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rkived · 4 years ago

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year 22 (m) — jjk

‘‘I knew you’d be standing in my front porch light, and I knew you’d come back to me.’‘

Pairing: childhoodfriend!jk x f!reader

Genre/Tags: angst!!!, drama, a lil fluff, f2l, e2l-ish, pining, slow burn, smut

Rating: M +18

WC: 11.5k

Warnings: time jumps, underage drinking, jk being a douchebag for most of the fic, reader can’t catch a mf break, mention of character death ((no major one tho)). smut in the form of oral (f. receiving), fingering, nipple play, unprotected sex ((wrap it b4 u tap it y’all)), my being called pretty kink making a brief appearance soz

A/N: i listened to cardigan for the first time n had it on replay the whole time i wrote this so ig u should do it too ! this is my first time posting smut on here but who would i be if i didn’t throw in some good angst ? also tysm to @periminkle for being my unofficial beta reader n checking it up for me, she knows i’m constantly looking for her validation n i def wouldn’t post this if she didn’t love it ilu vira thx for being the best ever mwah !!!

You’re five, cowering behind his mother’s legs, sniffing as tears stream down your face. In front of you both stands Jungkook, there’s remorse written all over his face as his mother stares him down with hands on her hips and a look that just screams that this is only the beginning of his punishment.

‘’Apologize to Y/N right now Jungkook, or I’ll have your father have a word with you,’’ she threatens with a stern tone, making her son quickly shake his head no. ‘‘You need to learn how to share your toys.’’

You peek behind her lanky leg and find the slightly older kid looking at you with narrowed eyes, ‘‘I’m sorry, Y/N.’’ He apologizes with a bow, but he’s obviously displeased with the whole ordeal.

His mother sighs and Jungkook pouts at the look on her face. She urges you to come out from your not-so-secret hiding spot and to go back to playing with him, even though you seriously doubt that will do any good to what just happened.

Jungkook’s bedroom door is kept open as he sits back down on his city patterned carpet, you twiddle with your thumbs and stare at the Spiderman poster on his wall. There’s an awkward silence between you two until you feel a toy bump your crisscrossed legs.

It’s the shiny red car he had refused to lend you before, provoking an argument between you two which eventually made you run out of his room in tears as you ratted him out to his mom.

‘‘Wooow,’’ you whisper in awe, taking the car in your hands with so much care, treating it like it’s one of your newest dolls.

Jungkook huffs, crossing his arms as he looks at you with distaste and he’s forced to settle with other boring toys as you giggle to yourself, making the car follow the carpet’s tracks. He learns then to never trust his mother again. If she ever says she’ll bring a new friend for him to play with again, he’ll refuse wholeheartedly.

He doesn’t like sharing his toys, and it’ll probably take him a long time to learn how to.

You’re nine as you hand Jungkook one of the multiple Valentine’s Day cards you carefully crafted the night before with your mother, adding all kinds of pretty stickers and shiny glitter to make each one of them unique. His is different from the rest, though.

You added hearts to the dots in the I’s, there’s a hint of your favorite body splash enveloping the pink construction paper and it fills Jungkook’s nostrils with so much force that he feels he could gag at the smell.

‘‘What do you think?’’ You ask the fourth-grader with a big smile on your face, cheeks tinted with a light shade of red as you see him reading the little message you wrote inside the card.

Jungkook lets out a mocking chuckle, ‘‘Are you serious? You like me?’’ He asks you, but it doesn’t look like he’s looking for answers. Your smile slowly fades away, looking at him with glossy eyes, ‘‘I don’t like you, you’re just a dumb little girl.’’

His card was the one you had invested the most time in and yet it only took him a second to crumple it with his hand, and another five for him to toss it into the trash can near you before he goes back to his group of friends in the school’s playground.

You learn how to hold your tears in then, thinking it’s a great accomplishment and that maybe now he’ll stop calling you a crybaby.

His friends receive him with high-fives and he smiles with gratefulness because they just saw how much of a badass he can be. Once recess is over and everyone’s going back to their classrooms, Jungkook nears the garbage bin where he had thrown the Valentine's card in, but finds it’s now dirty with yogurt someone tossed inside.

He grimaces at the sight and sighs, there’s no way he can save it now.

You’re twelve and you’re the only girl in the treehouse who hasn’t gone through puberty yet. It wasn’t something that bothered you until just recently, when it became pretty evident why none of the boys would even give you a onceover compared to the other girls.

“I don’t know if I want to play,” you mumble after Kim Jihyo suggests playing spin the bottle. You’re the only one who opposes the idea, though you could count Jungkook in given as he just sat there without saying a word.

Park Yerim rolls her eyes, “You’re so boring, Y/N!” The comment makes the rest giggle as you pout at being the designated party pooper.

It’s all fun and games of truth and dares to whoever the bottle lands on and you’ve been lucky enough to avoid the tip of the plastic Coca-Cola bottle to point at you, until it lands on Jungkook who has done a few funny dares so far.

“Alright, Jungkook, let’s make things even more fun!” Jihyo announces since she’s been the one who has assigned most of the embarrassing challenges and questions, “I dare you to kiss one of the girls here for ten seconds.”

The dare makes the boys cheer with excitement and the girls gasp with anticipation, hoping one of them is the lucky chosen one. Your lips part slightly as you stare at him sitting across from you, he’s clearly not comfortable with the dare, but knowing him, he won’t express his current discomfort.

His eyes land on you as you stare back at him with concern, hoping that he’ll speak up to avoid himself the embarrassment. Has he even kissed someone before? If this is his first kiss, you’ll witness it alongside everyone else and you can only imagine how terrifying that must be. Even though Jungkook’s always been a brave kid, you can always tell when he feels under pressure.

“Uhm, I’ll uh—“ Jungkook keeps staring at you and you feel your heart start to beat like you just ran the usual ten laps around the gym in P.E class. Are you about to have your first kiss? With him?

You nod your head absentmindedly, a sign to let him know it’s okay for him to pick you from all the other developed girls who probably have more experience kissing than you do, but it’s okay because you’ve always been a quick learner.

“Yeji,” Jungkook says after what feels like forever, though it’s only been a mere few seconds, “I’ll kiss Yeji.” He adds, removing his eyes from yours and settling them on the girl with the high ponytail and pink colored nails.

You bite your bottom lip hard, breaking the dry skin as you feel yourself taste blood. It doesn’t matter because no one’s paying attention to you and instead they’re focused on Jungkook’s neverending kiss with Yeji.

When you get home that night, you look at yourself in the mirror and frown at your lack of everything. Is this the reason as to why he hadn’t picked you?

You’re fourteen and Kim Taehyung just sent you a message through MSN in which he confesses to have feelings for you. Your eyes widen, rereading the message several times, rubbing at your eyes just to make sure you’re seeing things correctly.

You run off across the street to Jungkook’s house, ringing the doorbell quickly for someone to open up. You’re greeted by him looking at you with an annoyed expression, he had to pause his GTA game to come and open the door.

“What do you want?” Jungkook asks harshly, crossing his arms as he stares into somewhere that’s not your face. He’s anxiously waiting for you to spit out whatever it is you’re there to say.

You calm yourself down by breathing in deep and out, blowing the air right at him, “Does Taehyung like me?” You ask him, making Jungkook’s eyes widen in surprise and his brows to raise.

His reaction tells you that you might’ve just discovered a secret you weren’t supposed to and it only makes your heart beat even faster because if it’s true, then this is a pleasant surprise. Kim Taehyung is one of the hottest boys in the tenth grade and he happens to be one of Jungkook’s closest friends. You think he must know something since you see them hanging out at lunch.

“Uh—I don’t know, Y/N.” Jungkook mumbles, rubbing at the back of his neck, finally looking at you and he feels a gut wrenching punch in his stomach at the sight. “Taehyung isn’t a really good guy, you shouldn’t—“

“What are you saying?” You interrupt him with a question, confused as to why Jungkook was painting a negative picture of his friend. “He was really sweet with what he said, he thinks my eyes are pretty when they sparkle — I didn’t even know they did that!”

Jungkook grimaces and sighs, there’s really not much he can do here. You’ve always been so stubborn, so relentless. No matter how many times life tries to tell you something’s not meant for you, you challenge each and every one of it’s obstacles until you take what’s yours.

“Okay, then what are you gonna do? Date him? You haven’t even had your first kiss yet.” Jungkook reminds you with a mocking tone and you furrow your brows together because, how does he know that?

You stammer, “I-I have! I had it at camp last summer, actually!” That’s a lie, but he wasn’t there so he can’t prove the veracity of your statement. “And what do you care? So what if I want to date him?” You add with anger, not understanding why couldn’t he just support you in search of true love.

The thought of dating Kim Taehyung had never crossed your mind, thinking he was way too out of your league for him to ever notice you. But that confession sitting in your MSN chat now served as a nice feeling of knowing you aren’t as invisible as you think you are.

Jungkook scoffs, “Taehyung would never date you, okay? He’s older than you, he’s cool, he goes to parties and has kissed almost every girl in his grade, do you think he’d really like someone as boring as you?” He doesn’t mean to be so harsh, but you’re just so difficult and impossible to get through.

Jungkook’s used to the trembling bottom lip and the teary eyes that you give him everytime he says something that definitely strikes a nerve within you, but he’s always impressed on how you always refrain from crying in front of him. Last time you did that you were both kids and he probably took the last lollipop from your batch of collected halloween candy.

“Screw you, Jungkook,” you say through gritted teeth, and if looks could kill, he’d be dead already.

He looks at you quickly stomp your way back to your house, only heading back inside once you slam your front door shut. Jungkook enters his room to find two new messages in his MSN.

$$ kIm tAaEhyYyuNG $$: it worked!

$$ kIm tAeEhyYyunGG $$: she fell for it xDxD where did u even come up with the sparkly eyes thing?? that’s gold bro rofl

Jungkook sighs, ignoring the messages and shutting his computer down.

You’re sixteen and you’ve been invited to your first party. Granted, it was Jungkook’s, but he knew that if he didn’t ask you to come you’d probably tell on him with his mom. No matter what age he was, he’d always fear his mother’s scolding.

“Drink this!” Park Jimin says with his beautiful smile and you’re starting to realize why they gave him that very same superlative on the school’s yearbook. You take the red solo cup without any second thought, placing the rim straight to your lips and choke once you feel the liquid burn your throat.

“Ugh—What’s this?” You ask, cleaning the droplets of liquid around the corners of your mouth.

He chuckles, “Fruit punch!” The liquid is indeed red like the familiar drink you’re used to, but there’s definitely something else mixed inside. “Oh, and vodka,” he adds with wiggly eyebrows as he shows off the small flask he was hiding in his sweatshirt’s front pocket.

You gasp and hand him the cup back, “No, I don’t drink alcohol, sorry.” Jimin rolls his eyes and it reminds you of the many times you’ve received this same reaction from your classmates before. Always a party pooper. He’s about to take the plastic red cup from you until you quickly drink the spiked punch in one go.

The boy howls in excitement, “Woo, go Y/N! Another one coming right up.”

Jungkook knows he should be making sure everything’s alright downstairs. If his mother notices there’s at least one misplaced object, she’ll know right away something went down in her house while her husband and her were away for the weekend on an emergency trip to their hometown. Leaving him unsupervised only because they both believed their son was old enough to tend for himself.

But Jung Eunha had dragged him into his room with the excuse of wanting to see what it looked like, but the mini tour had turned into them kissing on his bed and Jungkook is thankful he changed his Spiderman sheets in exchange for some boring plain grey ones. Eunha smells like fresh mint and Jungkook is way into his head to focus on properly kissing her.

It’s not until his bedroom door is abruptly open, slamming against the wall that Jungkook literally jumps to his feet, making Eunha gasp as they both look at the person who has interrupted their awkward makeout session.

“Guk-ah, what are you doin’?” You curiously wonder, a hiccup following right after which makes you giggle. Jungkook’s chest rises and falls with quickness as he notices you look different from the last time he saw you twenty minutes ago when you were talking to Jimin. “Guk-ah, were you—you kissin’ Eunha?” You ask once more after not receiving an answer to your previous question.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks in concern, coming closer to analyze your weird state. You stretch your arm out to avoid him from nearing you, making him falter in his place as he studies your expression.

You hum, “Guk-ah, you busy. Sorry,” you apologize in a shy tone, ready to head back down and have more of that fruity alcohol punch you now found tasty, but you stumble and only avoid yourself from falling by holding onto Jungkook's door frame, he’s already reaching out by then.

“Are you fucking serious, Y/N? Get out!” Eunha complains with irritation, getting up from the bed and ready to kick you out of his room, but his free arm stops her from getting near you. “Whu—?”

“Eunha, go back down. I’ll deal with her myself.” Jungkook says as calmly as he can, thinking three’s a crowd and dealing with you wasn’t an easy thing in of itself. She’s about to argue, but he interrupts her again, “Go down, now.”

She rolls her eyes and bumps her shoulder against yours harshly once she steps out of his room, “Whatever, that kiss was shitty anyway.”

He pretends he didn’t hear that and takes you in his arms instead, dragging you to lay on his bed as you cuddle into his favorite pillow and hug it close to your body. How much did you drink? Why did you even do it in the first place? Jungkook knows you’ve never tried alcohol before, which means he’ll be in big trouble if you show up back to your house like this.

When you open your eyes hours later, your head hurts and it feels lightweight when you move it side to side. The room you’re in is familiar, that spiderman poster is still hung on the wall, but there are no more toys laying around the floor; they’ve probably been stored somewhere in his garage or sent off to a donation center under his mother’s demand.

The pillow that you’re hugging smells just like him and any other day you’d hold on to it tighter and inhale his scent like your life depended on it, but you abruptly sit on the bed as you’re reminded of how you got here. The action is not appreciated by your dizzy head, but you look around the room to notice how dark it is and there’s no more music playing downstairs.

You quickly jump to the ground, only to hear a “Fuck, ouch!” from below, stepping on Jungkook’s leg unintentionally. It makes you gasp, looking down to notice the older friend laying on the cold floor, having gotten rid of that childhood carpet of his. His head’s laying on a makeshift pillow made out of a towel and he’s trying hard not to shiver.

“I’m sorry, sorry, sorry!” You quickly apologize, stepping away from his figure as he soothes the shin of his leg you stepped on. “Jungkook, what happened?”

He sighs, “Someone decided to drink like five cups of spiked punch knowing damn well it was their first time drinking alcohol, stepped into my room like a crazy person, and then crashed on my bed like they—What’s with the face?”

“Bathroom.”

Jungkook grimaces while he holds your hair back, you’re throwing away all the liquid you had taken with a few additional snacks you had munched on earlier, “Are you done?” He asks in a tired mumble and you shake your head no.

He feels guilty that you’re in this position. He didn’t even want to kiss Eunha, but she was one of the most popular girls in his grade and he knew that if he turned her down she would most likely put a bad word in with the rest of the girls and the guys would make fun of him for being such a wuss.

That would’ve been better, because after laying you down on his bed he had to go down and tell everyone that the party was over, putting an excuse that the neighbors had warned him and threatened to call the cops. They all cleared pretty quickly, but he knew he was going to be the butt of the jokes come Monday. He even had to call your parents to let them know you had gone home to a friend’s house for a sleepover, which he knew wasn’t totally believable, but it had somehow gotten them convinced that their daughter was alright because they trusted Jungkook to never hurt you ever.

Once you feel like you’ve puked your stomach out, Jungkook hands you a pill accompanied with a glass of water and hands you clothes of his that might be more comfortable to sleep in.

“Good night, Jungkook,” you whisper once you’re laying back on his bed, still hugging the pillow he preferred to sleep with. He makes a sacrifice to make it up to you.

His back is going to hurt by the time the sun comes out in a few hours, but it’s okay if it means you’ll sleep comfortably after the events of tonight. “Good night, Y/N.”

He’s unable to sleep, but finds entertainment in your hanging hand beside his bed. The skin on your palm looks soft and there’s this strange urge inside of him that makes him want to grab your hand in his, but he refrains.

To calm the current chaos in his head, Jungkook finds peace in the light snores coming from his bed.

You’re just about to turn eighteen and your date to the prom is Jeong Jaehyun, who had only asked you out a day before the event because the girl he had initially wanted to take had been asked and he didn’t have a plan B.

Jaehyun is okay, at least he managed to get you a corsage that matched the color of your dress. He even smiles in the pictures your parents take of you both as you awkwardly try to look comfortable with his arms around you even though by then you had only exchanged a few sentences.

The prom’s theme is Summer Nights and you think it’s fitting considering this is the very last event before the graduation ceremony, meaning that you’d most likely never see most of these people ever again. You had purposely applied to a college that was outside of your hometown for that same reason. You’re ready to live the life you’ve always wanted to live, without anyone judging or knowing you.

Your date spends most of the night talking with his group of friends as you’re left alone on your table, looking at your well manicured nails. You knew you weren’t going to get the same prom experience the high school kids on T.V enjoyed, but you at least hoped it would’ve been a little more fun than this.

A tap on your shoulder makes you turn around to see Jungkook trying to loosen the tight tie around his neck. He looks incredibly handsome and you suppose his mother helped him pick the suit out, Jungkook rarely ever wore fitted clothing, so this is one of those once in a lifetime moments..

“Hey you,” you say and he gives you half a smile, wondering why you’re sitting by yourself at an empty table when everyone else was either mingling or dancing. “Where’s your date?” You ask with curiosity, you’re surprised that Jinsoul isn’t trailing alongside him given how she had behaved for the past week ever since he asked her to come with him.

“Retouching her face or something,” he answers casually, “what are you doing sitting here? Where’s Jaehyun?” Jungkook asks.

You shrug your shoulders, “Don’t know, probably talking with the guys of the basketball team. He’s been gone for a while.” Not like you care, anyway. If your conversation with him inside his car on the way to the venue had been any indication of what it would’ve been like for the rest of the night, you’re glad he's not here trying to make any more small talk with you.

Jungkook huffs, thinking he’ll kick his ass if he sees him. He had asked him to invite you so you wouldn’t come alone, and yet here you are, sitting all by yourself while the douchebag’s making a social life somewhere in the crowd. He calms down once he notices how unbothered you are by it, though. You’re a big girl now, you’ve been through too much to be affected by something as simple as this.

“Is there something you wan—“

“Dance!” You interrupt with excitement and Jungkook chuckles.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted something to drink, but—alright, let’s dance.” Jungkook can’t dance for shit, but you took lessons when you were younger and he can still remember how you’d always show him the routines you learned in class. He’d always boo you, but in reality you were pretty good. He wonders why you stopped, he doesn’t recall you ever telling him.

It’s just his luck that once you both step into the dancefloor, the hired DJ stops the up-tempo song playing before and switches to a much slower romantic one, “Alright everyone, I want all the couples on the dancefloor for this one.”

You step away from him with nervousness, it’s couples only after all. But Jungkook holds onto your lower back firmly, pulling you closer into his space. Your eyebrows raise as your lips part, “Uh, s-should we, uh—?”

“It’s just a song, Y/N. You wanted to dance, then we’ll dance.” He tells you with such confidence it makes you feel like this is totally normal and something all friends do. All the known High School couples are dancing together, heads tenderly placed over chests and chins resting lovingly above them. You wait for Jungkook to take the lead because you have no clue of what you should be doing, you might’ve taken dance lessons years ago but you’ve never slowed danced in your life.

Jungkook places his hand on your hip, the touch makes goosebumps crawl in your arms. He pretends he doesn’t notice it as he takes your right hand in his. You stare at the way he delicately holds it like it’s his mother’s fine china. “Place your other hand on my shoulder,” he instructs and you do as asked, your palm coming to rest on the strong muscle.

He’s only slowed danced once before at a family member’s wedding where his mother taught him how to, with her as the teacher. Back then he thought it was incredibly ridiculous, but now he’s sort of glad that happened because he’s the teacher now and you’re now looking at him with your big eyes as you sway alongside him.

You clear your throat, “This isn’t that hard.” Jungkook nods as he stares down at you, noticing how uneasy you are given that you’re looking at everything and not entirely immersed in the moment.

“You look beautiful tonight.” He says out of nowhere, making you look at him like a deer stuck in headlights, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He had never called you that before.

An awkward laugh escapes your lips, looking away from his intense gaze as you try not to take his words too literally, “Ha ha, that was a good one.” To you there’s no other explanation than this being one of his mean pranks on you.

But Jungkook doesn’t falter both his words and gaze, “I’m not laughing.” There’s seriousness in his voice and you have to look back at him again just to make sure he really isn’t, “You look beautiful, just take the compliment.” You nod and there’s silence between you two after that. You’re digesting the romantic lyrics that the singer is talking about and hope that the song ends soon, because you’ve never been this close to him and it’s starting to feel too crowded.

You clear your throat, “So��”

“So…,” he repeats.

“What are you doing for summer?” You ask him in an attempt to break the tension and wanting to take advantage of the little intimate moment since Jungkook rarely ever lets you pry into his private life.

“I think I’ll train before heading off,” he answers. It was more than obvious he was going to earn that sports scholarship he had been aiming for, he was one of the best athletes on the school; though you considered him to be the number one between them all. “I’m kinda scared, not gonna lie.”

You look at him with surprise, tilting your head to the side, “You’re scared?” You ask in disbelief because as long as you’ve known him, he’s never been scared of anything. This is the same kid who instilled your fear of monsters in a closet after watching Monster’s Inc. together, also the same kid who helped you get over it after he realized you had actually taken it seriously.

He chuckles lightly, “Yeah, I’m just scared about starting over.” It’s interesting how his biggest fear is the one you’re looking forward to the most, but you suppose it’s fitting for someone who has never had to worry about what people think of him. In this town, Jungkook has swam freely without any concerns. Out there, he’s just another fish in the big and scary ocean. “Aren’t you?” He questions, hoping that you’re able to relate to what he’s feeling.

“Honestly, I—“

You’re interrupted by Jaehyun clearing his voice in front of you two, making you both turn your heads towards his direction. You quickly separate from Jungkook and he feels his body lose the warmness you were providing.

“If you wanted to dance, you could’ve just asked. I’m your date after all.” He says smugly and you chuckle awkwardly, nodding because he’s right.

Jungkook wants to punch his stupid face, how dare he interrupt you both when he had been ignoring you the whole night? Why does he suddenly want to dance with you when he’s probably still upset at him for asking Jinsoul to the prom before he could?

“Your date’s looking for you, buddy. She doesn’t look too happy.” Jaehyun adds with a smirk as he takes your hand in his and drags you away from Jungkook towards another place on the dancefloor.

He’s left to stare at the way he holds your hand, and he only hopes he’s doing it ever so carefully.

You’re twenty when Jungkook sees you for the first time since you both left for college two and half a years ago. He’s rendered speechless when he spots you in the crowd, there’s a manly hand around your waist as you giggle into the stranger’s mouth before placing a kiss to his lips.

There’s only so much social media can provide him, pictures and stories aren’t enough for Jungkook to keep up with you. He thinks you’ve changed, not only appearance wise but you seem way more outgoing, carefree, and happy. Did he miss the boyfriend announcement picture? He’s sure he didn’t, he checks your profile almost every day and he’s never even seen him in any of your stories.

A gasp escapes your lips once you spot him, completely forgetting about the possibility of bumping into him given that both your schools were playing against each other that night. You tell Namjoon you’ll be right back and he nods, going back to a conversation with the group of college friends you had made.

You surprise him by jumping into him, arms around his shoulders as you hug him from behind. You let out a shrill of excitement and he blushes as his friends chuckle at the unexpected approach from this unfamiliar girl.

‘‘Jungkook! You didn’t tell me you’d be here,’’ you say once he turns around to face you and he’s able to see you better upfront. You look beautiful and he thinks the Instagram pictures are not doing you enough justice. You’re glowing, and it has nothing to do with the highlighter you applied on your face and collarbone area.

The both of you aren’t able to properly talk until you suggest moving to a different area, Jungkook apologizing to his friends as he explained he needed to catch up with an old friend. They don’t complain and instead shoot him teasing looks and small pervy comments that go by unnoticed to you.

Jungkook listens with intent to your ramble about what you’ve been up to. From your courses, to your roommates, the parties you’ve attended, and even the fact that you handle your alcohol better now. He’s happy that you seem so too, but it irks him that you hadn’t been capable of telling him that you had a boyfriend now. Is there a reason as to why you omitted that important piece of information?

‘‘And what about you? How’s college?’’ You ask with curiosity.

He blinks a few times, realizing you had stopped talking about yourself and was now wondering about him instead. ‘‘It’s fine,’’ he answers with a tight lipped smile, the lack of detail compared to you was astonishing, but even though you were still hungry for more you decided not to pry any further.

There’s fear in revealing that he’s been having a hard time catching up with the rest of his peers. College was indeed fine, but it could be better. He’s settled with the idea that this is as good at it’ll get, some things just aren’t like you expect them to be. At least you’re happy, and that fact brings him comfort.

‘‘Was that your, uhm─boyfriend?’’ He finally asks after a while, both about to head back to your respective group of friends.

The question takes you by surprise, looking at him with raised eyebrows and mouth agape. ‘‘Who? Namjoon?’’ He nods, though he doesn’t know anything about the guy he had first seen you with. You let out a wholehearted laugh, ‘‘Hell no, too many commitment issues with that one,’’ you answer and Jungkook’s forehead creases with confusion.

Why were you kissing him then?

‘‘We’re friends with benefits,’’ you inform him as if you had read his mind. ‘‘He’s a nice guy, though. Also, super smart, he’s helped me with a few of my─’’

‘‘You’re not a virgin anymore?’’ He abruptly asks, disbelief in his tone as he internally screams to himself for thinking out loud. Jungkook expects you to berate him about such an imprudent question, but is surprised when he sees you giggling.

‘‘Duh, silly. I think I lost it freshman year?’’ The carelessness in your voice makes him look at you like you’ve gone crazy. Why are you so lax about this? Why are you telling him about losing your virginity without a care in the world? ‘‘Anyway, are you going to be home for the─’’

Jungkook interrupts you once again, ‘‘Was it with your boyfriend at the time?’’ He asks in genuine curiosity and you sigh, rolling your eyes slightly at him.

‘‘No, it was some random dude at this party I went to. Could you please─’’

‘‘Y/N, are you insane? Why would you give up your virginity to some fucking stranger like it’s nothing?’’ Jungkook’s voice raises as he scolds you about being so negligent about yourself, ‘‘You can’t do shit like that!’’ He fumed, making you let out a breathless chuckle.

‘‘Could you stop treating me like a fucking child for once in your life? I’m perfectly fine, Jungkook. I’ve been doing pretty well for myself without you here, actually. I don’t know why you think you have a say on what I do, is it the entitlement you have of me that you still carry around because we grew up together? Because if that’s it then you can drop it, I let go of my little girl who wanted a friend and was treated like pure shit in return complex a long time ago.’’

He knows you’re right, but he thinks he’ll always have this odd sense of protection over the five year old girl who cried to his mom about not lending her his favorite toy. He’ll always want to apologize to the eight year old girl who declared her love for him with a Valentine’s Day card while he ended up breaking her heart in exchange. He’ll always wish to look for help within the twelve year old girl who witnessed him give out his first kiss to another girl who he didn’t even like. He’ll always feel guilty towards the sixteen year old girl who had gotten tipsy on a spiked fruit punch and crashed on his bed. He’ll always hate himself for not asking the seventeen going on eighteen year old girl to prom when he knew he could’ve, but chose not to in fear of ruining your friendship.

You only wanted someone to be there for you growing up and Jungkook had never been the brave boy you thought he was, always running from his fears in hopes he’d have a wide advantage margin from them. Yet here they are, standing right in front of him in the form of a twenty year old you, and they’re there to let him know that you’ve never needed him, yet he’s always needed you.

He can’t even apologize, he only looks at you with wide eyes as he fidgets in his place. Either you’re both too old now to understand each other or you just realized that you’ve outgrown Jungkook.

Your mouth set in a hard line as you crossed your arms, the night’s breeze feeling colder than usual. ‘‘I miss you Jungkook, but I can’t keep playing this cat and mouse game with you any longer.’’

You leave him behind to go back to Namjoon’s arms, seeking refuge in his sweet embrace as you try your hardest to put on practice what you learned all those years ago when Jungkook broke your heart for the first time, you should be used to it by now.

You’re twenty-one when you’re back in your hometown to attend the funeral of the old lady down the street, the one that always scolded you and Jungkook growing up.

You had been scared of her as a child, but always following along your friend’s footsteps when he proposed playing around her garden. It tugs at your heartstrings even if you hadn’t known the woman well. Her death was imminent seeing as she’d been ill for quite some time.

A taller figure stands next to you as you both stand way in the back of the ceremony. He looks tired and you figure that it’s because of the fact he arrived late into the night, you heard his car’s engine from your bedroom window. Dressing in all black, you notice he bought a new suit. You’re sure that the one he wore for prom no longer fits considering he’s bigger now.

You haven’t talked to each other since last year when you both left off on a sour note. The hurt you felt was no longer present, though. You chewed on your bottom lip as you thought of a way you could talk to him again without making things awkward, but you let out a small gasp once he placed his arm around your shoulders, giving it a small squeeze as he sighed and kept his focus on the service.

Watching the casket be lowered into the ground felt weird. She was a human being just like you, but her existence was a reminder of your childhood. Would it be okay to say that her death meant a part of you leaving with her too?

Once it hits you, it’s Jungkook who consoles you by hugging you tight. Your eyes are too blurry with tears for you to realize this is one of those rare moments where he’s holding you close without hesitation. He lets you ruin his tuxedo’s jacket with your mascara covered tears as he brushes your hair as a sign of comfort.

You know things are back in order when he proposes the idea to go back to the old lady’s porch, for old times sake. ‘‘Will we ever let her rest?’’ You ask him with a small laugh as Jungkook sits on the doorsteps of the old lady’s empty home, opening the bag of candy worms he bought at the grocery store.

He shrugs, ‘‘She loved us, always told my mom how much she missed us running around the street.’’ The revelation makes you smile, hoping it was true. He pats the empty space next to him, indicating for you to fill it up with your presence. Once you do, you feel the familiar warmth of his proximity.

Jungkook seems different and you only hope he’s changed for the best.

‘‘When are you going back?’’ You ask him with curiosity, hoping that he’ll be in town for a few more days so you can catch up with him on a better note this time around.

He munches on one of the snacks, ‘‘Tomorrow morning, I have training camp and can’t miss it.’’ His answer makes you sigh with disappointment, but you nod nonetheless. ‘‘What about you?’’ He asks in return, and you inform him that you’ll stay for a few more days to spend time with your family. There’s silence after that and Jungkook can only offer you the gummy worms in the bag, you take one with a small thanks.

‘‘College fucking sucks,’’ he says out of nowhere and it makes you look at him in bewilderement, ‘‘I hate it there, I wanna drop out so bad. But I’m a year away from graduating so it’s too late now.’’ You see his shoulders visibly relax, like a weight had been lifted off them. ‘‘Plus my mom would kill me if I do so,’’ he adds with a chuckle.

Last time you asked everything was fine. Had things changed or had they always been this way and he was just now being honest with you?

You rest your head on his shoulder and focus all of your undivided attention on him as he keeps rambling about what his life has been ever since he left this town. He’s had bad games, bad grades, and bad girls. But he’s also had incredible games, good grades, and a couple great hookups, and yet he still feels empty, it’s not enough.

‘‘I miss you,’’ he mumbles as he faces you, ‘‘I’m sorry for being such a shitty friend, you deserved better.’’ His apology is genuine and you can feel it in the way his voice trembles, sincerity has always scared him after all.

Jungkook’s never known when the time is right, and he misjudges the look on your face. When he leans down to press his lips against yours, he’s blinded for a mere moment into believing that you wanted to kiss him just as much as he had been waiting.

You abruptly separate from him with wide eyes and parted lips, ‘‘Jungkook, I’m─I’m dating Namjoon now.’’ He can physically feel his heart shatter, the revelation coming out like an old newspaper headline he should’ve read a long time ago.

He lets out a breathless chuckle, ‘‘He got over the commitment issues?’’ The rhetorical question is bitter.

You scoff, ‘‘And what about it? I preferred to wait than to rush into getting my heart broken.’’ Plus it’s not like you were expecting Namjoon to grow feelings for you, the whole no strings attached arrangement was named that way for a reason.

Jungkook looks at you with narrowed eyes and he shakes his head sightly. Old habits never die down, still so stubborn and challenging as ever.

He’s startled as you stand abruptly, fuming as you look at him, ‘‘I don’t even know why you care! Did you forget that you threw my Valentine’s Day card into the trash? Or that you kissed Yeji in front of my face? Or that you let Taehyung date me as prank between your friends? Or that you were making out with Eunha while Jimin kept giving me alcohol? Or that you asked Jaehyun to take me to the stupid prom even though I was perfectly fine going without him or anyone for that matter?’’

