#speaking of jean I also adore them I should draw them sometime

[arolesbianism]

Oh yeah that’s right other oni characters exist uhhhh Ashkan and Nails Jumpscare

[signedkoko]

Hello, me again, sorry lol,

I was wondering, could I please get a Helluva Boss matchup? multiple characters are okay, if you think it's fitting or necessary.

I'm 21, pansexual/romantic, and polyamorous

General personality stuff:

MBTI is INFP

Ennegram types 2, 4 and 8

Zodiac Taurus sun, pieces moon and rising

Appearance: 5'3, kinda chubby, a few tattoos, somewhat muscular, tan, brown eyes, brown hair (it's usually dyed or bleached), and a few piercings. I've also got a fair amount of scars. I'm pretty plain, I'm ngl. Fashion consists of graphic tees (with puns, memes, and trippy art) and jeans or shorts. I'll wear lots of different kinds of jewelry, and don't really have a set aesthetic.

my friends have told me that I'm smart, funny, sarcastic, polite, thoughtful, strong, empathetic and compassionate. I can be jealous/envious (but I've been working on not letting it affect my relationships). I have a bad habit of taking stuff personally and dwelling on issues that I should let go. I don't love being around new People and can get annoyed/frustrated easily, especially if I'm overstimulated. I do my best to stay patient, though. I'm also very jumpy and gullible. I've been told that I'm a bit too trusting, and it's very easy to appeal to my emotions. Communication is very important to me in all my relationships.

My friends will usually come to me for advice, and I've been told I can be a good listener. I tend to daydream and can be pretty anxious. I've been diagnosed with depression, anxiety, PTSD, and ADHD. When I first meet people, I'm overly formal and will crack a few jokes, but once I'm familiar with someone, I cuss a lot and enjoy playful teasing, but I always encourage people to tell me if I go too far or set boundaries if they need to.

I collect a lot of stuff. I have a Ton of comfort items- my posters, stuffed animals, collectible figures, etc. I'm a big over thinker. I can be pretty independent and self sufficient (sometimes) but I'm also very very insecure and doubt myself a lot. I'm pretty excitable and enjoy talking about pretty much anything. Big on current events and media analysis. I've got lots of vocal stims and am pretty fidgety.

I show my love through acts of service and words of affirmation. I enjoy doing things for my loved ones and making sure they can relax, feel safe, and be happy. I could talk about my friends for hours.

Hobbies/likes- roller skating, playing video games, driving, listening to music (and singing along.. Badly), smoking weed, watching TV shows and movies, hanging out with friends, drawing, Writing, reading, going to museums/amusement parks, taking care of/watching animals, and analyzing media

I hope this isn't too overwhelming, and I apologize if I overshared a bit. Please don't feel pressured to answer.

Take care 💛

You got...Stolas!

There's no one better for you than the Ars Goetia member himself, who is one of the most considerate and caring people behind the curtains.

Stolas absolutely adored literature, but doesn't have much hand in media. Despite that, he would love to trade stories with you and look over your writing- keeping anything you write for him- and would encourage you to introduce him to your favourite shows or movies so he can speak about them with you.

His love language is mainly quality time, he can listen to you speak for hours, or tell you all kinds of things about his history. Watching movies, reading in one another's company, every second counts. He can be a bit clingy because of it, but once you tell him you are off somewhere he backs off and leaves you be. The reunion always makes it seem like he hasn't seen you in decades, though.

Stolas never kept any typical pets, unless you count his carnivorous plants! They warm up to you, as well, and you become one of few people who can feed them without any scratches. Stolas trusts very few people to care for them properly and is stern about their caretaking- but fortunately you don't struggle with it at all!

Part of his home is grandiose collections of items, mostly valuables only royals could get their hands on. Nevertheless, he keeps a shelf or two for your items and treats them with just as much respect, all stuffed animals and figures are regularly cleaned and kept safe and sound for when you need them, and your posters are likely framed with gold and glass to keep them protected and to suit his aesthetic.

If anyone is good at keeping things relaxed, it's him! Whenever you feel overwhelmed or stressed, he can take for a stroll through the stars, where everything is relatively silent, calm, and beautiful.

Even better is that Octavia finds you a lot less stressful than Stella, and thinks a lot of the media you're into is pretty neat. She doesn't speak much with you, but youll catch her taking pictures with your things a lot and see the posts later that have some pretty flattering captions.

Expect lavish parties where you get to dress up and then sneak out together when it gets boring, and lots of activities and errands to go around with Stolas doing.

Author's Note - Your runner ups were Moxie + Millie, followed by Striker! Thank you so much for being my first request and being so considerate <3

[enchantedblackrose]

Like I Love You

Jay Halstead/Plus sized Reader

Summary: Jay arrives at your apartment to pick you up for a date, but you're filled with self doubt.

¡Warnings! This potentially could be triggering. Poor body image, possible body dysmorphia, specific mentions of feelings of not being enough because of physical appearance

<Please, please lmk if I need to add any warnings.>

Loosely inspired by One Direction's Little Things

Like I Love You 

Your head throbs as hot tears of frustration continue to fall from your eyes. 

It was absolutely ridiculous to be this upset trying to pick out a decent outfit. After all, you've been successfully dressing yourself since age three.

But you don't have the mindset of a toddler. You're a jaded young woman with society's disgusting definition of beauty constantly shoved in your face. 

Deep down you know better. You know that the numbers on the scale give no indication of your beauty nor do they dictate your worth.

Sighing and trying to remind yourself that you are pretty, you again glance in the full length mirror. Standing there in nothing more than a top and underwear, fresh tears immediately fill your eyes. You only see flaws. Resisting the urge to poke at the cellulite near your thighs, you focus on your shirt. But the sleeves are cutting into your arms making them look weird. No, not weird. Fat. The too tight sleeves cause your arms to bulge. And the material clings to your soft tummy. You pinch the excess belly fat between your thumbs and index fingers, wishing you could squeeze it away.

You feel so ugly and gross. Angrily you pull the shirt off and throw it clear across your bedroom, where it joins a pair of jeans you couldn't breathe in and numerous other offending articles of clothing. None of which you look good in either.

You find an oversize t-shirt and slip it on before you just collapse on that very spot of plush carpeting.

Tears still roll down your face. All you wanted was something cute to wear. To be pretty. And go out with your boyfriend for a date night. He's a detective for the Chicago police department. The hours are already long and sometimes abnormal, but this week he, and the rest of the special unit he's a part of,  were logging extra hours on a particular difficult case. You haven't seen much of each other recently so you were especially giddy when you received his text earlier in the day saying there had been a break in the case which meant he could swing by your place and take you out on a proper date. Your reply had been almost immediate, telling him how wonderful that sounded.

You were surprised to hear from him again, still promising to take you out, but proposing you both meet up with his coworkers after dinner for some drinks. He included "begging" and "puppy dog eyes" in the message. 

Though you wanted to, you couldn't exactly say no for several reasons. You had already agreed to the date, so he knew you were free. Part of you suspected that he had done it on purpose. You'd accuse your favorite detective of entrapment later. 

You also were fully aware how much Jay wanted to introduce you to the coworkers he considered friends, having been invited to go out with them several times before. You kept putting it off.

Not because you had no interest in meeting everyone. Rather, the idea fed your worst insecurities.

What if they don't think I'm good enough? They're going to wonder what he sees in me. Then Jay will start wondering too. 

Wanting to do this solely for Jay's benefit, believing he deserved this after the hellish week at work, you went to your bedroom to plan your outfit. That's how you ended up in this nightmare. You only want to look your best, like you belong with Jay.

Nothing in your closet said that though. The truth of the matter was no one like him should be with someone who looks like you.

Cries turn to sobs. You draw your knees to your chest, hugging them tightly.

You hear the door to your apartment unlock, Jay using his copy of your key to let himself in. Hastily, you wipe at your face, not wanting him to see you like this; yet you can't find the will to stand. A loud, nasally sniff escapes you.

"Babe?" His still unaware voice calls out from the hallway. "I got us reservations." You don't answer back right away and you hear his footsteps approach. 

Having found you, he stops in the doorway. "Whoa. What kind of nuclear clothing explosion happened here?" He indicates to the mounds of clothes which surround you and cover the better part of the carpet and bed. His laughter dies as soon as he sees your tear-streaked, puffy face. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" his worry evident in both his voice and light eyes. He looks you up and down, frantically searching for any sign of what has you like this.

You mumble incoherently.

"What?"

"I don't have anything to wear."

"The floor begs to differ," he teases. You glare back, in no mood for jokes no matter how well intended. He holds up his hands signaling he meant no harm before he pulls you to your feet. "What's going on?" You huff a heavy sigh in reply. His hand caresses your cheek and softly "hmms?" at you encouragingly.

"Nothing fits right," you confess. He hesitates unsure how to respond, so you continue. "I look extra fat in everything."

Jay frowns. "I doubt that very much. You always look good. I love how you look dolled up when we go out and I love when you're in an old tee and sweats."

"That's nice of you to say-"

"Well I didn't say it to be nice. I said it because it's true," he cuts you off.

You give a tiny, weak smile. "I hate how I look." Your voice cracks. New tears sting your eyes.

He brushes the few teardrops that manage to escape with his thumb. "Baby, what are you talking about? You're beautiful." His voice is soft with a hint of sadness hearing you talk this way.

"This is not beautiful." You pat your flabby stomach, then your thighs. 

Carefully stepping to avoid the clothes which litter the floor, Jay makes his way to your bed and sits on the edge, still mindful of the garments piled there as well. He opens his arms, indicating for you to sit on his lap.

"My huge ass will probably crush you," you mutter.

"Baby-"

 

Exasperated you throw your arms up, "I look nothing like you!"

"Well I'm a guy and you're not so…"

"Stop. I mean you look like a freaking model. That face and those abs for days." You catch him looking smug, no doubt a witty remark is at his lips, but one glance at you and he leaves it unsaid. You continue. Your voice hushed, "I'm afraid of what people might think or say when they see us together. It's why I've been so reluctant to meet your friends."

His eyes sadden. He reaches for you, gently pulling you to his lap. When he speaks, his voice is soft, but stern, almost begging you to believe his words. "I'm sorry you feel that way. I honestly had no idea, but listen to me, please. The only people who get a say about our relationship are in this room right now, okay? So our opinions are the only ones that matter. You. Are. Beautiful." He pauses only to shush you when he sees your mouth open. "The way your mind works fascinates me. Your sense of humor is amazing. You continuously show compassion for others, which in this world is not always easy. I swear your goodness is innate. Your laugh is intoxicating. When you smile...I wish you could see how your face lights up and your body turns me on exactly how it is. I have never been attracted to anyone as much as I am to you. I love you."

