. he was different from the rest. it was so obvious, how hadn’t he noticed till now?

he watched as todoroki and momo smiled at each other, sharing their food.

as ochaco and iida held hands under the table.

as tsuya left early, saying she had to meet her s/o.

izuku finally realized...he was lonely

not in the the literal sense, no, he had tons of friends and peers who he loved very much.

but he didn’t have a companion. someone he would come home to at the end of the day. who’d stick by his side through thick and thin.

so he did what every standard, normal human being did when wanting to find a s/o.

he turned to online dating.

hey don’t make fun of him! you were on there too ;)

izuku spent months swiping, trying to find the perfect person to “shoot his shot” with. and eventually, he landed on your profile. your picture was gorgeous and he found himself asking “are they a model?”

feeling a burst of confidence, he goes to your messages, and types a greeting.

you, on the other hand, was confused to say the least. there was no way #1 pro hero deku had just messaged you. you thought it was a scam or catfish. so you ignored it.

but after a few more minutes, another message caught your attention from the same profile.

hey! i know what you’re thinking but...it’s really me! deku! here’s my number so we can video call. please consider. ###-###-####- i.m.

so, you decided to give it a try. if it really was deku, there was no way you’d pass on this once in the lifetime opportunity

as soon as you had free time, you called. and to your surprise, it was really him!

you two talked for a while, getting to know each other. and you shared how you both thought it was time to reach out and try to get to to know other people.

it was really nice talking to him, but as some point, duty called, so he asked you to meet him at a small cafe in town.

when the day came, it entered the nice cafe, and giddily looked around for the green haired boy. when your eyes met him, his widened and he waved at you.

as you walked closer, you couldn’t help but notice the severe blush spreading across his cheeks.

you said hello, and he replied with a stammered greeting. he was almost a totally different person than the one who had messaged and called you, but...you found it cute.

after a while, he began to calm down, and casual conversation began to flutter between you two.

you spent hours talking and laughing with him like you were old friends.

he paid for your food, like the gentleman he is, and complimented you more than you could count. you found yourself hoping this wouldn’t be the only date.

and he was thinking the same thing.

after a few hours of getting to know each other, duty called, and izuku had to leave to go save a bank from being robbed by a low grade villain. much to his demise.

before you parted ways, he spoke with hopeful eyes. “we should do this again some time. o-only if you want to, of course!” he suggested.

you smiled widely. “i would love to!” was your response.

...you two went on a lot more dates in the future.

kirishima 🪨

it was a normal day for the red haired boy.

he was having his usual friday workout at his local gym.

buffing up, ya know?

he decided to work on his legs, walking over to the leg press.

he stopped in confusion when he saw someone he didn’t know at his usual spot.

he was even more confused when he noticed the same person was about half his size, lifting the same amount he did!

he looked left and right, wondering if anyone else was watching you.

he stared a little longer than he’d like to admit, watching your figure and focused eyes, and after a while, you finished your set, sitting up to get a drink.

kirishima cleared his throat, walking towards you and flexing his muscles, groaning at the stretch when he moved his arms around.

he approached you just as you were about to do another set, but you stopped when you saw him walk up to you.

“hey uhhh...need some help there?” he asked in feigned confidence, hoping to start some conversation.

you scoffed “you think cause i’m a girl i can’t lift a few hundred pounds?”

“nonono exactly the opposite! i was just watching you. you did a good job!” kirishima stopped himself when he saw your eyes widen. he probably sounded so creepy!

“look, i saw you absolutely crushing those leg lifts and i just could not...not...introduce myself to someone so MANLY!” he grinned widely. “i’m kirishima! you are?”

you gave him an amused smile and introduced yourself. “y/n.”

you two talked for a bit until it became too late.

so kirishima suggested that you two hang out. it was only gonna be a date if it was fine with you.

you agreed, of course. he was cute, charming, and entertaining. a date wouldn’t hurt.

so he gave you his number and told he’d text you about the plan.

a week later, you got the day and time of the date, but he wouldn’t tell you where it was, claiming it was a surprise.

don’t worry, you made sure to give one of your friends your location in case any shady stuff went down.

kirishima happened to take you on a date to an amusement park!

there was a ton of attractions and rides, as well as other activities like rock climbing and laser tag.

you had so much fun. kirishima was making sure of it. he let you win in laser tag, let you sit where ever you wanted on the rollar coasters, and basically carried you up the rock climbing wall.

and in the end, he won you a giant teddy bear from the claw machine.

it was honestly a perfect date.

by the time night fell, you and him were chilling in his car, eating funnel cake and snow cones.

“so, did you have fun?” he asked with curious eyes.

“so much fun kiri!” you happily bit your funnel cake and he smiled even wider at the nickname, happy you had gotten comfortable with him already.

“that means we can do this again right! go on another date?”

you agreed without hesitation :)))

shoto ❄️🔥

todoroki had no interest in dating.

it’s wasn’t that he didn’t like the idea, or that he had trouble finding someone (god no), he just didn’t think it was important at the time.

but when the vain of his existence, the person who seemed to cause all his problems stepped into his calm and collected lifestyle, he had no choice.

his father, endeavor, was trying to set up shoto in the arranged marriage.

he had been trying for a while, but shoto continued to refuse.

however, endeavor was his father, and he continued to berate shoto about how the family name would go to waste if shoto didn’t marry someone with a good quirk.

shoto made a deal

if he found a s/o before the day of the wedding, endeavor would have to leave him alone and let him make his own decisions. finally

endeavor agreed.

the only problem was...shoto didn’t really talk to people. he didn’t reach out and go on dates. he just had no reason to. so finding someone that he was comfortable being with would be difficult

he thought about the people he knew, and how most of his friends were from his high school years.

scrolling through his contact list for what seemed life forever, he suddenly approached your name.

he remembered you fondly. how you were one of his closest friends and one of the people he actually cared about during his time at UA

and, he honestly found you quite attractive

you’d definitely be able to help him with his little dilemma.

when you received a random text from shoto, you were kind of surprised. after high school, you never really talked unless it was holidays or birthday greetings.

but when he told you about his situation, and how he needed a fake s/o to get his father off his back, you agreed.

you were always the type to help a friend in need. especially one like shoto who helped you through high school.

shoto had planned on you meeting his father and having a quick dinner to introduce his new “girlfriend”

luckily endeavor never payed attention to shoto’s friend’s, or he would have recognized you from UA.

during the dinner, a tense blanket covered the three of you.

endeavor would ask very specific questions.

what’s your quirk?

how powerful it is?

what benefits would you bring to the todoroki family?

you answered as best as you could to make yourself fit to his standards, but it was hard when endeavor was so intimidating and judgmental.

at the end of the hour long meeting, he claimed you weren’t right for shoto, and you didn’t meet his standard.

it honestly wounded your pride a bit. you slumped in your chair and shoto looked at you in concern.

you excused yourself after a while, noting to say sorry to shoto for not being able to help him.

but you couldn’t get far when you hear shoto cursing out his father, saying he was a “scum” and he “wouldn’t take anymore bullshit”

shoto ran after you, apologizing for his father’s behavior and insisted on taking you out to make up for the trouble.

that night, he took your favorite restaurant and let you order whatever you wanted.

the rest is history.

well guys this was my first official post. hopefully it’s up to ur standard. ;3

[bopbopstyles]

Endlessly

RATING: R/smut, maximum angst levels unlocked

WORD COUNT: 7.2k

CATEGORIES: friends to lovers

a/n: this is part two to Residue, the camping!harry fic to which i owe so much. thank you for loving my little one shot, here’s what happens next! massive s/o to @havethetimeofyourstyles​ for beta reading, @bfharry​ for helping with concepts, and @meetmeinfleetwood​ for encouragement. much love xoxo

also i’m currently uploading a series called The Only Exception - i’d love for you to give it a read!

READ PART ONE HERE

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

He was gone so fast that when the door shut it was quiet, the sound defeaning in your ears. You slid down, back hitting the wood of the cabinets and the metal knobs, but you didn’t care. Your arms collapsed around your knees, tucking them into your chest, and the tears threatening to break free fell, coating your cheeks in your regret. More than anything you wished none of this had happened, that you hadn’t ever asked him who the song was about, that he had never told you it was you, they’re all about you, the words echoing in your brain. You wanted it to be like it was before, unrequited feelings that might have been confusing but never caused you to question your ability to be around Harry. They never got blurred, never reached into the category of dangerous to your heart.

And here you were, crying on your kitchen floor over the last boy you thought would ever hurt you.

or

Y/N and Harry are really good at being friends, but the something more? Not so much.

Waking up in Harry’s bed never quite got normal to you. You had slept together before the camping trip that changed everything, but not like this. Before, you never woke up naked between his sheets, his arm curled around you in a vice grip that you didn’t understand how he maintained overnight, and him, fully naked, lightly snoring on the pillow next to you. Last night he had called you at midnight on the way back from a bar with some friends you didn’t know, smashed and begging for you to come over. You made him add a stop to his Uber ride to pick you up from your apartment and the minute you’d entered the car he had his hands all over you. He had ended up with his head in your lap, your fingers running through his hair, in an attempt to get him to calm down. By the time you were at his house, he was asleep and you roused him.

You had had sex last night, albeit nothing crazy since Harry practically passed out the minute he came, sweaty chest on yours, but you let it slide. He was drunk and tired and you knew he’d make up for it in the morning. A month and a half had passed since the camping trip, and the nights when Harry called you had numbered more than the nights when he hadn’t. You called him just as much, though, so it wasn’t a one-way street. But the difference was that you knew what you were feeling.

Harry was a fucking brick wall, though.

Usually you were good at reading him—you’d known him for long enough, seen him at his most vulnerable, done just about everything together. But in the weeks since your relationship had changed, you couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Because something definitely was wrong, and you weren’t sure if it was your fault or not.