‘‘We were just kids!’’ Jungkook argues back at you.

‘‘It still fucking hurt,’’ you counter, ‘‘still hurts, actually. You think that by giving me a measly apology and kissing it better I’ll suddenly forget about all of it?’’ Jungkook knows it won’t ever make up for all those years, but he had at least hoped you’d be willing to give him a chance.

He wishes he could say something else. Explain that he had just tried to protect you in his own shitty way from everyone else or himself maybe, he doesn’t know anymore. He wants to speak up again, but there’s disappointment written all over your face, you’re not angry at him...just saddened.

‘‘Hope you have fun at your training camp.’’

Jungkook watches as you leave him sitting by himself on the old lady’s doorstep. A hand runs through his hair as he feels his eyes water, and he can almost hear a whisper in the wind that asks him why he didn’t stop you when he could’ve.

Jungkook didn’t think that his family coming together with yours for Christmas dinner would’ve been a great idea. You’re cold to him at first and it’s fitting for the winter weather, but as always it only takes for him to sit next to you for things to warm up again.

It’s with the excuse that you’ll run over to your house to grab a new bottle of wine from the kitchen counter that Jungkook trails behind you, both slightly tipsy on the different alcohols your families had offered each other.

Years have passed since he last stepped foot inside your home, you used to visit him more often than he did anyway. It still smells and looks the same; the only difference is that there’s new pictures of you hung up on the walls, updated accordingly to the changes you’ve made ever since you left off for college.

You’re sporting a big smile in all of them, which in exchange makes him copy the action as well. His lack of presence in your life has done you better than compared to when he was around, and if that’s the case, then at least he did something right.

There hasn’t been much said since the beginning of the night, just a simple hey out of courtesy. There’s so much he wants to say, but with no clue where to begin. Another apology is due, though he thinks it’s a little too late for that. He also wants to ask about what you’ve been up to since he last saw you, are you still dating the Namjoon guy you had told him about after he kissed you? If he’s still there, Jungkook rather keep quiet and not wonder out loud to you, he’s sure that it’ll hurt if it’s true.

Growing up Jungkook always mistook your bravery with stubbornness and your courage with relentlessness. You’ve always been challenging, but only because you wanted him to do so too. It’s moments like this that prove him that you’ve always been the stronger between the two.

‘‘So, we’re just gonna pretend like nothing’s wrong between us?’’ You ask, speaking directly to him for the first time that night. It makes him look at you like a deer stuck in headlights, surprised by the sudden question and out of all the years of knowing each other, he feels small under your gaze for once. ‘‘How much time is it going to pass until you want to finally talk things like adults?’’

Jungkook gulps the lump in his throat, his brain quickly thinking of the right thing to say, ‘‘I just wanted to protect you from─’’

‘‘From what? From you? Everytime you’ve done that I end up getting hurt in the end. I’m left to pick the pieces up by myself,’’ you interject with anger in your voice. ‘‘It fucking pisses me off that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you kissing me, I haven’t stopped thinking about you and─’’ A sigh, you close your eyes to center yourself again as Jungkook waits for the final blow, ‘‘and you look like none of this has ever bothered you in the slightest because, you don’t really care about me do you?’’

‘‘I do care about you.’’ He’s sure about it, even though he’s been extremely bad at showing it.

Even though your eyes are threatening to spill tears, you still muster up the last bit of what’s left of your courage to step closer to him until you’re a few inches away. ‘‘Prove it, then. Show me that you care.’’

His brain is sent into quick overdrive due to your close proximity. There’s a slight hesitation because he only hopes that what he’s about to do is what you’re demanding him to prove. He doesn’t care if you’re still dating the Namjoon guy because he’s settled with the idea that it’s okay if you don’t correspond, it’s not like he did the same to you when you were both younger.

Once his lips press against yours, there’s no turning back. He’s waiting for you to push him back and let him know that your heart’s still taken, but you kiss him with such fervor that he knows in that moment that you’re right, it’s better to wait than to rush right in.

It’s no fairytale kiss, though. There’s desperation in the way you chase his lips, as if you were to slow down he’d find a way to escape from you. You grip the cotton material of his crewneck into your small fists, holding on to the fabric like your life depended on it. The small kiss you had both shared last year was nothing compared to this, and Jungkook’s taken aback by your neediness.

He doesn’t know how you manage to drag him to your childhood bedroom without missing a beat, only separating once you both realize you need to catch your breaths, and even then Jungkook can’t have a minute to take just happened in because your lips attach to his neck to get more of a taste. His fingers curled around your arm, sighing at the way your kisses felt like electricity on his skin.

‘‘Y/N,’’ he calls your name out in a breathy tone, but you’re too immersed in your little bubble to even realize it.

Jungkook groans when you bite into the skin of his neck, then blowing over the red mark as you kissed it better. It’s going to be bruise and he doesn’t like when that happens, but he’s not bothered at all if it comes from you. He forcibly grabs your chin so you can face him, looking at him with big eyes, a small pout, and with your chin messed with drool.

It’s then that Jungkook kisses you hungrily, making you feel like you’re in a dream-like state, though you could partially blame the Christmas eggnog for that. The way he bites at your lips and how your tongues clash together is an extreme juxtaposition as to how you could describe this moment. It’s as if you’re floating on air, clouds surrounding you in a heavenly embrace, angels singing in the background every time his hands touch, grab, hold and caress every part of your body. And yet, even with such a difference, it’s perfect because it’s Jungkook. You’ve been waiting for this too long, which is why your hands creep beneath his crewneck, touching his tonified abdomen tentatively and enjoying the way goosebumps arise on his skin at the sensation of your fingers trailing patterns wherever they caress.

It’s only fair that he pays attention to yours as well. Jungkook’s lips trail from your mouth onto your jawline, planting wet kisses on each space until he begins sucking on the skin of your neck, making you moan in the process. He chooses then that his new favorite sound is the way you voice out the pleasure he gives you. ‘‘Hurry up,’’ you say, ridding the bottom of the crewneck higher over his stomach, making him shiver at the sudden change of temperature.

Jungkook chuckles before completely getting rid of the material, ‘‘Calm down,’’ he sighs as he gives you a sweet smile, ‘‘You know our moms could talk forever.’’

You ogle his chest, admiring the way his training camps have obviously done wonders to his body. ‘‘It’s not them I’m talking about,’’ you correct him with a teasing smile that only makes his grin grow wider, chuckling at your impatience. Jungkook lets out a small gasp of surprise when your hands grasp at his shoulder blades, turning him around so you can back him until the back of his knees hit the edge of your bed. It’s funny how he lets himself be bossed around by someone who’s way smaller compared to his frame.

Jungkook finds leverage on his elbows splayed against the mattress, your knees resting on each side of his hips as you leaned into him and kissing him just as widely as you had done before. Jungkook could fill just how quick things were escalating, especially the way his crotch area was beginning to become a problem he couldn’t possibly control at the moment, not with your own being directly on top of it. In any other situation he would’ve apologized with an awkward laugh, but his breath hitches once your hips start grinding over him.

His hands make their way on the inside of your knitted sweater, provoking goosebumps on the exposed skin. You let out a shaky laugh, halting your movements so you can quickly get rid of the fabric as Jungkook’s eyebrows lift in surprise at your haste and then at the sight of your bra covered breasts. His hands are still steadily placed on each side of your waist, only brought up because your own had redirected them over your breasts, hoping he gets the message on what you want him to do now.

Jungkook hesitantly squeezed one of the round globes, provoking a small moan to come from out of your lips. He wishes to hold you as close as he possibly can because the idea of ever being away from you again has been his main fear as of lately. But he refrains, you look so delicate and he feels like you could easily break. He stares at your body lovingly and your cheeks heat up at the way his eyes ogle your chest like a kid in a candy story. You give his arm a light slap and he chuckles, leaning over you to place a passionate kiss on your lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he says frankly. It doesn’t help to dissipate the flush on your face, but the compliment doesn’t bother you in the slightest. Jungkook leans in to trail kisses past your collarbones and into the swell of your breasts, making you bite your lip with anticipation. He looks at you asking for permission and you nod quickly with parted lips as you start to become impatient for him to make his next move. Jungkook lowers the cups of your breasts, freeing your hardened nipples and immediately envelopes one of them with his lips. “Mph—!” A sigh escapes your lips as you try to memorize the way his tongue traces over your tit. He pays attention to your other one, fingers rolling over the bud and pinching ever so often.

You can feel your panties damp by then, trespassing into the fabric of the black leggings you’re wearing over them. Reaching behind your back, you fumble in unclasping the hooks of the now uncomfortable bra. Jungkook’s forced to stop the undivided attention he had places on your breasts to look at you like he’s lost, why are you going so fast?

Once your hands delve with the buckle of his belt, he has to hold on to your wrists with a firm grasp, ‘‘What are you doing?’’ He asks with quick breath, you blink stoically towards him.

‘‘Uh─getting you naked?’’ You answer with a nonchalant tone, but his hands don’t let go and your demeanor changes, ‘‘D-Did you not want this?’’ Your voice turns smaller, embarrassed that maybe you had pressured him into something he didn’t want to participate in.

Jungkook quickly shakes his head no, ‘‘No, I-I do want this! It’s just─you’re going so fast,’’ he tries to explain, ‘‘I’ve been waiting for this for too long, I don’t wanna rush.’’ Your eyes lit up at the revelation as he waits for you to answer back, only for his back to hit the comforter with a small thud, giggling at the way you urgently kiss him again, but this time with much more care.

‘‘Why didn’t you say so before, stupid?’’ You mumble with a sheepish look, ‘‘I thought it was just going to be─nevermind, I need you right now.’’ You have to force yourself from spitting out any details that could possibly ruin the moment between you two, deciding to wait instead for any emotional confessions you want to make.

He switches positions between the two, panting as he brings you down to the mattress and Jungkook can feel the goosebumps on your skin, whether from the coldness of the room or because of the sheer electricity of his hands caressing your body like it was molded just right for him. He dips his hand lower, cupping your clothed heat on his hand. It makes you tremble and you whine, encouraging him to keep going.

“Baby, you’re really wet,” he comments with a teasing tone and you pout at him. His fingers hook into the waistband of your leggings and he pulls them down as he travels with them, greeted by the sight of the damp cloth of your panties. He exhales with content, caressing your thighs in an up and down motion. You twist underneath him and he has to hold your hips down to calm you down, “Patience is a virtue.”

“I’ve been too patient, do some—Ah!” Your whining is interrupted once Jungkook moves your underwear to the side holding it with his free hand, fingers coming to trace the slick covering your pussy lips. He becomes entranced with the transparent gooey liquid, bringing them close to his face as he separates his fingers and sees a strand connecting between them. “Guk-ah, p-please…” Your needy voice brings him back to reality, delving his fingers back into your exposed heat but this time with intent.

Jungkook’s thumb lifts the hood covering your clit, mouth coming down to give it a small tentative kiss. That action alone has you writhing above him, it makes him chuckle to himself as he dives back in. The moans you let out are loud and clear inside your bedroom, thankful that it’s only you and him inside your house. Your hand pulls at his hair, making him groan against you and the vibrations are felt throughout your body, only adding to the euphoric pleasure you already possess. His fingers trace the inside of your thighs until they reach your entrance, circling the fluttering hole which makes you pull at his hair harder and with your other you hold on to the bedsheets of the comforter tightly into your fist.

Jungkook’s tongue is still working your engorged bud, but he focuses his eyes on you as he dips the first finger inside you. “Oh—fuck,” you let out in a breathy moan. He tries to maintain a rhythm between his two ministrations, but it’s hard when he wants to focus on all of them at once. “‘Nother, please,” you begged once he let your clit rest, quickly following your request by adding another into your warm heat. He lets out a breathless chuckle as he notices how easy it is to thrust both fingers inside of you, your whole crotch area is covered in slick and his wet chin is a dead giveaway to where he was seconds ago.

He watches you unravel over him with such adoration, not even his wettest dreams or dirtiest fantasies could prepare him for this. Seven minutes in heaven he plans to stay in forever. “Guk-ah, I wan’ you. I-Inside, please.” You plead with teary eyes, and he slowly stops, removing his arousal covered fingers from inside you as he makes you sigh in the process. He kisses you again and again, your hazy brain is probably hallucinating all of this right now, but damn is it good. You tug at the crewneck he’s wearing, he’s too overdressed for this occasion. He tends to your demands, quickly getting rid of all the layers of clothing that stop him from being inside of you fully.

“I don’t have a—“

“I’m on the pill.”

You both speak at the same time, making each other chuckle. Jungkook gulps at the idea of taking you raw as the first time together, and you salivate at his hardened length; the head already oozing precum out and you want nothing more than to wrap your lips around it and lick the tip up. You’re just about to when Jungkook quickly grabs your wrist to stop you from reaching him, you look up at him with the big sparkly eyes he has loved for too long.

“I just—I wanna be inside you right now,” he sheepishly admits, and you smile with a nod; sharing the sentiment. You back up until your head rests on the pillows comfortably, relaxing into the mattress as you wait for Jungkook to ready himself. He places a kiss on your lips before placing a hand next to your head, using it as leverage above you. His free hand takes his cock and rubs the tip along your folds, making you squirm with anticipation. Jungkook chuckles, “Are you ready?” He asks with a sweet smile.

“I’ve always been,” you whisper, your hand tucking a strand of his long hair behind his ear.

A caress to his cheek as he nods, slowly pushing the head of his dick into you. You bite into your lip hard, it’s been a while since you had sex with someone and Jungkook’s size and girth was different from the rest. Your walls are tight around him and he has a tough time trying to reach the hilt with you squeezing him so hard, “Baby, relax for me.” He pleads and you nod apologetically, breathing in deep as you feel him reach parts inside of you, you didn’t know existed. Once he’s all the way in, he waits for you to give him the go ahead while he presses kisses into your heated cheek. You wrap your legs around his waist and give him a nod, letting him know he was allowed to start thrusting.

Jungkook manages to hit all the right places, keeping a steady pace as he enters and exits you each time. You’re left to moan and writhe underneath him, letting him take you as he pleases. Your kisses become messy, teeth biting into each other’s lips, teeth grazing against each other as you both tried to fight for the dominant position. It’s that heavy makeout that incites you to push at his shoulders, making him turn in his back, exiting you in the process. Jungkook pants, chest rising and falling with quickness as you straddle his lap, arms connecting behind his neck.

“You always want to win, right?” He chuckles with half lidded eyes, enjoying the way your pussy lips grinded over his twitching length. You bat your eyelashes at him, offering him an innocent smile. The same technique that used to get you everything you wanted when you were younger. Same determination as you seek for what’s yours. He’s under you after all, still a victim to your charms.

Jungkook takes the bulbous head of his cock and teases it in your clit, if you weren’t holding on to him tight you would’ve collapsed into his chest. And by the way you moan his name out, he knows you’ll always look for him no matter the weather. “What a pretty girl,” he coos into your hair and you pinch his nipple in retaliation which only makes him groan in return. “My pretty girl.” He states before sinking himself deep into you again, sighing at the feeling of your hips circling over him. His rough hands guide them as you bounce up and down his length, moaning every time you rose and hissing when you came back down.

He makes sure to keep this image engraved on his head forever. Your breasts bouncing over his face, your thighs working extra hard to keep up with his thrusts, and the way your sounds bounced off the walls of your bedroom.

“You’re doing s-so good, baby.” Jungkook praises you, kneading your ass cheek. “Taking my cock s-so well,” he falls into a trance of admiring the way his length would appear and disappear inside of you, covered in a thick layer of your arousal. It makes him drill into you faster, sitting properly against the bed’s headboard as he takes your hips with force. He’s too turned on to keep treating you so delicately, and the way you moan and pant at the increase in speed only lets him know you enjoy him like this way more. “I-Is it good, baby? Am I-I fucking you well?” He asks in between rapid thrusts, your thighs had given out by then.

You nod and a whimper escapes your lips, “Y-yes, Guk-Ah. S-so good, feels amazing.” Your praise is honest, the fucked out tone in your voice is a clear indicator of how well of a job he was doing. A minute longer and you’ll be right on cloud nine, never wanting to come back down. “Wanna cum Guk-Ah, plea—“ There’s no need for you to even finish your sentence because his thumb rubs your clit in figure eights, making you groan with the intensified feeling of his hips circling inside you deliciously. You can almost see the blinding white light ahead as Jungkook kisses you feverishly. You feel tears escape the corners of your high, the familiar feeling tickling inside you as Jungkook’s thrusts don’t let up. ‘‘Ah! Yes, yes, fuck,’’ you cry out once your orgasm hits. Jungkook holds you close to his chest, trying to soothe your shaking body with his arms. Your walls squeeze and relax continuously around him, it serves him as the impulse he needs to chase his own high.

‘‘I love you, Jungkook,’’ you confess in between panting breaths, ‘‘so much.’’

His release shoots out and he groans, digging crescent moons into your hips. You hiss at the sensation, but giggle at how his eyes are screwed shut and brows still furrowed together, as if he was holding on to the last of his orgasm. In reality, Jungkook is just hoping that once he opens his eyes you’ll still be in his arms. Your fingers tilting his head to face you are very much real, he sees spots once he opens his eyes as they adjust to the room’s lighting.

‘‘I love you too.’’ He says with a fixed gaze and you coo at how perfect this is.

You’re twenty-two when Jungkook’s finally yours.

You’re both twenty-three and it’s another weekend spent at his apartment, he’s been playing for three hours now and you’ve given up on having him pay attention to you. Deciding to switch your plan around and join him instead, if only he would let you play.

‘‘Jungkook, you said it was going to be my turn five rounds ago!’’ You complain with a pout, crossing your arms across your chest.

His gaze is still stuck on the T.V screen, ‘‘Baby, shhh, you’re gonna make me lose.’’ He mumbles as he tries to remain concentrated on the game in hand, but he can hear your humph’s from behind him, ‘‘Patience is a─’’

‘‘Virtue, yeah, who cares.’’ You interrupt him with a roll of your eyes, familiar with the saying a little too well. ‘‘Hope you remember that for later tonight,’’ you add in a mumble, but he doesn’t hear it because of the loud sounds coming from the game on the screen.

‘‘What did you say, babe?’’ He asks with a raised brow, hitting the buttons of the controller with expert ease.

‘‘I’ll call your mom and tell her you don’t wanna share.’’ You joke with a threatening voice, but Jungkook knows better than to take your words so lightly. He pauses the game and turns to look at you with an are you serious? expression on his face, you giggle as you’ve finally got what you wanted.

He apologizes by covering your face with kisses, pleading for you not to tell on him with his mom. You promise not to do so this time, knowing that the woman was probably tired of having to scold his son at his big age.

Plus, ever since Jungkook surprised you with the almost exact replica of the Valentine’s Day card you gave him all those year back, you’ve taken advantage to tease him even more knowing he’s at your beck and call. You always remind him that he came close because the stickers he used were not like the ones you had, but he remembered to add the hearts on the I’s so that’s good enough.

‘‘Alright you can play, but━!’’ He says after he finishes his attack of kisses, ‘‘I’ll be your guide, I can’t risk you messing my record up, no offense baby.’’ None taken as you nod excitedly, you’ll always take whatever chance he gives you.

Jungkook’s finally learned how to share his toys after all.

#heartsforbts #bangtanhq #btswritingcafe #jungkook smut #jungkook au #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenario #jungkook fic #bts smut #f: year 22

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writingsbychlo · 4 years ago

Text

let it snow | joel dawson

word count; 20,746

summary; the night is made for doing things you probably shouldn’t do, and the mornings are for running away from them. except, for when you’re snowed in, and trapped with your problems for who knows how long.

notes; this is based vaguely on the movie ‘two night stand’, but very loosely, it does not follow much of the idea at all, just the basic outline. you absolutely do not have to have seen the movie to read this.

warnings; smut, reference to unprotected sex, very light (accidental) slut shaming, that’s about it.

It took you a moment to realise that you weren’t in your own bed when you woke up, startling a little as you came to the realisation. Your walls were not painted blue, and you definitely didn’t have a desk that messy pressed up underneath the window. In fact, your bedroom didn’t have a view like that at all, your bedroom window looked straight out into New York city, and the alleyways behind some dodgy fast-food restaurants.

This was a nice view, calmer roads and little houses, fields sprinkled with snow became visible the more you sat up, and you hadn't remembered it snowing this heavily last night. Sure, you’d been rather preoccupied, and okay, maybe it had been snowing a little bit, but this looked excessive. Although, it would explain the deep chill in the air right now.

You were still a little foggy, jumping slightly as hot breath washed over you from behind the bedding pulling as another body shuffled, and you were stiff all over. Then, it hit you. Reckless, a few drinks in with your happily loved up roommate and her boyfriend, who made you feel more and more painfully single every time you saw them, before you’d retreated to your bedroom, tipsy and secretly bitter, and checked some dating websites. A cute guy, some witty jokes, a funny conversation, and then him.

Everywhere, all at once, a quick train ride and some frantic kisses, your clothes being stripped from your body as that same mouth moved lower and lower, sweaty and hot and barely stopping to ask questions before you were waking up now, a little bit panicked and filled with ridiculous regret. Rubbing a hand over your eyes, you forced yourself to roll over, as calmly as you possibly could, to try and take in the sleeping man beside you.

Messy brown hair, the same shade as dark chocolate, your tongue tingling at the thought of the sweet treat as you liked your lips, resisting the urge to reach out and see if the stands were as soft as they looked. His face was half-hidden within the pillow, slumped down into it, but pale skin reflected little brown moles, his hair beginning to speckle with a light tracing of stubble, the tingle of which was now beginning to make itself known again between your thighs. Long eyelashes on closed lids hid his eyes from you, but you had a distinct memory of them, burned into your mind.

Warm pools of amber and gold, swirling browns that glittered in the low light that had taken over, like flickering candles and pools of caramel, a shade of whiskey that you wanted to be drunk on, beautiful and bright from all the times he’d looked at you. He was handsome, you couldn’t deny that, an odd surge of pride rushing through you as you congratulated yourself on at least being able to pick out somebody physically perfect to have a one-night stand with in your self-pitying loath.

The blankets were sitting around his middle, one hand stretched out a little towards your side of the bed, long and veiny fingers, and you remembered a little just why he’d driven you so wild now, those same veins making tracks up his forearms, disappearing just before his biceps. He was toned, but not overly so, the muscles along his chest standing out, a smattering of dark hair between them, and you could finally remember tracing the slight definition of abs with your tongue, before you’d been tracing something else, and your face flushed with heat as you remembered just how much of the man before you you’d seen.

It felt scandalous now, to be sharing abed with a stranger whom you could barely remember, and to know exactly what he looked like naked, or how he sounded while moaning as he came, but to not even know his last name, or to fully remember the address that you were even at. It was dirty, it was filthy, it was wrong. Oh, but it had been so fun, an experience that everybody should have at least once in their life, a naughty little secret, the one night stand you picked up at a bar, or through a friend, someone you’d look back on fondly once you were ten years older, married and settling down, and as you thought about it more, your lips were still flicking up in a smile.

You’d laugh about it one day.

Slipping from the covers, you tried to find your clothes, not wanting to linger any longer, not wanting the awkwardness of having to deal with stunted small-talk and forced politeness as you tried to adjust to the morning alongside him, someone who was still a little fuzzy in your mind, and your clothes were scattered around the room within easy access, a fortunate happening that made you thank whichever god or deity might be watching you right now.

Sipping your jeans back on, you wiggled a little, trying not to make the flooring creak underneath you, and only pausing long rough to put on your socks, shoes held in hand as you adjust your jumper on your body, a hand running through messy hair to tame it. The man shuffled, and you froze, watching as he paused for only a moment, before flipping over and away from the side you’d been sleeping on, a sleepy huff sounding from him, but he was still snoozing heavily, and you let out a little sigh. Your coat was hanging on the rack, and you grabbed that too, anticipating ho grateful you’d be to have it as you battled against the freezing cold that was surrounding you, toes chilling more and more against the concrete, but you didn’t want to wait much longer to leave.

A scrap of paper, a post-it note from the pad in the hall and a pen that barely had any ink left in, but you scribbled down a few quick words, pinning it up to the corkboard beside the door, and nodding to yourself as you deemed it good enough.

‘had a great time last night, thx.’

With a smiley face and a sign on your name to finish it off, you were undoing the catch across the door, the chain rattling slightly as it fell loose, and you winced, waiting to see if you’d woken him again, the studio apartment he resided within offering little in the way of walls and doors to muffle the muted noises of your escape. When you deemed it clear, your hand sealed around the door handle, clicking it open carefully, and pulling the door towards yourself.

So close, the corridor in sight, but the alarm beeped loudly, and you jumped, the computerised voice startling you so violently that your whole body jerked a little, and you went wide-eyed. You closed the door, hoping it would stop, but the beeping only intensified, and your heart raced in your chest.

“Shit!” Your voice was hissed out in a whisper, and you panicked, hearing the man in bed begin to stir a little, and in a last-minute bid to try and reclaim what little dignity you had left, not wanting to be caught sneaking out, you tore the note back down from the pin-board crinkling it slightly and tiptoeing back to the bedroom. Placing your shoes and coat down quietly as the man began to surface, and you tucked yourself back under the covers on the opposite side, pulling them up to your neck and faking a yawn as he pushed himself up with a groan, sleep broken.

He wandered away from you, your eyes diverting from his body a little bit as the covers fell away, and you were grateful to find that at some point he’d pulled his boxers back on, because you weren’t sure you could handle any more embarrassment this morning. The beeping came to a stop, a mechanic voice informing you that the alarm had been rest, and he was rubbing at his face and yawning as he wandered back through.

“False alarm.” His voice was still raspy, filled with sleep and cracking a little.

“That’s so weird.” He only hummed in acknowledgement of your words, before he was shaking himself down, settling back into the bed and rolling onto his side, away from you as he fell right back into his slumber, and you sat up. “Bummer that it woke us up. I should probably get going anyway. I had fun, though!”

“Thanks, I think.” He was still half-asleep, barely processing your words, you picked at the sheets a little, trying to decide whether or not you were sufficiently polite enough to be able to leave yet.

“It was perfect for.. y’know.. what I needed. So, thanks, Joe.”

“Joel.” He mumbled, your brows furrowing as your legs swung over the edge of the bed, feet hitting the floor, and a loud creak sounded out under your sudden weight on the floorboards.

“What?” He huffed, deciding that sleep clearly wasn’t a luxury he was going to reclaim, and he pushed himself to sit up, pillows popped behind him.

“My name, it’s Joel.”

“What did I say?” Your fingers were doing up your laces, ignoring the burning heat of his gaze on you.

“Joe. My name has a little ‘L’ at the end. Joel.”

“Right, yeah, my bad.” You cringed a little, picking up your coat from the floor, and pulling it up your arms, an amused look on his face as he watched you.

“Did you sleep fully dressed?”

You looked down, shrugging a little and swallowing thickly as this got more and more awkward, and this wasn’t exactly how you’d pictured the morning after your first one night stand going. “I, uh, got cold.”

“Uh-huh.” You patted your hand at your sides, not sure what else to do, and he stretched his arms out, rolling his head from side to side, before looking at you again. “So, do you want to get some breakfast? Or do you normally just take off?”

“Normally?” He paused his stretching, looking up at you, a confused expression flicking across handsome features, and he made a vaguely confused noise, as though he didn’t know what he’d just spoken. “You said ‘normally’. Like, as if I do this so often that I’d have a normal and abnormal version of it.”

“That’s not what I meant. I have no idea how often you do this, I just thou-”

“I told you last night that this was my first time doing this, or even anything remotely like this!” You remembered that part clearly, because you choked a little on your words when telling him, and then he’d laughed breathlessly and kissed you, while pushing you back into his bed, and your face flushed as you remembered the exact moment, graphic detail almost disturbing.

“Yeah, but, c’mon.” You raised your brows at him, hands sitting on your hips as you stared at him, hoping your face portrayed the fact that you absolutely did not know. “(Y/N), c’mon. Do you really expect me to believe that this is your first one night stand, ever?”

“Yes! Because it is!” He stared at you blankly, before shrugging a little, seeming to accept it, but you were still feeling distinctly judged. “The only reason I’m even here is that my roommate and best friend had her boyfriend over, and I was feeling particularly lonely in the holidays, and they were, y’know, about to.. so, I had to do something, an-”

“No, yeah, you were sexiled, or whatever. I remember that. It’s just, surely this isn’t the first time your roommate has wanted to sleep with her boyfriend while you were home, so this can’t be the first time you’ve.. yeah.” He waved his hands, motioning between the two of you, and your arms crossed over your chest, glaring at him.

“I am sensing some distinctly judgy vibes coming from your side of the bed - which is odd, considering what we did took teamwork - and I haven’t even done anything worth judging!”

“There’s no judgy vibes coming from this side of the bed!” He laughed a little, shaking his head incredulously at you, and had your anger not been reaching its peak, you probably would have been a little more embarrassed. “Honestly, I really admire what you did. I wish more girls were that forward.”

“Forward?” You seethed, rolling your eyes at him. “There we go with that ‘slut’ thing again!”

“Wha- what ‘slut thing’? I’m not calling you a slut!” He moved now, standing up himself from the bed and you averted your eyes, letting him scoop up his shirt from the floor and tug it on over his head. “I’m calling you a girl, who went over to a stranger’s house at midnight. If only there was a word for that.”

“You know what, screw you!”

“That was a joke.” You stormed past him, hearing him chase after you with his own laughs as he tried to suppress them. “That was a joke! I’m sorry, bad timing.”

“You invited me here, just remember that!”

“That’s not quite how it happened, but it doesn’t matter.” He was biting at the inside of his cheek to contain his smile, fixing you with an amused gaze. “Look, why don’t we just have some breakfast? I make really good oatmeal, with a little smiley face made out of jam.” He almost had you, your resolve breaking just a little, before he was snickering to himself again. “And it’s not slutty at all.”

“Save your stupid oatmeal, I think I’m just going to take off.” You swung the door open, a bitter smile on your face as you looked back at him. “Thanks for having me, it was just awesome getting to know you. Have a great life, Joe.”

“Okay, cool, well, I’m just going to assume you did it on purpose that time, because I already told you a bunch of times that it’s Joel with an ‘L’.”

“It wasn’t, but don’t worry, you just have a stupid name!”

“Great.” He huffed, no amusement left in him as he stared at you with frustration. “Well, ‘bye! Lovely having sex with you!”

“Wish I could say the same!” You hissed, his jaw dropping a little, before his eyes were narrowing.

“Sounded like you had a pretty good time last night.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear.” You were prideful and mean, and you’d probably feel bad about it later but right now it was the only way you were getting through this disaster of a morning. “Especially when it’s something like ‘Hey, Joel - cool name.’ Like, what is that? Sounds like the first draft of a name!”

“Okay. Fuck you, (Y/N).”

“Fuck you, back!”

It was a weak ending to the argument, but you didn’t care, the door slamming behind you as you stormed away, quick to hold your coat closer to your body as the temperature between the apartment on the halls was radically different, your breath clouding in the air even from within the building, and you located the staircase.

It was only four floors up, the building being rather oddly constructed, only two apartments per floor, and it was unusually quiet behind all of the doors. When you finally reached the main entrance, remembering him coming downstairs to let you in last night, you undid the catch, your shoulder pushing against the fogged up glass as you made to leave, and a confused and slightly pained cry sounded from you as the door refused to budge even an inch.

You tried again, before you were wiping at the glass, to clear the condensation and try and see what the blockage was, but you quickly discovered it wasn’t fog but ice. Moving over to the window beside a door labelled ‘laundry’, you were met with the sight of snow piled up high, almost three feet up to reach the base of the window, and the roads weren’t even visible. You hadn't realised just how heavy the snow had gotten, and how bad the extent of it all was, until now, where you could see the

“Oh, no, no, no.” Panic flooded through your system as you realised just how screwed you were, trapped in a building with no way out, and your phone was dying, and you weren’t even sure whether your roommate would be up in time to come and find you and clear the snow before the battery died. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Pulling up google, you were quick to check the news reports in the area, finding that the snow had increased and come down heavily overnight, it was a city-wide issue, and there was no way that they’d be getting anywhere near where you were for hours, if that. It was still snowing, albeit not as heavily, but they were prioritising inner-city roads and train lines, not little apartment blocks on the edges of cute fields and open space.

Of all the people you could choose to hook up with, you had to pick the person who was living in the most inconvenient location for a snowstorm.

Glancing around, you realised this was it, you were just going to have to hunker down for a few hours, and in all fairness, it could be worse. At least it was clean and smelled pleasant. Settling yourself down against the cool concrete flooring in the edge of the room, you stretched your legs out before yourself, daring to tap the ‘call’ button on your phone, and bringing it to your ear.