Jay's words move you, but they're not enough to silence your insecurities. "Even though I don't have a thigh gap?"

His brows furrow. "I...don't know what that means."

"It means my thighs touch each other. They're not supposed to."

"Says who?"

"...society."

"Society's ugly, not you or your thighs." His fingers trace nondescript patterns on the bare skin in question. "Besides, thick thighs save lives."

"Jay!" You laugh despite yourself. He smiles in return and presses his lips to your temple.

"I love you too. You know that, right?" You ask, realizing you hadn't said it back and he nods. A hand intertwines with his as you look in his eyes, "I'm sorry I'm such a mess."

"You're not. We all have insecurities or things we don't like about ourselves. I just wish you weren't so hard on yourself. I'm sorry too if you felt I was putting pressure on you to meet everyone."

"Not at all," you shake your head. "That's just me being me."

"Still, if my friends have a problem with us being together for any reason, they're not the people I think they are. Truly though, they'd love you. Hell, if we didn't show up together I could see one of them hitting on you," Jay pauses if imagining it.  "But seriously. They'd adore you. First, because they're going to see firsthand how good you are for me. Then because you're you. Funny, smart-"

"But I want to be pretty, Jay. And look like we belong together."

Jay sighs, but not out of frustration with you. He's only concerned."You are. And we do. I know nothing I say is going to magically change how you see yourself...I get that. You have to be the one to work this out. I really wish you could see yourself through my eyes and love yourself like I love you. Maybe then you'd understand you're so worthy of self-love. I promise, I'm right here and I'm going to keep reminding you how beautiful you are in hopes you'll start to see it."

Your hand caresses his cheek as you fight the urge to cry again. He leans into your touch. "You do help," you tell him because it's true and to reassure him. "I'm so lucky to have you. I'm really going to try to not be so down on myself. Besides. I  really don't want to ruin any more of our nights."

He waves you off. "A night trying to get you to see your beauty is not ruined. And the night's still young. We'll do whatever you're up for. Go out for a bit. Stay in and order food. Whatever."

A small smile appears on your face. You quickly peck his lips with yours. "I just want to wash my face before we do anything." Jay nods. You slide off his lap and head to your bathroom across the hall.

The light flickers for a second as soon as you hit the switch. You go to the sink, turning the water on and letting it run to get to the perfect temperature. Standing there, you glance into the vanity mirror. Your face is still slightly puffy with a few soft pink splotches across your cheeks from all your crying. You splash the water on your face and repeat the action several more times before using a fluffy towel to pat dry your face. You stare back into the mirror. And smile. It reaches your eyes and illuminates your face. You reach a realization. However fleeting or permanent, you don't know. But right now in this moment, you feel it. 

You're pretty.

-

[mammons-tax-returns]

How would the brothers react to a very punk goth Mc like platforms and all black and just the whole shebang he’s very nice but also will throw hands (there’s not enough male Mc your doing the good work my dude)

BROTHERS REACTING TO A GOTH/PUNK MC

Perfect way to start off the new blog !! Thank you for requesting, hope this is what you had in mind <3 (and that it’s not too apparent that i’m not super well versed in punk or goth culture ACK)

I hope that you guys don’t mind some being shorter than others, I’m still getting a hang of personalities!

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Lucifer is probably one of the ones that’s into the style from the very beginning.

As soon as he sees MC, his interest is clearly shown on his face.

Sometimes, he’ll drop compliments on his fashion. Depending on his reponses, he’ll start getting more apparent with just how much he enjoys seeing his outfit everyday.

GIFTS!! He’s not mammon level of stacks upon stacks of gift wrapped boxes, but he’ll certainly stop by your room every once in a while with a new accessory he saw while shopping.

MC will probably notice that he is especially keen on chokers :).

Stares discreetly, but consistently. When Lucifer invites him to listen to music in his room, he waits until MC is occupied with something like a book or the music. Then sneaks glances at him to see how his clothing moves every time he reaches over for something, or how the necklace he bought the other day glints in the light radiating off of the fireplace.

He knows that MC is nice, and grows increasingly more and more worried for his sake because of that. The exchange program is important, but his treasure perpetually adorned in black garbs is significantly more prominent in his concerns.

So when he sees MC readily defending himself against some low level demon with no hesitation? Holy fuck. He starts to panic, but there’s nothing surpressing his respect for him, as it only grows stronger.

Although, it becomes very apparent that he’d have to do something about all of his brothers’ staring at MC.

Mammon is so into it. Like... So into it.

We all know and love that our tsundere boy has a problem with getting embarrassed, but how could he NOT get flustered everytime he’s face to face with an alternative KING

At first, he actually tries to tell MC how much he appreciates his aesthetic, but fails every time. Stuttering is a difficult thing to overcome when you can barely breathe out of embarrassment.

When he finally brings himself to actually get a compliment out, it’s accompanied with his signature bashful look. Downcast gaze and shifting posture and everything.

Upon recieving a positive response to his words, he takes it as a sign that he should start doing it more often. And so... That’s exactly what he does!

Compliments upon compliments, expensive outfits and accessories finding their way into his room, MC gets it all.

He ADORES the nice personality. So really. This MC is one of the people that Mammon can’t help but get along with. Nice, can throw hands, AND IS FASHIONABLE? Now you’re speaking his language.

They definitely get called a model power couple, even if MC isn’t a model.

Will definitely mention the idea of MC doing a photoshoot with him for work, but won’t press further if he says he’s not comfortable with it.

Levi geeks out so badly

So yeah, his initial interest in MC is kickstarted by his fashion reminding him of a badass video game character, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate him for who he is!!

He actually doesn’t know whether to be sad that he doesn’t have the same amount of fashion sense or to be happy that he has MC as his best friend that does.

But after a bit of positive affirmation from MC, he’ll surely settle with the latter. (and also hope for them to become more than best friends :). )

He finds himself subconsciously posting about MC in his socials. Normally it’s filled with “Lucifer just did (blank)” but now, it’s ALL about MC. Nothing else. MC fan account.

We know that Levi draws, and so I have no doubts that he would be drawing every outfit he sees MC in.

At first, he’s only drawing faceless figures in the clothes, probably adding his own personal flair. But as time progresses and Levi gets closer to him, he starts subconsciously conpleting the figure’s appearance (hair, face, stature, etc). And before he knows it, half of his pages are filled with doodles of MC.

But if he were to ever find out that MC saw his art, RIP Leviathan 2020

And who’s to say he’s not drawing him in... Risqué outfits.

But if MC says that he doesn’t mind getting drawn, then Levi will activate cute fanboy mode again.

He’ll ask him to model outfits for him as he draws, sometimes in cosplay.

MC would just be chillin’ with him in his room, and when Levi finally looks up from his tv after finishing an anime, he’ll sometimes gasp and immediately say, “Stay right there, I HAVE to draw this!”

Although drawing wasn’t and will likely never be his favorite thing to do in comparison to video games/anime, it gives him an excuse to stare at his best friend with minimal blushing.

Satan is good at hiding his appreciation for MC’s outfits. At least, he’s good at it to everyone BUT MC.

If anyone asks, he’s indifferent about MC and his dashing looks and fashion.

But as soon as MC confronts him... Oh boy.

Red-faced, he’ll compliment his clothing on occasion, then wave it off as “something everyone does”. Which is true, but we know that it’s more than just that.

Similarly to Lucifer, he finds himself staring at him secretly. Except, I like to think that he’s less careful about it. Often MC will look up to meet his eyes, before he ducks his head back into his book, acting nonchalant.

Not a single person can convince me that he hasn’t found a stray black cat and discreetly named it after MC.

He wouldn’t hide the fact, but instead would actually bring it up at the right time. Ex: Right before some dramantic moment like before proclaiming how much MC means to him. Both as the cat and human.

The cat’s collars are decorated similarly to the clothing that MC wears! Satan is a diligent worker (especially when putting lucifer through immense stress) and a lover of arts, so he’s pays attention to little details like that.

This is Asmo we’re talking about.

He ADORES the aesthetic.

It’s not something that he himself would wear, but damn is it appealing to the eye.

Once you get him started on all the things he’d do if given the chance to dress MC up in whatever he wanted, you’ll never hear the end of it.

(^ especially when he starts talking about the undressing)

He loves a monochromatic color pallet, but every once in a while he’ll push for a pop of color in MC’s outfit for the day.

If MC wears minimal/no makeup, Asmo will constantly ask if he can use his face as a canvas for makeup experimentation while he rants about his nail tech.

Asmo’s favorite activity is going through MC’s closet. He gets to not only try things on, but he also gets to know what he has to work with when choosing MC’s outfits for their days out together.

Knows the perfect boutiques to bring him to

“You know, the color black really accentuates your figure... And if you look this good with it on, I wonder how great you look with it off~”

Beel isn’t interested in fashion or anything related to it. He isn’t picky about the presentation of things (namely; food.)

So he wouldn’t be immediately enticed upon first meeting MC.

But that is not to say that he doesn’t find him VERY pleasing to the eye.

Our sweet boy is not afraid to express his love for those boots!! For the destressed fabrics!! He hangs around him often just so he can sit and ogle at how cool MC looks!! All the damn time!!

Asks MC to come with him to work out just so he could have some motivation by seeing him. And his GAMES. He’s gonna love to see him cheering him on in the stands.

Beel would admit that he himself couldn’t bring himself to care so much about his clothes or ‘aesthetic’ , and couldn’t imagine having such a consistent style.

^ And because of that! He’s dying to see what he looks like in other styles. Of course, if he doesn’t want to change out of the usual attire, just seeing him wearing beel’s huge ass jacket is enough.

Wouldn’t care to buy clothing items for him, but will most certainly stop by devildom’s no. 1 bakery, grab some sweets with that signature gothic devildom appearance and bring it back to the House of Lamentation for him. (Given that he didn’t already eat them.)

In comparison to his personality, MC’s closet isn’t very important.

Beel loves his kind nature! But he will always be there to defend him in any sort of risky situation, especially when any low level demons would like to try and take advantage of MC’s niceness.

Belphie is taken aback the first time he sees him. In the best way possible.

It’s like he just knows that he’s going to be interesting to be with just by seeing his clothing style

He actually probably assumed that MC would be very different from what he’s really like. (Like how people will assume that everyone who wears dark colors often are always sad)

But both to his surprise and not, MC is nothing but kind to him! And he’s kinda like 😳. Damn. Alright. I can get down to this.

Fashion isn’t his expertise, so he isn’t as forward with compliments. It’s mostly, “As long as I’m comfortable when I lay on you, the clothes are fine. Right?”