The morning after no one mentioned anything, and neither did you and Harry. Not sure what was going on, or how you wanted to handle it, you kept your distance. You didn’t touch him in any way other than as friends, no PDA, no obvious signs anything had changed. And unfortunately, it had set the tone for the weeks since then.

He had insisted that he didn’t want to tell your friends yet. At first, you were okay with it—you got to have Harry in the privacy of your homes, your moments together fully yours without any peering eyes. But then you’d go out together and you desperately wanted to dance with him, like really dance with him, and you couldn’t. You couldn’t give him a kiss outside a bar or cuddle in the taxi with your friends. And more than anything, it severely limited who you could talk to about what was going on, which meant you had all of these thoughts and fears swirling in your head and no one to talk to about.

And it wasn’t like you were unhappy. Harry was one of your best friends and the sex was fucking insane; you had never had someone touch you like he did. But you also knew that you weren’t your happiest. You wanted more and you didn’t know how to ask for it without ruining the shreds you did have with him. You didn’t know if you could go back to what it was before, the friendship and none of the intimacy you now shared. The thought of him being with someone else made you want to vomit, the idea of someone else’s hands on his skin made your blood boil.

But he was a brick wall and you didn’t know what he wanted. So you stayed in the dark, knowing that at some point things would probably end but you tried not to think about that time.

“Y/N?” You turned your head from where you had been staring at the ceiling, your thoughts moving a mile a minute. “Fuck, my head. I think I drank too much last night.”

“No shit Sherlock.” You sat up when he pulled his arm from your side, his hands running down his face to try and wake himself up.

“Wait--come back, missy.” He pressed a line of kisses up your spine, his favorite thing to do to get you back into bed with him for some shenanigans.

You looked at him. “Do you remember what happened last night?”

He furrowed his brow at you. “Called ya. Picked you up. We came back here, had sex.”

You rolled your eyes at him. Of course he didn’t. “You fell asleep on me literally the second after you came.”

“What?”

“I’m serious.” You pull away, pushing off the mattress. After that you just wanted to start the day, you didn’t have the energy for this.

He grabs your hand though, forcing you to turn and look at him. “I’m sorry I was too drunk to make you come, baby. Can we have a re-do?”

It would be so easy to say yes to him--he was damn hard to refuse when he gave you his puppy eyes. But you really didn’t want to give into him that easy. He should be forced to wait after last night. “Not really in the mood,” you tell him, holding fast. “And you smell like beer.”

“Y/N….” He said, drawing out your name, but you just shook your head.

“I’ll start some coffee, you go shower.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, nodding at you. “Kissy?”

It was moments like these that him not being all the way yours hurt the most. When he acted like he was yours, that you were his. Because you were his, much to your disappointment. You pecked a kiss to his lips, giggling against your will when he tugged you back for another. “Harry…”

“Fine!” Finally he released your neck from his hand and you got out of bed, pulling on a shirt of his from his drawers. He grabbed at your ass, barely visible under the edge of his shirt, and you swatted at him. He was so fucking cheeky in the morning.

In the kitchen, you started a pot of coffee, playing BBC1 on your phone as you watched the coffee drop into the pot. You could hear Harry’s shower upstairs, the subtle humming of a Top 40s song he’d been obsessed with lately. It was moments like this where the line between what you were doing (what were you even doing?) and dating blurred, and you didn’t really know how to clarify it.

You leaned against the counter, your cup in your hands, and stared at the countertop across from you. Last week he had fucked you on it, both tipsy after a night out, your clothes littered on the ground. You had always had memories in his house, but now they were a different sort. Somehow, in the past month and a half, the memories of his house were associated with places you’d had sex, places you had cuddled and kissed, places your clothes had laid. And the prospect of coming into his house and still having to see them but not being able to act on your feelings was one you didn’t like considering.

“Where’s mine?” You looked up and Harry stood in the doorway, shirtless except for his sweats. You nodded to the cup next to you and he smiled. His arms boxed around your body as he reached for it, leaning against the counter with his hip to look at you. “You okay?”

No. “Yeah, fine. I should go—got some errands to run today.”

“Oh. Uh, okay. Want a ride?”

You shook your head. Any more time with Harry would have you further in your head than you really wanted. “I’ll Uber. We’re going to that party at Nick’s tonight, right?”

He blew on his coffee, always scared of it singing his tongue. “Yeah. I can come grab you if you want.”

“No, I’ll take the tube. Thanks though.”

You knew he could tell something was wrong, but he didn’t push it thankfully. He just nodded and let you gather your belongings, waiting for you in the hall to let you out. He kissed your cheek and you reciprocated, stepping out into the warm summer air without a second glance.

//

The party was in full swing when you arrived, eyes panning immediately for Harry. Most of the other people coming were Nick’s coworkers, people you had met but didn’t exactly know, but Harry was your safety blanket. He was also always painfully on time, hating the idea of someone waiting for him and didn’t mind being the first to arrive. Knowing him, he was probably 15 minutes early.

You found him in the kitchen making a gin and tonic, speaking to who you thought was another DJ at Radio 1, Nick nowhere to be found but you weren’t surprised. He looked good, as usual, a white button up tucked into flared black pants, a pair of sunnies pushed up on his head and his rings glinting in the kitchen light. You painted his fingernails a few days ago a rosy pink and the color was still on, albeit a bit chipped from playing guitar and cooking, knowing him.

His eyes lit up at the sight of you, the reaction turning your gut. You were still feeling weird after this morning, a sense of uneasiness lingering despite all you had tried (a bath, a cry with your friend Jordan, a bowl of pasta). “Y/N!” You made your way over, accepting the arm he offered around your shoulders, and the drink he shoved into your hand. The gin and tonic he had just made—your favorite, something he knew well. “Y/N, this is Miles. Works with Nick. This is Nick and I’s friend Y/N.”

The word friend jolted you for a second, although it wasn’t anything new. He’d been introducing you like this for years, and had continued in the past month. There wasn’t ever a discussion about it—the consistency in what he called you. It just…never changed, and you didn’t bring it up. “Nice to meet you.”

You sat in the conversation for a bit longer, engaging where required to seem like an attentive member of the chat, but in reality your mind was focused on where Harry was brushing his fingers up and down your back, his hand having drifted from your shoulder. He did this sometimes—touched you when he knew no one could see, the two of your backs facing a wall. Usually it had your skin on fire, but tonight you didn’t want him touching you after calling you his friend. “Have you seen Nick?” You asked him, pulling away just enough so his hand dropped away.

“Uh, yeah, out in the back.” His gaze drifted over your face, trying to understand the change in pace, but you didn’t give him the time to analyze it.

You said goodbye to Miles and walk towards the back, pulling open the sliding door leading to the back patio. Nick was holding court, as usual, to a circle of people who were all laughing hysterically. Yet again, as usual. It was exactly what you wanted—something to entertain your mind, maybe even pick up your night. You had been thinking over last night constantly and you couldn’t put your finger on what it was that pissed you off so much, but it had and you couldn’t shake it. Slipping in between Annie Mac and another one of Nick’s friends who you didn’t know, Nick’s eyes caught yours and smiled, not pausing in his story he was telling about interviewing some celebrity.

Annie turned to you and asked about work, which you happily answered, enjoying having something to chat about. Eventually, Nick finished his story and the group dispersed, him making his way over to you and Annie.

“Did you find Haz?” He asked, giving you a peck on the temple like he always did. “He was lookin’ for you earlier.”

You nodded, lifting your glass. “Present from the bartender. He was talking to your coworker—Miles?”

“I’m going to go say hi,” Annie said, squeezing your elbow. “Talk later?”

“Love to,” you replied before she walked away, leaving you and Nick alone.

Nick gave you a hard look, one you knew well—it meant he was about to give you some truth, free of cost. “What’s wrong, Y/N? Look pissed off at someone.”

And he was correct, unsurprisingly. “I’m fine. Thanks though.” It’s not like you could tell Nick—he was specifically one of the people Harry and you hadn’t told.

“Bullshit. What’d Harry do?”

You twirled the cup in your palm. He always saw through your shit, every single time. “How’d you know it was Harry?”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “The first thing he asked when he got here was where you were and then watched the door like a hawk. Could tell somethin’ was up.”

“He was a dick,” you said, hoping that would cover the bases. It was the general idea, without specifics.

“Not surprised. What happened, love?”

Well you couldn’t exactly tell him that the two of you had sex and then Harry fell asleep before you came, forgot about it in the morning, and made you feel like shit without even realizing it, could you? “It’s nothing. Just need some time to stew in it.”

Nick eyed you, probably deciding whether to push or not. “Well, I’m always here to talk, you know that. Love you both to pieces but sometimes the two of you can be so thick.”

This time it was you who was confused. “What?”

“Fuck,” he mumbled, eyes falling to the ground. “I—nothing. Forget I said anything.”

Usually Nick was one for some gossip, but it seemed this wasn’t something he wanted to dig into, even though you were intrigued by his meaning. Had Harry said something to him? Or did he actually know what was going on, but chose not to say anything. “Ok. Well I’m going to go get another—want a refill?”

“Love one,” he told you, hand to your back. “Lead the way, mi’lady.”

//

You stood in the hall, pressing Confirm on your Uber ride, when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You knew who it was before you even turned around, Harry’s cologne permanently imprinted on your brain. The entire night you had tried to avoid him, not wanting to have to hear him introduce you as his friend all over again, but it seemed he had found you anyways.

“Heading out?”

You nodded and eyes fell to his lip, which he had bit slightly. “You too?”

“Was about to call a car. Want to share?”

Your was heading to your apartment, where you had a bottle of wine and a warm bath waiting for you. “I’m heading home.”

He ran a hand through his hair absentmindedly. “I—could I come over?”

The correct answer would’ve been no. Keep the distance you’d established, let your thoughts collect and calm before you put yourself in a situation you knew wouldn’t be good. But unfortunately, you had never been good at saying no to him. “Okay,” you told him, and changed the number of seats in the car from one to two.