You waited, listening to it ring all the way until it went to voicemail, and then again, and again. After three times, and a whole 5% of what little battery life you had left remaining, you gave up on your roommate, knowing that if it were you at home, you’d be snuggled up cosy in your bed and still fast-asleep too. Switching the device off to conserve power, your head fell back, resting on the wall. Most wonderful time of the year, my ass.

“No, it was super fuckin’ weird. Totally fine, and then suddenly everything is a screaming match an-”

You cursed under your breath, the one voice you had wished you wouldn't have to hear again, followed by rhythmic bouncing of footsteps coming down the stairs, and you glanced up, offering a small wave to the person whom you’d hoped never to have to see again, and his brows furrowed, pausing where he was stood.

“I’m gonna’ have to call you back.” Tucking his phone into his pocket, he took the final few stairs slowly, coming to stand before you, and you pushed yourself up from the floor, brushing the dust from your pants. “What are you still doing here?”

“Blizzard. A whole bunch of snow piled up and now the door won’t open.”

He turned back to look at it, adjusting the basket in his arm before placing it down on the floor, and moving over to the door. Your arms crossed over your chest as he did, watching as he pushed the barred handle down, shoulder ramming into the door, and a grunt left him as it refused to move. He tried it again, before rubbing at his arm lightly, and moving away to peer out of the window just like you did, a little shocked at just how much it was, and you rolled your eyes at him. “I told you.”

“I was just trying to help, there was no need to be rude.” He muttered, and you scoffed once again, turning away from him as he picked the basket back up. He wandered away from you, into the laundry room, disappearing from sight, and you sat back down on the floor.

You heard him test the taps, water still coming through them miraculously, the metal and water within not having completely frozen over, and you brought your legs up to your chest, arms crossing over your knees and chin balancing atop them, preparing yourself for a long while of being bored. It was after many clicks and dials, the soft beeping of the machines as they rumbled to life, that you heard him appear once again, dirty Adidas scraping against the floor, before he came to a stop in front of you.

He looked at you for a minute, seeming to analyse whatever thoughts were going through his head, and you raised a single brow at him, prompting him to speak sooner rather than later. “You can come back upstairs, if you want.” You stared at him for a further minute, jaw dropping a little, and he tucked the laundry stock under his arm. “It’s going to be hours until those roads are cleared, even if they do unblock the doorway. You’ll freeze down here, and you haven’t eaten anything. I’ll make you some breakfast.”

He offered his hand, and sliding your palm against his, he pulled you up from your position on the floor, dropping your hand and spinning on his heel to guide you back up to his apartment. It was awkward, to say the least, and you rubbed your hands together to try and warm them back up, the chill in the air beginning to seep into your clothing and cool you to the core.

When the door opened back up, you let out a little groan, wishing you’d suppressed it better but being caught off guard, and you heard the man before you huff a laugh as your eyes scanned over the small space heater that was set up in the corner, warmth radiating from it and spreading across the apartment. Hanging your coat back up on the hooks by the door, you shuffled through the apartment, not too sure what you should be doing now that you’d returned to the scene of the crime from which you’d fled.

You chose to simply follow what Joel was doing, repeating his name like a mantra in your head so that you didn’t mess it up again, and taking a seat at the round table with a few mismatching chairs around it within his kitchen, watching as he clattered about with pots and pans at the stove. You busied yourself with your phone, finding that you at least had a signal, and could access your social media.

Instagram and snapchat were filled with videos and photographs of the snow, taken aesthetically from the windows, roofs and balconies of people who were lucky enough to be in their own homes, curled up with steaming mugs of tea and the loves of their lives to take pictures from behind frosted glass of the winter wonderland that was more like the bane of your existence.

You replied to a few texts, and messaged your friend again to update her, leaving it there for her to read whenever she came back around to consciousness, to tell her that she didn’t need to rush, and that you’d at least found yourself somewhere to keep warm and safe. Your head snapped up when a steaming bowl of oatmeal was paced down before you, smelling delicious with maple syrup and fruit, a spoon clattering down beside it before the scraping of the chair opposite you was ringing in your ears.

Poking at it, you couldn't help but notice the smiley face sitting on top, the syrup beginning to sink in as the blueberries scattered over the top were almost half-submerged, looking a little wonky but still adorable, and you looked up at the man who was already tucking into his own, finding him staring at his own meal in silence.

“Smiley face.”

Your voice cracked a little with your whispered words, but his eyes met yours, pausing only a second before the edges of his lips were flicking up in a gesture of a smile, and one shoulder rose and fell in a weak shrug. “Told you I would.”

You only nodded, spoon stirring at the contents of the dish, mixing it all together and the face on the porridge disappeared as you blended the flavours, before lifting a heaped spoonful to your mouth. Blowing on it carefully, you took the mouthful between your lips, this time successful in holding in your little sounds of appreciation as the food hit your tongue. It was delicious, you couldn't deny that, warm and satisfying as you tried to fight off the cold that was still threatening to creep in.

It wasn’t that you hadn't worn suitable clothing, but you’d only worn a camisole and jumper with a pair of leggings that were undoubtedly on the thinner side, because warm clothing hadn't been your main concern the night before when they were only going to be peeled from your body an hour or so later, discarded to the floor. Now, you were deeply regretting that decision.

You also hadn't realised how hungry you’d been, because the headache that had been forming, throbbing behind your eyes with a dull ache, was beginning to recede, the anger that had been dwelling within your system was fading, and you were allowing your mind to replace it with guilt instead. You’d been a little crass this morning, yelling and lashing out at Joel when it had been your fault that you felt like shit, succumbing to the sensual temptations of nightfall and your loneliness, and blaming your decisions on everyone else when the sun had risen.

“Look, we’re going to be here a while.” You jumped, spoon clanging against the edge of your dish, and Joel tried - and failed - to bite back his smirk at the amusement of having scared you out of your thoughts. “Why don’t we just pretend like last night never happened? Start over again? You can stay on one side of the apartment, I’ll stay on mine, we don’t even really have to interact. We’ll just coexist until the snow is cleared, and then we can part ways and never meet again. Sound cool?”

You let out a breathy sound of amusement, nodding your head as relief flooded your system. “Works for me. Clean slate?”

“Great.” He nodded, that flickering look of amusement passing over his face again, and he reached a hand out across the table. “Hey, I’m Joel. Your roommate for the next couple of hours.”

You paused, letting out a sigh as he arched his eyebrows in a silent question as to whether you were going to leave him hanging, before you accepted the outstretched hand and shook it. Giving him your name in return, he nodded his head, before he was standing up, and taking both of your bowls away to the sink, dumping them into the soapy water that he’d already prepared so that they could begin to soak.

Crossing your legs under the table, and your nails tapped for a second, silence filling the room for a few minutes, and you desperately searched for something to say that you could use to fill the silence. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

His voice sounded almost as strained as your own, but you let out a little sigh at the fact that at least he’d broken the tense silence between you both, and you hummed. “Yeah, that's good with me. Do you have a phone charger I can use?”

He turned to look at you over his shoulder, hands still submerged within the sink, but you waved the device at him as he took it in. “Yeah, I’ll grab it. You can go and pick a film; remote is around there somewhere. Pick something good.”

You were more than eager to get away from sitting idly at the table in awkward quiet and waiting for the hours to pass, each tortuous minute making you wish you’d just remained downstairs alone, slowly freezing into a statue. The couch was large and plush, slightly worn seats but it only made it look more inviting, a plethora of cushions and pillows laid out for you to settle into, and just as he’d said, the controls were already out on the coffee table, a few coasters and random pieces of stationary covering the surface too.

Switching the television on, you waited for it to boot up, finding that he had netflix downloaded, and there was a list of films in the back of your mind that you’d been waiting to watch, and you flickered through them all as you stared at the screen. Narrowing it down, you felt like a comedy might be a good choice, lighten the air with something easy going and funny, nothing too intense, and the couch dipped at the very opposite end as your company sat as far away as he could, leaning against the other arm of the couch but dropping his phone charger down onto the space between, an olive branch extended in the form of a tangled phone wire.

“How about ‘Jumanji’?”

“Good film.” He mumbled, and you nibble don your lower lip, before he was letting out the breath he was holding and turning towards you. “Second one is on here too, we could watch them both. I haven’t seen that one, just the first.”

“It’s a plan.” You confirmed, clicking play on the movie and crossing your legs, leaning over the side of the couch to try and locate a socket, pushing the plug into the wall, and hooking your phone up the power, the device buzzing in your hand as it began to charge up.

Dwayne Johnson and Kevin Hart were an entertaining pair on screen, and as the group began to navigate through the jungle, you let yourself become immersed in what you were seeing on screen. It wasn’t all that hard, because Jack black was hilarious. The occasional echo of a laugh from one or both of you would crack the silence when something happened, and the picking of loose threads on your jumper had begun to stop as you settled a little more into the situation, your anxiety settling and not needing to be quite so stiff.

When there were only twenty minutes or so until the end of the first movie, your phone buzzed, and then again, a series of rapidly incoming texts, and flipping over the device, it was revealed to you as your friend. Swiping it open, you pulled up the texts, chuckling to yourself at the frantic collection of broken messages that she had sent to you.

[soph 🌹] only just woke up, so sorry!!

[soph 🌹] just checked news, no way to get to u!!

[soph 🌹] roads all blocked, wtf, when did this snow come down??

[soph 🌹] kinda funny tho.

[soph 🌹] only u would go for a hookup and get snowed in there.

[soph 🌹] is he at least hot? tap that again. fill the day with hot sex??

You scoffed, but your lips were forming a smile, and you could feel the glances that were being cast your way every couple of seconds, choosing to glance up and return the look as he turned to face you once again.

“My friend just woke up, she’s finally learning about the snow.”

“Did she know you were still, um..” He scratched at the back of his neck, other hand casting around the apartment. “-out?”

Heat flushed your own cheeks, before you were nodding your head, and he seemed or accept that, silence forming between you both once again as he turned to look back at the TV screen, but stretching out with a little more comfort, long legs crossing at the ankles from where they were extended before him, and he lounged back a little more.

> that’s definitely not going to happen.

You were only given a moment of reprieve, before your phone was chiming again.

[soph 🌹] why not!! not like you’ve got anything else to do

> probably bc we're not exactly getting along. civil at best.

She didn’t respond after that, leaving your message on read, and you assumed that she’d become preoccupied with the man you guessed would have spent the night there with her, and once again, you were envious of her for being at home and comfortable in her own space, when instead, you felt like you were walking on eggshells.

The majority of the second movie was spent more on taking in the details of the apartment around you, instead of the plot line and characters. Posters hung up on the walls, and you wondered how he could afford to live here, the place was nice, but there was nothing here that suggested another person lived in the apartment, but there was no way a college student could afford a place like this alone, unless his parents were paying for it. It was a nice area, the kind of place you could live with if you had kids or were elderly, and you were pretty sure on your way over here the night before that you’d seen someone walking a dog, making it the picture-perfect neighbourhood.

College textbooks and stationery were around, a stack of notebooks and text printouts sitting on the little table before you, and it was almost fifteen minutes before you built up the confidence to lean forward and take them all in with a little more detail. He watched as you went, your eyes moving to meet his as you waited for permission, but he never stopped you, so you picked up the first book that was on top.

‘Art within Literature: The Importance of Illustrations’

“Didn’t have you pegged for an art kinda’ guy.” You mumbled, and you heard him chuckle, before he was sitting up a little straighter, moving across the couch closer to you just slightly, to see which one you had picked up.

��Not the first time I’ve been told that, actually.” He grabbed at the controls, your eyes flickering up to the screen as the sound of the movie cut off, replaced by the boring drone of the local news station, but right now, it may as well have been the most important thing in the world as the two of you perked up to listen. Placing the book back down, your legs folded underneath yourself, and you secretly had your hopes up that they were going to be getting around to this end of the city soon.

It took a while, the list of places that were being cleared was working out from the inner city in circles, your hopes falling more and more and you listened, getting an update on the weather about how it was expected to be even colder tonight than it had been last night, and the snowfall wasn’t expected to stop anytime soon, but instead, you would be here even longer than expected. The earliest that there were any plans for the road to be cleared in this area was tomorrow morning, and sadness was once again spiking within your system, feeling the man beside you sag with just as much disappointment.

“Guess I’ll set the couch up for you, later.”

“Thanks.” You hoped your lack of enthusiasm didn’t show in your voice, because you truly were grateful, and he stood up, wandering away to his bedroom and grabbing the plastic woven basket he’d been using earlier as he went, presumably to start up another load of laundry. When the door to the apartment closed behind him, you were left in silence once again, and you turned down the volume and picked up the next book that had been on his pile.

This one was a sketchbook, that much was clear as soon as you opened the book, and his full name was written across the front page, information on how to return it if it came up lost followed it, smudged fingerprints from graphite and coloured chalks were also along the corners. Flipping the first page, you were caught a little off-guard by the image you saw, yet not entirely surprised.

Clearly, his passions lay with fiction and fantasy, the name of what you assumed to be some kind of ancient Greek novel, much like ‘Iliad’ or ‘The Odyssey’, because a range of different creatures and monsters were scattered across the pages beautiful drawings, incredible details and shading, and you’d never seen anything quite like them. You wanted to trace your fingers over them, but resisted in fear of ruining the delicate art, and flicked through the pages instead.

At the top of some pages the book titles changed, inspirations from different famous works, some you knew and some you didn’t, but the drawings were always perfect. When you reached the final page, you placed it down, guilt once again running through your veins as you remembered the way you’d snapped at him this morning, because the more you learned about him, the more you realised he wasn’t all that bad, and he was probably a pretty decent guy, if you’d just given him the chance to be.

Getting up from the couch, an idea was forming in your mind, a way to at least try to pay him back or make your appreciation known, and you found yourself again in his kitchen, hands on the cupboard doors as you began to look through them.

They were mostly empty, not much in place but enough to make it work, you were sure of it, you could whip up something out of all of it, and you moved across to have a look at the contents of the tall refrigerator hidden in the corner.

“Need help finding something?”

You startled, turning to look at him and closing the fridge, and his hands were on his hips as he stared at you, your arms wrapping around yourself gently as you shrugged. You couldn’t blame him for being a little putt-off, you were just a stranger after all, but you wanted to at least try and make proper amends with him, and so you let yourself be unbothered by the frustration flashing over his features.

“What are you looking for?”

“I was just seeing what you had in.” You waved a hand behind yourself, swallowing thickly and taking a small step around the dining table towards him. “I was just seeing what you had, because I was hoping to cook dinner for you, maybe? Y’know, as a thank you for letting me stay with you, and keeping me warm and all, even though I was rude this morning.”

“Oh.” The tightness in his shoulders loosened, his body slumping a little, tension melting away, and a bashful look flickered over the anger, taking its place as he tried to muster a smile for you. “That would, uh, be nice. Thanks. I don’t have a lot in, though.”

“You really don’t. Do you just survive on junk food and pasta?”

He laughed, a genuine laugh at that, before he was standing before you and reaching over to the cupboards, pulling out a packet of pasta, and holding it out to you. “What’s wrong with junk food and pasta?”

“Nothing! But it’s all you have!”

He only grinned, opening the fridge and standing to the side, double-checking what he had in. “Well, I’ll have you know that I make a great minestrone, and that’s what I was planning to have for my dinner tonight. You can join me.”

“I don’t know how to make that.”

“Well, I’ll teach you, and it’ll change your life. I swear it.” He closed the fridge, leaning back against it with a questioning look on his face, and you shrugged, but you felt a lot more comfortable already, the simple banter between you both mending a broken bridge.

“I was supposed to be cooking you dinner though.”

“You can be my sous-chef, how about that?” Now that was a deal you could work with, and you shook his hand, this time it was filled with giggles and wide smiles, as opposed to the last time you’d come to an agreement over breakfast only a few hours ago, the beginning of the day bringing much brighter prospects than the early morning had. “Now, what do you want to do until then?”

That was a good question, and it took you a minute to think about it, eyes glancing around his apartment for inspiration, pausing on the television stand with boxes of games stacked up underneath, and you lit up a little. “How about board games?”

He groaned, loudly, and you found amusement in it once again, being that this was his apartment, and he was finding issues with his own methods of entertainment and possessions. “Nobody plays board games while sober.”

“It's midday! We’re not getting drunk at midday!”

It was scandalous, and you didn’t have much more space to give over to scandals within the next twenty-four hours, pretty much having reached your quota already, and a cheeky look flickered over his features. “Well, we don’t necessarily have to drink..”

“What are you suggesting?”

Your eyes narrowed on him, and he spun on his heel, not saying a thing but letting you follow him. He cleared the books from the coffee table, stacking them all away on the floor in the corner, before lifting up the fold in the middle. He reached inside, and you waited patiently, your jaw dropping as he revealed the item to you, looking more than proud of himself.

A bong, tall with green glass, and it was decorated and bejewelled along the bottom, stickers and actions figures stuck to it, the whole collections making you snort a laugh as you looked at him, before your hands were landing on your hips and a look that you hoped read as ‘seriously?’ written on your face.

“What, you don’t want to?” He waited a moment longer, nibbling on his lower lip, before sitting on the opposite side of the coffee table and finding his lighter. He also reached for the first box on the top of the file, producing a box with one word across the front, brightly coloured and you recognised it. “Suit yourself, but I am. I need something to get through the whole afternoon with you.”

The comment would have stung a lot more had it not been for the cheeky wink that he added onto the end to tell you he was joking, and you sat cross-legged opposite him, picking up the box labelled ‘UNO’ and tipping the deck out into your hands. He clicked at the lighter, waiting for it to spark up, before his mouth was meeting one end of the glass, the contents inside bubbling and gurgling a little as he inhaled, and you dealt out the cards.

He hummed, head tipping back, eyes closed as he settled into the feeling of his eye, and as though he could feel you watching him, his head fell forwards, eyes opening to look at you. “Sure you don’t want any?”

You waited only a moment longer, before huffing out, holding your hand out for them both. “Fine, hand it over.” He placed both pieces on the table, sliding them across the polished wood to you, and you picked them up. Clicking on the flame, you adjusted it in your hand, lips pressing to the cool rim of glass, swilling it a little for good measure, before you were lighting up the end.

Steamy smoke curled up into your lungs as you inhaled deeply, warmth racing through your body as a tingling kind of feeling ran through your throat, tickling and making you grin, in a way that you were familiar with and yet hadn't been accustomed to in a long time. The buzzing feeling raced through your body, already kick-starting nerves and reactions that had felt dormant for a long time.

You hadn't been to a party, a real and exciting college party, since your break up. You’d locked in and sealed yourself away ever since your heart had been broken, and it felt good to adventure back out into the world like this, even if you were locked away with a guy from halfway across town whom you’d known for about twelve hours. “Okay, you were right.”

“Feel better?” He grinned, holding his hand out for the device, and for a little while, the two of you simply shared it between you, letting that initial tingle grow into a proper buzz the world around you beginning to slip away into a haze. Your vision was soft around the edges, slightly out of focus, and the world felt a little more comfortable. Spreading your legs out underneath the coffee table, your back leaned against the couch, feet in his lap as he sat with his legs crossed and folded under him.

When you’d decided your high was enough, you’d started with the games. ‘UNO’ had brought on rivalry and chaos, the two of you raising your voices to the point that you’d been yelling at one another, throats going a little sore as you cursed and laughed, not quite sentient enough now to make the best calls at the game, and so it had felt like it had dragged on for hours, before you had finally been the champion.

He had challenged you to a rematch in the form of a board game called ‘Frustration’, and the two of you had been so busy playing that the time was slipping away around you, the board being flipped by you as he began to win, counters scattering across the floor, and he looked completely and utterly insulted at it, before cracking up laughing with you once again.

After that, you had sprawled all of the games out over the floor, some of them being team games that you were unable to play together, and you’d refused to play a drawing game with him, because you’d peeked at his designs, and were scared to showcase your own drawing in front of him, worried that he’d completely put you to shame and leave you embarrassed.

Poker had been too much of a challenge, half of the pieces for the monopoly board were missing, and you’d done every round of Mario Kart at least once by the time it had come to turning off the console under the TV. Joining you by your side, the two of you were slumped lazily into the couch cushions, shoulders pressed together as the bong sat between you, fresh hits racing through your systems to keep everything exciting, but the thrill of the act itself was beginning to die off, and you were once again out of things to do for entertainment.

At some point, the light outside of the windows had faded, the clumps of snow that had been left along the windowsill were still rising, flakes still falling in flurries from the clouds, except what had once been visible in the day was now dark, the low light of the lamps in the room spilling golden light out across the walls and carpet. Rolling your head to the side, you took in the man sitting before you, watching as he tapped his feet repetitively on the coffee table to the beat of a song you didn’t recognise.

“I looked at your drawings.”

“What?” He paused, twisting to look at you, and he sat up a little further.

“I was being nosey. Earlier, I looked at the drawings in your sketchbook.” His gaze flickered to the leather-bound book in the corner, stacked up with the rest of his belongings, before getting up and putting the bong away, folding the edge of the table back down, and wiping a hand over his face, cheeks tinted pink, and you weren’t sure if it was from the warmth of the room or out of embarrassment. “They’re incredible. Some of the best illustrations I’ve ever seen, actually.”

“You really think so?”

“Yeah. I could never draw like that. I can’t even draw stick men without them being wobbly, sometimes.” He smiled again at that, and you found an odd feeling running through you at the idea that you were able to make him smile, your stomach clenching and twisting as he looked at you fondly, shaking his head a little, eyes dropping to the floor.

“I don’t get a lot of practice with it, I can’t get any apprenticeships yet because nobody wants to hire someone who’s only experience is in one element. Mine being fantasy-sorts, I suppose.”

“Will you draw me?”

“What?” He looked a little startled, eyes wide, and you shuffled forwards on the couch, hand twitching to reach out and take his as you tried to reassure him, watching uncertainty flick over his face. “I don’t really have experience with drawing people. More the imaginary things, described but never seen, less to fuck up if there’s nothing to compare it to.”

“I don’t think you’ll fuck it up.” He swallowed thickly, moving to kneel on the other side of the table, his sketchbook in hands as he fidgeted with it.

“If I mess it up, don’t make me show you, okay?” You only nodded, and he hesitated a moment longer, before getting himself into a more comfortable position, searching through the drawers around him to find his pencils and equipment, laying them out and taking an extra amount of time to line them all up perfectly, and you were sure it was because he wanted to give himself a spare few seconds to hype himself up to it.

You waited patiently, just now beginning to process what was about to happen, and that you’d have to sit still for a long time, while he stared at you, drawing every highlight and flaw of you, while you remained steady under his gaze for as long as it took. When he was ready, you moved yourself a little more, sinking down onto the floor after rounding the coffee table, sitting at the side of it as he positioned you.

“Can you, um-” He tugged two fingers on his own t-shirt, and you looked down at your hoodie, the hood of it crowding around your shoulders, and you nodded, tugging it up from the bottom and over your head. A cool breeze swept over your skin, exposed with only the thin satin camisole hanging on your body to keep you warm, but you felt yourself light up on fire with the way his eyes swept over you. “However you’re comfortable. I’m just going to draw your head and shoulders, so, do whatever you want.”

You pressed your elbows to the wood, hand forming a loose fist and your cheek pressed to it, leaning like that, a slight ankle, and he nodded his head to himself, seeming to approve of the pose. Picking up a pencil, he studied you for a second, the nib hovering over the paper as he held it at an angle that couldn't see, perfect for him to work on though, before stopping.

Placing the pencil between his lips, he held it there, reaching forwards to pull a few strands of your hair free on either side, framing your face and letting them dangle there, curling one around his finger a little to make it twisted, before he was pulling back. “You’re so pretty.”

After that, he was working. Quick strokes of his pencil over the paper as he created the first outline of you, your head, where and how your hair would fall, your hand holding up your head and down to the spaghetti straps on your shoulders, quick movements, a lot of erasing, and very light brushes of the graphite over the paper. Once he was sure he had the form right, only a few minutes in, he started on the details.

His eyes, lingering on your face, licking at his lips to keep them wet as he worked, parted for short breaths, unaware of what he was doing and you resisted biting down on your own as you looked at him, trying to hold your position. It was hard, the look of concentration on his face while staring at your mouth, or the determination in his eyes as he held your gaze and yet was so far away, taking in every little detail, until he was rubbing his finger over certain spots to create shading, and create the minute detailed with finally sharped tips.

Your arm was sore and neck aching when he finally told you that you could sit up, and you rolled your head from side to side, loosening the muscles and tendons that had begun to lock up from the prolonged length of time motionless. He was clutching the pad to his chest, fingers tapping at the back, some slightly smudged with grey graphite, and you inched closer to him.

“Can I see?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” He tried to laugh at his own comment, but was nervous, and you placed a hand over his gently, pulling it toward you slowly, and he gave no reluctance, but wasn’t moving of his own accord. “Okay, you can look, but you have to remember that I’m not good at drawing people, and I’m still high as fuck.”

You’d almost forgotten about that, and it was just now clicking with you why you’d been bold enough to do something like model for a sketch, your inhibitions lower, the boldness of nightfall giving you yet another boost in something that you’d never have done earlier in the day. Taking it from him, you turned it around, seeing the nervous look on his face before you were looking down at the sketch. His own worries had prepared you for the worst, but as you looked at it, you decided it wasn’t all that bad.

There was certainly work to be done, but he had the basic forms down, even you could tell that. It was clear that his skill lay elsewhere, the detailing of things like fins and scales was nothing like drawing the subtle imperfections of skin and the dips and dimples of a face, the creases where a fist held a head up nothing like the folds along the back of a monster, but he certainly had a grounding to work from, and you loved what you were seeing despite it all.

“I love it.”

“You’re totally lying to me.” He mumbled, and you shook your head, placing the notepad down, and fixing your attention on him. “It fuckin’ sucks.”

“It does not! I think it's really good. Especially since you said you had no practice, I was expecting something bad. This is so much better than you made it out to be.”

His lips flicked up at the sides, his head raising, bringing him a little closer to you as he straightened out, feeling better about it all now. “You should’ve seen some of the things I drew in high school. My portraits were awful back then, but I was drawing people while in the car, so it wasn't the smoothest of working places.”

“Yeah, well, I think you’ve come a long way since high school, and I think you’re really talented.”

He hummed, eyes flicking down to your lips again, and this time, as he licked at his own, there was no excuse of artwork, or anything else, your heart jumping slightly in your chest. There was a moment, a second’s hesitation as you questioned whether this was what you wanted. There was time to stop, to pull back, his nose bumping yours lightly, warm breath washing over your mouth, and you were a second away from closing the gap, before loud knocking was sounding at the door, and making the decision for you.

Pulling back, his gaze went over your head, brows furrowing as he stared at the door. “Hello?”

You winced at the loud shout, and he mumbled an apology upon realising it, slight disappointment surging through you, but not as much as relief. You were growing more and more attached to this man, but at the end of the snowstorm, you’d still have to leave, and he was still a stranger. You were high, and the romanticism of the situation was morphing things to look rose-tinted and alluring, and you wanted to be of a rational mind to make a decision like that. “Hey, Joel! It’s Mandy, I was wondering if you would grab your stuff from the laundry room, so I can put a couple of loads through?”

His eyes went wide, gaze dropping to your own for a second. “Shit, I totally forgot about the laundry!”

His hand slipped down to yours, fingers lacing together as he tugged you up from the floor, handing you the basket that had been discarded hours ago, and he opened the door, an older woman who looked positively exhausted, arms full of boy’s clothing, and you pitied her knowing that she must be trapped in a shoebox apartment with a son who would be bouncing off of the walls and unable to burn off that energy.

“Sorry, Mandy, I forgot about it. We’ll grab it now.”

“We?” You muttered, the woman’s eyes flickering over you in amusement, and you were tugged out of the apartment and towards the stairs quickly, hearing the door close behind you, and the much slower steps of the tired mother as she trailed you.

The concrete was cold underfoot, especially the lower you got, and you hissed as your sock-covered feet hit the icy stone, never having had a chance to put on your shoes. Putting the container down, he opened it up, steam curling out into the air, even though the dryer had been finished for hours.

‘You couldn't have let me put my jumper on before we came down here? It’s literally freezing over right outside that window.” You mumbled, Joel turning to you, and he cringed a little, as though he had only just remembered the scrap of fabric you were wearing as a top. Pulling an armful of the warm clothing, he sorted through them, pulling a cosy looking jacket from within, and wrapping it over your shoulders. Heat seeped back into your body, warmed from the machine, and you barely noticed the mother entering the room, waiting for Joel to clear his clothes out, watching as you ripped the hoodie up along the front of your body, hood pulled up and hands made into paws by the long sleeves.

“You look cute.”

“I look cold.” You retorted, and he only rolled his eyes, but Mandy laughed, and that was enough recognition for you.

“Yeah, well, we can make some hot food when we get upstairs and you’ll be fine, how about that?” He sat the collection under one arm, offering his other hand to you, and you pushed up the sleeve of the borrowed hoodie, weaving your fingers with his as he guided you from the room.

“I’ve been waiting for this minestrone you’ve been boasting about. I need to see if it lives up to the hype.

“Hey, everyone loves my minestrone!” He backed his way into the home, dropping your hand in order to place down the basket that wouldn’t be looked at for hours now, you were sure. He ushered you into the kitchen, hurting you along until his hands were tickling at your sides and you were squirming under his touch, laugh loudly as he pushed you into the little room.

You worked alongside him, trying to take in the information he was giving to you but it was hard, because the little things he was doing were distracting you. The way in which his hands moved as he chopped the vegetables or prepare the meat, the passionate easy his voice sounded as he told you all about it, his eyes sparkling a little while instructing you, and the little jokes he’d make while bumping you out of the way with his hip, or guiding you around with nudges of his elbow or shoulders.

While cooking, he opened up a little, a story that you’d never have expected to learn from him, but he told you anyway. His parents had died in a car accident when he was young, too young to really remember them, but he’s been allowed to take several boxes of things with him to his foster home as he waited for adoption, and he’d taken his mother’s recipe book as one of those items.

When he’d been adopted, a man whose family had died and he’d become a foster parent, had helped him experiment with his cooking and drawing, instead of forcing him into typical paths for men to take, making him become a football player or a lawyer like he’d expected he’d end up after leaving the system.

A younger sister, also adopted from another family called Minnow, and a dog adopted from a shelter called ‘Boy’, and suddenly, in the space of time that it had taken to make the meal, delicious smell floating around you, he’d spilled to you his history, and you’d listened quietly as he got it off his chest, figuring out somewhere along the way that you were probably one of the only people to ever know this story.

You weren’t sure if that brought you comfort or not, whether he was telling you out of trust and connection, or whether he was telling you because he knew that you’d never see one another again after today, and so he didn’t mind sharing his deepest protected truths. During the heavy discussion, the nibbling of food and the time passing you by, the high you’d once claimed was beginning to fizzle out, everything coming back to sharpness once again, and yet somehow, just by being in his presence, you still felt that same freedom.

When you were sitting back at the table, he was staring at you with excitement now, watching as you lifted a spoonful of the concoction to your lips to try it, seemingly leaving behind the heavy conversation that had taken place as he simply moved on. You took a longer than needed time to assess it, humming contemplatively just to put him through his paces, before finally giving in.

“Okay, this is really good, I’ll give you that.”

“I told you so!” He cheered loudly, arms thrown up in the air, and you laughed a little, tucking into your meal, and wiping up one of the bread rolls that he'd placed into the middle of the table for you both.

You were tempted to ask him for the recipe, knowing that one day you’d be craving it again, and yet, you weren’t sure if you could, whether it would be appropriate or whether that would be crossing a line, to ask to take away a piece of something that he shared with his late mother.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.” You spoke, tearing off a mouthful of bread roll after dipping it into the soup mix, and chewing slowly as you waited for him to reply.

“Did you mean it?” You paused your chewing, confusion making itself known on your face as you silently questioned what he meant, stirring your dinner with your spoon as you waited for him to elaborate, and he swallowed his mouthful to do so. “When you said my name sounded like a first draft of a name.”

For the umpteenth time today, embarrassment and regret was flooding through you, and you took your time to finish the food you were eating, his gaze lingering on you as he waited. When you couldn't stall any longer, you sipped at your water, before giving in. “Yes, I did.” His mouth pursed into a thin line, and you reached a hand out across the table, trying to contain your amusement. “Like, a really good first draft, though, almost there!”

“Nice save.”

Silence fell between you both once again, eating food in a comfortable quiet, and once again the direct parallel to this morning’s porridge struck through you, only twelve hours having passed and yet absolutely everything was different between you both. You couldn't put your finger on what it was about him, something that had caught your attention the first time around had now got you captive again, and there was just something adorably charming about everything he did.