“I had a dream about you last night... It was like you were some prince clad in black chain mail armor... I suppose we couldn’t make that a reality though, huh? You can be my prince in band tees and ripped jeans.”

The only reason he starts dressing similarly to MC is because of how many times he’ll fall asleep beside him. He knows MC will probably offer one of his jackets or extra shirts, and that he’ll likely get to keep it. (He gives it back eventually, it’s just nice sentiment.)

It’s also kind of entertaining to see some of his brothers go ballistic in response to seeing him adorned in MC’s signature clothes.

[dancingazaleas]

Can you write a modern au Historia Reiss x fem!reader imagine where the reader is in a band and has a very punk rock style, and Historias the popular cheerleader everybody drools over, and they hate each other but at a party some girl is flirting with the reader so historia takes her and fucks the reader silly in a bathroom and after confesses her feelings to r?

historia reiss | promise

ofc!!! pls i literally love cheerleader!historia. i hope this is good enough <33 !!

18+ pls ! [unedited]

warnings/notes: cursing, use of alcohol and drugs, eventual smut, jealous dom!historia, modern au!, college au!, cheerleader!historia, bathroom sex, degradation, slight praise, enemies to lovers supremacy, fem reader!, finger fucking, hints at pegging, and aftercare

you’re pissed, so pissed that you’re seeing white. you only know that you’re sitting under the bleachers of your college campus and that your best friend, annie, is sitting beside you.

historia reiss, the popular cheerleader adored by everyone, decided it would funny if she pulled a prank on you. the prank being drenched in ice water and then pouring pink glitter on your body from the second floor of campus.

the glitter stuck everywhere, even in your mouth. before you scrubbed some of it off, you looked like a bath bomb. the water made it stickier and made you cold.

you don’t know what kind of vendetta historia has against you, you’ve only just met her two years ago! you hadn’t even really talked her up until your freshman year of college. even then, you don’t think you had said anything rude or wrong.

you just assume she gets pleasure out of your suffering.

you’re ranting about historia to annie, who witnessed the whole incident, still covered head-to-toe in glitter. she’s smoking a cigarette and listening to you absentmindedly, a sign that she’s getting slightly annoyed. she grabs your jaw with her hand and turns your face towards her. she’s taking in a breath and you know exactly what she’s about to do.

when she pulls the cigarette away, she blows the smoke into your face and let’s go of your jaw.

“thanks for that,” you grunt, the smell always seems to calm you down for some odd reason.

“y’know, instead of ranting, you could go home and take a shower,” she looks sleepy as she holds onto her cigarette.

“i know. but she’s just so frustrating! wanna know what makes her even more frustrating?!”

annie decides to play along, she thinks you ranting is funny, “what?”

“she’s hot. scratch that, she’s literally gorgeous. she looks like a fucking goddess and has the personality of a witch,” you shout angrily, following annie’s movements of getting up and walking towards your dorm.

“i dunno,” she snickers, “she’s pretty nice to me.”

“yeah, cause she’s got some sort of vendetta against me. i swear—i have never done a single thing to her!! do you remember when she bashed our band?! does she even listen to punk?!”

annie’s made a mistake in encouraging you, “anyways. speaking of our band, don’t forget we’re playing tonight at eren’s house.”

“you mean at his frat house,” you snort, bumping your shoulder into her’s. you immediately regret it when you pull away and see pink glitter stick to her shirt and a shiver going down her spine.

“yeah, whatever. thank god he’s loaded enough to pay for a band. i can’t believe his dad just gives him and zeke cash,” annie coughs while she chuckles, smoke puffing out of her nose.

you’re laughing at her coughing, slapping her firmly on the back as you walk.

you don’t notice large blue eyes staring at you from far away.

————

you’re trying to ignore the idiotic comments annie’s making while mikasa does your eyeliner.

you, mikasa, annie, and—surprisngly—jean are getting ready for your show tonight.

originally, it had just been you, annie, and mikasa until mikasa and jean had started dating. she vouched that he could play the drums—and he definelty could. he also gets along surprisingly well with you and annie.

mikasa usually sings back-up for you—despite your begging for her to be the lead—and plays the electric keyboard.

annie’s on bass guitar. she gets stupidly smug everytime she’s done playing and the praise she gets from her girlfriend doesn’t help. annie also writes most of your songs.

“guys, we should make a bet,” annie’s twirling some of her hair, eyeing you and mikasa.

“what’s the bet,” jean smirks and raises a bushy brow. mikasa and you give a hum of approval.

“i bet that one girl is gonna be all over (name) tonight,” you snort sarcastically.

“elizabeth? i think she’s trying to seduce me so i’ll partner up with her for this project we have coming up in our music history class,” mikasa’s pullled away, screwing the cap of the eyeliner back onto the bottle. she hands you coal black lipstick.

“you know what i bet,” jean starts, you know it isn’t gonna be good, “historia’s gonna be eyefucking (name) all night.”

you’re in the middle of applying lipstick but you stop at his statement.

“no, before you say something, jean’s gotta point,” mikasa muses, fanning her hand.

“yeah. dunno how you didn’t noticed,” annie shrugs, hopping out of her chair and stretching her arms upwards.

you’re irritated and finished with your lipstick, eyebrows furrowed bitterly.

“anyways,” you grit your teeth, “it’s showtime.”

————

it’s been five minutes since you and the band performed, and after all that belting you just want a drink. you’re walking through the messy and huge kitchen, trying to avoid stepping on spilled shots and egg yolk—who knows—because these boots were expensive.

luckily, most people are partying like a mob in the main room of the smelly frat house. it smells like weed, everywhere. and when you open the fridge you see a long platter of chocolate brownies, is eren alright? you shrug internally, snatching a water bottle that’s sitting on the top shelf.

after you’ve closed the fridge door and opened it, you’re chugging the water bottle like your life depends on it. when you pull away, you try to not notice the lipstick stain and that you’ve drank the bottle more than halfway. you’re leaning on the island in the middle of the kitchen, you don’t plan on partying too much since you’re supposed to be the designated driver for annie, mikasa, and jean.

you’re about to take another swig of your water, eyes staring down at your phone and continuing to read a article. before you can bring the bottle to your lips, teasing laughter from your front is distracting you.

it’s historia, wearing a baby blue v-neck tank top that ends at her ribs. she has a white skirt on, pulled up to the middle of her bellybutton and stopping at her upper thighs. her shoes are white and chunky with sparkly blue butterflies on the sides of them. her makeup’s cute, a light blue sprinkling on the outside corners of her eyes that tickled her cheekbones, a light and natural (for her at least) pink lipstick on her lips coated with shiny gloss. she’s pretty.

“fuck do you want,” you frown with narrowed eyes, you’re praying there aren’t anymore tricks.

“nothing, nothing!,” she’s got a cheery smile on her face, “just wanted to see how you were doing! i cant even do that?”

rolling your eyes, you scoff, “not after you drenched me in ice cold water and then poured glitter on me. it took me two hours to get rid of the glitter in the shower.”

she’s opening her mouth, but you’re already done with her shit, “fuck off, dude.”

you’re stomping out of the kitchen, huffing with frustration. what the fuck was historia trying to play at? she’s such a cunt, pulling these mean pranks on you with no provocation and then coming up to you after and asking how you are?

you’re seething. you’re so angry you’re not even paying attention to where you’re going.

but it’s interrupted when you bump into someone’s back. lower... back.

said person, turns around and looks down at you. she’s tall, and you’ve seen her around campus with eren and zeke. she’s quiet and cunning, you’ve heard rumors that she gets paid to beat people up sometimes. you can’t really judge her, money’s money.

but she’s also gorgeous. glowing gold eyes and choppy blonde hair. she’s wearing a loose black blazer that closes at her sternum and down, with nothing underneath. she’s got some kind of necklace—you think it says ‘p’ or ‘z’—and pretty silver rings on her fingers. her heels make her tower over you more than she probably would without them on.

“shit, my bad,” you sigh and look away.

she shakes her head, the tiniest smile painting her face and her cheeks turn a little red.

“you’re alright,” she hums, “i don’t think i’ve met you. i’ve definitely seen you around, but no one’s ever given me a name.”

“oh, i’m (name),” you smile shyly, “i don’t know your name either.”

she chuckles a bit, somehow wrapping her hand in your’s and leading you to a nice loveseat. her nails are painted black and you feel inclined to put your legs over her lap.

“i’m surprised,” and that’s when you notice zeke and pieck on the couch next to you, “there are a lot of rumors about me. however, i guess whoever told you—or didn’t—left me anonymous. i’m yelena.”

you give a laugh, watching her throw her arm up onto the top of the couch. you’re cuddling her side within seconds, drawing a deep chuckle from her. her other hand reaches to your cheek, making you look up at her. she’s holding your chin with her thumb and staring at you with her hypnotizing eyes.

“you’re just the cutest,” she mumbles, letting go of your face and tapping your nose.

you’re getting embarrassed at the attention, and you don’t know what to say other than ‘thank you’. you’ve never been pussy whipped a day in your entire life, but you think you might change that.

she’s leaning in closer, ignoring the couple, who was staring at you two with amusement, that sat on the couch cuddling. you feel like you recognize them for a moment, but the thought it forgotten whenever yelena kisses you fervently.

she’s running her tongue across your lip and the shiver that goes down your spine makes you realize she has a tongue piercing. she’s pushing you down to lay on the couch, to which you happily oblige, her hand crawling up to your neck.

before you can even let her shove her tongue in your mouth and choke you, your hand is being tugged and all of a sudden your upper torso and body is on the floor and your head is aching. you’re dazedly looking at yelena, who’s just as surprised as you are, then turning to the couple on the couch.

holy fucking hell, how did you not realize that the couple was pieck and zeke. that isn’t even your main focus when another tug to your wrist pulls your lower half off the couch.

“what the fuck?!” you’re suddenly not dazed anymore, “let go of me!”

you’re snatching your arm away and scrambling to your feet, tugging down your short dress that rode up. you turn around to face the assaulter, only to look down and see historia.

historia grabbed you?!

before you can even scream or slap her, she’s, once again, pulling you away by your wrist. for such a small girl, she’s got a tight grip.

you’re stumbling as you follow her, not like you couldn’t, yelling profanities. you pass by annie, who spits out her drink at the sight of you, it startles her girlfriend, hitch. you mouth a ‘help!’ towards her just as you’re swung forward.

it takes you a second to balance yourself out, and before you can turn yourself around, you’re being shoved forward.

what the fuck is her deal?!

you’re pushed into a bathroom, finally turning around to see historia as you fall on your ass. she’s slammed the door closed and locked it, staring at you on the ground.