He fiddled with his phone as you waited, trying to talk to you but your brain was working a mile a minute, trying to figure out what you wanted to do tonight. Did you want to do anything? You supposed you could just let him sleep on the couch. But would he be offended? Was this the path to the end of your friendship? The icy distance between you was so cold you tensed when he placed his hand to your back when the car pulled up, something you knew probably bothered him. You couldn’t help your body’s reaction, though.

At least you didn’t have to keep him busy in the car ride. The Uber driver recognized Harry immediately and asked him a slew of questions, all sweet ones, and asked for an autograph for his daughter who was eight and a huge fan. You just watched in silence, the interaction one you had seen time and time again, but this time it made you annoyed—you wanted to stay mad at Harry, but he made it so hard when he did shit like this.

The lock slid shut on your door and you toed off your sandals, your bag lying on the hall table and keys in the dish, letting Harry follow behind you to the kitchen. A neutral space, one without obvious seats that would require close proximity.

“Water?” You asked him pulling down a glass for yourself before grabbing the bottle of filtered water from your fridge.

“Yeah, thanks.” He rested against the counter opposite you, shirt unbuttoned one more button than it had been at the party. You didn’t know when he had done that, but the sight of chest, the tips of the swallows, made you turn away and pay attention to the task at hand.

Suddenly, his body was behind yours, breathing in your ear, inches away from you. It was consuming, the feeling of him close to you. Usually, you would twirl around and smash your lips together, probably happily let him have his way with you on the floor of your kitchen. This time, though, it made you falter, water jug hitting the countertop.

It was silent in your flat besides the faint sound of honks and sirens from the streets below, so Harry’s breath in your ear was all you heard. That and the sound of your own heartbeat, clattering in your chest. “Y/N.” Your name on his lips was a question, an obvious beg. “Talk to me, please.”

“Nothin’s wrong,” you said. You didn’t want to have this conversation, because you feared it would mean the end. The end of everything between you, and you didn’t want that.

“Bullshit. You’ve barely looked at me since this morning, ignored me at Nick’s, and I can see the wheels turning in your head. I did something, but I don’t know what, and I need you to talk to me.”

He needed you to talk to him? That set you off, the anger boiling inside of your chest, body whirling around to face him. “You want to know what’s up? Fine. You begged me to come over last night—begged—and then when I did, you fucked me and fell asleep, not a second thought as to me and what I needed. This morning you had no memory of it, acted like it was normal and completely fine. But me? Harry, I felt fucking used last night.” The word slapped him in the face, body flinching at its intention. But the minute it was out, it felt right. That’s how you felt.

“Fuck, Y/N, I didn’t know—“

You held up your hand, cutting him off. “But that’s not even it. And I know this might spell the end of us, but I cannot take the song and dance anymore, Harry. You introduced me tonight as your friend, meanwhile I’ve been in your bed nearly every night for the past month and a half.” He was staring at you, his words like whiplash, but you didn’t slow. You needed to get it out before you lost your nerve. “And I’m fucking done. If that’s all this is going to be—me warming your bed and making you coffee in the morning and pretending like nothing’s happening when we’re around our best friends, I’m done.”

Harry was quiet, eyes flickering between yours as your chest rose and fell, adrenaline pouring through your veins at your confession. When he finally broke the silence, his words were a broken record in your ears. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to make you feel like that, I thought we were fine—“

“Get out.” The words punched him in the gut and you didn’t care. It was past apologies and he knew it. You knew it and you weren’t going to stand for it anymore. “Get out, Harry. Get out of my apartment.” He didn’t move though, and the anger was coiling in your belly, the tears searing behind your eyes. “Get out!” You screamed at him, finally forcing him into action.

He was scrambling to grab his things, one last look at you before he was out of your place, the door slamming shut behind him.

He was gone so fast that when the door shut it was quiet, the sound defeaning in your ears. You slid down, back hitting the wood of the cabinets and the metal knobs, but you didn’t care. Your arms collapsed around your knees, tucking them into your chest, and the tears threatening to break free fell, coating your cheeks in your regret. More than anything you wished none of this had happened, that you hadn’t ever asked him who the song was about, that he had never told you it was you, they’re all about you, the words echoing in your brain. You wanted it to be like it was before, unrequited feelings that might have been confusing but never caused you to question your ability to be around Harry. They never got blurred, never reached into the category of dangerous to your heart.

And here you were, crying on your kitchen floor over the last boy you thought would ever hurt you.

//

Harry knew he was an idiot, but that wasn’t news. In most of his relationships he had been an idiot in some way or an another, but this? This was the worst it had ever been. It had taken every ounce of his soul for him to tell you the truth of how he felt, and not he had dug himself into a hole of avoidance with the girl he loved.

It was true.

He loved you.

He had told you before, but not since that first time. The words had been caught in his throat and he hated that. Because his feelings hadn’t changed, only grown. It drove him crazy that it had taken you yelling at him to get out of your apartment, him hurting you (and himself) tor realize it, but at least he finally had.

It had settled for him when Camille texted him a few days after your fight. He was pissed off and sad, alternating between running miles on his treadmill, trying to outrun his own thoughts, and lying in bed watching Love Island re-runs because you loved watching it and it made him think of you. It was unhealthy and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop. And then Camille texted him that she was in town and thought of him, and the part of him that still wondered if they would ever get back together overpowered the part of him that was smart, and he replied.

They ended up talking that night over a glass of wine in a tiny bar they used to frequent when they were together and in London, and when he looked at her, he didn’t feel anything. The only thing he could think about was you, about how you had held him when he cried and helped him piece himself back together, and here he was in front of Camille and felt nothing. You would probably be proud of him in a way, but at the same time, the reason he wasn’t feeling anything for Camille was because his emotions were yours. His heart belonged to you. And he told Camille because he had to tell someone, and she listened, surprisingly. Told he was an asshole, which was something he frequently had told himself over the past few days, and to get over himself and talk to you.

And he had every intention to. He kept picking up the phone to call you, opening your contact and hovering over the message button, but then he realized he didn’t know what to say. Not because he didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know what not to say. He had so many things he wanted to say there was no way to write you a text or call you and most likely leave a voicemail. He had enough to fill an entire notebook with, write an album of songs, a symphony even, of his feelings and thoughts about you.

Because he was in love with you. Hopelessly, endlessly, in love with you.

He felt it in the very depths of his soul and he never wanted to forget it. He didn’t want to get over you. He didn’t want to have to stop talking to you, to scrub the memories of you from his home, which were everywhere he looked. To wash his clothes that you wore so many times that the scent of you finally left them, to return your belongings that had ended up in his closets and counters. To put the photos of the two of you in a box and hide them, to stop buying your favorite wine at Tesco, to avoid your favorite bars and restaurants so he didn’t have to see you. To wonder if you’d be at a party and if he should go, because he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

He didn’t want to do any of that. He wanted to love you, to bask in the feeling that came over him when he saw you, to linger there and let himself burn in the sunlight that was you. Anne told him he was a hopeless romantic, but for you, he had all the hope in the world because he could see you being together forever. And to lose you…the thought was too much for him to bear.

All of that brought him to your door, the rain coming down in sheets around him, his shirt and pants soaked through, shoes squeaking on the stairs as he climbed to your apartment. He knew the building code by heart, not even having to ring your apartment to get inside, which he was happy for. He wanted one less place for you to refuse him entry. He pushed his hair back, the droplets flickering over his skin, and wondered what he looked like right now. Probably a bit on the crazy side.

But that was okay with him, because he was. Crazy for you.

He stopped in front of your door, 2A and the knocker staring back at him, mocking him, wondering if he’d have the guts to do it. Your face popped into his brain, and he wondered what you were going to say. He had a speech prepared—one he had figured out as he drove here, mulling over the words and their meaning, over analyzing it all to make sure he said exactly what he wanted because if he got in the door he couldn’t risk fucking it up again. Before he could stop himself, he rapped the knocker on your door, stepping back and taking a deep breath.

The wait was the worst part. The wondering if you would open the door at all. He knew you were home—saw your lights on from the street and your bike locked up outside. He played with the hem of his tour tank top, trying to squeeze out the water in the material.

And then all of a sudden he heard the hinges of the door squeak and you were standing there in shorts and an oversized shirt, glasses on your nose and hair up in a ponytail. It made his heart ache to see you after so many days apart, especially days spent thinking of nothing but you.

“You’re wet,” you said bluntly, taking in his appearance.

“Raining out,” he replied, eyes fluttering over your face, trying to take in your demeanor. You seemed on edge, which was understandable, but not angry. Exhausted, maybe, judging from the look in your eyes. “Can I come in? I—I need to tell you something.”

He didn’t you wanted to talk, so he just said tell you something. Because if that’s all it was, that’s all it was, but at least then he’d have been open and honest with you. Laid it all out there, bare and vulnerable. “Yeah,” you said after a beat, opening the door wide enough for him to slip through before shutting it behind him, sliding the chain in the lock.

Standing in your apartment was surreal to him, the rugs and warm lights and books scattered on every surface possible, a big piece of art he’d given you for your birthday last year over the sofa, the faint smell of cinnamon. You stress baked, just like him. He wondered it you did cinnamon rolls, one of your favorite things. His eyes flickered back to you, leaning against the back of your couch and staring at him, waiting for him to speak. He took one step forward so he was farther into your place, and then opened his mouth, the speech he had prepared flowing easily from his throat.

“I love you,” he started, the catch in your breath making his heart skip a beat. “I know I told you on the trip, but I haven’t said it since, and I think for the same reason as why I didn’t call you my girlfriend. I think my brain had built up for so long what it would be like to be with you that when it actually happened I didn’t know what to do. How to be your boyfriend, how to date you, how to be with you like I’d always thought. So I just reverted to what I knew, but with the added sex.