Handsome but bashful, shy but cocky, always making jokes but somehow being able to jump right into something deep and meaningful too, and you’d closed yourself off for so long that it was a little scary for everything you were feeling to come rushing back all at once.

You hadn't had a crush since high school, and you weren’t sure if you liked the idea of one forming now.

“What about the other thing, did you mean that, too?” You searched your mind, reliving that argument as you tried to work out what he was referring to, and you almost dropped your spoon as it all came crashing down, remembering the harsh words that you’d spat in the eat of the moment, and yet it didn’t make them any less true. You only nodded your head, and he let out a loud groan, pouting a little. “Well, that fucking sucks.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, it’s really hard to do! Women are just better at doing that themselves, y’know? We don’t have to talk about it.”

“That doesn't help! You can’t just, like, drop a bomb on me like that; ‘hey, maybe you've never made a girl come in your entire freakin’ life’ and then say you don’t want to talk about it!” He pushed his empty dish away from himself, and your brows raised, arms crossing over atop the table, staring at him critically, and deciding you were finished with your food. “I want to talk!”

“No way! Guys can't handle constructive criticism like that! We’ll end up just like we were this morning, and then we’ll be back to square one! I like how we are now!”

“No! I promise you, I can take it. Just, help me out, here?” He reached out, pushing the dishes out of the way so that nothing was in the way, putting on his best puppy dog eyes. “You help me, I’ll help you.”

“What do you mean help me? You think you got pointers for me?”

“This isn’t a one-way street! Last night was awesome, but you could improve on a few things too. Guess you’ll never know, now, though.” He sighed, glancing off over your head, and you knew it was bait, some very obvious bait at that, and you hated to fall for it, but your own insecurities were getting the best of you, and you huffed loudly.

“Fine!” He turned back to you, a wicked smile on his lips as he realised that clearly, he had won. “I bite, you got me. Go!”

“Okay, this isn't just you, I just wanna’ make that clear to start with.” You raised a brow, leaning back in your chair, arm still crossed and listening intently. “What is with the whole lights off, thing? The fuck is that? If the lights are off, like you requested and I so gentlemanly obliged, I could be having sex with anything! I don’t want to be having sex with anything, I want to be having sex with you.” He paused, eyes darting away from you for only a second, and he wet his lips. “Or, y’know, whoever it is I’m with.”

“Lights on? Wow, and all guys feel this way?” He opened his mouth to reply, before you were letting out a loud ‘booing’ sound. “Duh! Girls hear that more than ‘hello’. That’s all you got?”

“Okay, okay, alright.” He smirked slightly, leaning forwards and resting his forearms on the table. “You, and by you, I mean women in general, do this thing where you stand up, and kinda’ turn away, and then get undressed, like, super-fast. Like you’re at the doctors or something, getting a physical!”

“I’ve never had any complaints about how fast I undress before. Most guys like naked me.”

“I love naked you.” He dropped his gaze, scanning along your body, and you threw a bread roll at him as you realised he was remembering you without your clothes on from the night before, the soft accompaniment bouncing from his head and rolling over the table. “Hey! I’m just saying! Naked you is awesome to look at, and touch, but what I mean is that you could make the getting to being naked part a little more exciting.”

“Exciting?”

“Yeah! You know, do that whole slow bra thing, take it off to the side. Drop it in that sexy way. Do that little ass thing with your panties, y’know, where you just-” He wiggled in his seat, demonstrating the little as movement that all girls did with their panties when they wanted to feel a little sexy. “All I’m saying is that guys like the undressing part too, make it more of a.. thing.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, actually. One more thing.” He paused, this seemingly the one he was most nervous about, and you leaned forward on your elbows, watching him lean in a little too, rolling his lips before speaking. “When I was inside of you, you did this thing. You started helping yourself a little bit, it kind of made me feel like I was being benched. Second-string, forgotten.”

“Duly noted.” You mumbled, and he shrugged a little, the space between you both going void of sound but crackling with electricity. “Is it my turn now?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, first of all, I don’t know who taught guys to do that alphabet thing with their tongue, but it kind of makes me feel like I’m Helen Keller being fucked by her teacher.”

“That’s not a fantasy of yours?” He faked shock, and you tried to cover up your laugh to keep the conversation as serious as you could, and he tried to still himself, nodding for you to continue.

“There was this one moment, during foreplay, where I was close to coming, and I’m pretty sure I subtly pointed it out. Do you remember what I said?”

“Uh, ‘I’m close to coming’?”

“Yes, that’s it!” He scowled falsely, unsure where you were going with this, and it was your turn to smirk a little. “Right after I said that, you totally switched up what you were doing. What was the thought process there? If you had me right there at third, home base in sight, why would you start running in a different direction?”

“Okay, got it. That’s actually helpful.”

“All my tips are helpful! Like, also, you waited for me to undress you. Which was awkward, and a little weird, don’t do that.” You were almost out of advice, pausing for a second to think. “When a girl helps out, that's a good thing! This is sex, not a competition, my ex was weird about that too, just embrace the team spirit, it makes it better for everyone.” He nodded, and you felt a little out of breath, but a weight lifted off your shoulders. “Oh! Yeah, you went too fast. I felt like I was being drilled for oil. Girls want fast, but also slow. Kinda’ felt like you were in a rush, had somewhere better to be.”

“Trust me, I didn’t.”

“Obviously.” You teased, and he grinned, taking in all the information you were giving him. “Lastly, I guess it’s just after. Like, as soon as we finished, you retreated to the other side of the bed like you’d planted a bomb down there. Stick around, hold a girl, count to ten or something. That one will get you a long way, trust me.”

“Cuddling. Noted.”

“Other than that, you were a perfectly adequate lover.” He gaped at you a little, and his whole body sagged.

“Adequate? What a way to boost a guy’s ego.”

“See, I knew this would happen, you’re-”

“Fine! I’m fine!” He reached out, placing a hand over one of yours, and squeezing comfortingly. “Seriously, now I know. I can make use of that advice next time.” He offered you a smile, and you tried to return it, nervous butterflies making you feel a little nauseous as you tried to settle yourself, no indication that he was angry or upset with you. “You said something about your ex in there, y’know. Is that why you broke up, crappy sex?”

You knew it was meant as a joke, something to lighten the mood, but your stomach dropped. “Uh, no.” You cleared your throat, hands pulling from his to clasp them in your lap as you looked away. “That would’ve been because I found him in our bed with one of my friends.”

The air went dead, silence encased you, and you heard the legs of his chair scrape on the floor as he pushed it back. Kneeling in front of you, he took your hands in his, forcing you to meet his eye. “I’m really sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up.”

“It’s okay. At least I know she isn't getting much.”

He chuckled, but it was dry and empty, and he reached up, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “For the record, I think he’s a dipshit. You’re an amazing girl, anybody who would cheat on you isn’t worth you.”

“Thanks, Joel.”

He stood up, pulling you with him, until you were standing up once again. “Go find another film. I’ll get us all sorted here. Anything you want, it’ll cheer you up.” You waited a moment longer, ready to do as he’d said, before a set of lips were brushing against your forehead, and your breath hitched in your throat. Pressing into the touch just a little, it was almost embarrassing how you reacted, how much you’d missed simple affections, how it felt to be excited around someone instead of just bored or dreading having to see them, the excitement of once again experiencing the thrill of something invigorating and new. “I’m honestly sorry for bringing it up.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Kinda’ is.” He mumbled, fingers playing with yours lightly where your hands were still hanging connected, and the whole experience was a little different. This wasn’t a near-miss kiss while high after the intimacy of drawing one another, nor was it holding hands in the rush to get to the laundry room while hopped up on adrenaline and a little embarrassment. “He’s a moron, and he didn’t deserve you. Neither did your friend, if she’d do something like that to you.”

“They deserve each other.”

“Atta’ girl.” He teased, squeezing your hand once more, before letting you go, and as you settled down onto the couch cushions, you had to try hard just to steady your racing heart as you scroll through movies on Netflix, perched happily along the couch, but it was a little chilly, the space heater was barely holding its own against the chill of the outside.

“You got any blankets?” You didn’t even bother turning your head as you shouted the words, still exploring the film choices, and this time, you went for something a little more exciting. A ‘Mission Impossible’ movie was always a hit, right? Everybody loves Tom Cruise.

“Yes, I do.” You jumped, never having heard him moving around, and he stood before you, a fluffy looking blanket bundled in his arms, and you made grabby-hands for it with a grin. He shook his head, slumping down beside you on the ouch, and you bounced a little with the movements he made. “What, you think I read your mind? This blanket is for me, but I might just share it with you.”

“Yeah, what’s the catch?”

“You have to smile, so I know you’re really okay.” You couldn’t help it, trying to bite back the grin on your face as you flushed with shy heat, and he whooped loudly upon seeing the expression. Spreading the blanket out across you both, his fingers brushed across your skin, tucking it around your thighs and over your waist as he and sure you were covered, before his arm was stretching out along the back of the couch behind you.

“You’re too smooth for your own good.”

“Don’t get used to it, I’m incredibly awkward and not nearly as brave, usually.” You rolled your eyes, nudging your shoulder against his but not bothering to say anything, and starting up the movie.

Tucking your legs underneath yourself, you adjusted the blanket, your feet cold as you lifted them up from the cooled flooring, and directing your attention over to your phone. It had been hours since you’d check it, since you'd even felt the need to know whether anyone else had been in touch with you, and even as that realisation came to mind, you still didn’t budge to collect it.

Earlier in the day, you had been bitter and wishing to be home, where you’d inevitably only be locked up tight in your own bedroom and watching movies to pass the time away, listening to Sophie and her boyfriend move around the apartment, trapped in permanently third-wheeling until the snow melted. Now, you were happy, knowing that you’d made a new friend, and that you were at least venturing back out into the world for the first time since having your heart broken.

A hand came down, fingers playing with the edges of your hair lightly, twirling a light strand between his fingers, and as you swept your gaze over the man a foot or so away from you on the couch, his eyes were still fixed on the screen of the television. His fingers brushed against your neck occasionally, and each time, you had to suppress the urge to shiver. It was an invitation, the changing for day to night once again shifting everything between you both, unspoken words to invite you closer, easy for you to choose to take, or not to take, and nothing would be said about it at all.

Your entire body ran over with goosebumps, and your fingers picked lightly at the blanket, unsure of which move you wanted to make. On the one hand, you could definitely take that step, move a little closer and risk falling into that again, or you could stay where you were, play it safe and not risk a thing. Fold your cards and wait for the next round.

“I’ll just be a minute, okay?”

You stood up, his hand falling away from yourself and the blanket laying down on the couch, and he nodded his head, a barely present smile on his face as he nodded his head, and you slipped away, giving yourself just a moment to think as you disappeared to the bathroom. Closing the door behind yourself, you leaned back against it, letting out a deep breath and trying to clear your mind, weighing the pros and cons of where this night might go.

Shaking yourself down a little, you felt the tension flee from your body, and you placed your hands onto the sink, staring at yourself in the mirror hanging over it. You were always playing it safe, always had, and maybe that’s why your ex had adventured and found excitement somewhere else, needing the thrill of it, because you never took risks.

If you hadn't taken a risk last night, you wouldn't be here now, and after all, you’d had a great day. Maybe it would blow up and backfire, maybe when the snow melted you’d never see him again, maybe it wouldn't work out, but you’d never know if you didn’t at least try.

“Oh, woman up. For once in your life.” You muttered, running the water and splashing a little of the cool liquid over your face, refreshing yourself with just how icy cold it was, a little hiss leaving you. Shaking your hands off and patting your face dry, you ran a hand through your hair, deciding you were ready. Uncapping the toothpaste, you took a small chunk from it on your finger, placing the blob onto your tongue and licking it around your mouth for freshness, doing the best you could to clean your teeth a little, before using your hands as a cup and rinsing with some water.

At least you felt a little fresher and more alluring now. A good confidence booster, because fuck it, you were all in.

Stepping back out into the main room, you undid the zipper on the hoodie of his that you’d borrowed, letting it hang open along the front, the thin satin of your camisole on display, the material falling away from one shoulder as it hung baggy on your body now that it was open. Upon your return, he turned to look at you, lips parting a little as his eyes flickered along your body, gaze lingering on the exposed skin of your shoulder, your arms, the midriff shown between the edge of your top and the hem of your leggings, before his jaw was snapping shut, and he met your eyes again, only for a split second, before looking back to the movie.

Lifting the edge of the blanket, you sat a little closer to him than you had been before, your arm brushing against his side as you got comfy, and you heard him let out a slightly shaky breath, fingers tapping against the back of the couch, behind where your head had once been, now further down the couch as you sat close enough to smell the lingering aftershave on his skin.

Five long minutes passed, and you almost thought you’d overstepped, that he didn’t want this as much as you thought he would, that the connection was one-sided, but then his hand slipped down, fingers brushing over the bare skin of your shoulder on the side where the jacket had dipped down, nails scraping slightly, before the rest of his arm followed. Slipping it around your shoulders, his hand hung over you, playing lightly with the spaghetti strap of your top, running along the silky material, under it, playing with it in slow and absentminded patterns, and you contained yourself from celebrating out loud, or doing something that wouldn't be considered as ‘playing it cool’.

You paused, giving it just enough time, the feeling of roughened fingertips rubbing along your skin, and after a moment, you realised it was being inched a little further over. As the strap fell away, falling over your arm again, his movements paused, everything going still for just a second, before his fingertips were pressing to bare skin again. Twisting towards him a little more, you pressed up to his side, lifting a leg until the lower half of your legs were tangled together as they sat ahead of you, propped up on the coffee table.

He hummed a little under his breath, your head adjusting to rest on his shoulder, and he dared to reach his fingers a little lower than just along your shoulder, brushing as far as the undersides of your collarbones, and you cuddled in a little closer to him still.

“I can’t stop thinking about what you said.” His words were gruff, voice low and gravelling as he kept his tone to just above a whisper, and you rolled your lips together for a second, trying to settle on your words.

“And what would that be?”

“Well, y’know, all the improvements I could make. I’ve been thinking about it.” You only hummed, fingers smoothing over his stomach and across towards his side until you were holding onto him, and the muscles underneath tensed and rippled under the soft cotton tee he was wearing. “But, I’d never really know if I was getting it right until I put it into practice.”

“Well, that does make sense.”

“Yeah, and I mean, I’d need someone who could tell me, give me real talk.” He was continuing on with the rouse, the playful energy between you both sparkling, and the movie was long-forgotten, simply becoming background noise.

“Makes sense. Someone to guide you as you go.”

“Exactly.” He mumbled, turning himself enough to drag the tip of his nose over your cheek, and you tipped your head back a little, making it easier for him as his lips brushed your cheek. “Know anyone up for the task?”

“I think I might know someone.” You whispered, hand coming up to lace into his hair, and he rumbled happily at the scrape of your nails over his scalp.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You promised, and he grinned, shifting enough to let his mouth slant across yours, a kiss that was more than overdue. Lifting a hand to sit on his jaw, he pressed into you a little further, one hand still behind the couch, while the other was sliding down to find your waist, the blanket falling away and the movie becoming nothing but background noise as his lips worked softly with your own.

You’d expected hot and sloppy, but he was taking it slower this time, sweet and passionate, not nearly as desperate as you’d been anticipating, and your heart was racing in your chest with the tenderness in which he kissed you. Once the blanket was kicked from your legs, his hand dipped a little lower, smoothing around your lower back, and pulling you in towards him until you could drape a leg over his thighs. Settling into his lap, both of hands were sitting low on your hips, teeth grazing along your lower lip as the what between you both seemed to double, and you pressed a little closer into him.

“Put your hands, just-” You took a hold of his wrists, lowering his hands a little, your forehead pressed to his as you pushed them around until he could hold fistfuls of your ass through your leggings, squeezing tightly, and you keened into his touch. Rocking your hips down into his own, you gasped, his grunt at the feeling being silenced as your lips closed back over his, and he hummed happily when your tongue dragged slowly against his.

For each rock you made down into him, his hips were jumping, small thrust upwards to meet you, and it became more frantic with every little movement. He was growing underneath you, the material of his sweats doing little to hide the hardening cock that seemed to twitch and jump each time you dragged your core along his length, even through the layers of material, and you could feel yourself growing wetter and weather, uncomfortably so the longer your went, but the pressure was perfect, an orgasm already beginning to grow within you.

When the burn for oxygen became too much, he pulled back, lips worked along your jaw slowly, soft sucks that weren’t hard enough to leave bruises but sent sparks of electricity and excitement flooding through you each time, nips at your skin as he worked his way down your neck, until he was biting teasingly at the shoulder with the strap of your top still hanging over your arm, bare skin exposed to him. “You know, not a criticism, just a compliment, but you really got kissing down to an art.”

He chuckled against your skin, a little breathless, but still enough to make you tremble at the feeling, before he was making his way back up to you, nose dragging over your skin until his mouth could brush against yours. “Is that so?”

“Totally.” You mumbled, your hand slipping into his hair to hold onto a fistful as his mouth crashed back into your own, and he put those skills to good use. He all but knocked the oxygen from your lungs with the intensity of it, leaving your head spinning and lungs burning but you were unable to pull away, the addictive way that his mouth worked with your own, so sensual and intimate that you were flaring up with heat, and you finally knew what it felt like when people said there were fireworks in a kiss, because you felt as though the fourth of July was exploding around you.

“Bedroom?”

“Absolutely.” You mumbled, having to tear yourself away from his kisses, diving back in a few times, before finally, you managed to pull yourself away. You took his hands in your own, pulling him up with you as the two of you moved, and his hands found your hips, guiding you in your backwards walking steps as he followed behind you; foreheads pressed together, occasionally pressing sweet kisses to one another, giggles shared into the air between you until you came to a stop in the doorway.

Turning around, you paused, more of a laugh erupting from you.

“First criticism, messy sheets is a turn off.” He sounded confused for a second, mouth leaving where he had been kissing along your neck, his head coming up to take a look, and he huffed a little.

“Right, yeah, forgot about that. Let me just-” He moved away, on side of the bed to straighten the blankets out, pushing the pillows back up to the top end of the bed, and you helped out, smoothing over them until the job was done haphazardly, but at least it least it was no longer messy, and he stood on the opposite side from you, hands on his hips for a second. “Better?”

“Much.” He nodded his head, licking over his lips, and taking the lower one prisoner as his gaze swept over you, His hair was a little messy, cheeks flushed and lips swollen, and you were certain that you looked exactly the same, the tension between the two of you sizzling. You couldn't handle it, the two of you meeting halfway as you knelt on the bed, his body colliding with yours and lips meeting in frenzied kisses as you connected again.

He reached a hand behind his head, tugging his shirt up and away from his body, a delicious display of flexing muscles and veiny forearms as he discarded of it, shaking the hair that flopped down into his face free.

“That was hot.”

“All I did was take off my shirt?” He whispered, pulling back when you tried to kiss him so that he could raise his brows in silent questioning.

“We like that. When you do that whole ‘taking your shirt off with one hand behind your head’ thing. Plus, you just looked good while doing it.” He looked down at himself, before back up to you, hands cupping your face to bring you in closer to him, and he pressed a series of pecks to your lips, until you were laughing lightly and pushing him back with hands spread over his chest.

He followed you as you stood, and you undid the rest of the zip on the hoodie, letting it fall open, and down your arms slowly, and he watched it go, until the material was crumpled in a pile around your feet. Placing your hands on his chest, you pushed him backwards, until his knees were buckling against the mattress and he was sitting down, staring up at you with wide eyes and parted lips, waiting for your next move. With a finger under his chin, you tipped his face upwards, enough to be able to peck his lips, before you were stepping away from him.

Turning away, you heard him shuffling, the ruffling of material and the slight creaking of the bed, before it was silent, and you took a steadying breath. Crossing your arms over your middle, you tugged the satin top up slowly, brushing your own fingers over your skin, and you heard him groan behind you as it hit the floor, hair falling back down your back upon being freed from the material. Hooking your fingers into the edge of your leggings, you peeled them down your legs, bending at the waist, and removing them from your feet, slowly, before turning back to face him, clad only in your panties.

His eyes were half-lidded, and jaw hanging slack, only clad in his boxers now, but he was palming himself through the material as he sat propped up in the pillows, and you rounded to his side of the bed, one of his hands reaching out for you, and you took it, a gentle hold as his fingers weaved with yours.

“How was that?”

“So fucking hot.” He mumbled, the hand that he had been using to rub at his hard cock through his boxers came free, a wet patch left across the front of the pale checkered fabric, precum soaking into them and your thighs clenched at the idea of having that effect on him. Running the tip of one finger under the waistband of your panties, he tugged you a little closer to him still, before snapping the elastic against your skin. “What about these?”

“Figured you might want to do that.”

Your eyes dropped to his mouth, before meeting his gaze again, only a split second slip, but he was smirking, clearly having seen it. Before you could even process what he was doing, his arms had wrapped around your middle, twisting you around and lifting you to lay in the bed beside where he had been, your head in the pillows and his arms holding him up on either side of you, and you panted a little, the yelp that had left you making you breathless.

“Holy shit.”

“Couldn’t help it. You say dirty things and it makes me feel a little wild.” His legs were caging you in, moving lower and lower as he kissed his way over your collarbones, lips and tongue leaving wet trails between your breasts as he lowered himself further and further.

“Wild is good. I like wild.”

“Hm, I hope so.” He whispered the words, tongue grazing along the sensitive skin above your panties, before he was tapping at your hips with his fingers, and you were lifting them for him to shimmy your panties down. Once you were bare before him, you grew a little shy once again, legs snapping shut, and he chuckled, a hand landing on each knee, and he pressed kisses along the tops of your thighs. “Please don’t be shy, gorgeous. You’re so damn beautiful, you have nothing to be shy about.”

Squeezing his hands at your knees, you twitched a little, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to peer down at him, and he grinned, pressing a kiss to your stomach, before leaning up and pressing an equally quick but sweet kiss to your lips.

“Open up your pretty legs for me, yeah?”

You couldn't hold back, the way he was talking to you and touching you, loving caresses that soothed your nerves, and he groaned under his breath as your slick core was revealed to him. Legs bending at the knees, you planted your feet flat on the bedding, and he was able to settle on his stomach between them, hot breath fanning over your core.

His arms wrapped around your thighs, fingertips digging into them roughly, and he rubbed a hand up and down them slowly, the twitching in your gut coming to a still as he still managed to find time and sentience to ease your nerves as he pressed his mouth in sweet kisses along the insides of your thighs, biting a little at the top and chuckling as he felt you jerk in surprised shock. Lacing a hand into his hair just as his mouth moved to close over your core, you tugged lightly, his eyes flickering up to find yours. “What’s wrong, gorgeous? Did I mess something up?”

“No, no, you’re perfect.” Your words were panted out, and you were trembling while holding yourself up, but you shook your mind clear, trying to focus enough to break through the haze. “Just wanted to say thank you. You’re being such a sweetheart, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this confident before, so before my mind completely clears, I wanted to say that.”

He paused, a look flicking over his features to expose that he clearly didn’t expect that, and there was a much more adoring smile on his face as he processed your words. “It’s my pleasure, you’re worth it, and you deserve a guy to treat you like the special and incredible woman that you are.”

You choked a little on your breath, unsure of how to reply, so you swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding your head, before pushing his back down a little. “Okay, enough heart-to-heart crap. You can continue now.”

“As you wish, princess.”

He dragged his tongue once along your core slowly, and you took a sharp inhale of breath, the feeling of a hot and wet mouth working over you was something that you’d sorely missed, and while Joel had gone down on you yesterday too, this would be so much better and you already knew it. Instead of rushed and nervous, it was erotic and confident, sure in your movements, and sure that he could be the best you’d ever had, you could tell just from the way this night was going so far, that these memories would be burned in your mind for the rest of your life.

Rubbing a thumb over your clit, he chuckled at the way your thighs trembled slightly, before he was pulling away, diving in to replace his finger with his mouth. Lips sucking at the little bud, your fingers tightened in his hair, back arching at the feeling, and he licked over the bud, before repeating the process. Again, and again, and then, he was replacing his movements. Tongue flicking out, rapid kitten licks over the bud, and you squealed a little, thighs clamping around his head as you did, and you whined a little.

“Wait, Joel!” He paused after a moment, your entire body still tingling with the feeling of his mouth, but your legs loosened as he pulled them open, brows raising at you, and slick was already glistening on his chin. “Good, but can be better. Start slow, don’t go right in, tease me a little. Speed up when I’m closer, okay?”

“I thought girls hated being teased?”

“We can love it, if you do it right. You’ll know when to speed up, okay? Start slow, add a finger, then another, speed up when I’m getting close.” He nodded his head, a lopsided smile on his face, and he was taking your advice. He started slow, a long and torturous drag of his tongue over your core, and then again, before his tongue circled your entrance for a moment, barely dipping inside long enough to matter, but then he lapped at your core again. Lips sealing around your clit, he sucked harshly, your back arching up from the bed, your free hand finding purchase tangling in the bedding, and you moaned, loudly. “Fuck, yes, Joel. Just like that.”

He groaned into your body, the feeling reverberating along your skin, and one hand moved from your thigh, slipping along and disappearing from your skin until the tip of one nimble digit was circling your entrance, rubbing lightly across your weeping hole. Filthy sounds were already filling the room, and your mind was going completely blank, the only thing you could process right now was the movements of his mouth against you, tongue and lips working in tandem to drive you crazy as you bucked up into him, holding his face against your core as he slurped and sucked at every drop you had to release.

Slipping that finger into you, he had clearly taken our tip on teasing, because he only sunk it within you to the first knuckle, barely present at all, and yet your walls were clamping around him greedily, desperately trying to draw him deeper in as you felt him twist it a little, circling the finger and beginning to stretch you out, crooking it at the knuckle and tugging a little in your entrance as he began to pump it. A cry of his name left you as he bit down on your swollen clit lightly, the bud throbbing in response, and your entire body jumped at the sensation, loving the way he was taking control with it now.

Each time his finger dipped back into you, he sank a little further, his finger and tongue working in harmony, the same pace with their movements, and your entire body was layered in a thin sheen of shining sweat as he took you apart piece by piece. His hips were grinding down into the covers as he worked, the rustling of the covers giving it away, and he was grunting and growling against your every so often, his eyes closed as he enjoyed his motions just as much as you did, and you forced your hand free from him hair as you realised just how tight your fist had gotten. Just when you thought you might be getting used to this feeling, that you might be able to clear the fog in your mind enough to think straight, he sensed it, upping his ministrations.

“Fuck, Joel!” The coil in your stomach wound up ten times tighter in a matter of seconds as that dull tingling at your entrance made itself known, a second finger taking you by surprise as it plunged inside of you, and your back arched up so high your hips followed, borderline screaming as he picked up his pace. “I-I’m going to-”

“Come? Do it, come on, gorgeous. Give me all you got.” Faster movements, the tandem between his fingers and his mouth going to shit, as he continued to work his fingers in and out of you slowly, but his tongue was picking up his pace again. Switching between sucking and licking, you could barely process what was happening each time, and tears lined your eyes as you felt fire beginning to consume you.

Heat flooded your body, bliss filling every cell in your body and coursing through you until it was all-consuming, and you unravelled against him in a fit of squirming screams, his hands holding you to his mouth as he rode you through the pleasure, two fingers stretching you wide and scissoring you open each time, never giving up on his movements until you couldn't take it anymore.

You pushed him away, panting and gasping for breath, and his eyes were blown with lust as he pulled away, cheeks and chin shining with your arousal, your hand falling over your chest, feeling the erratic beating of your heart under your palm as your eyes closed, trying to contain the way you were feeling. Your throat was already scratchy, growing rough from the calls and cries of his name that you’d released.

“Good?”

“Is that even a question?” You teased, and he collapsed down into the bed beside you, wiping the back of his hand over his jaw, before you leaned in to kiss him, taking his lips with your own, and he let out a needy sound into your mouth as you did. He was rubbing at his jaw, pressing his lips lazily with your own as you kissed him, and he pressed you back down into the bed, leaning over you and letting his body press into yours.

One hand moved to his boxers, pushing them down, kicking them away until they were removed from his body. Leaning over you, a dripping cock brushed along your thigh, your leg raising up a little to rub against him, and he grunted into your mouth, biting down on your lower lip in warning, as he rooted through the nightstand to find a condom. Upon retrieving the package, he sat back on his heels, tearing it with his teeth and throwing the wrapper to the ground, a problem to be dealt with later, and he rolled the rubber along his length.

Long and flushed red, his cock was standing tall and proud, and you rubbed your thighs together a little, watching as he pumped himself slowly, eyes dragging over your body. You could see the cogs working in his mind, before he backed away from you entirely. Moving to the switch on the wall, he turned down the lights, leaving them on a little, but lowering them to a more comfortable level.

“Compromise?”

“I can work with that.” You offered, holding your hands out to him, and the bed bounced a little as he came to laying over the top of you. One leg was pressed between yours, and you shuffled, pressing yourself down against the muscle of his thigh, and a deep sound bubbled up from within him as you rode yourself against his thigh, kissing along his neck, and his head tipped back.

“For the record, I like hickies.”

You paused, a beat passing, before your mouth was sealing over the patch where his neck joined his shoulders, and he groaned loudly as you sucked at the skin harshly. Tipping his head back, his arms trembled a little dipping down until your chests were pressed together, and with every rolled of your core against his leg, your chest dragged over his, the friction making your nipples grown perky, and you whimpered into his neck, lapping at the spot you were abusing.

When you were finished, you pressed a sweet kiss over it, purple already beginning to blossom beneath the splotchy red on his pale skin, and he let out a shaky breath. Brushing your thumb over it, you smirked at the mark you’d made, before finally looking back up to him. Reaching a hand between your bodies, you took his cock in your hand, pumping slowly and watching as his jaw dropped slightly, before you were shifting your legs to accommodate his body and lining his length up at your core.

He rocked forwards, sinking into you slowly, and just like that, everything went fuzzy around you once again. It was like he was your only focus, everything was falling away until it was only him that remained, and your hands found his cheeks, pulling him down to kiss you. You were drowning in his touch, his hips nestled against your own as he gave you a moment to adjust to his size with you, that same twinge of an ache you’d felt this morning coming back in full force, but overpowered by the racing lust that was taking over.

When you felt ready, you clenched around him, curling your hips and feeling his cock shift within you, a gasp falling from you as the head of his cock brushed over your g-spot, and he took that chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. Hot and wet, everything felt like it was in overdrive as you lit up, and his hands were pressed into the mattress on either side of your head as he began to shift, hips drawing out of you, before sinking back in, and he took his time, moving slowly and waiting for you to tell him when he could speed up.

Lifting a leg up and onto his hip, he sank even deeper within you, your walls fluttering around him as you let out joint sounds of pure ecstasy, and his movements stuttered for only a moment at the feeling. One hand came down, fingertips digging into the muscle of your thighs so tightly that you’d be speckled with little polka dot bruises come morning, a sinful thought that made you head spin. You felt carefree, for the first time in your life, there was no doubts or anxiety, just the way it felt to be touched and cared for by him, the way his gaze swept so delicately over your face, or the way his lips puckered a little, curling up at the sides in a smile when your mouth pressed to his.

Hooking your hands under his arms, you encouraged him on, nails digging into his skin and dragging tracks into the flesh, his back arching up to push into your touch, and his pace began to pick up. He took his time, building the pace, and you’d never felt like this before. A high you’d never experienced was beginning to set in, your hips moving in time to match his thrusts.

He was panting into your mouth, hot and erotic as your foreheads remained pressed together, his lashes tickling against your cheeks, and every soft moan of your name that he let out made you want to scream out with pure bliss, because the way his voice cracked around your name made everything within you crumble. He made you weak, he made you completely fall apart, and you weren’t sure how or why, yet you found yourself loving it.

It was raw and exposed, your heart and soul open to him, and instead of crushing it like you’d grown to expect from everyone around you, he was taking care of it. You pushed up into him, pleasure surging through you, broken stutters of his name as he fucked into you, hard and fast, driving deep, and the tip of his cock was pressing to your g-spot each time, pinpoint accuracy as you weren't sure if he even knew that he was making stars flash behind your eyes.

“Joel, don’t stop! I’m so close!”

You moved, licking over two fingers, and making to slip them between your bodies to find your clit, to spur your orgasm on as best you could, but as you moved, he lifted a hand, snatching yours in his own and pinning it to the bed, and a loud moan rippled through you from the dominance he asserted. He seemed almost surprised, for only as second, before his brows were raising. “You liked that, huh? Shoulda’ told me.”

“That’s not general advice, you wanted general advice.”