“the fuck is your damage,” you scream, leaning against the bathroom counter.

“you’re a fucking slut, that’s what!” she’s yelling back, now standing in front of you. her hands are trapping you against the counter, and you’re looking down at her.

“you’re a dirty little slut. you can’t help but get down with a woman when i’m not with you for five fucking minutes,” you can’t even open your mouth and opted to push yourself towards the counter more as you squeeze your thighs together.

“look at you,” she’s laughing mockingly, “you look like a dog in heat. are you enjoying this, you fucking whore?”

you whimper, shaking your head side-to-side.

“you’re a liar,” she’s laughing again, standing on her tip toes to brush her lips against your’s.

“i’m not.”

“if you’re not, go ahead and push me away then,” she smirks, leaning closer.

you look away, listening to the mocking giggle that she was releasing right in your face. her left hand is grabbing you by the jaw and forcing you to look at her.

“can i kiss you,” her look softens and you nod at her.

“yes,” and within a second, her lips are on your’s. the kiss is surprisingly gentle and sweet.

with a bit on your lip, her tongue is rubbing against your’s and her hands sliding under the thin straps of your dress. you’re whining when she pulls away and laughs. your dress is halfway down your body, chest jumping up and down as you pant from the lack of breath.

“look at you, baby,” she turns your head to the side, which gives you a profile view of yourself in the mirror. your lipstick’s smudged in the corner of your mouth, eyeliner’s smuged as well as your eyeshadow.

weak product.

“you need better makeup,” she’s giggling as she leans her head towards your neck.

she’s kissing and sucking almost everywhere on your neck and chest, as if she were marking her property. moans are bouncing off the walls as her hands release your boobs from the strapless bra you’re wearing and sucking on your nipples. honestly, you’re glad it’s off. it’s been tiring having to pull it up everytime it slipped even just a bit.

you tug at her blonde hair when her small hand gropes one tit and her mouth bites at the other. she’s tugging the rest of your dress down with her free hand, and it pools around your boots. she goes back up to kiss your lips, laughing in your mouth as you struggle to kick off your boots. she’s kissing at your cheek and ear, tugging at the waistline of your fishnet tights.

“might wanna take these off too if you don’t want them ripped,” yelping when she bites at your earlobe.

“i...,” you’re catching your breath, “need help.”

she giggles while nodding, helping you shimmying the tights down to your knees.

“jump up on the counter, babe. it’ll make it easier for me,” you’re obident and jumping on the cool bathroom counter, it makes you shiver.

historia’s on her knees, shoes kicked off, and her fingers tickle your legs when she’s sliding the tights off your legs. she’s got a sultry look on her face when she throws said tights over her shoulder, palming your kneecaps. she bites back her smirk when she pulls your knees apart, showing off your black panties. you fall back against the mirror and you lean mostly on your elbows, ignoring the loud bang that came from it.

her mouth’s leaving open mouthed kisses against your inner thighs, pants leaving your mouth. her fingers hook around the waistband of your panties, tugging them down quickly whenever you lift your hips.

your going to close your legs, but her hands prevent you from doing so. her eyes are glued to your pussy, lips spread open and your wetness shining in the light. you’ve got a little hair on your pubis, but that isn’t going to stop historia reiss from changing her name to sasha braus.

she’s sucking at your clit and spreading your legs apart as far as she can. she pulls away from your pussy just for a second.

“keep your legs open,” she says, a thumb rubbing circles into your clit.

it’s lazy and it’s satisfying, but it’s not enough to make you cum. she knows that.

you’re letting out high pitched moans and fingers tangled in her golden locks as she eats you out like a man starved.

‘i wish i had realized that i’m gay sooner,’ you think as historia slowly slides her middle finger inside of you.

you’re throwing your head back against the mirror when she suddenly adds a second finger, claiming that you could take it since you’re a slut.

considering your wetness is dripping down your ass and onto the counter, you can’t really object the statement.

she’s curling her fingers inside you, mouth closed around your clit. your moans go up an octave when she finds the spongy part inside of you, thrusting her fingers in and out of you after she angles her digits.

“fuck!” you moan and start clawing at historia’s free arm, which is holding down your hips.

“h-historia...,” you pant, “gonna cum... pl..please let me cum.”

her laughter sends vibrations across your clit, and that’s what sends you over the edge. you’re crying out as historia helps you ride out your orgasm by slowing her fingers down and pulling away from your clit. historia’s admiring you while she wipes off your juices from her chin, a small smile adorning her lips.

your head is thrown back against the mirror—once again. eyes rolled back and mouth opened in a silent moan. the hand that was gripping at her arm is clenched in a fist that has your knuckles painted white. your toes are curled and your back is arching in the air.

she doesn’t pull her fingers out of you until your calm, letting you catch your breath before she does it all over again.

———

your legs are trembling as she helps you sit down on the toilet.

you know you look like a mess—historia’s been forcing you to watch yourself. the eyeliner and mascara you have on is now smeared and ran down your face since you cried. your lipstick is smeared up and down, worse than last time, and your hair is messed up and tangled from historia pulling on it.

historia’s squatting before you, looking for a rag to wet down and clean you up with.

“next cabinet over,” you breath, throwing your head back.

“you know who’s bathroom this is?”

“yeah, jean’s in this frat too. him and marco share it. this place is pretty nice when there isn’t a party going on,” you giggle, somehow this whole situation seems funny to you.

she’s running hot water over the rag she now has, staring at herself in the mirror. historia’s got hickeys on her neck too and teeth marks on shoulders. she’s got glittery blue on her cheek, must be her mascara.

she turns off the water and wrings it out. she walks over to you, nudging your legs open with her knee. you comply and absentmindedly reach for one of her hands to hold. she takes the offer, squatting in front of you and cleaning up the slightly dried cum and juices on your thighs and vagina.

you shiver and let out little whines and whimpers, still sensitive from the previous orgasms. historia was also still wearing something. something that you didn’t even know she had.

a fucking 6 inch strap on.

“by the way,” you start, “how’d you get your strap-on here?”

“i came to the house before eren started throwing the party. i brought a bag with me and just hid it in the empty cabinet. i think eren wanted to hook up with me and mentioned something about pegging. brought it in case,” she explains, small smile spreading across her face as she starts cleaning your face.

you start giggling again, the hand that wasn’t holding her hand weakly grabbing at her wrist.

“hisu... can i get a kiss,” you pucker your lips when she pulls away the rag from you. she flips the rag to a clean slide, rubbing herself in the same areas as she did for you.

historia holds your cheek and gives you the sweetest kiss you’ve ever had.

“i’m gonna take you back to mine and ymir’s place. you’re still in sub-space and you wobble instead of walk,” she says, squatting down again to help you get your panties on.

she’s able to get your dress on the lower half of your body, but you both realize there’s a fucking cum stain on the chest. historia gives you a jacket that was in her bag, zipping it halfway. the dress stayed sitting at your waist, you’re to tired to get it open even if you have a cover up.

she’s done cleaning everything up within ten minutes, including herself. she throws the rag in a hamper in the bathroom closet that had jean’s name written on it in sharpie.

she’s slipping the bag on her shoulder and helping you walk with the other one. when you walk out, ymir is leaning on the wall by the door with a smirk.

ymir squats down a bit, laughing at your shaky legs every time you took a step. historia and her manage to get you on ymir’s back. you fall asleep before you three can get to the car.

———

when you wake up, your whole lower body is sore. your eyelids feel heavy as you open them, coming to your senses. you recognize ‘dance moms’ playing in the background and historia eating cereal as she watches.

you groan lowly, and historia finally notices your consciousness.

“so...,” you yawn while you stretch your arms up into the air, “talk about last night?”

historia nods while she chews, “so basically, i was jealous that you were hooking up with another girl that wasn’t me.”

“but why would you be jealous...? i thought you hated me,” you rub your cheek against the pillow you’re laying your head on.

historia blushes as she looks away with a pout, “i never hated you... i just... i didn’t like the feelings i have for you.”

“oh,” you lay on your back and ignore the heat rushing to your cheeks, “what are.... the feelings..?”

“i may or may not love you,” she hides her face by holding her bowl full of cereal to her chin.

you don’t say anything for a few moments, trying to think of what you wanted to say.

“i... i love you too. but, that doesn’t just mean i forgive and forget all the horrible shit you’ve done to me. i’ll start dating you when i feel that you’ve... ‘atoned’ for your sins,” you sigh, “it’s gonna take some time but if you want this to work or even start, you’ve gotta make it up to me and understand where i’m coming from.”

she looks at you with slight excitement, “i... of course! i was really mean to you and you didn’t deserve that, no matter how much i disliked you. i promise to make it up to you.”

she’s holding her pinky finger up to you.

you smile and link your pinkies with her’s, “promise.”

[91percentpynch]

lonely heart - kevaaron au pt 4

oh look it‘s me, coming out of my dark hole to make you suffer with a super sad chapter with a nasty cliffhanger:) so get your tissues ready and enjoy!! okay first of all sorry that i didn‘t update this in a g e s and that it‘s rather short and for the cliffhanger, but i‘ll try to update it more regularly now:)

check this out for the other parts:)

trigger warnings: drug abuse, mention of suicide, mention of mental health issues, very sad aaron, mention of blood

“You were too good for me”, Aaron whispered into the void. “You were way too fucking good for me. You made me a better man. And I fucked up”

Aaron got up as he felt the tears burning in his eyes. He knew he wouldn‘t be able to sleep alone tonight. Like every single goddamn night since he left Kevin. Like every single goddamn night since he made the biggest mistake of his life.

„Taylor?“, the blonde haired boy murmered, „You up?“

„Babe, you know I‘m up. My girlfriend lives three states away, we talk every single day at the same time as you call your man. Not that I would be able to sleep when you call him, cause a) i love Day and b) you‘re always sad and high and end up in my room anygays, so did he take the phone darling?“

Taylor was Aaron‘s roommate and the closest thing he had to a best friend. She had been there for him every single day, cuddled him, held him while he cried and dried his tears afterwards. And Aaron did the same when she misssed her girlfriend too much.