“And that wasn’t fair to either of us. It eroded all the things I love about our relationship—how we talk about everything, how honest we are. Made me feel like we were pretending in front of each other, but I didn’t know how to stop it after it had been happening for so long, you know? And the prospect of fucking it all up and losing you was worse than letting the in-between thing just stretch out. So I just didn’t say anything, even though it was eating away at me.

“I thought you were fine with it, actually. You never said anything, so I thought we were fine, generally speaking. But I know now that was bullshit not only because you told me, but because how could you have been fine with it? I had told you I loved you, confessed all these feelings, and then told you I wanted to keep it all a secret because I couldn’t get my own brain in order. I think that I thought if we told people it would be real, and it being real frightened me to bits.”

He ran a hand through his hair, the droplets coating his rings. “I know that all probably makes no sense to you, but what I’m trying to say, Y/N, is that I love you. I haven’t stopped loving you.” He laughed nervously, his heart seizing. “I don’t know how to not love you. And I don’t want to stop—I can’t lose you, not again. I need you, even though I know I’ve been shit to you these past weeks. So I’m here and I’m begging you to forgive me, to let us try this out properly. To be my girlfriend, tell all of our friends and family, do it for real this time.”

The silence stretched between them for a second, then two. His eyes stayed on yours, gaze locked as you processed his words. And just when he was about to open his mouth again, to tell you he would leave, you were crossing the distance between them and your lips were on his, an answer to his question.

Kissing you was like returning to an old friend. It felt right in every part of his body, the way you leaned into him, the way you curled your fingers through his hair and touched him, hands on his chest. His lips chased yours, desperate for anything you would give him, a stray dog begging for scraps. His hands wrapped around your waist, holding you close, sighing at the feeling of your warm skin on his.

Your lips parted and returned, lovers in a well-rehearsed dance. A song they knew all the words to.

Your hands pulled his wet t-shirt over his head and he tugged at your now damp one, kisses to the rise of your breasts that made you arch into him and gasp. Your sounds were music to his ears, a chorus he had been dying to hear again. You stumbled over one another’s feet as he moved you to your bedroom, desperate to see all of you. He knew you felt the same from how you pulled at his hands, tugging him into your room and flipping on the light by your bedside, the soft glow allowing him to see shadows of your bodies on the walls.

“Y/N,” he breathed against your neck, “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you replied, tugging hips to yours and rolling against them sinfully. “Need you.”

That had him moving faster than he thought possible. He shucked off his pants, then yours, leaving you in a pair of blue cotton underwear that he ripped without a second thought. You yelped but he didn’t care, he’d buy you another he whispered to you, a promise he had no intention of breaking. He’d buy you the world, no matter the price.

Your hands pressed against his chest, forcing him onto the bed, body bouncing. Quickly he clamored back, gaining more space for the two of you and you followed, a lion on the hunt. You knees pressed to either side of his hips and rolled softly, a groan flying from both of your mouths before they met again.

He pulled at the clasp of your bra, needing to see you bare for him and it was a sight he had missed desperately. Leaning up, hands holding your chest in place, he rolled your nipple into his mouth, a cry falling from your lips that spelled his name. “Fuck,” he murmured into your skin as you rocked over him, bare clit on his dick. “Can feel how wet you are, baby.”

“All for you,” you said, your words a whimper that had him groaning and suckling on your nipple immediately. He loved every moment with you, but these ones were near the top. When he had the raw, unfiltered you, witnessing your body respond to every thing he offered you, taking and taking and taking. And he didn’t mind. You had given him the opportunity to love you and that was enough for him.

His hand found its way down your body, a torturing path that had your squirming in his arms, before his fingers brushed your clit. You arched into him, breasts flushed with his chest, head lolling into the crook of his neck. He played you like an instrument he knew by heart, knowing exactly what you needed. A slow circle, then fast swipes clockwise, a pinch to your clit. A teasing brush to your slit, his name on your lips before he pulled you into him again. He got distracted with your lips, but you didn’t seem to mind. You found your own pleasure, rolling your hips over him repeatedly, the wetness of you driving him insane.

The feeling of you over him, completely bare, was enough for him to come right there and then.

“Love,” he said, throat gravelly as he spoke. “I—I’m going to come if you keep that up and I want you to come before I fuck you.”

But you shook your head, lips pressing into his jaw, where a brush of stubble had grown over the past few days. He knew you liked it, how it felt against your skin, something to remember him by. “I just want you,” you told him, eyes meeting his. “Want to come with you.”

His head dropped back because those words brought him to the brink. “You’re a dream,” he whispered, pulling you down with him before rolling you over. “This okay—like this?”

You nodded, pushing his wet hair back so he could see you better. “I like it like this. Know it’s simple, but I can see you.”

He knew exactly what you meant. “Me too.” Without meaning to, he shifted his hips and his tip brushed against your clit, a wanton moan exploding from your chest into your bedroom. “Ready, baby? Ready for me to show me how much I love you?”

Your arms locked around his neck and you nodded, capturing his lips in yours again. “Show me everything,” you whimpered when he brushed against you again, teasing both of you. “Everything, Harry.”

His name on your lips did it. Reaching a hand down, he found his dick and he moved so he could brush your slit, your head tipping back. “Look at me,” he said, and you looked back at him, chest rising and falling. And with that, he pushed in slowly, letting your walls capture every inch of him.

Watching you when he pushed into you was one of his favorite things. Could take photos of your face like that for hours, put them in an art gallery because it was art in its finest form. “Oh my god,” you panted, hands scrambling at his back, his shoulder blades, searching for purchase. When you found it, your fingernails dug into his skin and he hissed, loving that he would have marks of you on him tomorrow.

With that, he pulled out and then back in, watching you as your jaw dropped open. “Feel me, baby? Am I deep for you?” The words tumbled from him without a thought. Somehow having sex with you just made his brain melt away—he wasn’t like this with other people, but with you, he wanted to tell you everything. Wanted you to know every thought on his brain.

He rested his head on your chest, your hands drifting from his back to his scalp, tugging on the hair and a moan ripping through his body. His hands rested next to your shoulders, helping him find strength to push in and out of you at a rhythm that was both not enough and everything all at once. “Need more,” you moaned. “Please, H.”

Your wish was his command. He drew back before slamming into you, hips meeting yours with a smack that had your legs coming up around his waist for better access. Hands met skin as you held on, your body moving up and down on the duvet  as he pushed into you. His lips missed your skin, so he rectified it with a nip at your collarbone, sucking into your skin harshly, leaving a mark for tomorrow that he would top up in the morning. It would be like a tattoo on your skin, reminding the world that you were his. Finally.

“So deep.” Your words made him see stars. He was close already, he was close before even entered you, but the feeling of being so deep inside of you was making him teeter dangerously on the edge.

You yelped when he pressed deeper, brushing against the spot he knew you loved. “Never gonna make you made ever again,” he said, words a jumbled mess in his brain. He could feel the sweat between your bodies and he loved how your skin stuck to each other, not wanting to part. “Promise, Y/N. You don’t deserve that.”

“Then keep fucking me and make me cum, maybe I won’t be mad anymore,” you said and your words made him slam into you.

“Yeah? Want me to make you come?” He wanted to you see you finish.  He knew you were taunting him but he didn’t care, it made him work harder for your orgasm, it a prize he desperately needed tonight. “Gonna make you come baby, promise. Need it. Need to feel you squeeze around me, fuck you’re so good, need to feel you come for me. That’s all I want, love. All I want is you.”

You pulled his head, lips meeting and he rocked into you, teeth gnashing as he brought you closer to your release. He caught your moans in his mouth and sent them right back, a tinge of his own mixed in. Lips fought for dominance as he cradled your head in his arms, holding you tight to his body. He wanted to have you close when you came, wanted to feel you shake against him.

When you did, it was tidal wave that he felt before he heard it. He felt you clamp down around him, your spine arch. Then, he heard the shrieks from your mouth, the ones made up of purely his name, Harry a chant on your lips. It had him coming to his own release immediately, the feeling and sight of you finishing around him, eyes wide and staring into his, knowing he loved watching you. He slammed into you, hips stuttering as he shot into you, ropes of come painting your walls that had goosebumps covering his skin as he shivered.

It took him a few beats to regain his breath and when he did, you were running your fingers down his spine. He loved it when you did it, the feeling of you impossibly close in more ways than one.

“I love you,” you said, voice hoarse in his ears before pressing a kiss to his nose. “Endlessly.” You pulled him flush on your skin, forcing him to let go and let you shoulder his weight which he knew you didn’t mind. Quite liked it actually.

His fingers wove through the strands of your hair scattered on the bed that had broken from of your ponytail. “I love you too.”

“We’re going to do this, huh?” You asked him and he chuckled.

“Yeah,” he told you and you giggled in his ear. Giggled. He loved that sound, the childish glee in your voice. “Want to show you off, show everyone you’re mine.”

He went to pull out of you, but you held him fast. “Can you just, stay here for a second?”

His gaze shifted to your eyes and he nodded. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.” He rolled slowly, taking you with him and keeping himself sheathed inside of you. It felt impossibly close, like he was inside of your skin, and it was everything he needed. After being apart from you for days, and even before that not having you like this—your heart, mind, soul—it was a euphoric feeling.

“I’ve got cinnamon rolls for the morning,” you said out of nowhere.

He brushed a kiss to your shoulder and felt you smile against his skin. “One of the many reasons that I love you.” You nuzzled into his neck and he sighed.

He was home.

talk to me about Residue here | masterlist here

[dal3ks]

the project

pairing: peter parker x female reader 

word count: 3.2k

warnings: smut, cursing, teasing, coaxing, pet names, mentions to anatomy, marking, oral(receiving), both characters are of age! 

a/n: this was a fic i had posted on my main account @a-dorin​, but i am in the process of switching over content so that it is a strictly star wars account! just a disclaimer, i am not plagiarizing or stealing content, as this is my fic!