He shook his head, leaning back down to brush the tip of his nose over your own. “Maybe I’d prefer it if you tailored the advice to yourself specifically. Tell me how to drive you wild.”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing, I like it when you take control of me a little bit.” He nodded his head, seeming to catch on, and he sat back leaving you laying in the bed as the angle changed. Two fingers prodded at your lips, and he raised his brows, waiting for you to draw them into your mouth, wetting the digits thoroughly for him. When he deemed them sufficiently slick, he pulled them back, trailing them down along your body, before pressing down roughly onto the neglected bud between your thighs, crying out for attention to push you over the edge.

As you tumbled into that bliss, he continued going, until your body was jerking and quivering underneath him, and you were crying out his name, clenching so hard around his cock that his head fell back as he gripped at your thigh with his other hand, kneeling between your parted legs and tucked snugly between your spasming walls. “Jeez, you’re so fucking tight.”

He collapsed down over you, sweaty and warm, covering your body with his entirety as he tried to catch his breath, and your eyes were still rolled back in your head, coming back to focus as you slipped back down to earth from the heaven he'd taken you to. “That was incredible.”

“You bet your cute little ass it was.”

You chuckled, feeling him shuffle, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. Locking your knees on either side of his hips, you flipped him over, his eyes wide as he found himself on his back, your hand finding his cock as you sank back down, shivering at the feeling as the aftermath of your last orgasm was still racing through you, and he let out a long and deep sound that vaguely resembled your name, hands finding your waist and pulling you the rest of the way down as he fucked up into you.

“You don’t have to, really-”

“You know, you’re pretty much the first guy I’ve ever been with who didn’t come first, and who genuinely cared about my pleasure.” Your nails scratched over his chest a little, making him shudder at your touch, before you were leaning down, hair drawing around you both, and he stared up at you in awe. “I want to make you feel good, too.”

He nodded, a hand tangling toughly in your hair, and he pulled you backwards, sitting up with you in his lap so that your legs could wrap around his waist more fully, your arms looping his neck, holding you as close as he possibly could. You whined at the feeling of your stinging scalp, loving the way he was manhandling you now, and he knew it too, his lips descending to your throat as he used his other hand to guide the movements of your hips.

“Tell me what to do, I don’t go on top a lot. Tell me what’s good, that’s what you’re supposed to do.” You were pleading with him, desperate to know how you could make him feel as good as you’d made him.

“What you’re doing right now is good.” He mumbled, but as you rolled your hips back down into his with what little space there was, his lips moving over your body until he could lean you back, taking a nipple between his lips and sucking one perky bud into his mouth. You cried out his name, his fist tangled into your hair to hold you still, and you tried to form thoughts, your first attempts at speaking coming out as broken stutters.

“Please, Joel..”

“Please what, gorgeous? Tell me what you need.” He cooed the words out, and you let out a desperate sound, your hips slamming down into his, and your hands found his chest, pushing him back into the bed, hearing the rush of breath he let out.

“Tell me what you want.”

He stared at you, blinking those beautiful brown eyes for a second, before giving in. “Honestly, I just want you to ride me like a pornstar. Go fucking wild, it’s so fucking sexy. When your tits bounce, and you slam yourself onto my cock, hair messy and a little sweaty, that's what I want.”

You nodded, swallowing thickly and bracing yourself on his chest, before you moved more solidly onto your knees, beginning to bounce against him. His jaw dropped, watching the movements of your chest, watching as you leaned back to show off the bouncing of your breasts before him as you built your confidence, and after getting past your anxieties, you were faced with the raging build of confidence that came with being on top.

He was staring at you like you’d put the lights in the sky, and you were, for once, glad that there were lights on to see him and for him to see you, to watch every movement you were making, because pure thrill was written on his face, adoration and lust as he stared, before you were taking one of his hands. Dragging it over your body, you sealed his fingers around one of your tits, pushing into his hands when he took control, fingers tweaking with your nipples, and he raised the other to do that same.

You were close, and you could tell he was too, the breathless way that he was beginning to chant your name on repeat, the way you were sure that the feeling of his cock tapping against every spot within you was going to be burned into your mind for the rest of your life, and the look on his face as he finally neared that peak.

“You look so fucking good. Taking what you want, riding me, absolutely perfect up there.”

“Only because that's how you want to see me, right now.” You whispered, and he shook his head, his hands finding your hips, waiting for you to lift yourself up, and as you did, he slammed you back down onto him, meeting you as he fucked up into you, and your body fell forwards in shock, barely catching yourself before your forehead hit his own, breath shared between you once again. His feet adjusted on the bed, bending at the knee to sit flat and he set a brutal pace, driving the both of you towards your final peak and he drilled into you.

Your eyes crossed, vision spotting, and a scream of his name was torn from you with force as you crashed into yet another earth-shattering orgasm at his touch, the sound of his cries of complete joy seeming muffled as he chased after you over the cliff, falling into orgasmic bliss. He rode the pair of you out, strained and weakening movements as your bodies trembled together, until finally, he stopped, completely sent off all energy, and you collapsed against his chest.

His heart was thudding against his chest under your cheek, your nails scratching lightly at the patch of dark hairs between lightly defined pecs, and he wrapped his arms around you. Rolling you to the side, he was reluctant to leave the bed, letting out a loud sound of distaste ta having to do so, but didn’t travel far, simply far enough to undo the rubber on his cock and tie it up, wrapping it in some tissues and dropping the crumpled heap into the bin.

When he came back over, he lay down beside you on his back, one hand under his head and the other stretched out towards you. As you lay on your stomach, shuffling closer to him, you lifted yourself onto your elbows, peering down at him with a small smile. “So, that was, like, the best sex ever. Right?”

You grinned, head ducking to hide the bashful expression you wore, but you were laughing nonetheless. “Ever.”

“I wish all girls were as cool as you. Like, sex would just be so much better if everyone just had that kind of communication, because, holy shit, that was mindblowing.” His hand came up beside his head, making an exploding noise as his fingers made the motion, as though his head really had exploded, and you grinned, feeling his fingers brush over your skin as he lowered it back down.

Quiet fell between you both, but it was comfortable, nice and easy-going, and you weren’t sure how to break the silence now, but neither was he, though it didn’t matter. When the temperatures that had risen in your body during your sinful act began to come back down, you found yourself cold once again, tucking yourself under the blankets and curling in a little closer to him, fingers brushing through his hair to distract yourself as he lay, staring up at you.

“Y’know, you said something, during it all..”

“You told me to give you advice! Don’t get pissy about it now.” Your joke was taken in good spirits, a loud laugh leaving him, and the burning gaze he’d mixed you with was broken for a few moments as his eyes closed to revel in his amusement, but when the laughter died down, he was looking at you again, with just as much intensity.

“Not that. You said you only thought you only looked good because I wanted you to look good.” His hand found your cheek, forcing you to find his gaze as he spoke. “That wasn’t true. You’re so fucking beautiful, and just because one dumbass broke your heart, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t think of yourself as not being worthy. It only leads to more heartbreak. Don’t let his stupid actions take away from your value.”

“You know, you’re real wise on all this stuff.” His thumb brushed over your lips, and you puckered your lips to press a kiss to the pad of the finger. “Who broke your heart, Joel?”

“What makes you think I’ve had my heart broken?”

“Takes one to know one.” You whispered, and he let out a little sigh, gaze trailing off to stare at the ceiling.

“Her name was Aimee. We were together in high-school. We got into different colleges, and I was so sure we could make a long-distance thing work.” You cringed a little, keeping it internal, already guessing where this was going, but letting him talk. “We did phone calls and video chats, and I went to see her so often, every chance I could, in first year. But then second year came, and everything got busy, and I didn’t get to see her as often as I would’ve liked. I was waiting for the summer break to go and see her. When I got there, things were different, she told me it had changed, that she’d fallen for someone else and just didn’t know how to tell me. She figured we’d just fizzle out, that we had been fading. We broke up officially, but, it didn’t hurt her as much as it hurt me.”

“I’m so sorry, Joel.”

“That’s alright.” He murmured, fingers tracing up and down your arm, and you settled into a comfortable quiet once again.

You were hesitant to admit it to yourself, but you were growing rather fond of the man, your hookup having become so much more. The snow, the cold weather, two broken hearts and a stupid hook up site, and suddenly, you’d found someone who had managed to change your life in a lot of little ways, all in just twenty-four hours.

You turned, finding the man already watching you, lips curled up in a sweet smile and eyes lazily drooped, simply watching you as the thoughts and feelings raced through your mind, and yet, under his gaze, they all seemed to go silent. The worries, the constant surge of ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ all faded away, and you reached out a finger, tapping at the tip of his nose.

His expression somehow managed to morph into something even sweeter, practically giving you a toothache as his nose scrunched up adorably, before he was folding both hands under his head, moving to tangle his legs with yours, and simply sighing a little.

Golden and low lighting made his features seemed a little sharper, shadows on his face highlighting his jaw, cheekbones standing prominent and hair darker, and you knew just how soft it was, strands pushed back out of his face by you. The dark mark on his neck was making itself known now, and you were sure your own body would soon be littered in them, and you would check them all out with pride in the morning.

You turned to look at him again, drawing yourself back out of the spiral in your mind you’d once again fallen victim to, and meeting his gaze with a heatless huff. “What are you staring at?”

“Just.. you.” His brows pulled together a little, eyes sweeping across your face again in a way that made you feel raw and on the edge of your emotions. He lifted a hand, pushing your hair away behind your ears, before settling a hand over your jaw, and stroking his thumb across your skin slowly and soothingly.

“Yeah, well, don’t.” You whispered, voice cracking, and your gaze left his, but his touch never fell away, even when you tried to duck your head. “Don’t look at me like that, not unless you plan to act on it.”

“Oh, I would love to act on it. When this snow melts, I’d like to act on it properly.”

“Like.. a date?” You questioned, eyes flicking up to his for only a moment, and he was beaming what you did, toothy smile showing off his joy for only you to see.

“Exactly like a date, if you’ll have me?”

“Depends.” You murmured, shuffling in closer to him for warmth. “Can I share the bed with you tonight, or are you kicking me back out to the couch?”

He wrapped you up in his arms, pulling you down into his chest as the pair of you laughed, cocooning yourselves in the blankets with a series of rolls and twists, until you pressed up tightly together and locked in such a way. “There, now you’re not going anywhere.” He dipped down, pressing a kiss to your lips, one that you were eager to reciprocate. “Me and the bed are all yours, gorgeous.”

“I like the sound of that.”

#joel dawson #joel dawson x reader #joel dawson x reader smut #joel dawson/reader #joel dawson/reader smut #joel dawson love and monsters #dylan obrien joel dawson #dylan obrien love and monsters #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader smut #12 Days of AUmas

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livexdolan · 5 years ago

Text

Shower Art ~e.d~

A/n: So I’ve started doing this in the shower n I promise I wash it off before I get out lol idk why I thought of this story but I actually kinda like it- mainly bc this is the first time I’ve ever written a story n didn’t feel the need to make it short. so yea thxs for making it so I felt comfortable writing this. Love ya <3 :)

Summary: When Ethan finds that his girlfriend has found a new canvas he can’t help but find it weird, ending in a surprising confrontation between the two.

Warnings: Fluff, angst (?), smutish, idk what else to put

Word Count: 1216

Now, don’t get him wrong, Ethan loves that his girlfriend is an artist. How she can make anything artsy and pretty amazes him- and it always will. But. While he loves y/n and her imagination, sometimes it can be a little much. Like, when she ‘borrowed’ his favorite jacket and painted the back of it, while it was a beautiful picture- Ethan was not about to wear a jean jacket with a pretty sunset on the back, and he ended up letting y/n keep it.

So, months later, did Ethan expect to go to take a quick shower and see that his beautiful, amazing, sweet girlfriend, had made a mural on his shower wall out of hair that came out when she was taking a shower?

Absolutely not.

Remember, Ethan isn’t always the quickest and he’s also new to relationships- so it takes him a minute.

Ethan has to stand back and stare at the picture on his shower wall for at least two minutes before the gears start turning. She used her hair to draw on his shower wall.

Ethan being Ethan though- doesn’t say anything to his love, 1) because he doesn’t want to get upset with her and fight, 2) he hates confronting people.

So he lets it slide like he never even saw it.

Stupid. Stupid is the only word that can describe his decision, because one mural, turned into two, then three, and before he knew it, there was a new picture almost every time he got in the shower. Out of hair.

He didn’t let it get to him though, no, he didn’t say anything, and neither did she.

Then it happened. About three months later, three months of 3 times a week, Ethan going to take a shower and finding his artist's masterpiece.

Ethan knew to expect something but he could have never expected this. The thing is, our y/n gets bored easily, hence the drawings and paintings everywhere, and she loves to have fun. She likes to let loose every now and then, throw caution to the wind. But this, this wasn’t just her wanting to have fun, it was a moment of childishness, funny to her inner 12-year-old self that had never seemed to go away.

A penis.

He couldn’t believe it, she drew a penis. A dick. A cock. Whatever you call it- she drew it. She made a penis and it was right there- right in Ethan’s face the minute he stepped into the shower.

To say he was shocked was the understatement of the year. A part of Ethan- the 12-year-old that was in him as well- saw the joke in it, the funny part- but Ethan isn’t 12. He’s a young adult- with a young adult girlfriend.

Ethan knew that it was past time. Past time to tell her it bothers him. But know he would tell her, no matter how upset she got- it was weird- not just cute weird- but a weird that made Ethan’s stomach upset and makes his eyebrows furrow.

“H-hey! Y/n!” He called, stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist as his girlfriend pops her head into the bathroom.

“Yea, E?” she asks while pushing the door open wider, wondering why he was calling her into the bathroom when he was supposed to be taking a shower.

“What-what is this?” Ethan clears his throat before pointing at the picture.

Y/n just giggles and can’t help the red that surfaces on her cheeks, “Oh, yeah, that, it was just a joke, I thought it was funny,”

Ethan huffs and rubs his hands over his face before looking her in the eye, “I don’t think it’s funny. In fact, I don’t think any of them were funny. And I don’t understand your need to do this every fucking time you take a shower!” he’s on a roll now and the bottle of thoughts he’s kept hidden has finally popped open, “I love you but what the fuck? Who makes pictures out of hair? It’s gross! I don’t want to see that! Nobody does! I get that you’re an artist- an amazing one at that, but c’mon babe, this is a bit much yea?”

While y/n was a little hurt, she couldn’t help but laugh, which only made Ethan look at her with a look that had her doubled over- clutching her stomach and holding up a finger telling Ethan to give her a second.

Once she straightened up and wiped the tiny tears that had formed in the corners of her eyes she responded breathlessly, “Are you serious? It took me putting a penis for you to say something!? You’ve been letting me draw and leave things there for three fucking months but when I drew a dick- that was crossing the line?” she couldn’t help the little chuckles leaving her mouth every once in a while, “E, if it bothers you that much, you should tell me right away- Jesus, did you seriously not say anything because you didn’t want to hurt my feelings?”

She almost howled in laughter when he shook his head, yes, his gaze not meeting hers, Ethan was waiting for her to get mad for some reason, “Ethan! Look at me! I was doing it as a joke! I saw it on Tik Tok and thought it was funny! You’re acting like you just told me you hate my laugh- or my voice! You are one of the most overdramatic people I have ever met, ya know that?”

Ethan was officially speechless. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how dumb he had sounded- why couldn’t he just talk to her about it? Why had he made it such a big deal? He should’ve known it was a joke. “I- I don’t know what to say really. I’m sorry I didn’t come to you in the first place, I just didn’t want to upset you.”

Y/n couldn’t help but walk closer at that, wrapping her arms around his neck and looking up at him sighing, “You might be the most over dramatic person I’ve ever met but you’re also the sweetest and most considerate person I’ve ever met.”

Ethan leaned down and captured her sweet lips in a gentle kiss, the two getting far too into it far too quick. Y/n was the first to pull away, breathless, her voice catching in her throat at the sight of her boyfriend’s flushed face and plump lips. Thoughts of how easy it would be to have his towel and her shorts off and for the fun to really start, a blush rises on her cheeks as her thoughts take a nose dive into the gutter.

“So, you seem to draw a dick pretty well, let’s see how well you can do other things, yea?” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear before smiling softly at her cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red.

Y/n lets out a squeal as Ethan picks her up and takes her back to his bedroom. Ethan will always love having an artist for a girlfriend, and y/n will always love having a drama queen as her boyfriend.

#ethan dolan #ethangrant #ethan x reader #ethan dolan imagine #dolan twins #ethan dolan smut #imagine #grayson dolan #dolan imagines #grayson x reader #grayson dolan smut #grayson #grayson dolan imagine #ethan #my writing

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reluctantly-plus-ultra · 5 years ago

Note

So....I'm literally in love with your rei&lov stuff and wanted to ask if you're still taking scenario suggestions? In case you do; how about dabihawks, in which dabi figures out/always knew that hawks is actually a spy but convinces hawks to actually become a villain? Or literally any hawks&shouto interaction in which they talk for some reason(internship?) And bc of that hawks figures out that dabi=touya and endevour=horrible and has kinda a breakdown? (Bonus points of shouto already knew) Thx

First of all, thank you so much! I’m definitely still taking requests- sorry this one took a while to post, but I’ve been in finals this past week and things have been hectic. Second, I’m going to have to apologize in advance because I saw all of your awesome suggestions here and instead of tackling this like any sane person would by choosing one thing to write about, I decided to write all of them in one request… So in other words, this sucker is LONG. Anyway, without further ado, enjoy the piece!

[REQUESTED] DABIHAWKS: DARK SIDE

- All it takes is one boy being saved for everything to go absolutely batshit crazy.

- Keigo “Hawks” Takami is a cunning man, ruthless when it comes to intelligence, speed, determination. He’s been trained- raised his whole life to be the personification of the perfect working hero: instinctive, quick, capable of wearing as many masks as it takes to get the job done and hiding all of that deadly capability behind a warm, smiling face that keeps him the darling of the public eye.

- And yet, despite his wit, despite his impeccable skill for analysis, despite every sign that should have given him a few warning bells about this situation, Hawks had stumbled in completely blind. Nothing could’ve prepared him for this.

- It had started off as nothing more than a basic street brawl. Hawks had taken the day to patrol with Enji and Shouto, the young man having returned to his father’s agency for his internship. In fact, it was mostly because of Shouto that Hawks had decided to head out with Endeavor in the first place- he was curious about the youngest Todoroki. The boy already had a pretty impressive reputation regardless of the fact that he hadn’t yet gone pro, and Hawks was curious to see whether or not he would hold up in person.

- So when they’d gotten the call that there was a robbery four blocks away and that a fight had broken out in the square, he hadn’t given two thoughts about it, really. Hell, the kid had faced off against the League shortly after entering his first year and come out without a scratch. He could take a couple amateur thugs no problem.

- And at first, things actually go really well. Shouto’s got some serious skill, and it doesn’t take long for them to get the situation sorted out-

- That is, at least, until a few familiar faces show up.

- Hawks swears he’s going to kick Dabi’s ass into next week when he, Toga, Compress and Twice all round the corner and straight into the whole mess. Like, it’s bad enough that now he’s going to have to put up a fight with them, but for fuck’s sake the last thing he needs is to be gearing up to face them while also trying to put on a nonchalant expression as Toga starts laughing her ass off at the sight of him being there.

- So of course shit goes sideways and a second fight breaks out. Hawks has never been more thankful of Twice, because the man just keeps sending clone after clone his way and it’s keeping him busy enough that he doesn’t have to throw punches at any of the others. After all, the League had just started warming up to him, and he really doesn’t want to be sending anybody home packing black eyes on his account.

- But that also leaves three villains against two Todorokis, and while that still shouldn’t be a problem, it turns out to be.

- In hindsight knowing what he’d come to learn much later, maybe it was the way Endeavor barked the boy’s name. Maybe it was how he’d whipped around so suddenly the flames on his body guttered and flared. Maybe it was even just the simple matter of having his arm raised when he turned.

- Either way, whatever he’d been going to tell his youngest child goes unsaid, be it advice or otherwise.

- All Hawks knows is that it takes a full two seconds for Endeavour to shout his son’s name, to wheel around to face him, arm still rigid above his head from the last burst of flame he’d sent at Compress, hand exploding into a raging blaze once more- and then Dabi is fucking sprinting.

- And at first, Hawks almost goes after him because it seems like the fire-user is about to take out Shouto and quite frankly, it didn’t matter who you are: going after a child is a low blow, plain and simple.

- So when he dispatches Twice’s next clone in a messy hurry and moves to follow, he’s stopped dead in his tracks by a display he never thought he’d witness: the patchwork villain yelling “Sho!” so loudly his voice cracks before quite literally hauling the young hero behind him and bracing his free arm in front of them both in a gesture that is so inherently and naturally defensive it makes Hawks pause.

- Half a second later, there’s an explosion of blue fire so fierce and bright that it’s damn near blinding. It takes a few moments for the winged hero to blink the light from his eyes, but when he manages to do so, it is only to take in the sight of three faces equally painted in horror.

- And here’s the thing; Hawks expects some kind of reaction from Shouto, so the fact that he’s still stunned and unmoving behind this villain isn’t exactly a surprise. Hell, he expects a reaction from Dabi too, because that degree of defensiveness, that scale of fire, the sheer desperation in his movements seconds before the explosive blast- it’s so unlike him, especially over some hero’s son?

- But it’s when Enji Todoroki blanches just as pale as the other two, eyes wide as Shouto’s, hands shaking like Dabi’s, that Hawks feels an uncomfortable clench in his gut. That feeling persists, too, as the fighting stops around them, and everything falls into silence, ashes falling down around them like snow. It’s the first time that Hawks has noticed that the walls of the surrounding buildings have been scorched black from the heat, smoke still rising in the air.

- There’s blood leaking down Dabi’s face, his arms, past his burnt jacket sleeves and the collar of his shirt. He’s in pain, Hawks can tell, even from where he’s standing. That move took a lot out of him-

- But there’s also no way he wouldn’t have known that before doing it, and that raises more than a few questions.

- All three men look like they’re reliving some kind of flashback, some kind of memory or unanimous nightmare. It’s Shouto who speaks first, voice wavering, and even then it’s only one word, indistinguishable from their current distance- but it’s enough to snap Dabi out of whatever reverie he’s in and cause him to snarl and bolt.

- Nobody goes after him, not even Endeavor, and in seconds the patchwork man is gone, lost to the shadows and alleys. Being realistic, it would take Hawks less than a minute to soar up above the buildings and scout him down, demand some answers, but Twice is quicker to the punch.

“Let us handle this for now- you can take of him later, I’m not handling his broody side.”

- The rest of the League is in the process of disappearing as well as Hawks makes his way up to the pair of still shell-shocked heroes, quirking an eyebrow and tugging at a few feathers that got bent in his fight.

- “You want to tell me what that was all about? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

- The hard glint in Enji’s eye as he glances at him and then spins around on his heel without a word, walking in the opposite direction is all the confirmation he needs to know that maybe they have.

- Days pass. It had been hard enough not asking questions for the rest of their patrol but when, four days later, Endeavor still won’t give him the time of day and Dabi won’t respond to any of his texts and calls, Hawks has had about enough.

- Aizawa’s not exactly thrilled about the Number Two hero calling in to ask if he can take part of the morning to talk to Todoroki about some of the events of their last patrol, but he presses that it’s important, and Aizawa eventually gives in on the grounds that it’s safer for them to talk at the school about mission work than anywhere else, really.

- And that’s how he and the dual-quirked boy end up facing one another over cold coffee in the otherwise vacant teacher’s lounge, Shouto guarded as ever, and Hawks feeling a bit nervous despite the circumstances. Truth being told, he isn’t sure what he’s looking to find here, exactly, but the whole situation has been burning a hole in his stomach for half a week, and something about it really isn’t sitting right.

- “…This is about the whole… Incident with him, isn’t it?” Todoroki asks eventually, tone flat, and Hawks has to admit that he’s chosen some interesting phrasing.

- “Pretty much, yeah,” Hawks scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, unsure where to even start. The whole thing seems pretty absurd. The youngest Todoroki hums and sips at his cold coffee, the light rippling of the liquid being the only thing betraying the slight tremour of his hands.

- “If you have questions, why not ask him instead?” Hawks immediately wrinkles his nose at that.

- “Who, Endeavor? Something tells me he wouldn’t be the most willing audie-”

- “Not Endeavor.” Shouto fixes his cup back on its saucer before turning curious but carefully blank eyes on him, “Dabi. You two seem close enough for it.”

- Well, fuck.

- Hawks’ brain is going a mile a minute trying to figure out how Shouto managed to put two and two together. There’s no way he’d figured it out from that patrol day- they hadn’t even interacted at all, and Hawks had been careful not to mention the patchwork villain around any of the other heroes so as to not raise suspicion with his mission, or to have anyone go snooping too deeply into something that could also get him in a huge deal of shit.

- Not really knowing how else to play his cards but to try and save face, Hawks squints and shakes his head at the boy in confusion, hoping the “dumb-bird” act will save his ass. Underneath the surface, though, he can feel the pinpricks of an impending anxiety attack, the boy’s blunt and unexpected words having shredded every assumption of caution that he thought he’d put up. Hell, if Shouto has figured things out this far, has he also figured out Hawks’ connection to the League? Has he told anyone else? The Commission is going to skin him alive when they found out-

- “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about,” Hawks tries, grimacing at the end of the statement for effect, “Unless you’re meaning because I didn’t intervene when everything went down and help you guys out- sorry about that by the way, but I figured you two would have everything under control, and when all the fighting stopped, I just froze.” He shrugs, trying his best to look sheepish, “It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes when the shock is great enough I’m more of a natural freezer than a reactor. Probably some kind of weird bird thing.”

- Shouto regards him for a solid second, unblinking, before cracking a small smile.

- “You’re a good liar.” He says simply, before sipping his coffee again. “But that’s not what I’m talking about at all.”

- Those pinpricks return again, and Hawks’ wings flutter somewhat nervously on their own accord. He resists the urge to let them expand just to give himself a bit more of a size advantage, and instead tries playing it off again. Shouto’s eyebrows raise at the attempt, and it’s with almost exaggerated disbelief that he sets his cup down for the second time and announces, in that odd, cool way of his, “So you just let any villain wear your feathers, then?”

- Hawks chokes on his coffee.

- This time, he legitimately does not know what the hell Todoroki’s talking about, but it turns out that the observant teen had caught sight of a long stretch of cord that had shifted somewhat out from under the other man’s loose shirt when he spun around to run.

- And there’s nothing weird about that in itself. Dabi’s kinda a jewelry guy, and Heaven knows he’s got enough piercings to prove it. But when Todoroki gets to mentioning that there was a small red feather on the end of the rope, Hawks can’t help but flush pink just a little bit because he’d left that feather as a calling card to tell the other man he’d broken into his apartment two weeks ago and he’d gone and strung it on a necklace what an absolute fucking dork-

- “I don’t think Endeavor saw,” Todoroki continues absently, “So it’s just me that knows, and I don’t want any of the details,” He looks at Hawks solemnly again, this time his voice growing quieter, “I’ll keep your secret, but forgive me for using it to make sure you keep mine.”

- Hawks examines him for a slow moment, fully aware that neither of them are moving, and the air is growing tense. This boy could bring his career crashing down around his ears with a few words muttered in the right direction, and yet Hawks is inclined to believe him when he says he’ll keep a secret. With a sigh, the winged hero extends a hand.

- “Deal.” He agrees, shivering at the contact of ice on his palm, Todoroki apologizing for the slip under his breath. “Now, what’s this secret, then?”

- Shouto chews his lip for a moment before sitting back in his seat, hands clenched into fists.

- “I need to tell you a story.”

______________________________________________________

- An hour later, the entire fucking world has been turned on its head, and nothing is ever going to be the same.

- Shouto Todoroki sits quietly for a moment, before calmly reaching out for his coffee cup again, more for the simple grounding action of holding it than anything else. The silence in the room is stifling, especially after the burrage of information Hawks has had dumped on him in the last sixty minutes, and his brain is still sluggishly trying to process most of it.

- “He’s… He’s your brother?” The hero manages eventually, mouth feeling dry, stomach churning. That panging ache in his stomach that he’d felt before has returned tenfold, and it takes everything in Hawks’ apparent willpower to not run for a garbage bin and puke from all the nausea.

- Todoroki won’t meet his eye, and Hawks doesn’t blame him- after everything that’s been revealed at this coffee table, he’s not sure he could look the younger man dead in the face without breaking down in some way. Seeing his scar, mentally comparing it to Dabi’s many, brain running lists of all their similarities and those lists coming up remarkably long.

- The worst of it is the carpet that got all but torn out from under his feet as Shouto had explained what his father had put them all through, his involvement at home, how they had assumed for so long that their oldest sibling had died, and that it had been their father’s fault, no different than Rei’s hospitalization and, by extension, Shouto’s burned eye. It’s this news that curdles his stomach more than anything, makes his blood freeze in his veins.

- He can already tell that when he allows that news to settle, it’s going to hit like a bombshell, but he can’t do that in front of Shouto, so he pushes it to the back of his mind for now until he can handle it later and instead tries to focus on the subjects that he thinks can be safely discussed.

- Todoroki just nods, seemingly spent on this whole ordeal as well, and also not really knowing what to do with it.

- “I’d had some suspicions,” He admits softly, fiddling with his hands, “But I didn’t want to think on them too closely or get my hopes up- he was dead, or supposed to be anyway. And then that patrol happened, and… I don’t remember much of him, really. The memories are all hazy. I was so young- but he used to call me Sho as a nickname when we were kids. When he ran out in front of me though, I…”

- “You remembered it wasn’t the first time.” Hawks concludes, and Shouto nods again, his shoulders slumping.

- “It was exactly the same,” He murmurs softly, “And it just… Triggered memories of all of these things I’d forgotten, but now they’re all coming back, and I don’t-” He sighs in frustration, taking a deep breath to rein in his thoughts, “I don’t know what to do because he’s not dead anymore, but at the same time, I’m not sure that he’s really alive either. That part of him that I knew might be gone entirely- I’m willing to believe that his actions during our patrol were out of memory reflex more than anything.”

- But Hawks is already thinking about all of those times that Dabi has helped Toga arrange her hair into buns when it’s being too stubborn, and the almost-petty sibling banter he slings back and forth with Shigaraki sometimes just to get a rise out of him. There are other habits too, just little things here and there, but the more Hawks imagines Dabi being a former sibling, the more connections he sees.

- They clean up their dishes quietly, dirty laundry aired, secrets hanging heavy. Before they leave, though, Hawks turns back to Todoroki one last time.

- “You know I can’t bring him back, right?”

- It’s a harsh reality, but a very real one. Quite frankly, Hawks suspects that there’s a lot of the person Todoroki remembers in this new Dabi figure, but no matter how much of that remains, no matter how many different and surprising and kind, soft, gentle, loyal angles Dabi has, it doesn’t change the fact that he is first and foremost a villain. That takes precedence over anything, and there’s really no turning back from it, not now, and not after the extent he’s gone to. Shouto nods, hair falling in his face, though Hawks can see through the fringe that his eyes are clear. There’s no judgement, no upset. He’s more than aware, and something in Hawks’ chest twinges again at how quickly this child had to grow up, seeing the world with such adult eyes.

- There’s something else still tickling the back of his mind, and at first he hesitates to ask it. Shouto’s been through enough today as it is, and he doesn’t want to push too far, but at the same time, he’s dying to know. There’s this sense in him that it’s probably important, and Hawks has long ago learned better than to ignore his gut.

- “One more thing- what did you say to him that day? Right before he ran?”

- Shouto’s hand freezes on the doorknob, literally freezes on the doorknob, ice crawling over his fingers. For a second, Hawks is considering apologizing and moving on, afraid that he’s overstepped a boundary. But then Shouto’s grip on the handle eases, and the ice crackles and falls away from his hand, falling to melt in the fibres of the carpet underfoot.

- “Touya. I called him Touya.”

- They leave the room and don’t look back.

_______________________________________________

- Hawks walks Shouto back to class, only to pull Eraserhead outside for a moment and explain nothing more into the situation than that the youngest Todoroki experienced some stressful things during their last patrol, and that after their discussion that morning, it probably wouldn’t hurt to have him take the rest of the day off just to recuperate a little.

- And with any of the other teachers, he might have been hit with a hardass no, but this is Shouta Aizawa, and if there’s anything that man cares more about than cats, coffee, and the occasional witty remark, it’s rest and his students. As much as he likes to deny it, he keeps a better eye on those kids than they know, and he’s caught Todoroki acting a bit more reserved than normal, less concentrated. He nods slowly, dismisses Hawks with a casual comment about wasting his time, and goes to fetch Shouto from the classroom again.

- The winged hero leaves to the sound of Aizawa telling Shouto that he’ll get a notes package done up for him for the day, and to go rest. There’s some muffled arguing before the older man makes some statement about mental health that effectively shuts Shouto up and sends him back in the direction of the dorms, Hawks grinning to himself the whole way down the hall, until he can no longer hear the two. Shouto Todoroki has had one hell of a life, that much is certain, but nobody can deny that he’s in good hands now and that itself is a relief beyond words.