„You do realize he is not my man anymore, I fucked that up. Big time. He did actually take the phone just to tell me to fuck off and stop calling“

„You could always go over there and say it in his pretty face. Didn’t say you can’t come over did he?Pro point: Might lead to making out“, Taylor said while taking him in her arms. „Plus another pro point: you‘d get sober again. And you‘re less moody. No offense but a Kevin-less Aaron is hardly managable, like you‘re either a whiny little bitch or you‘ll give me the death glare of the cenutry. Legit worse than Andrew‘s and I called him a cute little baby boo once when I was drunk and he almost stabbed me right there with a look on his face like I just murdered Neil in front of him“

„Tay, I take that as a compliment. And we both know Kevin’s a bit of a dumbass so he did not exactly tell me Not To Come over just stopp calling. Anyways I don‘t even know where he lives. And stop talking about me getting high, you do the same shit“

„Yeah but I know my limits and I have not the same history as you. And for the i DoN‘t EvEn KnOwS wHeRe He LiVeS, phone number. Now“

„O- okay“, Aaron said and told her Kevin‘s phone number while Taylor calmingly stroked his back.

„Neat, got him“, Taylor said after a while. „He‘s with the scary big dude and his adorable little boyfriend I think? I have their address right here, I think we‘re gonna visit them tomorrow cause it‘s like 4 am right now and we don‘t wanna rob him his beauty sleep plus we don‘t want to wake the scary big dude. And I‘m pretty sure the adorable small golden retriver boy could and would stab us“

„Did you just stalk my ex and located his phone at 4 am like fucking Garcias in Criminal Minds?“, Aaron said confused.

„Anything for you big guy. And as I said I miss Day‘s pretty face, preferably in your pretty face so you shut the fuck up about how stressed and depressed and lonely you are.“, Taylor chuckled as Aaron looked at her shocked.

„Well I miss Casey, preferable in your face so YOU shut up“, Aaron was never as good in witty remarks as his brother. Especially high Aaron.

„Babe I think it‘s time for you to go to bed, you‘re not fun when you‘re sad, high and tired. Come here, let me cuddle you, while you whiney little bitch sleep“

Aaron slowly went over to Taylor and into her loving arms, laying down, trying to fall asleep.

After a long while aaron drifted into sleep, just to be greeted by familiar smaragd eyes. In his dream Kevin and he never broke up. Kevin was on top of him, his hands gently discovered Aaron‘s body, touching him as if he was sacred, something to worship. Kevin‘s lips were at Aaron‘s ear whispering sweet nothingness. Aaron‘s hips moved against Kevin‘s loving touch. „Stress release“ Kevin called these holy moments in dawn. „Highlight of my day“ Aaron called them.

The dream was as beautiful as it was cruel. It was as if his body, his mind were as much refusing as able to believe that Kevin was gone. It was his own fault, Aaron knew it. But the ever present voice of his mother, disapproving and disgusting, in his head was just too much for him to handle. He thought - foolish as Aaron was - that the pain of living without Kevin would be better, less cruel, less painful. But he never knew real love and therefore never experienced its lost. Until that faitful day. Until Kevin took his bags and left.

Aaron was used to pain. The hot one after an extraordinarily vicious hit. The cold one when his mother died. The numbing one when the hunger was growing more and more unbareable. But nothing was even slightly as hard to handle as the loss of Kevin in his life.

Kevin was the first good thing Aaron had. He gave him a will to stay, to try, to give this stupid sport everything he got. And Exy turned into more mundane things like getting his eating routine under control or getting a more or less acceptable sleeping schedule. The dark days were still there, for both of them, and they would probably never leave them completely alone, but they got less. And when they did happen they would hold each other together.

Ever since he fucked up things with Kevin, Aaron had more and more dark days. The voice of his mother telling him he‘s a failure, the bored stare of his brother and Aaron convincing himself Andrew wouldn‘t even bet an eye if he died, the voice telling him the world would be a better place without him growing louder and lourder every passing day.

Logically he could say that the death of a single person wouldn‘t change much for the over all world population, expect maybe it‘s some kind of insane mademan dicator or someone important, but still. It made sense. All he did after all was fucking up, being a failure, never good enough, never perfect.

His lonely heart only screamed Kevin‘s name and he knew if Kevin didn‘t take him back, his life wouldn‘t make much sense anymore. Well he would definetly not tell Kevin that. He would not manipulate Kevin into loving him, because that wouldn‘t be much better than not having him at all.

Aaron woke up the next day around noon. He didn‘t really feel like getting up, like getting up was simply too much. But Aaron knew he had to. He didn‘t want to worry Taylor more than he already did. And it would end today. One way or the other.

So he got up, put on the first pair of black jeans he could find and the first sweater his hands could find. Ironically it was one of the sweaters Kevin gave him, on the third of december last year. It was one of Aaron‘s favourites as well.

„Ready for the big Day, small guy?“, Taylor said winking at him.

„Not really? What the fuck am I supposed to do there anyways?“, Aaron replied on his way to the coffee maker.

„Talk to him? Deliver one of those borderline cringe big speeches. Get im flowers. Break into his bedroom and say ‚Draw me like one of your french girls‘, naked of course“, Taylor laughed at the face Aaron made, listening to her suggestions.

„I think I like the big speech. I mean I‘m shit with words, but I‘m sure you want to help your boy getting ‚his man‘ back, right? Also what kind of flowers would you give someone you dumped cause the voice of your dead mother told you it was wrong and disgusting, which you never told him for obvious reasons?“

„Honey, you‘re so fucked up sometimes, I love you but you should go to a therapist or something. Also I‘d say sunflowers or roses? I don‘t speak flowers man, I‘m the tech nerd. Not the romantic one, the nerd. But we‘re gonna make a snazzy speech and you‘re gonna get your man back“

After their typical breakfast - if Aaron didn‘t forget to eat again - they sat down together on the living room floor, paper and pen ready, trying to write the world changing speech.

„Why is this so fucking hard? Why can I only tell him how much I love and miss him when I‘m high off my ass“, Aaron complained.

„What about you don‘t think about him that much. Just tell me what you love about him and then we write that down?“, Taylor suggested.

Aaron took a deep breathe and closed his eyes. „I loved him because he was the first one who saw me. Aaron Minyard. And not just the other Minyard, the lesser twin, the shadow of Andrew. He looked at me and somehow chose me. Even if he could have had everyone else. He chose me, even though I‘m not special. Kevin chose the failure when he could have had the first prize. He looked at me and saw something worth loving, worth keeping around. Hardly anyone could tell Andrew and me apart. But it took him less than a day to do so. Kevin is strong, so so strong and somehow chose the most fragile thing he could find, took it and made it worth soemthing. Kevin made me feel something. Not numbness. Not pain. Something warm and beautiful and living. He gave me a reason to stay alive. Kevin made my life bearable, he made my life beautiful. We were both broken and we would probably still be broken if we were together but we softened each other‘s edges. Kevin believed in me when no one else would. He knew how I felt, knew what I needed and when I needed it. Kev gave me love and safety and I kicked it with my feet. This man is like a god who fell for whatever reasons for a homeless man. And I know I don‘t deserve him but I also know I cannot live without him. And I know that I must tell him that before it‘s too late. If it‘s not too late already“

Taylor wipped a tear out of her eyes. „That‘s it. You tell him that and we‘ll get him back“, she said. „Can I hug you?“

„Sure you loser“

„Ah there is my boy“

They spent the rest of the afternoon writing down the speech, making edits here and there. In the end Aaron collected the pages and went to his room to change. He replaced Kevin‘s sweater with a simple black jumper, put on his Docs, got his keys and left.

Aaro did feel a little uncomfortable, stalking Kevin like that. But he knew this was his chance to fix things. This was his chance to get Kevin back, to make his life worth living again. Which to be fair was a bit selfish, but you are allowed to be a little selfish sometimes, aren‘t you?

Jean and Jeremy‘s apartment complex was a 15 minute drive away from the flat Aaron shared with his three roommates. Theirs was fanzier, obviously. After all Jeremy was a professional Exy player and Jean was some kind of semi famous artist or fashion maker or whatever. They could give Kevin the world. They could give him what he desereved. All Aaron had to offer was an apology and his love. No money. Not yet anyway. Just anxiety, depression and stress.

But if Kevin was willing to take his love, to give Aaron one more chance, he promised himself Aaron would make it count. He will tell Kevin how much he loves Kevin every single god damn day. Aaron will get therapy and work on his issues. Sober up and this time for good. He will do anything to be worth of god‘s love. Just that god in his case was a twenty two year old boy with black hair, forming soft waves at the end and a smile that will make the sun jealous. Eyes made out of smaragd. Lips so sinful and kissable.

Aaron sat down in front of the door, waiting for his courage to come back to him. He could do this. He would get his man back.

Hours passed, or maybe it were only minutes or seconds after all before someone came closer. Ever so slowly Aaron lifted his head, just to look in the ever so familiar green eyes, big with shock.

„You said to stop calling. You never mentioned face to face conversations“, Aaron said, his voice hoarse.

Kevin stared at him as if he was a ghost, a reminder of his past life, something he rather wanted to forget.

„Look I know I fucked up. I know I‘m not good enough for you. I know you deserve the world and I cannot give it to you. And when you look me in the eyes and tell me you don‘t feel anything for me anymore, no love or hate or affection or whatever humans feel, I will turn away right now and go and never come back. Never bother you again. But if you allow me to apologize, if you however decide to gieve me one last chance, I prepared this whole ass speech for you“

Aaron was sure they could hear his heart beating against his chest, roaring, screaming to return home. To return to Kevin where it belonged.

Kevin‘s eyes wandered to the floor, his fingers automatically closed around his left wrist. A nervous habit. Just another little part that makes Aaron‘s heart ache.

Slowly, almost painfully slowly, he lifted those unbelieveable beautiful eyes and met Aaron‘s golden ones. Kevin studied him and the world around them stopped.

Out of the corner of Aaron‘s eyes he could see Jean going still, his breathing too calm, too even. It‘s the same thing Andrew does when someone fucks with Josten. At least his death would be fast. Or slow. Whatever. Aaron didn‘t really care, without Kevin it wasn‘t worth anygthing anyway.

„Why“, Kevin said after what feels like forever, „Why would I forgive you? Why would I give you another chance? Why would you think you can come back here just to fuck me over again? Aaron I loved you, I really did. I always will. You were my first love and maybe, yeah maybe, my last one. But right now I can‘t. I just, I just can‘t. Please leave. Please leave me alone. For now. Maybe, one day we can talk about it. But right now I cannot handle the thought of you to leave me. To tell me all these beautiful lies, to cut me open and leave me to bleed out. I love you“, tears were running down Kevin‘s cheek. Tears Aaron one day, a long time ago, promised himself he would never let Kevin feel again. Pain. Sadness. Everything because of his failure, because of his weakness, because he‘s a fucking piece of shit.

„Thank you for giving me a reason to stay. Jusst remember that you were my light, my warmth, my happiness and I never stopped loving you. Never will. Please just be happy“, Aaron replied as he turned around to walk to his cars.