"today i have an exciting announcement," your chemistry teacher gushed, "since we are right on track for the unit, we will be taking a slight detour in our lesson plans. this whole week, we will be learning all about human chemistry!"

the class groaned, and you turned around to your best friend, nova, "how fucking lame."

she winked at you, "it'll be fun."

"so, to kick off this unit, we will be conducting a project on chemical reactions in the human body. i know you all have lab partners, but to make it fun, i will be drawing names out of a cup. everyone's name is on a slip of paper. i will begin drawing names right now, then we will discuss some of the parameters of the project," your teacher continued, a wide smile on his face.

drawing in a sigh, you glanced around the entirety of the room. m.j., one of your close friends, looked intrigued, as she was sitting next to your best friend, nova. flash looked disgusted, while peter and ned both grimaced to one another.

a part of you was hoping you would be paired up with your high school crush, peter parker. ever since the first semester of your freshman year, you had been attracted to him. he had bumped into you in the hallway between seventh and eighth period, knocking your coffee out of your hand. he apologized profusely, even handing you a ten dollar bill for the next coffee run. ever since then, you wanted to get to know the shy boy.

peter was guarded. extremely guarded. his awkward demeanor didn't help at all. anytime you asked him the simplest question, he got flustered, red-faced and stuttered. part of you wondered if it was because he just wasn't a people person, or if it was because he liked you. 

both of you guys had made small exchanges since that encounter, whether it was greeting one another in the hallway, sharing a seat on a bus ride, or giving one another snacks in class. since m.j. was within your friend group, you did get to see peter some, as they were mutual friends.

every girl at your high school adored peter. he was charismatic, charming, and was passionate about his friends and school. also, who was ever offered the opportunity to work alongside tony stark? that was another aspect you adored about peter. whenever you guys did chat, it was usually a vivid, funny story about peter's internship with stark industries. his stories made you laugh every time.

even though peter was short, he was taller than you. his floppy brown curls had all of the girls drooling. his smile was radiant, and his body was amazing. you had snuck glances during gym class. the boy was extremely fit. you figured it was due to his internship with stark industries, or maybe the boy just liked to work out. regardless, his body was extremely attractive.

"(y/n) (l/n)," your chemistry teachers voice rang out, snapping you out of your thoughts, "you will be paired with... peter parker."

you widened your eyes, surprised at what you were hearing. glancing over at peter, you realized he looked just as surprised as you were. even though the class had "random" partners, the chemistry teacher usually paired you up with your friends.

after the teacher finished assigning partners, he cleared his throat, "all right everyone! please sit next to your partner while i hand out the rubrics. m.j., can you please help me pass out the papers?"

peter slid into the seat next to you, clearing his throat, "well, i guess we're partners."

"i don't mind it one bit," you flashed him a wide smile.

"so i'm not entirely sure what this project is," peter mumbled, his eyes focused on the table.

m.j. handed us the rubrics, "i'm not sure if you listened to the entire lecture, dipshit. the project is over chemical reactions in the human body."

peter looked sheepish, "yeah, i got that part. but is there anything in the rubric that states that we need to do?"

"i'm sure it's all in the rubric," m.j. smiled sweetly.

you slid peter a rubric for the project, "hey, i'm really sorry if i'm not ned."

"it's cool," he shrugged, obviously in distress. ned was paired with nova, and they were already working on their project, taking notes.

"how about i give you my number?" you inquired, sliding your phone out of your hoodie pocket, "and you come over tonight so we can get a head start?"

"that sounds good," he nodded, taking your phone and typing the number into his phone, "how about i call you when i'm on my way?"

you smiled, eagerly taking the phone back, "that works. i'm home alone tonight, so even better."

peter blushed, just nodding, "i'll call you later then when i'm on my way."

the bell rang, signifying the end of the period. luckily chemistry was your last class of the day. you walked home, bubbly that peter was coming over tonight. once you arrived home, you took a hot shower, shaved your legs, put on lotion, and threw on some clothes. since it was fall, you opted for an over sized hoodie, paired with black leggings. you sprayed your favorite perfume, ensured your skin looked good, and threw on mascara.

once you were all ready, you straightened up your room. you made your bed, throwing some stuffed animals in the closet. peter never told you a time he would come over, but you assumed it would be later in the evening. by the time you finished cleaning the house, it was about seven thirty-eight. you sighed, a feeling of distress creeping over you. what if peter didn't want to come over? what if he stood you up?

a knock on the door interrupted your thoughts. you fluffed your hair, opening the door. there, stood peter, with a white paper bag in his hand, a two liter of cherry coke in the other, "hey, can i come in?"

"of course," he stepped in, setting his book bag near the door, "what did ya bring me?"

he smiled slightly, "oh, my aunt went down to this deli and picked us up some subs and this soda."

"well," you began, "i'm not too hungry right now. maybe we could start on our project, and eat later?"

"okay," he handed you the bag, "you probably know where to put this."

you took it from him, "yeah, the kitchen is just this way. follow me."

"your house is so nice," peter breathed as he followed you, his voice low.

"thank you," you placed the bag in the fridge, taking the two liter from his hand, "you can thank my dad for that. he remodeled the whole house."

"he did an excellent job," peter peered at the kitchen, his brown eyes taking in the granite island, "this looks like somewhere tony stark would live."

you giggled, "it's not that nice."

"it's nice," he nodded enthusiastically, "your dad must be a genius. like a interior design genius."

"honestly he had this idea for a while," you felt myself smile again, "he just acted on it and made it happen. do you wanna head up to my room?"

peter's eyes widened, and he rubbed the back of his neck, "i mean, yeah, we can do that. for sure."

you had him follow you upstairs to your room, guiding him. once you were in the room, he marveled at all of the posters, polaroids, and lights plastered on the walls. you sat down on the floor, grabbing your laptop. peter sat down next to you, biting his lip anxiously.

"oh shit," he mumbled, "i forgot my laptop downstairs."

"don't worry about it," you placed your hand on top of his, "we just need to do a little bit of research anyways. i was thinking maybe we could just do an oral presentation? or we could do PowerPoint. whatever you wanna do."

"okay," you were sure peter's lip would start bleeding if he chewed it even more than he already was.

as you both locked eyes, you noticed that he had a slight cut on his right cheekbone. you frowned, feeling yourself instinctively place your hand on his cheek, the pad of your thumb gently caressing it. he flinched at your touch, but kept looking at you.

"what happened? you didn't have that earlier today in class." the words tumbled out of your mouth, and you immediately felt nosy for asking.

"oh," he stuttered, "i ran into the door frame at the apartment on my way over here. i guess i was a little excited."

"excited to see me?" you raised a brow, feeling heat rush into your cheeks. a blush spread into your cheeks, and you immediately wanted to cover up your face.

"well," peter shifted nervously, "i mean, i didn't want to be too late, and i heard how you were going to be alone so i didn't want you to be alone, and yeah. um, yeah, i was excited to see you tonight."

you scooted closer to him, and his shyness began to dissolve, as he allowed you to continue to hold his face. you could almost feel his waves of anxiety radiating off of him. he was extremely nervous but you didn't know what about.

"peter," your voice was soft, "are you okay?"

his eyes met yours, “i kinda want to tell you something."

"and that is?" you bit my lip.

"i like you, like a lot. i mean, god you're so beautiful. all of the guys at school talk about you and jesus. i probably act like a fucking idiot all the time around you but god i like you so much. i even ran into the door frame because i was so excited to see you. and maybe you don't like me either but i just can't help but be nervous. i just care about you so much. you're so beautiful. like really really beautiful." all of the words tumbling out of his mouth sounded sincere. his cheeks were burning crimson with embarrassment.

"peter," you murmured, your face dangerously close to his. his bottom lip was swollen from him biting it earlier, "i have feelings for you too."

peter sighed with relief, "that makes me so happy."

"what's our project about again?" your hands felt for your laptop, and you pulled it closer to you two.

"chemical reactions in humans," peter answered, not breaking his gaze away from mine, "i have an idea for research since we haven't found a specific topic yet."

"and that is?" you raised an inquisitive brow.

he scooped you into his arms, laying you on your back on the bed. his lips met yours, kissing you eagerly. you pressed your lips against his, kissing him back, surprised at his rush of confidence. his tongue entered your mouth, the kisses becoming more and more hungry. peter's callused hands roamed your body under your hoodie, making contact with your skin. you shivered, goosebumps covering your body.

peter pulled back for a second, "is this okay?"

kissing him gently, you gave an answer against his lips, "yes, this is more than okay. it's amazing."

his lips pressed against your neck, sucking slightly. you knew there would be hickeys in the morning. you ran your hands through his hair, tugging lightly. he pressed his body against yours, and you could feel his hard on through his joggers. as he kissed down your neck, you palmed him through the fabric. he groaned against your neck, whining slightly.

peter motioned you to sit up, and you obeyed. his gentle fingers slipped the hoodie off your top half. a part of you wondered if he had done this with any other girl before. he slipped off his own shirt, revealing his toned chest and abs. you felt a slight wave of insecurity washing over you, you weren't as near as fit as he was.

peter seemed to sense the shift in your mood, kissing your chest, "stop. you're beautiful. god, i need all of you."

you undid the clasp on your lace nude bralette, letting it fall onto the floor beside the bed. peter widened his eyes, grasping each one of your breasts in his hands. he squeezed gently, unsure of what to do next. his eyes met yours, full of lust. his bottom lip was slightly swollen from the kissing, and his pupils were dilated.

his mouth latched onto your breasts, giving each one of them an equal amount of attention. you laced your fingers into his hair, tugging harder this time as peter sucked, kissed, and licked all over your chest and breasts. the actions were driving you crazy. you could feel how wet you were, even with your leggings still on. as peter continued, you let out a small moan.

"what princess?" peter's voice was husky, "tell me what you want."

"i want you," you whined, "i want you so bad."

"mmm," he hummed, "that's not specific enough, baby. tell me exactly what you want."

"i want your touch so bad," your voice was edged with desire.