- That being said, it takes all of ten seconds upon returning home to his apartment and getting the door shut behind him, before Keigo Takami all but collapses on the hardwood and begins to sob. Once the tears start flowing they just won’t stop, and there’s this kind of warm, gentle light streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling-windows that seems to just encourage the outpour even more.

- Were anyone to see him at that exact moment, they’d probably think it made an interesting picture, the Number Two hero weeping on his knees, wings spread about him like some kind of devastated creature of God, light pouring down his shoulders and face as though his halo had melted and dripped like tear stains over his skin. There’s this burning, raw sensation inside him that just won’t ease, and as he lies there, a crumbled statue of a once proud Icarus, he lets the truth rage over him like wildfire, lets the heat of it all melt the wax and burn the feathers, and feels it pull him into a drop he’s not sure how to recover from, or if he ever will.

- There’s this war raging inside him on how to feel, a million emotions crushing his chest all at once. The first that hits him is disgust, disgust for this man that he had looked up to for so long, who had been a hero to him even when he’d had nothing, nobody, not even a dream. He had put so much faith in him, had defended him at every turn, had stood by him as a colleague, watched his back, taken wounds to keep him safe. This was the man he’d bled for, if he deserved to be called a man at all.

- But the emotions that follow after this are so rapid-fire, they’re almost impossible to keep track of, aside from the pain- the pain lingers and grows, makes itself known in every damned crevice of his being. There’s betrayal, both to the person he is now, and to the young child who’d cheered the fire hero on, who he’d wanted to impress so badly. There’s sadness for the world he thought he knew, for the person he thought he knew, and all of that being stripped away to reveal something so much more grim and ugly. Grief for the loss, mourning for the death of something he’d seen as a foundation to his person, the pain so strong throughout.

- One of the worst, though, is the anger. When the anger arrives, it isn’t in a gradual wave like the other feelings had been, full of upset and still-numb disbelief. When the anger arrives, it is as a battering ram of rage that burns so fiercely in his core, he wants to scream. Rage for Shouto Todoroki, rage for Rei Todoroki, rage for Fuyumi and Natsuo, and damn it all, blistering, agonizing rage for Touya Todoroki and the unjust cards he was dealt. When the anger arrives, it’s with the passion of a man who has longed for family his whole life, and can’t imagine how an individual could so carelessly ruin what another would die for.

- When the anger arrives it stays, and it leaves Hawks trembling on the floor long after the tears have stopped rolling, after the damp spots on his cheeks have dried, after the pain has stopped clawing at his throat, and taken up permanent residence in his heart instead.

- And that’s how Dabi finds him three hours later as night starts setting in, and the light from the windows has faded, the warmth in the floorboards gone. Hawks is so out of it, so physically and emotionally exhausted, that he doesn’t even hear him come in, only notices him when the tall man crouches down in his line of vision, concernedly snapping his fingers in his face.

- Somehow the sight of him just manages to drive the knife in deeper, and he has to take a deep breath to keep his composure. Dabi’s eyebrows are drawn together in worry at the scene, hands beginning to rapidly check him all over for wounds of some kind before Hawks weakly bats his hands away, protesting. The cremation villain sits back on his heels, unimpressed, and flicks the other man’s forehead.

- “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all afternoon- why weren’t you picking up your phone, dumbass? I thought something must have happened.”

- The irritation in his voice thinly covers his relief, and Hawks can only manage to blink up at him once or twice before clenching his eyes shut altogether. He doesn’t mention that Dabi hasn’t responded to any of his messages until today either, figures a fight isn’t what either of them need right now.

- “I talked to Shouto today,” He says quietly, voice so hoarse from crying, it’s almost hard to listen to. Dabi stiffens, but doesn’t turn away or make a sound, so Hawks continues, “He told me… Everything. Everything that happened, everything that that bastard did,” Hawks takes another steadying breath, choosing not to look Dabi in the eye for this part, “He knows who you are- I know about that part too. And that’s fine, really, it is; I won’t call you by that name or anything if you don’t want me to. I just… I can’t believe that I looked up to him so long, and he was doing all of this and nobody knew-

- And suddenly it’s all spilling out all over again, and there are more tears, but much less than last time, a slow and steady trickle compared to the earlier downpour. Dabi doesn’t do anything but listen as the minutes pass, as the sky grows steadily darker and they’re left in the kitchen with no lights on, almost silhouettes in the room. Somehow, it feels comforting- Dabi has a way of making shadows feel less like threats and more like hiding places, and Hawks has never felt it more strongly than now.

- But it isn’t until he’s done his tirade that he realizes his most crucial mistake- that in confessing all of this, he’s just botched his own story of being done with the hero world, the lies that he’d given Dabi when they first met. He’s just outed himself as a turncoat. And not only that, he’s just outed himself as a turncoat to a villain who is still kneeling over him in a dark room, and who would have literally nothing stopping him from crisping the winged hero right there, not even Hawks himself. Fast as he is, he doesn’t think his reflexes will save him quickly enough in this state, and all it will take for him to be completely defenseless would be Dabi moving his hands an inch or two forward to light his wings on fire, exposed as they currently are.

- He can feel the panic building in his chest as Dabi stays silent, breathing picking up a few notches before he’s suddenly scrambling to get into a less vulnerable position, trying to make out Dabi’s expression in the dark. Maybe if he can get out a window fast enough, he’ll be able to catch a draft and soar out of the way- it’s his best bet, but the kitchen island is against his back now because he scooted too far back, and there’s no way for him to get to a window without either getting through Dabi or-

- The panic attack that he was feeling earlier decides to kick in at this exact moment, and that’s when Hawks realizes that if Dabi wants him dead, he’s dying in this room. All of his instincts and nerves are shot, he has no sense of coordination, he can’t see, the dark no longer feels safe-

- The lights come on, and Hawks glances up sharply from his position against the island to see Dabi with his hand still on the lightswitch, expression hard to read, but not the crazed, maniacal look Hawks would have expected to receive if the villain were planning to outright kill him. He watches as the other man slowly walks forward, gaze locked, until he kneels so closely on the floor in front of him that if Hawks so much as slid his knees a centimetre forward, they’d be hitting Dabi in the chest.

- His heart is hammering so fast, he’s sure he’ll either hyperventilate or pass out at any given second, body trembling, brain unable to focus. He manages to force his eyes closed as Dabi extends a hand out, certain that he’ll be feeling those blue flames crawling his skin the second they get close enough to burn. The flames never come.

- Dabi’s fingers trail across his temple, brushing back a few strands of sweaty hair, before going to cup his cheek entirely. The action is so uncharacteristically tender that it causes Hawks’ eyes to flash open again, the scarred man looking at him with intent eyes.

- “Take a few deep breaths, pretty bird.” He says calmly, not even flinching when Hawks’ hand comes up to clench hard on the patchwork man’s bicep.

- “You took all of that info rather well,” Hawks states, almost accusingly, through gritted teeth. His breathing is starting to slow, heartbeat becoming less erratic, though Dabi’s sudden smirk isn’t helping anything.

- “I’ve known that you weren’t legit from the first day,” He scoffs, looking a touch of smug, but also somewhat offended, “Give me more credit than that, sweetheart. This isn’t news.”

- The simple, familiar arrogance of it all forces a sharp laugh from Hawks’ throat, and against all odds he can feel the adrenaline draining from his system, beginning to relax again.

- “You’re such an asshole, you know that?” Said with a tired grin. ‘I’m relieved this one corner of my world isn’t crumbling down too.’

- “Only time you’ll catch me alive saying guilty as charged.” Said with a smile as crooked as a broken law. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

- They wait like that just a few minutes longer, listening to the hum of the overhead lights, nothing needing to be said for those moments at least. Then, once Hawks has calmed down enough to relocate, they move to the couch.

- “So,” Dabi is the one to begin this time, throwing his lanky form across the whole sofa and stretching out well enough across it that his head can rest on one of the arms, his ankles dangling off the other. “You know about my shitty childhood. I`d rather not talk about that any more tonight, honestly.”

- Hawks, appreciative that he seems to be willing to let to matter of the anxiety attack drop completely, chooses to take a seat on the middle cushion, leaning back against Dabi’s hip as a support and letting his wings fall over the back of the sofa and behind it. The longest feathers drag on the floor from this height, and Dabi watches for a second as Hawks flares them temporarily to adjust his wings in a better position before continuing. “And I know about you not being true to the League. Anything else you’d care to hash out while we’re in the sharing mood?”

- “Yeah, actually,” Hawks shoots him a look and raises an eyebrow, “If you knew I was lying, why the hell did you keep me around?”

- Dabi goes entirely still, one hand subconsciously draping across his chest, and Hawks remembers the comment Shouto made earlier about the necklace. He wonders if the villain is reaching for it now.

- “You don’t ease into anything, do you?” He asks eventually with a chuckle, Hawks’ answering grin speaking for itself. “Alright, it’s… I guess, you know when you’re in a deep body of water and your head goes under, and it kind of hits you that you could drown there? And the first thing you do when you see it is reach for the light?” Hawks nods even though he’s always had an aversion to swimming due to the weight of his wings and has never been close enough to drowning to truly know. “It’s… Fuck, I’m trashing the hell out of this, but it’s like that. I could tell I was sinking, and I didn’t give a shit. And then you showed up, and I knew right off the bat that you were lying to my face, but for once, there’s this light right in front of me, close enough to reach for. I never really meant for it to be more than that.” He paused for a second before adding, “But there was something about the fact that you were batshit crazy enough to walk into the wolves’ den for your cause, and you just kept coming back. You had to know we’d figure it out eventually, and when we did you’d be done, but you kept trying anyway.” Dabi grins slightly, fingers definitely closing around the necklace this time, “That’s real hero shit. I’d spent so long hating all of them that I’d forgotten they weren’t all like the one I grew up with. And I can’t ever be like you, I’m not hero material, but… Reaching for that light here and here, it makes me feel like maybe I can be more than this someday.”

- He didn’t expect this kind of response. He didn’t expect this kind of honesty, barbless and vulnerable and kind. He didn’t really expect to find himself moving to straddle Dabi’s waist so he could be in a better position to kiss him, either, but that happens as well.

- Wordlessly, Hawks tugs Dabi’s hands from his necklace, and settles them on his hips, the winged hero pressing his own palms to either side of the villain’s scarred face, leaning forward to rest their foreheads together. He can feel Dabi’s breath against his mouth and cheeks as the other man lets out a soft exhale, his skin carrying that familiar slight chill that it always does, cooler still where his fingers rest on staples. He could stay in this forever, this moment, safe and sure and grounded. It isn’t until Dabi pulls away from him slightly to trace one hand down the curve of his wing and into his primary feathers that Hawks realizes that in his contentment he’s brought his wings up almost defensively, shielding them off from the rest of the world though there’s no one else around to see.

- “I used to hate the colour red.” Dabi murmurs, repeating the action once again, Hawks fluttering his wing against the fire-user’s calloused hand just to bring a smile to his face. That smile carries into the kiss Dabi pulls him in for an instant later. It isn’t their first kiss, not by a long shot, but there’s something more sweet and slow about this one, and it takes Hawks a second to realize that unlike the kisses they’ve shared in the past, this one isn’t laced with the premonition of an ending. Usually, there’s this sort of rushed tension in their more intimate moments, an unspoken understanding that whatever this thing they have is, it can only last so long. But that’s missing this time, the overlying pressure of awareness, of only whispering things that won’t break your heart later, of never knowing when each embrace might be the last and being prepared to cut your losses if it is. This time is different, sanguine, and Hawks suddenly gets the feeling that things are about to change.

- He isn’t wrong.

- “What if you joined us for real?” Dabi breathes, eyes hooded as they draw apart but still lingering close. Catching Hawks’ incredulous look, he runs his hands up the other man’s arms, taking on a more serious tone. “I mean it. We can get you out from under the Commission- they’d never be able to touch you again. You want a world where heroes have more spare time on their hands than they know what to do with? That’s never going to be a possibility the way things are now. Most of the groups and agencies are corrupt over the profitability of it all, and there’s a lot of heroes in the same boat. Believe me, birdie, they don’t want the crime rate going down- they just want it televised.”

- Hawks knows it’s true- Dabi isn’t just saying this to sway him. The winged hero has seen this firsthand. There are heroes out there who would sooner go into a situation after a disaster has already happened rather than stopping it before anyone can get hurt, because it’s flashier. It’s more likely to gain attention, even if it means innocents being injured or, hell, dying in the process. And there’s all the other stuff too- the notices they get at the beginning of each new year, informing them that if they save ‘x’ number of people from various minority groups, there will be a bonus payout for them by the end of the year, as diversity is good for their public image. Hawks always threw those papers away, but there were some who held onto them, kept a tally going. There are heroes who are only on the field for the money, who couldn’t care less about the people they’re saving so long as there’s a cheque at the end of it with their name on it. Hawks has even heard of a few cases where heroes staged or set up disasters and accidents to be noticed. There’s the Commission, literally grooming child soldiers and people like Endeavor who wear two faces to hide a darker truth from the public eye.

- For an organization made to help, the hero collective is a dog-eats-dog world, and it’s ruthless. Dabi’s right about Hawks’ dream being impossible- because as long as people are profiting off crime, they’ll never allow it to stop.

- Suddenly, all Hawks wants to do is sleep, cut the nightmare short and try to let himself catch up with the feeling of free-falling. He can’t go back to working beside Endeavor like nothing’s happened, he knows that. And to make matters worse, he told Shouto he wouldn’t tell anyone about this though he desperately knows he should, but at this rate he’s not sure it wouldn’t do more harm than good. There may be a time later in the future where the truth can be revealed without completely annihilating the small, fragile, bright world that the youngest Todoroki has been slowly building for himself, but to have the public come after him over something this big, demanding answers and surrounding him at all times… He can’t handle that yet, and Hawks can tell. Someday, but not yet.

- “And after you dismantle the system? What happens then?” Hawks asks quietly, noting the surprised flicker behind Dabi’s blue eyes. He hadn’t been expecting him to entertain this idea.

- “Hey, my job’s just to burn it to the ground,” Dabi snorts, nonchalant, but his hands stop moving up and down Hawks’ arms, and loosely circle his wrists, “I think I’ll leave the rebuilding to those of you who will do it right. Let the real heroes take care of the hero world, and maybe everything else will settle too. Maybe things can be better- and who knows,” He puts on a smirk, “Maybe the heroes will find they’ve got some spare time on their hands, just like you said.”

- Hawks considers this, nods once, makes up his mind and goes ‘fuck it’ while cutting his losses.

- “Fine.”

- Dabi freezes under him, confident look replaced by something much more comical.

- “What?”

- “Fine, I’m in.” Dabi goes to say something about considering options for more than three seconds, but Hawks cuts him off. “No, I’m serious. Things need to change, and that’s not going to happen with the way everything’s going now. I’m a hero because I want to help people, not because I have a license, and damn it there are more people I can help by fighting against the hero track than on it, which is really fucked up in itself. I’m in, and I’m saying that while I’m pissed off and bitter enough to go through with it because for fuck’s sake I can’t keep going back to that place and letting them wring me out until I’m dead. None of this is normal or okay, and I can’t keep pretending that it is. I need to do something.”

- The fire-user just stares at him awestruck throughout all this, and for a long while afterwards too, before eventually sitting up.

- “You’re certain?”

- “Yes.”

- “…Damn it, pigeon, what the hell am I going to do with you?”

- Hawks laughs at the weak pet name even as Dabi cups his face and pulls him in for another kiss, the blond’s laughter spilling out across their lips, fingers carding through Dabi’s hair. It’s a bright moment to end a dark day, something hopeful amid the tentative nature of something new.

- “We’re never rushing this again.” Hawks grins when they both need to take a breath, that warm embrace of security and peace having returned to him once more, settling in his chest and radiating so strongly he’s surprised he’s not glowing. Dabi hums in response, turquoise eyes mostly closed as he leans down to dust a kiss on the other’s collarbone, almost painfully slow as if to prove a point.

- “We won’t have to.” He promises, chuckling lowly at the slight gasp he receives for turning the kiss into a nip, “Welcome to the dark side, birdie.”

#BNHA Headcanons #bnha requests #dabihawks #dabihawks requests #dabihawks headcanons #bnha #mha #mha headcanons #mha requests

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captainmarvels · 5 years ago

Text

wicked games [21]

Summary: It’s your first night together after weeks apart, and Tom pulls out all the stops to make you feel welcome. Is it the start of a new beginning, or will it not be enough?

Pairing: CEO!Tom Holland x fem!Reader

Word Count: 3397

A/N: we’re back! enjoy this tooth-rotting, sweet sweet fluff because y’all have no idea what @thorsxodinson and i have in store for y’all :) and stop asking for updates, thx

masterlist | tag list - add yourself!

(gif by @bens-hardy )

If someone asked you how you were feeling at that moment, you’d probably describe how your anxiety was scaling your mind and body as if they were Mount Everest, digging deeper and entrenching itself in the sanctity of your peace.

Or what was left of it.

It was 6:01 on a Saturday morning, and you had been staring at the ceiling of your old bedroom for the past thirty minutes.

Today was “move back in” day, and every nerve in your body was engulfed in flames.

You weren’t sure what exactly was riling up your anxiety - was it the fact that you were finally going to share a bedroom with the man you’d loved for so long? Or the fact that you were overwhelmingly terrified of what living together would do to you?

Especially right after patching things up.

Tom said he and Harrison would be at the apartment at 7:30am to help you carry your things down to the car, and you felt bad about saying no.

You had only left with a few bags the night you stormed out of Tom’s apartment, but in the short time you had been with Maggie, you accumulated quite a number of things.

“Hey numb nut, need any help?” Thinking of the devil, she appeared at your doorway, hair pulled back in a messy bun, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the doorframe.

You flipped her off, groaning quietly as you sat up and looked at her.

“Didn’t think you’d be up so early, Mags,” You said in a tired voice. She shrugged.

“Thought it was best if I was there when the two idiot white boys showed up,” She said, grinning wide as you rolled your eyes.

“I’m just gonna shower and then pack up my bathroom stuff. You mind moving all that to the living room, at least?” You pointed at the duffel bag and set of boxes stacked neatly in the corner of the room across from your bed.

“Anything for you, my lovely dipshit.”

The apartment buzzer rang at exactly 7:30, and you were glad to see that a certain someone was already keeping their word.

A few moments later, a loud rap sounded on the door, and you could hear two faint British voices outside.

“Good morning,” Harrison said as you opened the door, his hands toying with his hair. Tom was next to him, and he flashed you a small smile as you locked eyes with him.

Harrison crossed the threshold and greeted Maggie, leaving the two of you rooted in place.

“Good morning,” Tom whispered, closing the short distance between you as he reached out and gently cupped your cheek.

“Hi,” You said under your breath, smiling as you leaned into his touch.

“Oi, we can’t do all the heavy lifting for you!” Harrison called out, and both you and Tom started to laugh.

“Bugger off mate, we’ll get to it!”

There was no need for goodbyes, as you and Maggie had plans for that weekend. Pulling up to the skyscraper of an apartment building, it only took a few minutes before Harrison left after helping Tom carry your things up into the apartment, but not before telling you he would be expecting an invitation for drinks after work soon.

You dropped down onto the massive couch, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment before you opened them again.

“When did you redecorate the living room?”

The sofa, which once faced the built in fireplace and massive flat screen TV, was now sitting across from the floor to ceiling windows that overlooked New York.

The TV now sat on a marble stand, which was also adorned with small succulents.

As you glanced behind you, you notice massive bookcases now stood where the TV once was. Potted plants sat at the very top, their vines creeping down the sides of the shelves. A few picture frames stood out to you - they were all photos of Tom, either with his mother or Harrison. None of his father or his brothers.

What surprised you the most was a frame on the center shelf, with a photo of you and him from Mary’s gala fundraiser. It was one of the few candid photos from that night - you were sitting on Tom’s lap, laughing at something an out-of-frame Harrison and Mary had said; Tom had one hand on your thigh, the other holding a hidden glass of scotch. The look on his face is what caught your eye. His gaze, focused on you, and his lips curled up in a smile, eyes enamoured with what lay before him.

It never occurred to you how sentimental he could be.

As your gaze scanned over the room, you noticed how empty the bar was. The glass shelves underneath the marble countertop were now sporting what appeared to be a variety of ceramic, handmade plates and wine glasses. Rich people’s version of fancy china?

Tom came in from the kitchen, breaking you away from your thoughts as he rounded the couch and handed you a warm mug, filled to the brim with your favorite tea.

“Mary went on this whole rant about feng shui and whatnot, and suggested I redecorate to help clear my head,” He gestured aimlessly at the space around you.

“I never thought I’d live to see the day you break away from your black and white monochromatic aesthetic, Tom,” You said, giggling when he gently swatted at your knee.

“The greenery is a nice change, I will admit. Besides,” He leaned back against the sofa cushions, bringing his own mug to his lips. “I should be admiring this view more often.”

He gave you a sly wink as he took a sip of coffee. Before you could say anything, the apartment buzzer rang.

“I can get that,” You said, setting your mug down on the new coffee table before heading out to the hallway.

“I don’t even know who that could be, I wasn’t planning on-” Tom stopped in his tracks as you opened the door, revealing the last person he wanted as a guest.

“Mary!”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

You shot Tom a dirty look over your shoulder, quietly scoffing as you walked into Mary’s embrace.

“I missed you, you little bugger,” She whispered in your ear, smiling cheekily as you pulled away.

“A little bird named Haz informed me of a visitor, so I thought I’d come and harass you! Not everything is about you, Stanley,” She stepped into the foyer, her heels clicking against the marble floors as she made a beeline for the kitchen. As you shut the door, you could hear Tom muttering under his breath.

“Can you put your temper tantrum on pause for now? I don’t need to deal with a whiny Tom at this moment,” You said as you took his hand in yours, squeezing gently.

Tom’s jaw dropped, eyes wide as you led him out of the hall.

Mary was sitting at the island bar, swirling a glass of red wine.

“Harrison suggested I pop by in case you needed help unpacking and all that jazz,”

“Actually, that sounds like a great idea! I assume I have you to thank for getting this one to change up the living room?” You were standing across from Mary, your hands resting on the counter. Tom was standing behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist. You could practically hear him rolling his eyes as you spoke.

“Yes, and you are very welcome for that,” Mary winked as she downed all the wine in her glass in one go. She leaned over just enough to set the glass down in the sink before rising from her chair.

“Just make sure not to water the plants; they’re fake, since this one can’t keep anything alive, apparently,”

“Not true!” Tom shouted after her as Mary walked into the living room. You tried to stifle your laughter as best you could, but you couldn’t help it as you followed the dysfunctional pair out the door.

“Thomas, Haz and I bought you a cactus to practice with and you killed it in less than two weeks! You have to actively try to murder it for that to happen!”

“How did you manage that?” You asked, glancing over at him as he buried his head in his hands.

“I thought cacti didn’t need water!” He answered exasperatedly, his words muffled by his hands.

“They need some, you buffoon,” You rubbed his back as he replied with a loud groan.

“Anyways, shall we get started with the unpacking? I’m sure you have loads of things you want to have in here?” Mary stood up from her seat, smoothing out her dress.

“I think I do! I can go grab the box; I made sure to organize everything so I could unpack faster,” You flashed her a quick smile as you headed to your new room; once the door closed behind you, Mary turned to face Tom.

“I noticed you put up the photo I sent. Glad to see you’re trying, Holland.”

Tom looked up at her, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You’re… complimenting me? That’s a first,”

“I’m trying out this new thing - it’s called being nice, y’know? Not that you deserve my kindness in any way but, it’s better than nothing. Just don’t fuck up, alright?”

Tom scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back.

“Believe me, I’m trying not to.”

A few hours later, and the apartment was finally starting to reflect a mix of your and Tom’s personalities.

A few colorful throw pillows now decorated the couches in the living room, and your favorite coasters - sporting hand painted elephants - now sat on the coffee and dining room tables.

Your clothes now lined half of Tom’s personal walk-in closet; it was the size of a bedroom, and you were still surprised your clothing had managed to take up so much space.

After storing your duffel bag in a drawer, you leaned back against the dresser and took in the room before you.

The bed, once covered in a multitude of shades of black, was now brightened up with a simple red throw blanket strewn across the silky duvet, with adorning red floral pillows to match.

Hung up on the wall to the right of the bed were a series of framed photographs that you had taken over the last few months. Your favorite was intricately placed in the middle - a photo of you and Tom that you’d forgotten about until you sent the photos to print. Harrison had taken it one random night; the two of you were on the sofa, all wrapped up in one another. Your hand was near Tom’s face, as if you were trying to cover his mouth because of something he’d said. Your head was thrown back in laughter, eyes shut tight from joy. Tom was grinning widely, his eyes focused on you while his hands rested gently on your legs that lay across his lap.

The sound of the bedroom door opening pulled you out of your memories, your lips still curled up in a smile as Tom walked in, a single rose in hand.

You met him halfway, tilting your head to the side just a bit as Tom cupped your cheek once you were within arm's reach.

“I have a question,” He said quietly, his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

“And?” You answered, your eyes fluttering shut as the pad of his thumb swept across your skin.

“I know you just moved in but… I was thinking, we could… well, I was thinking I could take you out on a date. Dinner, a movie; whatever you’d like to do.”

Tom’s hand dropped from your face to rest on your hip, his eyes meeting yours for a moment as you processed his words.

“As long as you promise that it won’t be bland British food,” You both broke out in laughter as Tom pulled you closer to him, your breaths mixing together as you looked at one another.

“I missed your cheekiness, darling,” He whispered, grinning as you grew flustered at his words.

“Well there’s more where that came from then,” You quipped, rolling your eyes as you felt him squeeze your waist.

Before letting you go, Tom leaned in and said, “I hope you don’t mind, but I may or may not have picked something out for you to wear.”

Taking your hand in his, he led you to massive dressing room down the hall. He opened the door and stepped to the side, gesturing for you to enter first.

Nothing could have prepared you for what was waiting inside.

As the recess lighting brightened up the room, you were met with what appeared to be hundreds of bouquets, burying the floor underneath your feet as you walked inside.

Roses, tulips, calla lilies, hydrangeas, and daisies sat all around the room; vases perched in between the ball gowns on display, on the shelves amongst all the dressed up high heels, and on just about every other surface and available space you could think of.

Something else caught your eye as you took in what was in front of you; a lone clothing rack in the middle of the room, with a burgundy dress hung up on it.

You made your way towards it, your eyes and jaw wide open from amazement. Laying a hand on the dress, you realized it was made of a silk-satin blend material; there was a large sash wrapped around the middle, tied in an elegant bow that hit right at the waist.

“Wow…” You whispered, your mind glazed over from all the shock you were still wading through.

“I take it you like it?” Tom asked as he walked up behind you.

You turned around and faced him, gently shaking your head as he wrapped his arms around you.

“I really don’t know what to say,” You replied, your words still laced with surprise.

“No need to say anything, sweetheart. I’ll wait for you in the living room, okay?” He squeezed your shoulders gently as he stepped back.

Before he took another step, you took his hand in yours and sweetly kissed one of his knuckles.

The small token of gratitude stunned Tom, leaving him speechless as he simply flashed you a smile before leaving you alone.

Baby steps.

Smoothing over the silk material now adorning your figure, you looked at yourself once more in the mirror before finally heading out to meet Tom.

You found him pacing back and forth in the foyer, hands tucked in the pockets of his tailored suit. He heard you coming down the hall, the loud sound of your heels clicking down the marble floors captivated his attention.

“Even better than I thought it would be,” He said, chuckling lowly when you gently smacked his arm.

“Don’t flatter yourself too much, Holland,” You smiled sarcastically as he playfully rolled his eyes.

“Don’t sass me too much, love. You know I won’t be able to handle it,” Before you could respond, he clasped his hand in yours and led you to the elevator.

“Let’s get this show on the road, yeah?”

Before you knew it, the night was coming to an end.

Tom had made a reservation for the two of you at one of your favorite restaurants in the city; so high up in the building, you had a gorgeous view of the city lights.

After a filling dinner, the server brought out a gorgeous, well adorned slice of cake for you to share. Tom generously let you have the last bite, but not after a fair match of rock, paper, scissors.

Stepping out into the cool New York air, the two of you walked in sync to your favorite place - the bookshop.

You roamed aimlessly throughout the overflowing shelves, your fingers trailing over the old, worn out covers that were hoping to tell you a story. Tom was lost in a fantasy world of his own when you finally found him among the stacks.

“Good read?” You asked, flashing him a small smile as he nodded.

“And it looks like you’ve found quite a few, too” He glanced at the stack of books you were hugging to your chest.

“What can I say? I’ll never get enough.”

You were standing in the living room, filling an empty shelf with all the softcovers you brought home from the bookshop. As you finished ordering them by genre, you felt two arms snake their way around your waist, hands clasping at your mid-section while an all-too familiar face appeared over your shoulder.

“All done?” Tom whispered in your ear. You nodded, resting your hands on his as you leaned into him just a bit.

“Then let’s go to bed, love.”

Taking his hand, you followed Tom to your bedroom, where you found a cozy, candle-lit space waiting for you.

He was already dressed in his own pajamas; satin pants hanging low off his hips, and a simple black t-shirt that fit him a little too well.

“Do you always to be well dressed everywhere you go?” You giggled when he shrugged.

“Maybe. Now go change,” He said, throwing a pillow at you as he pulled back the duvet and top sheet from his side of the bed.

Laughing, you jokingly flipped him off as you tossed the pillow back on the bed, and grabbed a nightgown off the dresser next to you.

Stepping out of the bathroom, changed and ready for bed, you couldn’t help but giggle when you found Tom sitting up in bed, glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, his eyes focused on the pages before him.

“Well hello, Grandpa,” You said in between giggles, your eyes slowly watering as you tried to catch your breath. Tom looked at you over the rim of his frames, eyes narrowing for a brief moment before he joined in on your laughter.

“Even when you poke fun at me, I am still absolutely in love with you, darling.”

You were leaning against the wall, and you rolled your eyes playfully as you put a hand over your heart.

“When did you get so soft?”

As you climbed into bed, Tom set down his book and glasses on his nightstand, shutting off the light before turning to face you.

“Maybe you just didn’t notice before, bug,”

You scrunched up your nose at the pet name.

“No bug?”

You shook your head no, pulling the covers over your head.

“No goodnight kiss then?” You peeked at him, giggling once more when you saw the pouty look on his face.

“Only because you look cute when you’re sad,” You said.

“That’s a little sadistic, don’t you think?”

“You want a kiss or not?”

Tom laughed, shaking his head as he leaned down, cupping your cheek as he kissed you softly. The pad of his thumb brushed over your lips as he pulled away, his forehead still pressed against yours.

“Goodnight, my love.”

“Sweet dreams, bug.”

Rubbing his eyes awake, Tom glanced over at the clock on his nightstand.

4:07 a.m.

Shit.

Slowly pulling off the covers, he slipped off the bed without disturbing you. Glancing back at you as he opened the bedroom door, he couldn’t help but smile before shutting the door behind him.

His phone was still sitting on the counter in the kitchen where he’d forgotten it.

After setting the coffee maker to brew, he scrolled through the notifications waiting for him.

Mary Shithead: Call me when you get the chance

Mary Shithead: I’ll be up all night because why the fuck not?

Rolling his eyes, Tom pulled up her contact info and hit “call”.

“What a surprise. Why you up, Stanley?”

“Why did you want me to call?”

“Just wanted to ask how your date went, sheesh. Remember, I’m trying to be ‘nice’ or whatever?”

Tom laughed sarcastically.

“Yeah, ‘whatever’. It went well. Made me realize just how much I really missed her,”

“Gross, Stanley! You are in love, huh? What does that feel like?” Mary’s words seemed to catch him off guard.

And yet, the words that rolled off his tongue seemed to capture just about all he was thinking.