When he was sure he was out of ear shot, he let himself feel. Feel the pain. Feel the loneliness. Feel the numbness and the cold and the hatred. It was in that moment, that moment where he was alone and nothing more to lose, that he decided that it was enough. He would end it. End it tonight.

„Thank you“, he texted Taylor. „I‘m glad I didn‘t eat you in the womb“, he texted Andrew. „You were not so bad after all“, he sent to Neil. And lastly „Thank you for taking me under your wing“, to Nicky. They would understand. It would take them some time but in the end they would feel better. They would be happier without them. Because at the end of the day he caused them pain and wasn‘t really worth a thing.

So when he got in his car, tears running uncontrallably down his cheeks, he knew what he had to do.

[adenei]

Finding My Way To You - Ch. 8

AO3 // FFN

Adjusting

“Mum, I really don’t think all of this is necessary..” Hermione said the following day. Her parents had both taken the day off to spend time with them, and Jean had whisked her daughter away for lunch and an afternoon of shopping. 

“What? Being able to spend time with my daughter? When’s the last time we went shopping together? Hermione, dear, you are desperately in need of some new clothes! Plus, I want to help you find something special for your date tonight,” Mrs. Granger smiled knowingly.

Hermione sighed. Her mother was right. The clothes she did have were ragged from being on the run for almost a year, and it was nice to be able to spend time with her again. This was the kind of thing she’d hoped to do with her mother before sixth year started, when she thought she and Ron may be on the verge of something then. Speaking of…

“Mum, what did Ron say to you last night to change your mind about things?” she asked again, hoping she’d crack on the fourth try.

They’d been out much longer than Hermione had expected, which made her nervous, but when they’d returned, Ron looked relieved and Mum had a smile on her face. Hermione looked at her dad for help in gathering an explanation, but he simply shrugged. Even Ron was tight lipped about the exchange last night. That annoyed her, and subsequently cut into their ‘getting to know you’ time she was hoping for.

What Ron did admit was what her mother was planning for tomorrow evening. “She called to make a reservation at some posh seafood restaurant for us tomorrow evening.”

“All four of us?” Hermione asked for clarification.

“No, just you and me. She wants us to go on a proper date. Said something about checking the cinemas, too, whatever that means. Would you be alright to join me for dinner tomorrow evening, say, around 6:30?” he said with a chuckle.

“I’d be delighted,” Hermione played along. “But I’m not sure I have anything to wear,” she frowned.

“Right, I forgot that bit. Your mum’s planning to be here around eleven tomorrow to take you to lunch and shopping.”

Hermione smiled at the recollection as she browsed the current boutique they were in. They already had several bags between them of new clothes for Hermione. Several new shirts and jumpers, a couple pairs of jeans, trousers and skirts, and even new undergarments, which Hermione had been resistant towards at first. She was secretly happy, though because when she was ready to take that step with Ron, she wanted something cute or sexy and not just plain old boring cotton. Her cheeks flushed at the thought of wanting to be ‘sexy’ for someone. 

She’d even caved and allowed her Mum to purchase a new swimsuit. It felt like ages since Hermione had worn one, not since their trip to France all those summers ago, and it took several choices (of both her own and others her mum tossed over the dressing room door) before Hermione had decided on a bright blue two piece with white polka dots. The top was modest enough with a twist front that had string ties in the back, and the bottom was somewhat high waisted, which made her feel more comfortable. Her mum had also picked up a couple beach towels and insisted Hermione buy flip flops, or thongs, as the Aussies called them. 

“The weather is supposed to be beautiful tomorrow. You and Ron absolutely need to experience a beach day, so you’ll be prepared!” 

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh. “Mum, are you trying to plan the rest of our stay here?”

“Of course not! I just want you both to experience everything we’ve grown to love about this little corner of the world. Plus, you both deserve a bit of a holiday after everything you’ve been through.”

“Thanks, Mum,” Hermione said, as she felt an overwhelming need to hug her mother right then and there.

Their last stop found Hermione the perfect dress for her date tonight. It was teal, and flowy with wide straps and a keyhole opening. A satin band gathered at the waist to provide some shape on her body, and the flowy skirt came to her mid thigh. It was the perfect balance of elegant, yet beachy, and her mum had found a wedge, peep toe sandal to finish off the look.

“Thank you again for all of this, Mum. Even after everything I did…”

“Hermione, you’ll always be our daughter, and I’ll always love you. I only want the best for you, and even though Ron’s made mistakes in my eyes, he’s certainly proved to me that he’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy, and I respect that.”

“Sometimes I think I don’t deserve him.”

“It’s all about balance, my dear. Tell me, did you ever apologize to him about the canary incident?”

Hermione felt as though ice had been poured down her back at her mother’s words. She knew that she and Ron had gotten past the whole Lavender debacle, but thinking back on it, she realized that there never was an explicit apology for that.

“I- erm-” she stuttered.

“You really should. I raised you better than that.”

“You’re right. And I suppose I probably should apologize for attacking him when he came back as well..” she hesitantly admitted.

“Excuse me?” Her mother stopped on the sidewalk and looked at her. “I did not raise you to react with violence, young lady.”

“I know, I know! I just- I let my emotions get the best of me. I promise I’ll do better about keeping them in check.”

“I’m not the one you should be making that promise to, but I appreciate the intent.”

“You’re right.”

“Dare I ask what you did to that poor boy when he came back?”

“Umm, I used him as a punching bag, as Dad would say,” Hermione admitted.

“Oh, Hermione..I know you inherited my anger, but please don’t take it out on him like that.”

“I won’t. Not anymore.”

She knew it was wrong, and even though it wasn’t something she talked about often, she was ashamed of her actions. Pride and embarrassment had forced her to ignore bringing it up, but if they were going to start off their relationship properly, it needed to be discussed.

Hermione noticed her mum checking her watch. “We’ve got just enough time to get you cleaned up and ready for your date. I had your father bring a few items over to your flat when he went to pick up Ron.”

“Items? What do you mean?” Hermione asked curiously.

“Hair product and makeup, of course!”

“But-”

“No buts! We have an hour to get you ready before Ron’s due to pick you up.”

“He’s not already there?” Hermione was having trouble keeping up with her mum, both in walking speed and conversation.

“Heavens, no! It’s a proper date, remember? Now, let’s go!”

~o~

Ron was standing in the guest bedroom of the Granger’s home. He was looking in the wall mirror at his own reflection. His afternoon had been spent out with Hugo. He’d gotten a haircut at a local barber, found swim trunks for their ‘beach day’ tomorrow as Jean kept calling it, and an outfit for his date tonight. He was wearing a nice pair of trousers with camel colored dress shoes. His shirt was light blue with faint, thin pinstripe lines to give the illusion of texture. 

For the first time since Bill and Fleur’s wedding, he was proud of the way he looked. Mr. Granger had a knack for muggle style, and even though he was older, Ron trusted his judgement. He reminded himself of one of those business lads that flooded the sidewalks on the morning and evening commutes. He felt bad, and had tried to pay for the clothes himself, but Hugo had insisted. Mr. Granger had offered to purchase more for Ron when he caught him eyeing a new pair of trainers, and jeans that might actually fit his long legs, but Ron politely refused. 

“Ready to go?” Hugo called from the bottom of the stairs, drawing Ron out of his thoughts. 

He couldn’t wait to see Hermione. It’d been a long afternoon without her. Especially because he’d grown accustomed to being with her day in and day out. They made the short drive over to the flat, where Jean was waiting by the door. She held the door open for Ron as she wished them well for the night and reminded him of how to get to the restaurant, which was about five blocks away.

He watched them go and then bounded up the stairs. He was about to just walk into their shared flat, but paused and remembered that this was a date, so he knocked on the door. Ron barely had to wait for Hermione to open it.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but the sight of her in front of him made his jaw drop and he was pretty sure his heart stopped briefly. She was gorgeous. Her mum had no doubt helped her tame her wild curls, and it looked like she was wearing just enough makeup to accentuate her features. Not like the grams of it Lavender would plaster on her face every day. Her chocolate brown eyes were brought out by a light layer of deep purple, which were staring at him in much the same way he was looking at her, with adoration. And Merlin, that dress. She wasn’t one to wear dresses casually. Not that this was casual or anything, but he’d only really ever seen her in her school uniform or formal wear. He needed to say something to snap himself out of it before he lost his senses completely.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

“And you cut your hair,” she responded. “It suits you. You look really nice in muggle clothes.” Hermione smiled shyly at him. 

Ron smiled back at him as he rubbed his neck awkwardly. Why did this feel so weird? This was Hermione, his best friend. “Should we, er, get going? We’ve got a bit of a walk.”

Hermione nodded as she grabbed her purse and locked up. Ron held out his hand and she took it as they made their way down the sidewalk towards the restaurant. They were quiet for a while, until Hermione finally said, “Is it just me, or does this feel…”

“Weird?” Ron finished.

“Yes!” Hermione said through an exhale.

“Yeah...what’s wrong with us? We haven’t changed or anything,” Ron joked.

“I know,” Hermione said. He noticed her blush in the soft glow of the streetlight.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know, it’s just that- nevermind, it’s rubbish,” Hermione talked herself out of saying what she was thinking.

“No, tell me. Please?” Ron urged gently.

Hermione took a deep breath. “I guess I’m just worried I’m going to mess this up. I don’t want to do or say anything wrong,” she admitted.

“Me too,” Ron agreed. They walked another block or so, double checking street signs so they didn’t miss a turn.

“Do you think it’s like this for all couples who were friends first?” Hermione asked him.

“Er, yeah, could be. Never really thought about it, though.” Ron admitted.

“So, then, maybe we should just act like nothing’s really different. Let’s not put extra pressure on anything,” Hermione suggested.

Ron chuckled. “That works for me. I think this is it.” He pointed to a sign just up ahead.

They checked in at the hostess stand and were seated at a table on the edge of the main dining room. It felt more private than some of the other tables in the center of the room, and gave them a spectacular view of the ocean lit up by the moonlight.

As Ron began to look at the menu, he noticed the prices. It was expensive. They ordered their drinks from the server, and then they were alone again to look over the menu. 

“Er, Hermione,” Ron said, getting her attention. She peeked at him from over her menu. “I don’t know if I have enough to, er…”

He saw her eyebrows raise in understanding. “Don’t worry, Mum gave me her credit card. It’s taken care of.”

“But your parents have already done so much for us,” Ron protested. “And it’s our first, er second, date. I should pay..” That’s what a true gentleman did, wasn’t it?

“Please, it’s okay. They want to spoil us,” Hermione told him.