"yeah?" his voice was low.

you nodded eagerly, "i need you to touch me."

"as you wish princess," his lips pressed against yours gently.

peter's lips trailed down your stomach, leaving sloppy kisses. he stopped at the waistband of your leggings, his fingers hooking the fabric. he slipped your leggings off, his cheeks tinged red at the sight of your black lace thong.

"are you sure you're ready for it, princess?" peter's eyes met yours.

you bit your lip, nodding. god, he was so hot like this. his fingers delicately took your thong off, casting it to the floor. he took a second to let his eyes roam your body, savoring every inch of it. you felt peter's tongue immediately connect itself to your clit, going in slow, circular motions. you gripped his head, pressing his face into your thighs. that only encouraged him, as he began to suck on your clit. he inserted a finger inside of you, pumping it in and out.

"god," he groaned, "you taste so good baby."

"you're going to make me cum," you moaned, your cheeks hot and jaw slack. even though you had received oral before, peter was by far the best you ever had.

his tongue slowly licked up, taking in all of your pussy. he fingered you, making a hook with his two fingers. you could feel tension building up in you, driving you crazy. your orgasm was coming soon, and peter showed no signs of slowing down. peter wanted nothing more to do this all night if he could.

"you're close aren't you?" peter's breath was hot, "c'mon princess, you're almost there."

he sucked on your clit, squeezing one of your breasts in his hand. his fingers pulled on your nipple, and you felt yourself come undone. your loud moans filled the room, and peter gripped your thighs to keep you on the bed. he licked you until your thighs stopped trembling. once he was finished, he glanced up at you, his cheeks flushed.

you took his hand, sucking on his two fingers. he bit his lip, letting out a small sigh, "i told you that you tasted good."

your eyes drifted down at the sight of his hard on through his joggers. your hand palmed him through the fabric, and pleasure washed over him.

"hey peter," you murmured, "did you bring any condoms?"

his face reddened, "no, i, um. i have some, but not with me."

your fingers latched themselves on the waistband of his joggers, slowly gliding down his legs. he was still hard, his skin hot and his face flushed. his breath hitched in his throat as you pulled down his boxers, your hand wrapping around the base of his cock.

"peter," your eyes met his, "please fuck me."

he almost came at the sound of your words, the innocence in your tone. he pushed you on your back, kissing you hungrily. you felt his tip on your clit, and you let out a small whine.

"what princess?" his voice made the room ten times hotter, "tell me what you want."

"i want you," you whined, your pleas desperate, "i need you to fuck me so bad."

his cock entered you, and you let out a moan of pleasure. peter started with slow, rhythmic strokes, and you could feel all of him as he did so. as he fucked you, you placed wet kisses all over his toned chest and neck.

"you feel so good," peter groaned, his ears burning red. his eyes met yours, and you felt another wave of pleasure wash over you.

peter's lips met yours, his teeth grazing your bottom lip. there was a slight sheen of sweat on his skin, along with yours. he intensified his pace, your nails digging into his shoulder blades as he fucked you senseless. his shyness was now stripped away from him, and you loved it. you loved this moment and everything going on between you so goddamn much.

"i'm gonna cum," peter moaned. he pulled out, finishing on your stomach.

his eyes met yours once again, and you both laid there, taking in the moment. peter's lips met yours for a gentle kiss.

"i'll go grab something to clean this up with," you murmured, about to get up.

"no, you stay here," peter instructed, "just tell me where the bathroom is and i will grab a towel or something."

you gave in, telling peter where the bathroom was. he slipped on his boxers and joggers, and then went to on the search for a towel. he came back, carefully cleaning you up.

hopping off you bed, you grabbed a hoodie, throwing it on, "that was amazing."

he gave you a cheeky smile, "i just wanted to conduct some research."

"and what conclusions did you draw?" you giggled as you searched for a new pair of underwear.

"that one," he began, "you taste good. two, you have a beautiful body. and three, i cannot wait to do that again, baby."

you slipped on new thong, then found a pair of joggers, "how about we just forget the project for the rest of the night then?"

peter scooped you into his arms on the bed, cuddling you, "i don't think that's a bad idea. it's not due for another two weeks anyways."

you pressed your lips against his shoulder, "we'll be alone for another few hours anyways."

"sounds like there's going to be a round two soon then," he chuckled, "by the way, i hope i wasn't bad or anything. it was kind of my first time doing stuff like that."

you felt yourself gasp, "there's no way."

"i was a virgin before tonight so," he murmured, slightly embarrassed.

"don't be shy about it," you gave him a chaste kiss, "it's not something to be ashamed of."

"well maybe i will become experienced enough tonight and we can do our project about human chemistry during sex," peter teased.

"in your dreams, geek," you rolled your eyes playfully, and you felt his lips gently brush against your cheek.

you felt yourself collapse into his arms, feeling a slight wave of exhaustion overwhelm you. his fingers traced your back under the hoodie, and you allowed yourself to close your eyes, content to be in the arms of your boy.

if only you got to spend every night like this with peter.

******

[ineloqueent]

party for one

Roger Taylor x Reader

synopsis: you’re not excited about your birthday, and have thus decided not to tell anyone about it. but then Roger finds out, and refuses to let it go.

warnings: swearing, drinking

word count: 2.8k

see moodboard here!

⭒

December, 1979

Turning thirty was not something you looked forward to.

It was a big number, the number at which everyone expected you to have your life together, be married and have children, have a steady job.

Well, you could check one of those boxes.

As the newly-appointed tour photographer for Queen, you were well-liked, and thus had no fears of unemployment in the near future.

You’d gotten quite close with the members of Queen over the past month, during the aptly-named Crazy Tour, sharing late nights and early mornings with the four musicians. Late nights and early mornings had a funny way of bringing out the true personalities of people, because lack of sleep meant that no one had a filter, and your mutual exhaustion had made you the best of friends with the band you were travelling with.

You liked to go dancing with John, when nobody else would, because Brian couldn’t dance for the life of him, and Roger hated disco, and Freddie was often busy.

You went with Brian to the science museums he wanted to visit in many of the cities where you stopped, because everyone else had had enough of his rambling. Brian was talkative when he was talking about something he cared about, and it was a sort of reprieve for you not to be the one talking— to tour managers, to publicists, to press, to the lighting department who spoke in riddles, to the security guards in various nations that did not speak English.

Freddie loved shopping, for anything and everything, and was ever so pleased to have a companion on his many expeditions in search of rare records, paintings, clothes.

And Roger… Well, Roger. What could you say about Roger?

Roger was the in-between moments. Not that he wasn’t around— because he was, and practically everywhere you looked— but because whenever things seemed to slow down, or grow drearily quiet, or when you stood at the eye of the storm that was the never-ending flood of work that came as part of your employment with Queen, Roger was there, with an easy smile and a striking insightfulness.

He became the quiet moments when he took you to see strange, foreign films on off-nights, showed you forgotten corners of sprawling cities across the continents, or called you over to read you a quote from whatever book was currently occupying his headspace.

One such night, you were sitting in the games room of a hotel, cleaning one of your cameras, as Brian and John attempted to beat one another’s pinball scores, as Freddie sat watching telly with a few friends, and a handful of crew members played an intense game of pool.

You had taken a seat on one of the two sofas in the room, leaving ample space, should someone else want to sit down, but Roger occupied an entire couch to himself, feet up at one armrest, head at the other. He’d been wearing headphones, plugged into a brand-new Sony Walkman portable cassette player, the one which both band and crew had gawked over when he’d first bought it, back in July. But now he took the headphones off, mussing his blonde hair— recently cropped— and sat up.

“Hey,” he said, and you looked up. “Come listen to this.”

With a small sigh, you carefully deposited your camera on the coffee table, and crossed over to the other side of the space to join Roger.

You flopped down at his side, and he looped his arm through yours, pushing his reading glasses up on his nose before softly clearing his throat.

“What is that feeling when you’re driving away from people,” he read quietly, “and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing?”

“I don’t—”

“Shh,” Roger peered at you over his glasses, nudging your shoulder with his, “I’m not finished.”

“Oh,” you said. “Well, sorry. Go on, then.”

“It’s the too-huge world vaulting us,” Roger continued, “and it’s goodbye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies.”

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured.

Roger smiled. “It’s us,” he said, and then said nothing more, until you relaxed into his side and sat there with him as he read in silence, and your eyes fell shut and your mind fell into a dream.

With the days, the tour went on, and as the date of your birthday approached, you took great care to pretend that it did not.

But your birthday had always been an ordeal for you, and you weren’t doing particularly well at hiding the sense of impending doom that came over you, when there was only a week until the day.

John noticed, that much was obvious, but said nothing, ever respectful of your personal matters as you were of his.

Brian noticed, but only asked what was wrong in such a roundabout way that you felt inclined to say he had not noticed at all, or was too polite to ask directly.

Freddie noticed, and asked outright what was bothering you, but he did so right before going onstage, and refused to perform before you had answered his question. So you answered, albeit untruthfully, with a hurried, “Nothing!” to make him get the fuck onstage.

And Roger noticed.

He caught your arm the day before your birthday, as they were all departing the stage in the wake of raucous cheers, a towel slung around his neck as he caught his breath from the physical exertion that was playing the drums. He pulled you off to the side before you could protest, before Freddie and the others could drag the both of you off to some party, and looked at you in such a way you thought he’d stare right through your very heart.

“What?!”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, folding his arms with an inquisitive expression.

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong.”

Roger snorted. “‘Course it is. You’ve been like this for weeks. What’s the matter?”

You shrugged your shoulders in discomfort, avoiding his gaze. “It’s—”

“If you say nothing one more time, I’ll go get Brian and ask him to explain zodiacal light, and we’ll be stood here for literal hours before we can get any sort of food or drink or bed. So spit it out, because I worry about you, and I promise I’ll leave you alone.”

He stared you down, and you felt a sudden compulsion to embrace him for having cared enough to ask about you, to take the time to ask about you.