“Like everything I’ve ever lost, come back to me.”

tags, part 1:

@cherrynat @anytimebitches @joyfullyje @jobean12-blog @emotchalla @enigma-xlii @illletitgrow @cloverrover @lovelyttom @justaveryobsessedfangirl @ssweet-empowerment @killmongerdreams @spideytrxsh @eyestheyseeyou @aussie-mantle @spidergirlwanab @i-think-i-am-adorable @amanda51015-blog @princessskylarsblog @whoneedsalifeanyhowxx @chinalois @clairesrainbow @darkerthanspace @slighttinsomniac @curlytomholland @wanderlustomaha @hollandazing @mendes-marvel @wowspideyholland

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader fluff #tom holland fic #tholland

215 notes · View notes

szopenhauer · 4 years ago

Text

Did the last person you kissed celebrate your last birthday with you? no

Who is the person you would least like to be stuck in a lift with? Why? smelly drunk puking rapist murderer - do I really have to explain? If your parents looked in your inbox and read your messages, would they find out anything you didn’t want them to know? my sexts Have you cried at all during the past week? ... When was the last time you felt disappointed? What was the reason? now, no comment Who was the last person you had an argument with? how would you feel if that person never spoke to you again? both good and bad

Do you like forks with three metal pokers, or four? I don’t care Would you ever wear a hat with cat ears on it? I already do

Have you ever eating raw sugar by itself? when I was a kid I was stealing it from my grandma’s sugar-bowl Do you paint your left or right hand fingernails first? I don’t recall but probably left as I’m righty What about for your feet? not that I paint them but whatever What’s the scariest thing you’ve ever done? hmm... Do you think fish are cute? some can be If you found an ant on your food, would you still eat it? doubt it How much do you weigh? 42 kg now

What was the shortest amount of time you’ve known someone before you’ve dated them? but dates or relationship?

Do you have any theatrical experience? If so, what have you done? just school

Don’t you hate it when people talk about their relationships constantly? every subject you talk about constantly is getting on my nerves tbh

Is there anything you need to say to anyone? I don’t know how/what/if I should/want to

If you could have anyone to do your eulogy, who would it be and why? my dad

If given the choice, would you rather go to Subway or a Chinese restaurant? Subway

Do your neighbors annoy you in any way? many ways

Whose car were you in last? I was in a taxi

How late did you stay up last night? I barely slept at all because of cannula/venflon and feeling like I’m choking, also noise and anxiety

What were you doing at 12:30 this afternoon? coming home

Who did you last see in person? mom

When was the last time a member of the opposite sex hugged you? today (my father)

What is on your wrists right now? finally nothing and that feels weird, I constantly want to fix my ID wristband but it’s not there anymore

Where did you get the shirt you’re wearing? second hand - it has an elephant and Perfectly imperfect written on it

Do you like clowns? very

Are you listening to anything at the moment? I am

Do you twitch when your falling asleep? it happens at times but only rarely

Are your dishes in the dishwasher clean or dirty? we don’t own a dishwasher

Are you at home or with friends more often? home and I like it that way

Would you date someone 15 years older than you? noooo

Do you own a strapless bra? nah

How are you feeling at this exact moment? it’s complicated

Are you someone who worries too often? absolutely

Do you ever wonder how other people see you? obvi

What is one good thing you’re known for? How about one bad thing? don’t ask me

Are you taller than most? lmfao

Are you the type of person who likes to be out or home? take a guess...

Has anyone ever said i love you to you and not meant it? it seems

Do you regret going out with the last person you did? going out as dating or just spending time with somebody outside?

When was the last time you showered? few days ago because I couldn’t move my arm :(

Who did you last talk to in person? my mother

Do you ever have days where you just don’t do anything? yeah

Have you ever been extremely tired but refused to go to sleep? hahaha

What’s the longest amount of time you’ve been stuck in traffic? not sure

What area of math are you best at? Worst? dunno

How do you feel when you meet someone with the same music taste as you? only Dorota had similar taste in music to mine not counting my current gf’s love towards 80s songs that we share

How often do you “half-ass” things (put little effort in)? often?

Do you ever feel self-conscious when you eat around other people? yes

Has a teacher ever made you hate yourself/your work? sure

What’s something that makes you incredibly nervous? everything?...

If you don’t have glasses, how would you feel if you had to get them? mixed feelings

If you do have glasses, how would you feel if you didn’t need them anymore? -

Have you ever considered going to art school? I have considered and am slightly regretting that I didn’t

How quickly can you write an essay? depends

Favorite episode of Spongebob? it’s not my fav but I remember the one where Spongebob painted the room most (why tho?)

Do you have any silly/odd emotional connections to anything/anyone? would say so

Do you play with your phone in awkward situations? I might

Do u own a rolling pin?: u don’t? :o

What’s your ideal indoor temperature?: never checked

Does your kitchen have a theme?: ... apparently poop is the theme

Are u a pack rat?: mhm

What’s the grossest thing u have found in your food?: bug, hair, piece of plastic...

Do u like ice cream sandwiches?: why not

Ever worn a flower in your hair?: for a moment

What surgeries have u had?: none

What health problems do u have?: what health problems I don’t have?...

Do u like to sleep in?: yasss

Don’t ya just hate foot cramps? who likes those?

Would you say you have an infectious laugh? not really Shouldn’t you be doing something else right now? omg thx for a reminder :o What is something you worry about often? every single thing Do you walk fast or slow? compared to?... Would you consider yourself healthy? Both mind and body. not at all Does sitting in waiting rooms drive you insane? not as much as majority of people, I can wait for a long time when I see the point and don’t feel the worst, I don’t need much entertainment to not get bored What form of public transport do you use most often? bus Would you consider yourself an adrenaline junkie? the opposite Have you ever been arrested? If so, why? I’m an angel Do you ever put sticky notes around the place to remind yourself of things? I have shitload of notes but they’re not sticky Would you eat a spider for $50? hell no Would you rather be a kangaroo or a koala? koala Are you easy to talk to? am I? Can you juggle with more than two items? I can’t juggle with one item pfft At airports do you ever worry your luggage won’t arrive? scary but luckily I don’t travel by plane What other windows have you currently got opened? fb, youtube, tumblr drafts, google translator and google searching Who else is in the same building as you? my parents Would you like a penny farthing bicycle? maybe Would you ever consider visiting Ireland? what for? Would you like to visit Venice? no thx Did you ever eat leaves when you were a kid? my sister did Do you have any flags in your house? we occasionally put polish flag on balcony Are there any ‘keep off the grass’ signs where you live? just don’t throw trash on the ground on cemetery Have you ever walked on the grass with such a sign? that’s rude unless you really didn’t notice or had no choice Are you double-jointed? could say so At school which area of science did you prefer: biology/chemistry/physics? definitely not physics Which did you prefer between geography/history? neither Have you ever driven a tractor? didn’t have an opportunity Does the smell of the countryside bother you? animal shit does Do you drink more water or juice? water

Sweater weather or tank top weather? Which do you prefer. I like it hot, I hate winter but I enjoy sweaters Is there a cat in the room you’re in right now? stuffed only Do you enjoy going to the movies? prefer to watch movies at home

Are you an animal lover? I admire from afar How tall are you? according to my doctor I lost 2 cm Is there anything you want to ask anyone right now? God Are you gay, straight, bi, lesbian, asexual, or not sure? asexual/lesbian Are you more negative or more positive? negative Have you made any life altering decisions lately? I’m deciding

Do you have any songs currently stuck in your head? not atm Have you made a CV? several Where is the last place you applied for a job? (If you have) which was the last one... Are you photogenic? I’m ugly

What are you listening to right now? stopped because family member is asleep What are you going to do tomorrow? shopping if anything

Have you ever been judged on something you wore? been bullied

Think QUICK what word begins with c? clown :D

Are you a funny person? I believe Be honest, do you go for looks more or personality? personality is more important but I’m picky

Are you a flirty person? a bit

Are you homophobic? I’m homo myself so...

How would you react if someone said you ruined their life? I know I ruin everybody’s lives

If you’re home alone, do you still close/lock the door when you use the bathroom? I don’t lock ‘em even when I’m not alone

What’s the stupidest song you’ve listened to today? nothing stupid

How is your hair currently styled? it’s dirty and after this survey I will wash my head finally

Do you ever stay up late just to be awake oh well...

Would you ever write a letter to someone you haven’t met yet, like your future spouse? I don’t think so

Would you rather spend the day watching movies or on an intense hike? entire day just one thing?!

Are you stressed about anything? always Have you ever stood on a frozen solid body of water? too dangerous for me Are you one of those people who take like, 50 Facebook quizzes at a time? whoops :x What’s on your bed? it’s so clean/empty that it freaks me out Are you texting anyone? no longer

Did your last beverage contain caffeine? it was just water

Did you get any friend requests on Facebook today? did not

What’s your least favourite song by your favourite artist? for example - one of my fav bands - Queen - I dislike Radio Gaga and We will rock you

What’s your best friend’s middle name? no middle name!

Who was the last person to comment on your Facebook status? my partner

If the person you miss turned up at your door now, how would you react? woah wtf

Where were you THREE hours ago? in here

What are you wearing right now? my leggings with colorful heart pattern

Who was the last person you talked to on the phone? parent

Have you bought any clothing items in the last week? I got two shirts and socks

What day is tomorrow? Friday

Do you remember the first person you ever kissed? we’re together now again

Ever use someone else’s toothbrush? that’s disgusting, don’t!

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harrieatthemet · 6 years ago

Text

skin

part I of II ;) feedback is appreciated thx

requested

The first time it happens, it’s skin.

It’s all he sees. Bare, naked skin. Little beads of sweat dribbling down, achingly slow, perfectly between the valley of your breasts. Your bare back, his fingers tauntingly running up and down your spine. They’re approaching lower and lower, so close, where his hand is nearly hovering over your bum. And he’s deciding on whether or not he wants to give it a rough smack, and sit back as he watches the skin turn a flushed red. It’s like he can even hear the muffled moan erupting from you, and he hasn’t even done it yet. He can feel all the blood rush to his lower lip, as his teeth sink deeper and deeper into it. But he doesn’t notice, he’s too caught up. Too caught up in the noises, your noises. He’s too caught up..

“Harry,” you hum, “m’I boring you?”

He blinks twice, quickly because he realizes he’s drifted off to a place unfamiliar to him, unexplored territory. And he’s sucking in a sharp breath, distancing himself from thought and grounding himself back to reality. He can’t help but permit that wave of disappointment, of unfulfilled relief. You’re sitting in front of him, yes, directly in front of him, waving your hand by his face to lure him back to whatever the context of the conversation was. But you’re not naked, sprawled out on his oversized mattress, moaning sweet like a hummingbird as his name so filthily rolls off your tongue. No, you’re sitting in front of him, fully clothed and trying to figure out if your story about the heel on your shoe breaking was lulling him to sleep.

“Sorry,” he answers, briefly clearing his throat, “jus’ tired.”

“Mmm,” you snicker, “s’why you’re eyes glazed over like that?”

He’s getting nervous, only momentarily, as he panics. It’s not like you can read his mind, obviously you can’t. But it still makes him nervous, because it’s you. You, a good friend, a valued friend. Someone he likes to tell his secrets to, someone his mum calls occasionally to check up on, because she absolutely adores you. You’re the same person Gemma will get lunch with when you’re both in London, so the two of you can catch up. And he almost feels guilty for thinking about your pretty tits. But God, they’re just so fucking pretty…

“Y’could never bore me,” he huffs, giving a quick shake of his head, his mop of waves flopping around, “m’jus tired.”

It’s happened a couple more times, following that day. He’d find himself zeroed in your lips, watching in depth as your lips would move while you spoke. Or he’d find himself staring too long as you’d tuck your hair behind your ear. It was such an effortless, small gesture. Nothing special, and had no sexual context whatsoever. But you’d expose your neck just enough, that he’d start to think about what it’d look like with marks. Marks all over it, his marks, the ones he’d suck and nibble to the surface while he drowned in the noises of pleasure coming from you.

He doesn’t mind that you’re here, doesn’t mind you decided to pop in unannounced. It was typical of you, anyways. And he was glad you decided to stick around, even after he told you he was heading to a dinner in a little while. He was glad, at first, anyways.

“You redid the kitchen,” you marvel, “I like it.”

“S’not over the top?” He inquires, watching as you drag your hands along the countertops.

“Everything you do is over the top,” you chuckle, and he playfully scoffs at you’re reply, “in a tasteful way of course.”

Watching your fingers drag, slowly, the pads of your fingers brushing along the marble, he’s thinking of his own fingers. What he’d do with them, how they’d disappear in and out of you. He wants to drag his fingers, too, but not on the countertops. He wants to drag them on you, all over you, up and down. Dragging them up your legs, tantalizingly slow, on the inside of your thighs until they’re…

And then you’re gone. He swore he’d only surrendered to his sexual fantasy for a few seconds. Obviously it was much longer, because you weren’t wandering around the kitchen anymore. But your footsteps, light and feathery as you padded up the stairwell at the end of the hall, was enough to get him to follow on your heels. His eyes are fixated on the sway of your hair, thick and silky, with a little bit of a bounce to it as you slither through the hallways whilst admiring the preciously hung artwork that adored the upstairs hallway walls. He wants to yank on it, a rough tug, playful enough to lure out a moan, gentle enough to avoid hurting you. A fistful of it, bunched up in his hand, messy as it forms knots because he’s tugging so hard, for dear life. Because fuck, your mouth feels so good on him, just like that. And your head is bobbing in a rhythmic pace, your tongue gently swirling, hearing the popping noise of your mouth coming off him. He nearly gets chills down his arms.

“Where’s that other one?” You turn to face him and he goes wide eyed, for a minute, before feverishly racking his brain to answer your question.

“The other one?” He quirks a brow at you, and you nod.

“Yeah, that other painting. The red one I like, the one with all the different shades. You used to have it downstairs, by the living room.”

“S’in my room,” he replies cooly, “over my bed.”

You wiggle your eyebrows a little, before mumbling something under your breath, incoherent enough that it goes unnoticed by him at first, but it doesn’t keep him from following you as you snake your way towards his bedroom door.

“Yeh just wanna get into m’bedroom.” He teases, and you snicker as you roll your eyes.

“Hmmm,” you hum playfully, “ya got me.” Your smile is wry, your hand going to turn the knob on the door before the thing flies open.

He’s anxious now, because he’s not sure how much longer he can physically be in the room with you. His self control is withering away, fading fast, and it’s close to becoming nonexistent. And you’re touching all his things, babbling about a few of them, all whilst admiring the little cologne bottles and other random trinkets he has scattered atop his nightstands and dresser.

Each time you get a little closer to the bed, close enough where you’re nearly touching it, he can feel his chest get heavy and his knees lock in place. All his fantasies, all his daydreams and sexual ridden thoughts, they’re moving at warps speed through his mind, almost right in front of his eyes. It’s almost like watching a movie, as every image paints itself so vividly, and it all feels so real. Until it’s not.

“Gonna go,” he huffs,” uh, change.”

“Alrighty.” Your voice is silvery, nearly lyrical, and he shoves himself into the bathroom off the bedroom because he swears he’s gonna lose it.

He’s just splashing a little water on his face, trying to get a fucking grip because he fucking has to. And he knows you’re probably getting antsy, that you’ve examined everything in the bedroom, that soon you’ll move into sifting through his clothes out of sheer boredom. But he just needs a few minutes, just a few, which is more than enough to try and pull his head out of the clouds.

“Did you sneak out the window,” you joke, “let me see what you’re wearing.”

The door knob jiggles, and he’s somehow managed collected his thoughts, swept them all up and tucked the deep into the back of his mind. But everything goes to shit. Everything he just buried away and crammed into the back of his mind comes flooding back, immediately, in one pummeling wave.

He’s not sure if this is real, if this is happening right now. Theres a chance that he’s almost imagining it, like another one of his forlorn thoughts. But he’s not, definitely not, because ehe blinks two or three times just to be sure. So you are, you’re laying on his bed. You’re laying on his mattress, sprawled out, legs spread apart just enough for him to ache for the opportunity to lay right between them. You’re clothed, another aspect contributing to the realness vs daydream debate. Clothed, you might be, but you’re still sprawled nearly identical to how he’s imagined it over, and over, and over again. Hair laying sloppily around your head, your chest rising and falling. He’s got a Birdseye view of it all, an aerial shot, just like he’s imagined it..

And thats strike one.

Watching you crane your neck up, to get a glimpse of him in his suit, he’s about ready to risk it all. Because you’re craning your neck in just the right way, like you would crane your neck to look at him between your legs.

Strike two.

“Not bad, Harold.” You giggle as the nickname flows from your mouth, a nickname you’ve taunted him with for years, “You clean up nice.”

A grim roll of the eyes is all you get, before he’s slinking off to the other end of the room, swallowing hard as though it’ll help suppress the sexual tension he’s got mounting in him.

And your laying on his bed still, rolled over to your stomach now, watching as he stands himself in front of the mirror to analyze his outfit. You’re watching through his reflection, taking in a couple deep breaths, smirking at you when he catches your stare. But you’re wondering when he’ll finally notice.

“I noticed,” he chirps up, “don’t think I didn’t.”

“Notice what?” You’re trying your hardest not to crack a smile, and he lets out a dry laugh.

“This,” he chuckles, before turning and pointing at his sloppily tied tie, “y’think y’so sneaky, huh?”

“Must’ve missed that,” you snort, and he shamelessly tsk’s you, “c’mere, let me see.”

He accepts the notion and shuffles forward, watching as you bring yourself to your knees at the end of his bed, bringing the two of you to eye level.

Your bodies are just barely touching, and your chest is so close his he can smell the perfume coming off of you. A light, airy floral scent, so strong but so modest that he almost wants you to stay here like this so he can breathe in the smell of you. And he thinks it’s weird, initially. Thinks it’s strange how just something as simple as the smell of your perfume is turning him on, and he’s trying his hardest to push it away but he can’t.

He’s not sure why this is all happening now, years after a strictly platonic friendship. These desires, this crave to touch you, to see every inch of your body, they’d never presented themselves up until a couple weeks ago. And now it’s all he thinks about, when he’s around you, when he’s not. The concept of it, the concept of getting to have you in that way, seems to be a dominating thought in his head.

“All set,” you grin, and he peers down at you as you finish up the tie, “some of my best work.”

No strike three, because his patience has completely dissipated.

He doesn’t realize at first. He doesn’t realize he’s got his hand on your jaw, a thumb on one side of your chin while the other four of his fingers rested on the other side. And you still smell so good, especially now, because he’s closer. Impossibly close, because he’s kissing you and it’s needy and dominant and he’s so wrapped up in the fact that he so carelessly succumbed to his imagination that he forgot to even ask.

He forgot to ask.

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groundzerobakugo · 6 years ago

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hey there! I have another request of a shinsou x reader- basically; reader is always drawing during class- and after school ends she’s painting in the art room. Shinsou always sees her after training when he passes the art room and watches her for a few minutes- and one day she notices him. They start to talk everyday(art,quirk,etc) until one day she’s not there because something happened; add your plot twist! angst maybe? sorry for sending in so many requests,but thx for working on them! 🖤❤️🖤

i’m doing this one right now because i have a really really good idea bc you said angst and i’ve got a GREAT idea for this. hang on tight heart anon

...

your paintbrush glided over the canvas, a mixed hue of purple and blue merging together to create the perfect shade of indigo you were hoping for. the tip of your tongue stuck out of the corner of your mouth as you worked on the new painting, the faint line of your sketch barely visible.

even though you were in japan’s number one hero academy (the general education, at least), art had always been a small escape for you with the stressful events that happened at school. it was one of the ways to efficiently communicate with your quirk, too. you could see small glimpses into the future, and you drew out your visions before you forgot them.

you were never seen without a sketchpad in your hands, and paint somehow always seemed to get into your hair.

it took a moment before you realized you were sketching a pair of eyes, gazing at you through the paper. you could have sworn you’d seen those eyes before. you ran a hand through your locks, a bit of indigo color painting your (hair color) strands. it was just about time to head back to the dorms, so you would have to leave your work as it was. though, the only vision you’d had were those indigo eyes.

you turned in your seat, eyes catching something in the window if the classroom door as you did so. you did a double take, but when you had looked again, no one was there.

shinsou hitoshi left the training room with aching muscles and bruised limbs. he wasn’t good enough to beat his new mentor, but he could tell he was getting better with the restraining clothes. perhaps he’d place within the top three at the next festival, given he was allowed to use them.

he stuffed his hands into the pocket of his uniform slacks with a sigh. he passed by one of the open classrooms, peering into the room for a moment before he stopped. no matter how many times he watched the girl from his class draw, he was always hypnotized to stop and watch her work. they were impressive, and he wanted to know what made her draw what she did.

last week, he’d even saw her draw what he believed were his eyes. he was sure he was the only one in yuuei with his eye color, and somehow the girl had gotten the shade exactly right.

he took a closer look, teetering within the entrance of the classroom as he watched her paint with tired eyes. it was another painting, one that his tired mind couldn’t process was him again, leaning in that very doorway.

you could feel holes burn into your back as you worked, and you took a nonchalant glance at the clock above you. “i still have ten minutes left, snipe-sensei, i--” you turned, words catching in your throat as you noticed it wasn’t the art teacher.

he hadn’t even noticed you staring at him at first, his eyes trained on the drawing.

“shinsou-san?” your head tilted with confusion.

said boy jumped and his eyes came back into focus. “oh, sorry, i didn’t mean to intrude, (last name)-san.”

a smile graced your lips, and you shook your head. “it’s okay, i’m just not used to an audience,” you laughed. you looked back to your painting, and then back to shinsou with your mouth agape. “uh, s-sorry about that. i just--it’s part of my quirk.”

shinsou’s brows furrowed. “huh?” he stepped in and got a closer look at the drawing, now realizing it was him. “oh, it’s me. you’re a really good artist.”

you blushed. “th-thanks.”

“you said it was part of your quirk?” he asked.

“yeah, i-i can see glimpses of the future,” you replied. “but, it’s like dreaming. if i don’t draw it out right away, i’ll forget about it. you know?”

he didn’t, but he still nodded. “that’s pretty cool.”

“mhm!” you beamed. “but snipe usually kicks me out of the art room around, well, now. are you headed back to the dorms?”

“yeah, just finished with training,” he said.

“wanna walk back with me?” you asked, beginning to put away the art supplies and clean up your mess.

the boy smiled, “sure.”

it had become routine for you and shinsou to meet up after school, sometimes even at lunch or during homeroom before your teacher showed up. he would go to training and then head to the art room right after to walk with you back to the dorms. it turned out, you two shared the same sense of humor, and while he was the serious one--though, more tired than anything--you were always pretty bubbly and happy in his eyes.

you enjoyed the hero-in-training’s company immensely. you thought he was interesting and the drive for becoming a pro-hero even more than any of the other hero course kids’ stories you’d heard. you’d grown accustomed to meeting him in the lunch room and walking back to the dorms with him. most times he even helped you with your homework. the last bit helped a lot, seeing as you were almost too busy sketching during class due to your quirk.

and through your constant meetings and relatively new friendship with shinsou, you’d started to develop feelings. it may have been too soon, but his dedication to becoming a hero and his eyes and the way his personality meshed so well with yours, well... you could feel yourself falling for him and his indigo eyes.

you sat in the art room with a blank canvas in front of you. an assortment of colors was laid out on the easel, and you expertly mixed a light hue of indigo together. it started as light, short brush strokes against the paper, and you added bits of red to the mix.

shinsou stood in the doorway once more as he came back early from aizawa’s training. he wasn’t sure what you were painting that day, but he knew that he enjoyed seeing how your eyes glazed over while you painted your visions.

“it looks like a flower,” he commented as he noticed you put the paintbrush down. somehow, the boy knew when and when not to disrupt you, and he would always wait until you finish with your art to start talking.

you nodded. “it’s called an anemone flower, i think. i’ve seen it a few times, and that rarely happens with visions.”

“what’s the red?” he asked, taking a closer look.

to that, you shrugged. “not too sure. it’s about the same color as blood, but i’m sure it’s part of the flower. they come in many different colors, so i wouldn’t be surprised.”

he hummed. “well, it’s pretty either way. you ready to go?”

“just give me a second to clean up,” you replied.

“sounds good, i’ll be waiting outside.” and the indigo-haired boy left the room.

you had just twisted the cap back onto one of the tubes of paint when you felt a dry itch at the back of your throat. you took a quick swig of your water before returning back to cleaning up once again. but, the water hadn’t helped, and you coughed a few times, trying to clear the itch. maybe you were just getting sick.

you closed your sketchbook and reached to slip in back into your backpack when you were met with a rack of coughs. the air grew thin as you hacked your lungs out, your eyes watering with the intensity and lack of air. you could feel something climb up your throat, and you rushed over to the trashcan. doubling over as you began to taste something sickly sweet on your tongue.

petals filtered through your mouth, their lilac tone tainted with a deep red. there were a couple dozen in the trashcan when the coughing fit finally subsided enough for you to regain your composure. they were wet and wilted from saliva, and your eyes widened upon the sight.

you wiped your mouth, shaking your head and trying to put the discovery to the back of your mind. maybe it was some new bug going around, as weird as it was. people had superpowers and you went to superhero school, coughing up flower petals couldn’t be that weird. it would probably go away in a few days.

it didn’t. a week had passed, and you had finally gained enough courage to look up what was wrong with you--hanahaki disease. a disease in which a person coughs up flower petals due to unrequited love. it had progressively gotten worse too, as the days went by.

you had taken to wearing a surgical mask, and often had to be excused to use the restroom and cough up the petals. bags under your eyes had started to form, too, due to the lack of sleep from waking up in the middle of the night. not to mention, with the flowers growing in your lungs, you could hardly breathe anymore during physical education.

shinsou was growing worried, too. your demeanor was slowly deteriorating into a shell of what you used to be. you told him it was just a sickness, that it shouldn’t last long. but, with the bags under your eyes getting darker with each day, enough to rival his own, and the hollowing of your cheeks (it’s a little hard to eat when you couldn’t breath), he was just about ready to drag you to recovery girl himself.

aizawa had dismissed him early once more, and he made his way to the art room again. but, to his surprise, it was empty. he was sure he’d seen you during class that day, and you didn’t say anything about needing to go anywhere after classes had ended. did he forget something? maybe you’d texted him earlier, which would be a shame since his phone had died earlier that day.

he walked back to the dorms alone, worry pooling in his gut.

everyone stared at his lone figure when he got in the door, and he shot them a look to mind their own business. so, they took to mumbling amongst themselves as he thought curiously to himself. he was tired and sore, but he wanted to check to see if you were okay. something wasn’t sitting right with him; your sudden absence from the art room had to be because of the new illness you had.

shinsou’s knuckles rapped against your door, the faint sounds of music coming from your room. he stood in the middle of the hallway awkwardly with his eyes shifting to your door, down to the elevator, back to your door, to his shoes, up at the ceiling, back to your door. he shuffled on his feet slightly, knocking once again.

“(name)?” he called.

he heard clambering footsteps thud against the flooring, and then your door swung open with your tired smile poking through. “oh, shinsou-kun, hey.”

he returned an unsure smile. “hey, you okay? you weren’t in the art room today.”

you nod quickly, “yeah, sorry about that, i tried to text you.”

“phone’s dead,” he replied. he was about to say something else, but the sight of a lone, indigo hue dipped in deep red caught his eye, the petal tangled in your hair. “what’s that?”

“hmm?” your brows furrowed.

shinsou reached a hand to your hair, plucking the petal from the strands. “is this... a flower petal? like the one you drew a couple months ago?”

“uh, n-no! it’s-it’s from, uh, an art project i’m working on,” you mustered up a wide grin. “sorry, uh, did-did you need something, by the way? i--” you coughed into your hands, and you could felt the stems tangle in your lungs, suffocating you slowly as the flower petals blocked your airways. “s-sorry,” you choke out. “i-i--” another cough, and you could feel the faint tickle of the bitter tasting petals crawl up your throat.

you wheezed and dashed off to your bathroom. shinsou stood with worried eyes right outside your door; he only hesitated for a moment before running after you.

he saw your form doubled over the white, porcelain toilet, your arms quivering as you gripped the sides tightly. the coughing sounded painful, and the boy found himself wincing slightly. he could hear your slight wheeze as you cough, but it sounded... wet, like you’re almost throwing up. he grabbed a fistful of your hair and twirled it away from your face, and he placed a hand on your back and rubbed it soothingly.

and then the hacking stopped, and you flushed the toilet, indigo petals swirling down the drain. you leaned back against the wall with glossed over eyes; the bags looked even more prominent in the bathroom lighting, or maybe it was because the concealer you’d been wearing wore off.

shinsou’s eyes showed intense worry, his lips pursed. “(name), you have to see recovery girl.”

but you shook your head. “it’s fine,” you voice came out in a hoarse whisper.

“then at least tell me what the hell is going on.” he was firm, his figure crouched down beside you.

you sighed, “i can’t.”

his brow shot up. “why not?”

“it’s not your problem,” you mumbled. “you don’t have to--” you felt your head go fuzzy and your body numb.

“(name), i want you to tell me what’s wrong with you,” he demanded. the boy felt wrong to use his quirk on you, and he’d promised he never would without your permission. but desperate times called for desperate measures, and he was sure it was one of those situations.

you mouth moved on its own, listening to shinsou’s order as you screamed internally at yourself. you would ruin everything if you told your friend about the disease, and he would never feel the same way about you anyway. “hanahaki disease,” you voice droned.

“what’s that?” he asked.

“a disease in which a person coughs up flower petals due to unrequited love.” you felt the feeling return to your body, and you glared at the indigo boy next you. “shinsou-kun, i’ll fucking--”

“is there a cure?”

you pursed your lips. “not that i know of, and i’ve already gone to recovery girl. she said i just have to wait or until th-the boy i love returns my feelings.”

shinsou’s heart panged at the thought of you loving someone other than him, but he squelched his own feelings because you looked like death. you looked like death because some crazy son of a bitch didn’t reciprocate the love you had for him.

the petals caught in your throat once more, and you took a fleeting glance at shinsou. “shinsou-kun?”

his eyes met yours. “hmm?”

“it... it’s you,” you muttered.

he took in a sharp breath, and uneasiness sunk into his bones. “what?” it was barely there, barely understandable through the breathlessness.

“i love you, and i understand you most probably like won’t feel the same way, but... i figured you might want to know.” your voice was scratched and low, and shinsou found himself straining to catch each word. “i-i hope this doesn’t make it weird, i’m-i’m sorry.”

the boy scrambled to think of something to say, but the words failed him. instead, one hand cupped your cheek, and you could feel his soft lips click into place with yours. he pulled back just as quickly with a deep red blush. “i... i love you, too.”

your eyes widen, and just before you could reply, you could feel another coughing fit. you flew back over the toilet as it started. it had seemed like the petals multiplied in number, but then you could feel something lodged in your throat. you struggled to breath around it as tears pooled down your face. shinsou took bad his place to hold you hair.

you coughed a few more times, and then you gagged. something larger than any petal you’d regurgitated the past weeks were nothing in comparison to whatever it was. shinsou rubbed your back again, and he was watching as you struggled with yet another coughing fit.

and then you spit it out, a small shape rolling off the tip of your tongue. it fell to the floor, and you stared at the single flower with wide eyes, noticing how your throat wasn’t burning anymore.

“i think that means it’s over,” you muttered. you took another look at shinsou as you fell back onto your heels.

his brow quirked up, “it’s over?”

“it can only exist with unrequited love,” you said. “an-and you said you loved me.”

“and i do,” shinsou replied.

“i love you, too,” you smile, kissing him once again.

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sleepyfan-blog · 6 years ago

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I am forever astonished and amazed at the fact that you pump out so many fics with such quality.

jrlekalrj a .////. Thanks aaaa. And I do take breaks, thx

Dreamswap by @onebizarrekai

tw: violence, cursing, threats

summary: Ink and Cross get sent on a mission. After, Cross is Filled With Salt.

“Wait. Wait. Wait. Hang on, so you’re telling me that there’s this fucked up cult who’s been-” Cross sputtered, his eye lights vanishing for a couple of moments as he suppressed the urge to be sick or do something violent.

“Yes. Some of our informants have come forwards in the past couple of weeks, and through gathering data from a couple of our reconnaissance teams, it’s a legitimate claim, rather than an attempt to have JR tip the balance in a series of war-torn neutral AUs.” Ink confirmed, not wanting to hear that particular bit of information repeated by his friend. It was… Distressing enough to hear the first time.

“And so Dream is ordering us to… Capture these cultists?” Cross responded, mildly surprised, given the undercurrent of murder Justice Reigns still had, but whatever.

“That’s what it says on paper, and if we’re able to capture some of the cultists alive without risking our own lives or them escaping, yes. Otherwise…” Ink sent the other a cold smirk “Are you up for gaining some LV, dear friend?”

Cross’s mismatched eye lights shone with determination “These twisted assholes don’t deserve a quick death, but I am absolutely up for it.”

“Fantastic. You always were an amazing sparring partner, I imagine it will be a great deal of fun to fight side by side with you again.” Ink smirked.

Cross nodded, stretching a little and responding “Is it just the two of us on this mission, or are we going to be stuck with a team?”

The soulless skeleton hummed a little “We will have an experienced extraction and cleanup team waiting for our call, or to back us up, if there’s more danger to this group than what’s anticipated. But given the defenses and numbers of the cultists, and our own powers, it should be just the two of us.”