He sighed and gave in. It was either that or insist they leave, which could cause a scene and he didn’t want that either. “So then, what would you suggest for a meal?” he asked her, looking at the varieties of shellfish that he’d never had.

He ended up settling on a pasta dish that included a variety of seafood. Scallops, shrimp, and clams in a light wine and butter cream sauce. Hermione had chosen a salmon dish over risotto, and they’d split an appetizer of crab stuffed mushrooms. The meal was delicious, despite Hermione having to help guide him through eating so he wouldn’t accidentally consume any shells. 

They were browsing over the dessert menu as Hermione said, “Seafood always tastes better when it’s fresh, don’t you think?”

“I’m sure it does, not that I have much to compare it to. We’ll have to find a place when we’re back in England so I can see if there’s a difference.” 

His heart skipped a beat as he watched her face light up at his suggestion. “I’d like that.”

Their desserts came shortly after as they talked about what they wanted and needed to do when they got back to England. Ron had opted for a chocolate mousse cake, while Hermione chose creme brulee. She began picking at it about halfway through.

“Everything alright?” he asked her.

“Yes, of course! I’m just getting full, that’s all.” He could tell when she was lying because she didn’t make eye contact.

“Hermione…”

“I’m sorry about attacking you with the canaries sixth year,” she said through a grimace. “It was, um, brought to my attention that I never actually apologized about it.”

“That’s what was bothering you? It’s ancient history, Hermione, it’s fine.”

“See, you always say that, but it’s not. I can’t just physically hurt you when I’m angry at you. Like when I punched you after you came back to the hunt..”

“It’s...alright. I was a prat, too,” Ron tried to make her feel better.

“Yes, but you’ve never physically hurt me. I promise I won’t do that ever again. I’ll keep my emotions in check.” She met his eyes this time, indicating her sincerity.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Ron smiled. “Now, can we discuss something a bit more light hearted?” He suggested.

Hermione smiled gratefully as she took another bite of her dessert. “Did you want to go to the cinemas?” She checked her watch. “If we hurry, the one Mum suggested starts in twenty minutes just down the street.”

“I don’t know. As much as I’d like to experience it, I think I’d rather take a walk on the beach if you wanted to.”

“I like that idea so much better,” Hermione smiled. “Mum will forgive me for not following her plan completely, I’m sure. Besides, I’m sure some movie will be playing on the telly when we get back.”

“Brilliant!”

After they paid for their meal, they exited the restaurant and crossed the street to one of the many public entrances to the beach. They chose to walk along the water where the sand was a bit harder, and headed in the direction of their temporary flat. Hand in hand, they meandered along.

“The waves are so much calmer here than at Shell Cottage,” Ron remarked.

“That’s because the weather is much nicer. Every body of water can be rough and choppy or smooth with gentle waves,” Hermione explained.

He knew that, of course, but sometimes he loved to listen to her explain things. It had become a sort of comfort to him years ago. He just pretended it annoyed him to get under her skin. “Do you know how many times I hoped that we could experience something like this, but was convinced we’d be dead by the end?” he asked softly.

“I know. We nearly were...several times,” Hermione said.

“How’d we make it out? How’d we get so lucky. We shouldn't have..” Ron had to catch himself before he went into a spiral as he was reminded of who they’d lost. Fred, in particular.

“Don’t think like that,” Hermione said gently as she squeezed his hand. “We are still here, and you know he would want us to make the most of that.”

She somehow always knew what to say when it counted the most. Ron felt a rush of emotion flood over him. He loved her so much. His feet stopped right there, and he pulled Hermione back when she kept walking and was caught by her fully extended arm, their fingers still intertwined together. “You’re right. And I’m the luckiest bloke alive to have this chance with you.”

The setting was perfect. Sand beneath their feet, the moon and stars shining down on them, creating a soft glow of light, and the gentle crashing of waves close by. He pulled her close to him, bending down to kiss her. Ron felt her arms snake around his waist, while his own split duties. One hand cupped her face while the other snaked in her hair. 

He deepened the kiss and allowed himself to forget they were on the beach as he became lost in her. All he could feel was her, as he hesitantly grazed her bottom lip with his tongue. She opened her mouth further, granting him entry, as his tongue gently moved in and explored her mouth. She eagerly met his tongue with her own as Ron’s hands began to move down her body. 

He wanted more. Not that he wanted to rush things, but he was so overcome with want that it was hard to think straight. It took a car horn blaring from the streets to draw them back into reality. They reluctantly broke apart as he sought her eyes with his own.

“I think we should get back to the flat,” Hermione said breathily.

Ron simply nodded, not trusting his voice. They’d have plenty of time on the beach tomorrow.

[hateswifi]

No More Second Chances: Chapter Three

So not even all hell breaking loose (cough adrichat) will stop me from posting. (Just ignore that I haven’t posted in like a week). Without further ado.

No More Second Chances 

The Master: Master List

———————————-

After collecting the little she has from her locker, they meet Jon outside. “Did you call your parents to let them know?”

“Yep! Ready to go?”

“Yes,” Damian grumbles, following the energetic boy.

“So how are you two even friends? Damian you’re super grumpy and Jon is just like a ball of energy and sunshine,” Marinette asks, walking in between the boys. (Yes, somehow the sidewalk fit three people, idk just imagine it ok?)

“Our fathers’ are friends.”

“But! He’s grown to love me,” Jon taunts in a sing-song voice.

“You’re bearable,” Damian corrects. The train ride back to Metropolis was quiet, or as quiet as a ride can be with Jon. She blocked out the world and just let her thoughts fly on the page. She was brought back to reality by Jon tugging her arm.

“Woah! That’s awesome!” Jon says, looking at the drawing. It was her, well Ladybug, and Chat Noir first bumping in front of the Eiffel Tower. “Who are they?” 

She slammed the sketchbook closed and looked at her phone, March 21st. “Umm not important, I have to call someone,” Marinette says, rushing in front of the boys a bit. She dials a number, one neither boys can see, before speaking in rapid French. “Adrien did you realize it’s been a year since we finished the war?”

“Um yeah earlier today Aunt Emelie took me to visit him,” Adrien responds.

“How’d that go?”

“It was rough, but in other news I convinced Aunt Emelie to let me go to college in America.”

“That’s fantastic! I was thinking about staying here as well, cause well ya know Sabine and Tom,” Marinette shrugs, opening the lobby door.

“Makes sense, by the way, watch out Aunt Emelie adores you and she heard about your parents, she may or may not be trying to get adoption papers,” Adrien chuckles.

“I’ll decline the nicest way possible,” Marinette giggles, pressing the elevator button. “Well I’m almost home, and I have a project to work on, so I’ll talk to you sometime soon, bye love you!”

“Sooooooo, who was that?” Jon asks, slinging an arm around her shoulder.

“That was Adrien,” Marinette said, stepping out of the elevator.

“Your boyfriend?” Jon asks, drawing out the words, teasingly.

“Nope, my best friend,” Marinette clarifies. Before turning to Damian to say, “I’m going to get changed, I’ll be out in a minute.” When she came back out her hair was pulled into a messy bun, she was wearing her favorite fuzzy cropped cat sweatshirt that had cat ears on the hood and the string had pom poms on the end. She was also wearing light skinny ripped jeans.

“Mari, why didn’t you just get dressed into something comfortable?” Jon asks, pulling out the juice from the fridge.

“Because, I haven’t seen a lot of the city yet so whenever we finish making progress for today, I’m going to go out for a walk,” Marinette explained, opening her backpack.

“You should be careful, this may not be Gotham, but it’s still dangerous,” Damian says, finally looking up from his phone. He would never admit it, but his face tinted a light color of pink.

“I’ll be fine, I’ve learned self defense when I was living in Paris,” Marinette said, brushing off their worries. “Ok for this project…” (i don’t take business as an elective, so imma just gonna skip it).

It was two hours when Clark and Lois walked in, they were surprised to see Damian get along with someone so well. Marinette isn’t just anyone though, she was a sunshine.

“Hey, Damian it’s nice to see you again,” Clark said, placing a hand on his back.

“Likewise, Clark,” he responded, not looking up from their work.

“Are you staying for dinner?”

“No I should be getting home, father is strict about curfew,” Damian said, picking up his stuff.

“We have to talk about plans for tomorrow, so I’ll walk you outside,” Marinette said, standing. They walk in a tense silence for a moment before she starts speaking again. “So I think tomorrow we should work on question five through eight.”

“Where do you want to work?”

“It doesn’t really matter, but if you want, because we worked here today, we can work at your place,” Marinette suggests.

“That would be adequate,” Damian sighs, pressing the elevator button. “Good night, Marinette.”

“Good night, Damian,” she responds as the elevator’s doors close. She pads back to the apartament  and is about to open the door when he hears Jon scream. “He blushed!”

“I literally step out for a minute, and you are all talking about my nonexistent love life,” Marinette said, crossing her arms across her chest, she was leaning up against the door frame, watching the scene unfold in front of her.

“He blushed though! Trust me that’s the closest he’s ever been to having a crush,” Jon defends.

“Doubt it, it was warm in here and he was still wearing his uniform, which may I remind you is long sleeves and pants,” Marinette said, pushing herself off the doorway. “So on a different topic, what’s for dinner?”

“We were just going to order pizza,” Lois answered. (Totally forgot that Superman is vegetarian, so like ignore that.)

“Cool, I’m going to go out for a walk before dinner if that’s fine with you,” Marinette asked, moving towards her room to grab a windbreaker.

“Yes, just take your phone with you, dinner will probably be here in twenty-ish minutes,” Clark said towards her room. She grabbed what she needed, put on her shoes, and ran out the door. She had a peaceful walk, the cool air calming her down, leaving her with her thoughts. As much as her parents’ hurt her, she couldn’t help but miss them, even if it was just a bit. She missed how everything use to be before the drama that Lila brought, but it helped her realize who actually care about her for her. Time flies when lost in her thought, apparently, because the ten minute timer, she set to make sure she would be back in time, went off. She sighs before walking back the way she came. 

Dinner was filled with light chatter about the day, more getting to know you things, and an explanation about how their weekly schedule is. After dinner, Jon and Marinette work on homework with Lois watching T.V. Superman had just stopped a train from crashing. Both Lois and Jon clapped and smiled right before Superman flew off the scene. Not too long after that, Clark ran back into the apartment holding a bag of groceries. Marinette shrugged and chalked it up to them being Americans

When she finished her homework, she said goodnight, did her nightly routine before falling asleep, oblivious the chaos happening in Paris that was unleashed by Sabine and Tom.