With a heavy sigh, you conceded your secrets to him, as simply as had you been a book he’d opened, intending to read from cover to cover.

“It’s my birthday—”

He frowned, “When?”

“Tomorrow—”

“Tomorrow?” Roger balked. “Why the bloody hell didn’t you tell us? We would have organised something!”

“No, no, I don’t want you to make a fuss—”

“Well, what if I want to make a fuss?”

“You want to—”

He grasped your hand, and with the contact, your heart clenched. “You deserve to be fussed over,” he told you, earnestly. “Don’t you get that?”

Your mouth had fallen open, and you now pressed your lips together, glancing down at the floor.

“No,” you mumbled. “I don’t get that.”

“And so you’ve been living your life wrong,” said Roger. “Get that into your head, love.”

It was strange, how words so simple could strike a chord, but there was a lump in your throat when you swallowed, and when you nodded, you couldn’t look at him.

“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s go back to the hotel. I’m sure you’re as tired as I am.”

You nodded again, avoiding his eyes, and he set off.

He didn’t let go of your hand.

You didn’t mind.

And as testament to Roger’s assertion, when you had parted from him and gone to your hotel room, you’d changed and fallen asleep as soon as your head had hit the pillow.

The following day was your birthday, and a day without a scheduled show, so you slept in. No one would miss you for a few hours, you thought, and indeed, no knocks roused you from your sleep until you got up, well into the afternoon.

You ran into Freddie in the hallway, and, suddenly possessed by the notion that you should do something fun on your birthday, even if no fuss was to be made, you asked Freddie if he wanted to go with you to see a movie, and where the others were, should they wish to come as well.

“No, sorry darling, I’ve got a thousand things to do before tomorrow, and I’m afraid I’ve got no idea where anyone else is.” He pursed his lips. “In fact, I’ve been looking for those three idiots for the better part of an hour.”

“That’s… rather strange,” you said, in all honesty.

“Rather,” Freddie agreed. Then he clasped his hands. “I’m going to keep looking for them, if you don’t mind. But enjoy your film, and I’ll see you at dinner?”

Your heart dropped, but of course, the great Freddie Mercury was a busy man, so naturally, this was to be expected. “See you at dinner,” you replied, and let him be on his way.

You wandered the hotel for a little while, perhaps ten minutes or so, before you came upon Brian, who had pink-flushed cheeks and wore quite the coat— bulky, and oddly overstuffed, like some sort of armchair.

“Hey,” you said in greeting. “Freddie’s looking for you.”

“Freddie’s— oh, is he? Right. Well. Better find him then before he loses his temper, ha ha.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Are you okay, Brian?”

“What?” he folded his arms around his body, in an awkward fashion, because he was clearly not accustomed to the bulk upon his frame. “Nothing. I mean, yes, I’m fine, yes. I’ll go find Fred.”

And then he hurried down the hall, before you could open your mouth to ask him if he was free to go see a film.

“Never mind,” you muttered, and proceeded in the direction you had been going before.

Two down, two left. This was truly going to be a rotten birthday, if you were to go to see a film on your own. Not that there was anything wrong with that, aside from the glaring fact that you didn’t actually feel like being alone.

You found Deacy in the lobby, leaning his elbows on the counter as he called to the person using the phone in the adjacent room.

Approaching him, you realised he was talking to— or rather, talking at— Roger, who had leaned out of the room, one hand covering the mouthpiece of the telephone.

Roger’s gaze met with yours briefly, before his eyes widened and he hissed to John something that sounded distinctly like shut up.

John saw you then, and smiled as you approached.

“Hello, Y/N. How’s it going?”

“Fine,” you responded airly, feigning a happy demeanour. “You?”

“Lovely,” said John. “Just getting Rog to make a few phone calls about the next show.”

You shook your head, puzzled. “The next show?”

“Mmyes. There was a mix-up with some gear, last time, so we thought we’d get onto it ourselves, so we know exactly what’s going on. Hands-on, you know?”

“Yeah,” you answered slowly, though in actual fact this made absolutely no sense to you, and you were sure that it made no sense to the person who had spoken it.

“Finished, Roger?” John called back to his friend, his tone more warning than inquisitive. You wondered why.

A muffled, bell-like sound announced that Roger had hung up the phone.

“Finished,” he affirmed, adjusting his round-lens sunglasses.

“Well,” said Deacy, “I’ll be off, then. See you later, Y/N.” He raised his hand in a wave, and disappeared around the corner.

You blinked at his sudden departure, then turned to Roger and asked your question before he could disappear as well.

“Rog, come see a film with me?”

Roger was pulling on an overcoat, and promptly shook his head. “Can’t. Sorry, love.”

Your fingers caught on his sleeve as he passed you, and he stopped.

“Please,” you murmured. “I know I said I didn’t want a fuss, but it’s my birthday. Come with me?”

Roger shook his head again, squeezing your hands in his. “I really can’t,” he said. At least he had the decency to look apologetic. You supposed that was something. “But I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

You tried not to sound too dejected, but truth be told, you were crushed. “Yeah, tonight.”

“Alright, then. Well, I’d better be off.” His grip gentle on your forearms, he tugged you forward and kissed your cheek, and you blushed beneath the touch of his lips to your skin, at the warmth that passed from him to you. Drawing back, he winked, let your hands fall, and was gone as well.

You went to see the film on your own.

And then you saw another. And another, just for the hell of it.

By the time you returned to the hotel, it was dark, and you found no one anywhere once more. Until you more or less crashed into John on the landing.

“Blimey, good you’re here!” he said breathlessly. “You’ve got to come quickly. Something’s wrong.”

“Wrong?” you asked. “What do you mean, wrong? Is everyone alright? Is someone hurt?”

John shook his head. “No, no. Just… Come on. You’ll want to see this.”

“See what—”

He more or less dragged you down the hall, until you reached the games room, and ground to a halt.

“In there.”

“The games room?” you said dubiously.

Deacy nodded. He stepped aside, indicating you should open the door.

Eyeing him warily, you reached for the door handle, and pushed it down. The room was dark—

And then abruptly, it was not.

Streamers burst forth, and twinkling fairy lights glinted off of the faces of your friends— Brian, Freddie, Roger, and smattering of crew— smiling from behind a table piled with all sorts of food. Food, and presents.

“Surprise!” came the cry, and you barked a laugh, half in surprise, half in disbelief at your stupidity for not having seen this coming.

“I— thank you,” you said, just as Freddie blew a party horn, to the dismay of those standing immediately beside him. You laughed again, “How did you manage all of this… with such short notice?”

Brian grinned. “It was all Roger.”

“And your bulky coat?” you asked.

“I was carrying bags of ice,” Brian admitted, to a chorus of laughter. “I was cold, okay, but I couldn’t let you see it, so I had to get away from you as quickly as possible. Sorry if that came off as rude.”

You merely laughed once again, then turned to Deacy, who stood beside you. “And, John?”

“Head of organisation,” he said. “Though it was Roger’s master plan.”

“Freddie?”

“What do you think, darling? I did all the shopping,” he swept his arm in a grand gesture, indicating the food and the presents.

“Oh, come off it, Fred,” Roger scoffed, pushing past Crystal. “Not all of the shopping.” Roger now stood before you, and, inclining his head, he handed you a rectangular package, wrapped in butcher paper and white string. “Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he said.

“Thanks, Rog,” you smiled, as you felt yourself be filled with a happiness you had long since thought gone.

“Go on. Open it.”

You looked down at the parcel in your hands, then began to tug at the string.

“We haven’t got all night,” called Freddie. “There’s cake for you as well, so hurry up!”

You glanced at Roger. He shrugged. You tore the paper from the present, and let it fall to the ground.

In your hands you held a first-edition copy of Lord of the Rings.

You gaped. “But how did you—”

“Made some phone calls,” said Roger modestly.

Without a way of putting your gratitude into words, you threw your arms around him, so forcefully that he stumbled backward, before he wrapped his arms around you as well, chuckling.

“Thank you,” you murmured, as someone started a record on the nearby deck, and the party was set into motion.

“You deserve to be fussed over,” he murmured back.

And if it was possible, you hugged him even more tightly, for once at home in this quiet, strange world, with its triumphs and its downfalls, and its in-between moments.

With its Roger moments.

Yes, that was what they were. There was no in-between when Roger was in your world.

And he knew that for as long as you would let him, he would damn well stay.

[mypersonmyg]

locket up | kth

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: fluff

rating: pg

wc: 835

warnings: none

summary: you want to know what’s in your boyfriend’s pocket OR taehyung really has a way with words

a/n: i did it i did i did it yeah!

prompt 15. O - Our. In what ways do the otp+ share their lives?

november drabble masterlist

main masterlist

“Can you believe this is the last box!?” Taehyung lowers weighted cardboard, a concentrated huff following the light thud against hardwood. He regards your bubbly demeanor, smile peering despite lack of regained airflow. 

“I can, especially because I’m the one who carried them in.” 

“I asked you if you needed help!” You wipe at the stick of a sweaty hair along Taehyung’s forehead, noting the light sheen that resides. “You shouldn’t have said no.” 

You turn to the expanse of emptiness, space to be filled by overflowing contents, cardboard but a temporary fix to your permanent residence. You note the trace of lemony scent, the shine of wood freshly polished floating through the inhale of your nose. The walls are smoothed, dents and divots that greeted upon first glance now missing amongst the trendy space.

“I didn’t think you’d take me so literally.” Taehyung wraps arms around you, the rest of his chin against your shoulder sending a content hum flowing through you. Hands grip his own, your bodies falling into routine sway. 

“I guess you’ll know better next time.” You hush, higher volume feeling intrusive in the moment of delicate intimacy. You can feel the cold of crisp air lingering on Taehyung’s form, though he complains not of the taxing hour past, the count of cases he endured a heavy one living on the third floor. “I can’t believe we finally live together.”