“Cool, I don’t like babysitting newbies - the always fuckin’ wander off at the worst time and try to get murdered! Stay with your battle partner, stars damn it.” Cross grumbled, sighing and rolling his eye lights as the both of them stood up, limbering up a little before teleporting over to the trans-dimensional car that they’d been assigned to use.

It was a nondescript black sedan, but it was meant to look like nothing special - especially in the surface AU they were going, where such tech was commonplace.

“-gent Cross, are you listening to me! These cars aren’t easy to replace, and -” The cleanup crew captain was yelling, and had been yelling at him for the better part of ten minutes. He’d commandeered their van and had… Used his magic to make sure that it would blow up the center of the cult compound, taking out dozens of cultists who had begun to swarm Ink.

“Blah, blah, blah. Expensive, blah, blah. Would you rather explain to Lord Von Licht that Ink had gotten his killed because you all were having a pissing contest rather than listening to your comms?” Cross snapped. “Besides, I know what I did to make the van explode, and I can undo it. If you’ll stop screeching at me, I’ll fix it.”

Ink snickered a little, despite the fact that he’d very nearly gotten killed - he knew that Cross wouldn’t just let him die, and that had proven to be every bit true. His eye lights lit up at what the other said “Oooooh. You’re going to show them *that* are you? I dunno… I’m not sure that these chucklefucks have the clearance to see that.”

“Yeah, well. They won’t stop staring at me, unless you’d like to create a distraction so that I can fix this in peace?” Cross sighed in response, shaking his head a little bit as he walked over to the twisted wreck of enchanted metal, forming his blade, grunting a little with effort as it turned from it’s normal color into a mix of dark violet and DT Red.

“Sure thing, Crossy~!” Ink smirked, summoning his brush and chasing the idiots around by sparring with them, using his paint to subtly create a barrier from which his dear friend could work his unique magic.

Cross stabbed the center of the van, and used OVERWRITE to undo the damage done to the van - restoring it to it’s previously pristine form. The bright flash of purple magic was unfortunately still quite noticeable. He groaned loudly and flopped over as the cleanup crew and Ink came rushing over. “Tadaaaa! One… Perfect van… Chocolate *now*.”

“W-what? H-How is that even…?” Several of the crew members sputtered.

Cross, just about at the end of his rope at these idiots, summoned a dozen small, DT red daggers “Food. *Now*. Or Stabbing. Stars fucking *damn* how does Lord D deal with you assholes? Are they always like this, Ink?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t worked with this particular group of beings before.” The soulless skeleton responded, supremely unaffected by the weapons as he casually stole the food out of the others’ inventories and wandered over to his friend, patiently feeding the exhausted and crabby Cross all of the sweets he’d liberated - the chocolate first. “Come on, dismiss the blades. You’ll feel better.”

“Uuughh, fiiine. But only because you’re making a lot of sense. Let’s go home. I want a nap.” Cross sighed, the blades vanishing as he continued to eat, staggering up to his feet and leaning against Ink, half asleep and still very grumpy. “They’re stupidity could have got you hurt… I’m not sure if I can resurrect you… Never tried to save someone soulless from death…” This was whispered to Ink, so that the idiots wouldn’t hear him.

“Hey, you managed to save me before something unfortunate happened. Besides, you know me. If I get to injured I turn into a puddle of paint until I can recover.” Ink soothed, just as quietly as he half-carried his friend back to their inter-dimensional car, settling the other in the passenger’s seat before driving the both of them back to JR’s main headquarters, a fond smile appearing on his face as he noticed that Cross was already passed out and snoring lightly next to him. “I’m so glad to have you back with me, Cross…” He murmured fondly.

#my writing #dreamswap #ds cross #ds ink #tw violence #tw threats #tw cursing

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mojave-musing · 5 years ago

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📓💰🎨💧🧠🎁 for whoever you'd like!!

Write a typical diary/journal page by your OC! (or if you’d rather not, describe their journal. Do they keep one, why?)

The only one of my ocs who would keep a journal is Lynn and hers is a pretty bland Minutemen record she doesn’t really write down her feelings.

Nat is probably second most likely and oh boy there would be a lot of feelings and musings.

If your OC had all the money they could ask for what would they do with it? Where would they go and what would they buy? Are they the only one who benefits from this wealth?

Oooh I would say Lynn, Remington, and Gwen would be the top ones to donate most of it or use it for general improvement of their worlds.

Nemo wouldn’t know what to do with all that money tbh.

Kathleen is the one who is more selfish-ish. She uses it to improve her life first and second the area around her.

Is your OC artistic? Can they draw or paint or do they prefer another medium? Are they a writer or musician or do they do something else? Give us a quick run down of what they can get creative with!

Bartholomew and Gwen are the best artists. Gwen does technical drawings and Bart likes doodling landscapes.

Nat plays a few instruments, and Before the war Audrey knew how to play piano.

Null is that android who can play a really complicated piano piece and have no idea how they can do that.

What makes your OC lose hope, what makes them give up and feel helpless? Have they ever given up on something really important or let go of a dream? What are some of their biggest regrets? Would they ever try again (if they’re able to)?

Oooh Cato is the best cadidate for this. He was against the legion since he was a kid so really what makes him lose hope is seeing the legion win time and time again. I don’t know if you call running away giving up but it’s close to that I guess, Cato is pretty desperate when he leaves the Legion. Of course he regrets not staying longer to think of how to get his wife out too.

Talk about your OCs mental health! Do they have any specific triggers or ways to practice self care? What are some things that are more difficult for them to do because of their mental health?

Gwen has depression, it wasn’t something that effected her too much in the vault since she had structure and routine but when she’s in the wasteland and everything is chaos it’s rough. She has a little ptsd from her dad dying and then almost dying the same way, for the first few years after the sound of a Geiger counter clicking got to her, so she got rid of her pip-boy so she wouldn’t have to listen to it all the time. Overtime and with help from Butch and Danse she got to a better place.

What would be the perfect gift to buy your OC? What would be the worst gift? Are they themselves any good at gifting things or are they really indescisive? How do they wrap their presents?

Perfect gift for Remington, a nice woven hat band or new cowboy boots. (Or vulpes’ stupid hat with a bullet hole through it stained with his blood, thx boone). Worst gift uuuuh that’s a hard one, eyepatch maybe, Remington doesn’t take kindly to people who dislike her blind eye and scars and think she should cover them up.

Remington herself is a fabulous gift giver, but she doesn’t wrap gifts. Wrapping paper is hard to find lol

#mojave ocs

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mikroparadise · 5 years ago

Text

Tag Game

So I was tagged by @dont-sleep-on-rm, thx for tagging me love! Alright so here we go (I talk a lot so this took me FOREVER TO DO lol)

Name: I SUPPOSE for the sake of the game I can at least cop to my first name lol, which is Jenna

Nicknames: Jen, Jenna Benna (only my mom and aunts call me that lol) my mom also calls me Little Chickadee, my grandma calls me Petunia, and of course my effective alias, which I prefer to be called online, which is Felicity, and Fel by proxy lol.

Gender: Female, She/Her

Height: 5’10″ or 5′11″ depending on the shoes I’m wearing lol

Sign: Aquarius Sun, Virgo Moon, Leo Rising

Time: 12:35 am

Fav musicians: BTS (obviously lol) as a group, and all of them individually as artists as well; Adele, Avenged Sevenfold, The Beatles, Eminem, Insane Clown Posse (yes I really listed them next to each other lol) and of course many other artists that I like to listen to but wouldn’t say they’re a “Favorite” per say.

Song stuck in my head: Bad Guy by Billie Eilish

Last thing i googled: Jeon Jungkook gifs lol

Last movie i watched: If you don’t count stand up comedy, then Babel

Last song i listened to: Painting Greys by Emmit Fenn (formerly known as Babbit)

Other blogs: @fels-fav-fics, go check it out for good smut recs galore lol

Do i get asks: I’ve gotten a few, almost all of them were anons, except for my most recent one from @dont-sleep-on-rm about my Victorian!au lol

Why did i choose my url: because Paradise by BTS is my favorite song out of all songs that exist, and I liked the concept of Mikrokosmos being about Micro...Cosmos lol so I wanted to combine that with Paradise, because that’s kinda just how I feel about BTS. When it comes to the space that they’ve created for BTS and ARMY together in the world it makes me feel like it’s my own tiny paradise. Damn that got real sappy real quick lol sorry

Following: 56

Amount of sleep i get: I need like a lot of sleep to function lol 9 hours is the sweet spot where it’s functional and it’s more than 8, 8 is just not enough lol, but I CAN sleep up to about 13 or 14 hours if left completely undisturbed lol

Lucky numbers: 3, 5, 9

What i’m wearing: A paisley night dress

TV shows: I don’t really do shows. If you don’t count Run!BTS there is only one show from TV that I will watch religiously no matter how I have to. Rick and Morty. The best show ever. You can @ me if you want, I’ll fight you lol

Dream job: Acting/Singing, I love to act and to sing, I’m fairly talented at both if I do say so myself lol, and I’d take either or, cuz once you’re in one its easier to break into the other I feel like.

Dream trips: Italy, England, Germany, Japan, Korea, and also just being able to see more of the US, cuz this country is huge lol

Favorite foods: Almost anything that involves cheese lol, I also love Seafood like Shellfish, Mollusks, and Crustaceans of different varieties lol, Burgers and Fries are big for me too, Steak....come to think of it just good food lol if it’s good I like it.....also deep fried Gator Tail YUMMMMMMMMMMMM.

Instrument: I’ve tried learning the guitar and piano but I never really committed so I don’t really know how to play, and also I’m from the US so they made us play the recorder, I wish I didn’t know how to play it lol

Relationship status: Married, it’s kinda rocky so idk how long it’s gonna last but I’m hangin on bois lol

Fav songs: Paradise by BTS, Nightmare by Halsey, also the entirety of LY: Tear by BTS and Revolver by The Beatles, Killshot by Eminem, Riddle Box by ICP, and the entirety of The Eminem Show

Fav color: Black and Gold

Books: A Great and Terrible Beauty trilogy by Libba Bray (this is actually where I got my alias Felicity); Captives of Time by Malcolm Bosse; Sirena by Donna Jo Napoli; Two Girls of Gettysburg by Lisa Klein; obviously the Harry Potter series lol also, this isn’t really a book, it’s a BTS fanfic, but it’s probably my favorite piece of fiction I’ve ever read in my LIFE. If you haven’t read this, then what are you doing? lol It’s House of Cards by sugamins

Book im reading right now: I’m actually only reading fanfics right now, so I’ll list off my favorite ongoing series: Protege; Bliss Among Sinners; Periculum; Future Hearts; Conditioned; Mr. Min; Void; DNA; The Turing Test; When We Were Young; Duvet Days and Vanilla Ice Cream; Taboo; Like I Would; Silver; Touch.

How many blankets i sleep with: Technically 2, but that’s just so that my husband and I each have our own blankets so that we don’t have to fight each other over them lol

Anything i want: Money would solve all my current problems. I’d be able to be secure enough to go see my nephews and nieces whenever I wanted and not sweat it so much.

im tagging : @sugasheart since I was just chatting with u a bit ago lol

#jesus fucking christ i talk a lot #i won't admit to how long that took me #but let's just say it's NOT 12:35 anymore #tag game #dont-sleep-on-rm #sugasheart

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zayashmaya · 6 years ago

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Gods and Monsters - 7 - Love.

Marvus x Reader ll Tagora x Reader; SFWish (mention of pailing in the beginning)

More chapters here!

You meet Marvus’s lusus, and Tagora handles you in typical Tagora fashion.

this chapter was inspired by the most magnificent set of tweets to ever exist, as well as my partner in crime @compositecreature :3

Look at you kids, you know you're the coolest

The world is yours and you can't refuse it

Seen so much, you could get the blues

But that don't mean that you should abuse it

Though it's enough just to make you go crazy, crazy, crazy

But you get ready, you get all dressed up

To go nowhere in particular

Back to work or the coffee shop It don't matter because it's enough

To be young and in love

- Lana Del Rey

Bathtime was calling for your filthy body.

You had been eager to see the ocean, but something steered you towards sleep instead. The night had been rife with cat-fights and debauchery, and when you caught a glimpse of the enormous ablution trap, you were hit with a wave of exhaustion that drained you of any motivation to visit the beach.

Marvus was busying himself with removing his jewelry while you turned on the shower spray, letting the water heat up on its own as you padded over to him. You took it upon yourself to wet a nearby wash cloth with the intention to clean off his facepaint. As you stood on your tip toes and struggled to reach over the sink, Marvus grinned and taunted you for your height.

“Ain’t got no ladders round here babe, u gonna b climbin me like a tree to get anywhere.”

“Hilarious. How’s the weather up there, by the way?”

“Feelin a lil chilly axxually, mite need a warm rusty to help me w dat.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled, wringing out excess water from the cloth. Marvus looked down at you with a teasing smirk, and it might have looked attractive if not for the comical mess on his face.

“You look like an abstract painting,” you snarked and patted the countertop. “Get me up on here so I can clean that paint off you.”

Marvus quirked a brow at your command, yet obliged you all the same, sitting you down before him and patiently letting you run the wet cloth along his face. You dug your fingers into his mussed up hair to keep it out of the way, focusing diligently on your task while Marvus watched you with amusement.

The paint gradually gave way to neutral gray, and even his eyebrows darkened to their natural black color. You finished off your task with one last swipe along the long, graceful arch of his nose, silently admiring how long his lashes appeared while he kept his eyes closed.

You realized you were staring, much to your embarrassment.

“All done,” you weakly said, tossing the dirtied cloth into the sink, scooting closer to the edge of the countertop in preparation for absconding from this intimate proximity, until you noticed the dark circles under his eyes. You reached out to run a thumb along the evidence of his exhaustion. “Look at this … don’t tell me you’re overworking yourself."

A flash of hesitation flashed across his face. Yet it was gone as quick as it had appeared, replaced with his normal easygoing demeanor. He gently grasped your wrist and moved your questing touch away. “Ain’t nethin to worry bout,” he said, pressing a kiss to your fingertips.

“Liar,” you asserted, stubbornly glaring at him. “I got rid of the facepaint, and yet it seems you’re still hiding behind a mask. You’re lying, and I know it.”

Yet again you managed to shock him into a state of silence, his eyes wide and focused on you during your short tirade. “Damn mama u rly gunna roast me like that?”

“Damn straight.” You took back your hand and crossed your arms, entirely unintimidated by how much larger than you he still was, his arms on either side of you as he leaned over you. “If that’s what it takes to get some honesty out of you.”

“Whoaaa, i don’t remember the last time sumone talked to me this way. 'Specially not a lowblood.” His hands found their way to your hips, and he grinned at you with hooded eyes. “Dat shit b hot, like some kinda pale porn feelz jam. U gettin freaky w me rite now, babe?”

You covered your eyes momentarily and sighed. “No, Marvus. This isn’t a solicitation.”

“Aww :o( “

“Look, all I’m saying is, I notice these things about you. And if there’s no one around to tell you to take better care of yourself, then it may as well be me.”

“Oooh? ;o) “

”Not pale porn.”

“Now who b lyin … “

You were starting to feel a blush bloom across your cheeks. “What did I say about teasing me?” you murmured, bashfully looking away while he pulled you closer to him. With his handsome sculpted body in sight, you were quickly reminded that a platonic relationship with Marvus was out of the question. “Besides,” you continued, sliding your hands up the wide expanse of his chest towards his neck to tilt his face towards you. “ — would a moirail do this?”

You brought him down to your level and planted your lips on his, coaxing his mouth open with a teasing lick as he hummed into the kiss. He effortlessly gathered you in his arms while you made out and brought you both under the running shower spray, reluctantly letting you break off the kiss when you reminded him that you were still filthy.

Everything had been chaste enough, for the first few minutes. You managed to get your hair rinsed and pointedly avoided staring at Marvus’s gorgeous body. The same could not be said for him, however. It all started with his hip bumping against yours as he reached over to grab a bottle, and an offer to help you wash off with something that looked like a mix of a giant beetle and a loofa.

Innocent touches soon led to full-blown groping — you just knew Marvus wouldn’t be able to resist — and eventually you found yourself pressed up against the shower wall with his bulge pumping slowly into your sensitive cunt, overstimulated and yet still craving more of him.

By the time you were clean and swaying on your feet like a sleep-deprived child, Marvus had insisted you stay for the night — or rather, the day — and you couldn’t find the energy to fight him on his impeccable hospitality. So you thanked him with a tired smile and huddled up in the corner of the couch, adorned with a fluffy towel and ready to pass out the moment your head hit the cushion. But Marvus crouched down in front of you with a stupefied expression, and asked, "The fxxk ya doin, baby?”

“Um … going to sleep?”

He blinked at you, still not understanding. “Iz dis a human thang? Sleepin on a couch?”

“Technically we sleep on beds — not that you’d know what that is.”

“Well i ain’t got any o that shiz but i got a slammin cocoon so.” You let out a startled yelp as he scooped you up in his arms. “U coming w me, lil mama.”

And that was how you ended up falling asleep atop Marvus’s very inviting bosom, smiling contently as the sopor slime soothed your aches away.

Marvus had a busy schedule the following day, so unfortunately he was gone by the time you woke up. You blearily rubbed your eyes and stretched, letting loose all the tension in your frame as you looked out to see the sun’s last rays disappearing behind the horizon. Seems like he really doesn’t get that much rest if leaving before sundown was a regular thing for him.

You took a quick moment to freshen up in the bathroom, and after one final glance at the painting tainted with Marvus’s genetic material, you began lazily scooping up your scattered clothing and redressed. The weight of your palmhusk stashed away in a discrete pocket reminded you to check your messages, and sure enough, you had quite a few of them.

Stelsa had texted you about her safe return last night as promised, Chixie hit you up with an invite to a show later, and Marvus sent his apologies for not being able to stick around.

— couldn’t wake u up cuz u were lookin too cute but there’s food downstairs if u want

— n i got a guy parked outside to take u anywhere

— b seein u sumtime soon bby thx fr the amazing time ;o)

You smiled shyly to yourself, hoping that he truly wanted to see you again.

Your good mood promptly disappeared when you realized you had several texts and missed calls from Tagora. You knew exactly what he wanted from you, and you were too hungry to deal with it right now.

Stashing away your palmhusk for later, you made your way downstairs and spent a few minutes looking around the spacious floor for the kitchen. The clicks of your heels echoed through the hallway as you wandered, glancing into spare rooms and admiring the beautiful graffiti decorating the walls.

One particular room caught your eye — a shimmer of aquamarine blue in your periphery steered you inside, and you were met with a gigantic in-ground pool that curved beyond a translucent wall fixture, forming a long U-shape. To the right was a spectacular view of what you believed to be a portion of the backyard deck, the entire wall replaced with floor-to-ceiling window panes. The moonlight from outside filtered into the room, illuminating the glistening pool water to an ethereal color.

It was stunning, to say the least. You kneeled at the edge of the pool and gently dipped your fingertips into the water. The temperature was lukewarm and pleasant, stirring up the urge to take a swim. Maybe you could coerce Marvus the next time you visited his hive.

As you pondered on the future, something seemed to bump against your fingertips. You furrowed your brow and felt around for the obstruction, feeling something smooth and uniform taking shape.

The strange object pushed gently against your touch, moving higher and higher until something white emerged from the water. You quickly retracted your hand and leaned over to get a closer look —

And the water bursted upward like a geyser, splashing you as you fell back onto your ass with an indignant shriek. You protected your face with your hands and curled inward, fearing what horrors you managed to rile up in the depths of this pool.

A loud chitter soon followed, and when you lowered your shaking hands, you were suddenly face to face with a white dolphin, its razor sharp teeth on display as its gaping maw puffed air inches away from you.

You let loose a scream and scuttled backwards from the creature, losing your grip on the wet floor and careening onto your side.

The dolphin chirped at you and tilted its head as you came down from your panicked breathing. You stared back at it, wide-eyed and frozen in fear, until you realized that the beast was actually smiling at you, bobbing innocently in the water and patiently waiting for your next move.

Mirthful Messiahs, this was Marvus’s lusus!

You clambered onto hands and knees and crawled back to the dolphin, hoping you looked every bit as pathetic as you felt. “Oh my gosh that was so rude of me I’m so sorry! It’s so nice to meet you my name is — “

You were cut off by a jovial chirp, and the lusus bumped his snout on your forehead. Thank goodness, he didn’t appear to be as horrid as Zebruh’s custodian. Judging by how kind Marvus was, you always assumed his lusus would have led by example. You giggled and carefully petted his head.

“I hope I didn’t frighten you — “ The dolphin let loose a string of eek eek eek’s and shook his head. “ — no, please, don’t be sorry, I reacted like an idiot. I’m a friend of Marvus’s, by the way! Maybe he told you already?”

“Eek eek! Eeeee!” Another nose bump, followed by a nuzzle to your cheek.

You cupped your cheek and blushed. “I’ll take that as a good sign … “ Your conversation was cut short by a low grumbling, and you peevishly smiled. “Do you mind pointing me to the kitchen? I accidentally wandered in here because I got lost.”

The lusus nodded, and instead of tipping his head toward a direction, he slowly emerged from the water’s depths. You stood up and backed away to give him some room, and you nearly gasped at how enormous he was. Sure enough, the lusus was a dolphin, and yet he sported a pair of dinosaur-like back legs that allowed him to stand upright, trailing his tail behind him as he offered a flipper to you.

You smiled gratefully and held onto the proffered flipper as the lusus led you out of the room, stopping briefly for a moment so he could show you were the spare towels were stored away. You grabbed one on the way out and wiped yourself down as you let him guide you, eyeing the trail of water the lusus left in his wake and wondered if it was okay to leave it all over the floor like that.

The kitchen was as grand as the rest of the hive, a circular space with a towering ceiling from which hung a massive chandelier, its multicolored crystalline lights casting rainbow beams everywhere they could. Everything was as large as Marvus said it would be, but thankfully his lusus caught on to your short stature, and took over the task of getting you well-fed. Within minutes you had a whole five course meal set out in front of you at the table, and you couldn’t stop thanking the kind dolphin with tears in your eyes before he ruffled your hair with a flipper and trilled a happy tune.

When was the last time you had this much food at your disposal? Your heart swelled with love for your generous friends as you stuffed your face with questionable meats, deciding that the delicious taste outweighed their strange appearance. The lusus kept you company all the while, sitting across the table from you and chowing down on some sort of large aquatic animal laid out on a giant dish.

You spent your breakfast in amicable discussion, regaling him with tales of your adventures, your worries about the future, and your ever-growing homesickness. You don’t know why, but you felt like you could trust this dolphin with anything. In turn, he eek'd up a storm of stories about Marvus as a wiggler, and how good of a child he had been. You realized, then, how suitable a dolphin was for Marvus — his lusus chirped with as much flare and gusto as the showman, waving his flippers around and smiling all the while. Two whimsical yet powerful individuals. A match made in heaven.

Unfortunately, the time to leave had come. You didn’t want to overstay your welcome.

Marvus’s lusus seemed disappointed by your announcement, and you imagined he might feel lonely in this mansion all by himself, considering how often Marvus had to go on tour or do other work-related things. You helped the dolphin place the empty dishes by the sink and hugged him tight, marveling at how he was just as cold to the touch as Marvus was.

“I promise I’ll come visit you the next time Marvus invites me over,” you murmured into his soft belly, and you were rewarded with a pat to your head. The palmhusk vibrated in your pocket, startling you out of your hazy comfort and reminding you that you had a certain tealblood to attend to.

As the lusus waddled you over to the front door, you looked up at him and noted how sad and quiet he had gotten. “Hey,” you called out, lightly tugging on his flipper. “Why don’t we take a picture together to show Marvus we met?”

Your idea was met with joyous chirps, and as the lusus crouched down to your level, you snapped a ridiculous amount of selfies from all angles, choosing one where you were both sticking out your tongues. You sent it to Marvus and typed:

— i met your lusus, he’s so cute!!

— and he told me to tell you he says hi.

— so in his own words, i say to you, “eek eek!"

You paused and quickly added:

— i had a wonderful time last night too.

And left it at that, because as much as you wanted to pour your heart and thank him for being so selfless and understanding in light of your self-consciousness, you did not want to come off as desperate. Sometimes it had to be like that. Even with him.

You were settled in inside a cab as you drove straight for Tagora’s hive, scrolling through the texts he had sent you with increasing anxiety.

— Please let me know how your search goes, I’m very eager to move this case along.

— Have you found any dirt on a certain someone yet?

— Still waiting.

Those were sent last night. The more recent ones were more concerning.

— Seeing as you are not responding to me, I’m going to take that as a no.

— You disappoint me, human. Expect an exorbitant fee added to your balance for every minute you are late in texting me.

Shit. Tagora was always serious about those pesky charges. You fired off a quick ’I’m on my way!’ and spent the whole ride looking at troll memes to lighten up your mood. Tagora may be pissed at you right now, but not for long. He could never stay mad at you.

That thought replayed in your mind as you meandered up his front lawn, trying to come up with a million excuses for your tardy end of the deal. At least you managed to protect the clothes he bought you. Maybe that would cheer him up a bit.

You stared at the door and counted to ten before knocking.

Tagora opened the door just a crack, peering at you through the narrow opening. You sucked in a deep breath.

“Okay. You’re going to be upset — “ The door was swinging shut. You hastily shoved your foot through the threshold and fought to keep it open. “ — but I promise I can still make it all worth your while!”

He paused for a moment and leered at you. “How so?”

“ … gossip?”

Surprisingly, it worked. The door opened a little, and as Tagora finally got a good look at you, his peeved expression fell away to one of shock and slight revulsion, perhaps even a hint of concern. “Have you even looked at yourself today? Did you get mauled by a purrbeast?”

You smiled sheepishly and absentmindedly rubbed at a love bite on your neck. “More like I got pailed senseless by a purpleblood.”

”What? And you’re still alive?”

A chatty, questioning Tagora was a good sign. You slipped past him and wandered inside, waving at his lusus in greeting as you toed off your shoes. “This particular highblood is a good friend of mine. I’m sure you remember who he is, considering I begged you to blackmail whoever uploaded that video of him hand feeding me … “

“You pailed with Marvus Xoloto?” Tagora whirled you around and grabbed you by the shoulders, bringing his face inches away from yours. “Did you mention me?” he excitedly asked.

“In what possible context could I bring you up while getting laid? ’Oh Marvus that feels so good, by the way I happen to know a fantastic lawyer —'"

“Uuugh!” He lightly pushed you away and rolled his eyes, running a hand through his impeccable hair. “You’ll pay for giving me that horrible mental image. And furthermore, you are so damn useless.”

“It’s not my fault,” you grumbled, making your way to the couch and sagging down onto it. Tagora’s lusus instantly materialized in your lap, rolling over to expose his tummy while you scratched it. “My night took a turn for the worst during the party, and after all was said and done I was feeling so shitty that I needed a distraction. I just didn’t have it in me to sleuth around for you, I’m sorry.”

Tagora eyed you quietly as though in deliberation. Maybe you looked tired and mopey, because his expression softened marginally. “Are you.” He paused. “Are you hungry?” You shook your head. “Wait here then.”

You watched him curiously while he wandered away to the bathroom. His lusus chuffed at you when you forgot to keep scratching behind his ear. “Soooorry,” you whispered to the ferret, and you were rewarded with a nuzzle to your face as he rearranged himself like a flailing noodle.

Tagora returned with a tube of neon green paste — it was a familiar sight to you by now, considering how often you were getting injured. He sat beside you and shooed his lusus away, motioning for you to turn to him. “Tell me what happened,” he ordered, squirting a dollop of paste on his hand and massaging the medicine into the bruises along your neck and shoulders.

“Well,” you said with a sigh, tilting your head to let Tagora work his magic. “I had the misfortune of stumbling upon Lanque. Or rather, he made the effort to confront me, and made me look like a fool by bringing up personal bullshit.”

“Ah, that cretin. I hope you told him off properly this time.”

“I tried … but it still sucked to have my insecurities thrown back at me out of nowhere.”

Tagora huffed. “At least you’re not the one crashing parties in search of cheap thrills. Show me where else you’re bruised.” You lifted the hem of your dress and up over your hip to reveal fingerprint shaped marks along your outer thighs. You tried your best to keep your private area covered, wishing you still had your underwear. Tagora seemed to not mind, working with detached efficiency. “And. You know. You’re the one who got lucky in the end. Although judging by how fucked up you look, ‘lucky’ is pretty subjective. Was this a pitch romp?”

“Nope, it was really sweet and fun and a hell of a lot more intimate than I expected,” you gushed, blushing at the memory. “But let’s not get side-tracked. I didn’t even tell you the worst part the night!”

“There’s more?”

“Unfortunately. So, Remele apparently had the wonderful idea of painting me as the main subject, and she auctioned it off to the highest bidder. Which thankfully turned out to be Marvus, and I’m pretty sure he did it just to spare me the embarrassment. It was so vulgar, Tagora! Like, she made me naked and cowering in an alleyway and — and covered in troll blood because she was recreating that time we got into trouble with a purpleblood and — “

Fuck. Tagora didn’t know about your and Remele’s connection to that murder. And you knew he tracked it with fervor when news first hit, trying to tie it to her earlier event.

As if on cue, his eyes widened in excitement, pupils narrowing like a predator honing in on its prey. “Wait, wait. First of all, why didn’t you tell me you were involved in such a high-profile case? And how could that conniving bitch know enough about the crime scene to portray it in such an accurate light?”

“I — um … I can’t tell you!”

“Oh you absolutely will. I think this will be more than sufficient to cover for your failure last night."

You groaned and dug your hands into your hair. “You don’t love me, Gor-Gor! You just love my drama. Is that all I am to you?” Tagora reeled back, biting his lower lip. "Just a — an associate who does dirty work for you? A henchman? A dumb, worthless human? A — “

Your freak-out was cut short when a hand gently yet firmly slapped itself onto your cheek.

You blinked and looked at Tagora. He stared right back, looking equal parts shocked and panicked. His hand was slightly cold, yet ridiculously soft.

“Oh my gods are you shooshpapping me — “

”No!” Tagora wrenched his hand away as though he had been burned. "This is strictly a platonic show of camaraderie, as evidenced by your updated fee charge right here — “ He had the nerve to pull up some sort of app on his palmhusk that tracked your debt, pointing at an absurdly high number.

You bemusedly glanced at the screen as he held it right up to your face before moving his hand out of the way. “Does that mean you’d drop your fees for a moirail?”

“I would consider it a fair trade-off in light of their services towards my mental wellbeing.”

“Hmmm.” You did have a lot of debt accrued … and you were technically just inadvertently proposed to. "Well lucky for you, you have just the right candidate for obsessing over your mental wellbeing right in front of you!”

Tagora blushed a vibrant teal and jerked away from you, stammering several times as he tried to unsuccessfully offer a rebuttal. “Th — that’s — you can’t just say that, you uncultured creature! Don’t you have any tact? Any sense of romance?”

“What do you want me to do, serenade you? Build you a nest out of the finest quality of ablution robes and drown you in expensive chocolates for luxurious feels jam sessions?”

“You are ridiculous.” He paused. “As if you could even afford any of that.”

“Are you seriously considering what I just said?"

“I never said that! The absence of evidence is not evidence in of itself!”

"What does that even mean?”

“I swear I don’t even know why I put up with you — “

“Because I’m so cute and pitiable.”

“Well, you’ve certainly got parts of that right,” he said, turning away from you in a valiant attempt to hide his blush. “You’re so pathetic it’s practically obscene. Indecent, even.”

“Is that some backhanded way of saying I’m quadrant material?”

“This conversation is over.” Excellent, hopefully he forgot about Remele. “And don’t think I’m letting that whole Remele thing go so easily.” Damn it. “But you’re clearly not in your right mind to continue that discussion, so we’ll talk about it later."

“You are so benevolent, Gor-Gor.”

“Yes, I am,” he said with a grin. The majority of your bruises had been dealt with by now, so Tagora screwed the cap back onto the tube of paste and stood up to put the medicine away.

“Tagora?” He turned to look at you with a quirked brow. “Thank you.”

He smiled lightly and nodded before going on his way. His lusus was back in your lap in no time, slipping into your waiting arms with a delighted meep. You pulled out your palmhusk and checked if you received any new messages, and sure enough, Marvus had responded to your earlier texts.

— o shit yo pops lookin happy af

— u gonna have to b comin over to keep him company now

— and maybe me 2 ;o)

You giggled and gripped your palmhusk a little tighter between both hands. Tagora glanced back at you for a split second, his smile mirroring your own.

#homestuck #friendsim #hiveswap #sfw #ish #fanfic #gods and monsters #marvus xoloto #tagora gorjek #marvus/reader #marvus x reader #tagora/reader #tagora x reader #moirails 4 life #matesprits 4 life #and the dumb binches dont even know it yet

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