“I know, should’ve happened ages ago.” 

The whir of the a/c is artificially remnant of an ear pressed to a fantastical shell, Taehyung’s words only complimenting the heady sensation greeting your ears, your eyes focused on your lids as your head finds the length of his shoulder. 

“But we’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

“Cheesy.” The words are followed by the press of his lips to your neck, “I got you a present.” 

“Cheesy,” Your  words are countered as your body pushes forward, heel spinning so you face the shy man whose hand is now settled into his pocket while his cheeks heat. Your fingers wrap around his wrist as much as they can manage, lightly yanking the limb. “What is it?”

“I’m getting to that,” Your nose scrunches at the scold of impatience, arms crossing in feigned pout. “I just think that...I don’t know, it’s really a cool, wait not cool that’s so juvenile.” 

Your head dips at his trip over phrase, hand sliding into his hoping to quelm his sudden nerves. He stops speech taking a moment for a deep inhale, grip tightening on your own. 

“Take your time, bub.” 

“I just want you to know how much it means to me that we’re taking another step towards sharing our life together, but I don’t really know how to say it.”

“I think you just said it perfectly.” 

“You’re just saying that, but I love you for it.” He lips meet yours in a brief press, his hand falling back to his pocket to reveal a decorative box. Not the velvet meant to induce immediate panic, but a fancy cardboard number resting in the center of his outstretched palm.

Outstretched. You realize he’s offering your prize as you scrutinize unimportant packaging, his brows lifted with the prompt of expectation. You quickly grab it, his chuckle at eagerness not unnoticed as you send a scowl of the playful kind. You quickly remove the lid, the silk bow carefully drooping the sides to reveal a key.

It’s aged in design, not typically available for the slot of a lock, and you glance to Taehyung hopefully.

“It’s the key to my heart.” He speaks the words without a hint of amusement, daring you to chuckle at the turn of phrase. You don’t, simply sliding the chain nestled between the intricate loops at the helm, offering it up for placement around your neck. 

“I love it, but may I ask what prompted it?” The obvious lies beneath your feet and walled around you, but Taehyung’s affection is routinely observed for the subtle touches and surprise pecks, in the burying of his fluffed head against your chest. 

“We’re sharing a place together now and I want you to know that to me we were sharing a place long before we signed a lease and we’ll be sharing one when it expires.” His voice soothes as the cool chain meets your skin, the key landing at the peak of your chest.

“You’re the sweetest man to exist and I love you.” 

“I love you more.” 

“That’s great, bub, but question…” You turn to him, the trail of your eyes leaving the metal rating on your chest, thought your fingers still trace its expanse.

“Hmm?”

“Do leases expire? Like is that the term, because I’ve never heard hat and--”

“You know, I actually think I left one more box in the car, let me just go get it.” You hear the exaggeration in his tone, trailing after him as he leaves you without answer.

“Taehyung, I’m gonna lock you out!”

“Love you too!”

[nambamjun]

Two Sides of the Same Medallion {KYC}

Pairing: Kang Yuchan x Reader (Female)

Genres: Greek and Roman Mythology, first meeting, strangers to friends, two witty and stubborn individuals arguing over a literal tree stump.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: This is for an ACEWRITERS event that I am absolutely thrilled to be a part of, Greco Roman Writes! Please feel free to visit the page if you have the time and check out all of the other lovely writers we have in the group along with their brilliant works! As always, comments are loved and welcomed, especially since I took one or two creative liberties with this one. I hope you enjoy ~<3

Nike is the Greek god(dess) of victory, and Victoria is the Roman goddess of the same calling. Of course they don't share the same universe... or do they? What if on a soft spring night the two would meet? Oh this is shaping up to be very interesting indeed...

There was really nothing to do. She had already run around the width of the largest island in Italy seven times. Every one of the laps felt the same, the proceeding taking just as much time as the one before it, and by the time she stopped she was only marginally out of breath, much to her great displeasure. The previous night she had counted once again how many times she could deadlift a six foot long tree trunk before growing bored (two hundred eighty three), as well as the number of pull ups she could perform from a sturdy branch before the same mental unrest met her (one hundred ninety seven). She really didn't feel like counting them again, even if it was to beat her own score.

So, no. There was, quite literally, nothing to do. This upset her very quickly. She hated having nothing to do. It got to the extent where she would almost rather there were fifteen tasks on her metaphorical plate than none, the overcrowding was almost easier to deal with than the silence. Sighing, she figured she would do what she almost always ended up doing - going to the wooded cliffs only a few miles away at the tip of Brindisi, sit against a tree, and look out over the Ionian Sea. The sun was set to rise in only few hours anyways and she never really did tire of the vibrant oranges, reds, and pinks dancing in the water's reflection.

She took her time getting there. She didn't exactly drag her feet but she didn't sprint as she normally would have. Might as well kill some time and take in the scenery. I haven't done that in a while. Ultimately she was glad she did. The spring's second bloom was in full swing and although the sun wasn't out to open up the flowering tree's petals their sweet fragrance still melded with the crisp night time air. Approaching the vista, she sensed that something was slightly off and her footsteps slowed to a halt next to a particularly large shrub. She peered around cautiously until her eyes landed on a form, seemingly human, leaning against the tree she has always claimed as her own resting place.

This alone made her eyes narrow, softly muttering, "that's my spot..."

Taking a deep breath she briskly walked on, making her way towards the offender and not even bothering to be subtle. They didn't look her way, not even when she stopped only a foot away from him. How rude. She could feel herself getting more and more petty by the second as she cocked her hip and let her arms cross loosely over her middle. She cleared her throat. No reaction. What the... oh come on... She lightly coughed. "Hello?"

The poor figure jumped and looked around frantically before meeting her eyes. "Oh my gods-" he gasped, exasperated, "-you scared me nearly half to death! You should know better than to sneak up on people like that!"

The prickle of annoyance lifted her shoulders. "Well excuse me for barging in on someone I've never met before who's sitting in my usual spot!"

"Hey this is my first time here! How was I supposed to know this is your spot?" He gestured dramatically to the ground around him.

"What should I put a sign there or something? Just nail one to the tree? Ah yes I can see it now, 'may no man, woman, or beast rest here; save for Victoria the great.' I could see that going over quite well," she huffed, the very essence of sarcasm dripping from her words as her eyes rolled once again. They settled on his face. He was actually quite attractive, now that she got a good look at him.

"So... your name is Victoria then...?" Just when I was about to let you off the hook, huh?

She sharply refocused her eyes onto his. "How do you know that?"

"You just said it...?"

"I most certainly did not!"

"Oh wow sure you caught me going off your nametag."

"Nametag??" She looked incredulously on her person for only a second before glaring at him. He didn't even have to open his mouth for her to know what he was thinking. His eyes lazily looked at her with a blank expression that said it all. Seriously? You fell for that? Sighing with a shake of her head she resigned herself to plopping down and leaning against a neighboring tree. Despite how much she wanted that spot it wasn't worth the effort, his wit was annoyingly just as sharp as hers. "Well, you know my name." He stared at her with... some other sort of expression, one she couldn't quite read. Curiosity? Recognition? It felt familiar somehow. Not just the look, something else that was so tiny she would barely even try to put her finger on it. "Yours is...?" She trailed off again.

He diverted his gaze for one or two seconds. "Yuchan."

"Yuchan?" He hummed in affirmation. She nodded her head, "good name, I like it. Took you a second to answer though, is that your birth name or one you go by?" His eyebrows rose highly.

She quickly realized the gravity of what she had asked. "Sorry if that-"

"It's just-"

They both looked at each other waiting to speak.

"You can-"

"You go-"

Small smiles crept over their faces and laughter threatened to take them both over. She reached her hand out towards him so as to say go ahead.

After a moment, "It's my own name, and it's okay that you asked."

A light and comfortable silence enveloped them. Names are a personal thing. She didn't want to outright ask but she did have a small twinge of curiosity that he picked up on by her contemplative expression. "Before I was born... people thought I was going to be a girl, so they named me Nike. It could probably have been seen as a guy's name, sure, but I never really liked it, so..." he turned his face forward to look out over the waters.

Curling her legs to her chest and loosely draping her arms around them, she slowly nodded her head again before resting her chin on her knees. "I respect that." Out of her peripherals she saw him slightly look over to her for only a second before refocusing on the view. She did the same.

Neither of them talked for quite a while. Crickets sung an aria that mixed with distantly faint rolling of water on rock, and every so often a rustle from the leaves of the trees around them dancing in the gentle breeze. It was so calm that for a few precious moments she forgot who she was, her responsibilities, and the challenges of being more than mortal. It was just her, the beautiful world, and her friend a few feet away. Friend... could she call him that? Might as well.

Unbeknownst to her, he was having almost the exact same thoughts. Or at least type of thoughts. He was glad he found this place, and even her, really. Home had been getting too much for him, his superiors only giving him more and more work to do, expecting him to be perfect all the time and be completely and unconditionally devoted to his work. There was only so much success he could give to others, though, before he would drain himself completely. That was something they didn't seem to understand. So, he stormed out, and somehow found his way to that spot. Wherever this spot even is, anyways.

This turned out to calm him down much more than he thought it would, and despite bolting from everything to be alone, the company was nice.

Meanwhile, the fact that her spot had been taken over for the night was completely out of the mind of the girl in question. She slowly allowed herself to be lulled into sleep, leaning more heavily against the tree and her fingers relaxing their grip on each other from around her legs. As unconsciousness settled around her like a heavy blanket he stole a quick glance at her relaxed figure. The corners of his lips turned upward and his eyes softened before looking back away. Exhaling softly, he knew he should get back, but he decided to stay for just a little longer. Just until the sun starts to peak over the horizon. Then I'll go.

But not yet, for now, he would stay there, in that spot, and with that girl.

A new friend.

----------

[[ Quick lil end note, no matter who you are, where you come from, or how you identify - you are valid, and you are loved. <3 ]]