-----------------------------

CLIFFHANGEEEER! but like foreshadowing for salt! and getting what they deserve

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[beholdme]

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 6

Chapters: 6/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can't help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

"Do you really hate Keats that much?" Martin asks Jon, sounding faintly betrayed. They're sitting on a pile of cushions in front of Gerry's big window, while the man himself stands painting nearby.

There has been no previous mention of Keats since they arrived several hours ago, nor in the entire course of Gerry knowing them together.

Granted, he had barely been awake when they had arrived, having rolled out of bed just seconds before the knock came, but Gerry thought he had been keeping fairly decent track of the overall conversation.

He had thought Sunday brunch was a great idea when Jon suggested it during the week. Only remembering half-way through his shift the previous night that he was normally dead asleep during that time on a Sunday. But needs must, and after coffee and food, he was feeling downright perky at having two cute boys in his apartment.

Jon and Martin had settled into the pillow pile to occupy themselves while Gerry wandered off to paint, and they had spent several hours each engaged in their own artistic endeavors, simply enjoying the energy of one another's company.

Jon had started out reading but kept getting distracted by the way the light in the studio catches in Gerry's dark red hair, tied up in a chaotic messy bun, and had idly been strumming Gerry's old acoustic guitar for a while instead. Martin had been writing in a notebook, tongue often caught between his teeth in contemplation, glasses pushed up onto the top of his hair.

Jon stops playing abruptly and Gerry winces at the discordant note the guitar lets out in protest.

"I think Keats is pretty cool," offers Gerry cheerfully.

"Thank you, Gerard, very helpful," grouses Jon in return, glaring at him. Gerry blows him a kiss and returns to his canvas.

"I don't hate Keats, Martin." Jon's voice is slow and soft in the way that indicates that he's actually trying to be sensitive, "I just think he's overrated. After spending so much time in uni pouring over his boring symbolism, I'm just sick of him."

Jon's English literature degree, which Gerry remembers with some humour does not qualify him for a job at a library, had been a pain to get, and he doesn't always remember that part of his life with any great fondness.

"I know, but-" Martin cuts off abruptly and there's unexpected silence for a moment.

"Gerry, do you have a cat?" Jon's voice is incredulous and somewhat delighted at the new development.

"Yes," Gerry replies, very casually. He looks around to find that the cat has indeed wandered in and is sitting in a shaft of sunlight, black fur shining. "Jon, Martin, meet Saturn. Saturn, this is Jon and Martin."

Saturn blinks at them, before abruptly standing, showing them his butt, and then walking over to twine between Gerry's legs. Gerry deposits his painting supplies nearby and reaches down to scoop Saturn up, before carrying him over to sit with the others.

"He's not always great with new people, but hopefully he'll warm up to you. He can be a great cuddler when he wants to be." Saturn eyes them all speculatively before sitting on his own cushion and curling up in a fluffy ball.

"So he's like the Jon cat?" Martin asks, sneaking out a finger to scratch Saturn's fluffy little ears. He purrs lightly and Gerry grins to see them getting along.

"Well-" Jon splutters indignantly, face warming beneath his tan.

They both laugh and Gerry leans towards Martin to whisper conspiratorially, "He's not even embarrassed about being bad with new people. He's shy that we know how good of a cuddler he is."

Jon presses his lips together with a long-suffering expression, also reaching out a hand to pet the purring feline. Saturn rolls over towards him and gets a belly rub for his efforts.

"There we go," Gerry mutters happily. "All my favorite boys, getting along so well."

There's more sputtering from both Jon and Martin at that, but Gerry only laughs and leans over to kiss the tops of their heads.

***

Jon sighs and rubs the back of his neck, trying to release the burning tension sitting in all the joints of his spine.

It's 1 A.M. and the library is long, long closed, doors locked and lights turned out. He doesn't know how he gets here sometimes. Elias has certainly never overtly demanded he work overtime, and yet Jon always feels the need to push a little harder, do more than anyone would consider even remotely reasonable.

He accepted a while ago, that his irrational drive for perfection in this job stems from his self-doubt and fear of inadequacy.

And yet, that understanding does nothing to get him home at a reasonable hour, even when he remembers the two men who always seem to be around when he needs them.

It's unfathomable to Jon how he managed to find himself in a relationship with not one but two incredibly understanding and supportive men who love him. He considers it a downright miracle that they also seemed to be finding their way towards loving one another. Although, who wouldn't love Martin and Gerry?

He checks his watch again. Martin is definitely asleep, and even just stumbling in to lie in bed with him would disturb him. He knows the sweet man would say he doesn't mind, but he feels like if he can't get back at a reasonable hour, he doesn't deserve to sleep next to him at all.

Gerry, on the other hand, is mostly nocturnal. A quick check of his phone shows that it's actually Friday, and he is working at the bar for another hour or so.

While Jon has his phone in his hand, he opens up their text chain.

Gerry: Don't work too late. Martin and I want you functional so that we can drag you out to that street market this weekend.

Jon: I won't.

Gerry: Yes, you will. But try to keep it pre-midnight ;)

'He's awake,' Jon tells himself firmly. 'He'll be happy to see you, even if you did work even later than he predicted.'

So Jon packs up his stuff and leaves the library. He considers a cab, but it's only a few blocks and he thinks the fresh air and exercise will unlock the tension in his poor abused spine.

He arrives at the bar just before closing. Gerry is busy charming a few drunk regulars out the door with promises of undying love and that the bar will be back tomorrow afternoon. After they stumble off, he turns to find Jon walking slowly towards him. Gerry is wearing combat boots, dark jeans, and a loose leather tank top, over a lace undershirt. He has his favorite hoop in his nose, and the light glints off the many piercings in his ears.

"Why, Gerry Delano, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." Gerry grins at Jon's teasing tone and echoed words, no sign of recrimination about him.

"I always am." Jon reaches Gerry at that, and they draw together, pressing tired lips against each other gently.

Gerry's hair has faded out a bit from the moody red, and Jon slips his hands into his hair to hold him close for a moment longer. They rock together on the street for a long, frozen moment.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Gerry asks, pulling away and sliding his hands down Jon's arms to connect their fingers.

"I missed you," Jon confesses shakily, emotion spilling out of his voice.

"Good, I missed you too." Gerry drags him into the bar and fills the air with stories from his shift while he and his colleagues clean for the evening, closing up the bar.

They walk home arm in arm, Gerry flirting with him mercilessly. Jon sheds the day's tension as they go, and by the time they arrive at Gerry's loft, he's warm and relaxed.

He supposes he should probably go back to his own flat, but it's not a place he spends the night very often anymore, and he fears the creeping insomnia that will take him without Martin and Gerry around to soothe him into sleep. Besides, Gerry is right here with him, and he seems so pleased to have him around.

"Are you going to paint now?" Jon asks as they shed their work clothes. Jon is sorry to see the lace shirt go, but Gerry makes up for it by simply throwing a kimono over his bare chest. He throws him a T-shirt, so Jon wears that and his boxers as they settle on the couch. Gerry is still wearing his jeans, but both their feet are bare as they tangle on the coffee table.

"I'm not sure, do you want to?" Gerry asks as he lights a cigarette and offers Jon one.

"What? Do I want to paint?" Jon's voice is taken aback. He takes the cigarette and lights it.

Gerry shrugs as if it's obvious. "Sure, you used to draw with me when we were younger."

"Yes, but…"

"But what, Jonathon? You're too old to paint now? Too proper and straight-laced to get charcoal under your nails? No more piercings, no more creativity?" Gerry sways into his shoulder, drawing smoke into his lungs and letting it out as he speaks.

"No, it's not that." Jon grouses back. Gerry hums derisively in return. "I just don't see the point of wasting your drawing paper when you can do that." Jon gestures wildly towards Gerry's most recently completed painting.

Gerry eyes it critically. It's the commission that he's been slogging over petulantly. It's large and impressively done, he can accept that, but he doesn't like it very much. He hates the subject and composition Peter Lukas has demanded and compensated by pouring all his best technique into it. It makes him sad and sullen to look at, and Gerry will be relieved when it's finally gone.

"For every painting like that I've ever done, Jon," Gerry spills all his affection into the name, and Jon can feel it, "I've done a thousand ridiculous sketches and colour studies. Art is time, and diligence and joy as much as it ever is masterpieces. You don't sit down one day and magically just know how to be a maestro."

Jon looks over and up at him with big green eyes. Gerry can't help but lean over and slide his hand into Jon's hair, pressing their lips together for a moment. "So Mr. Sims. Can I tempt you to make some art with me?"

***

What they create in those soft early morning hours can only generously be called art, even Gerry's efforts. But they laugh and kiss and somehow get covered in charcoal and acrylic paint. Gerry even allows Jon to choose the Spotify playlist. Slow piano music with nature sounds play softly in the background of their impromptu art party, reminding Gerry of nothing so much as Jon himself.

The dawn is just breaking through Gerry's massive bank of windows when he allows Jon to drag him off to bed, and they collapse together in the soft morning light.

***

Late the next morning, Martin lets himself into the flat and bounces down onto the bed between them, sending Saturn flying off in a huff.

"So, I heard there was a slumber party. I brought breakfast."

"Fuck off," Gerry slurs, but rather undermines his own point when he pulls Martin down and tucks himself around him. Jon does the same from the other side, and Martin finds himself in the middle of a very sleepy man sandwich.

Gerry seems to instantly fall back asleep, but Jon eventually drags himself to consciousness, even buried in Martin's neck. "What's time?"

"Almost ten," he responds, very cheerfully.

"WHAT-" Jon flies out of bed in a blind panic, desperately looking for his phone, which is dead when he finds it anyway. "I'm already so fucking late!"

Gerry groans.

"Relax Jon." Martin tries to soothe him but is hindered by the fact that Gerry is still clinging to him in a very enjoyable way. "Gerry, love, let me go. Jon is having a meltdown."

"How unusual," Gerry mutters very unsupportively, Jon manages to notice. He flops over onto his other side and attempts to bury himself in pillows instead of Martin.

"Jon, breathe." Swinging up to sit on the edge of the bed, Martin uses his best man-disaster steadying tone. Gerry has come to realize what that tone is, but he doesn't mention it to anyone. "It's Saturday."

Jon slumps and drops the pants he was desperately trying to wrangle himself into.

"It's Saturday?" He asks.

"It's Saturday," Gerry confirms from the pillow fort.

Jon glares at Martin in a very put upon way. Martin smiles at him brightly.

He turns and wanders off to the bathroom in an effort to collect himself. Martin resumes his spot in the middle of the bed, and drags Gerry towards him, tucking himself into his back.

"Hmmm. So much noise on a weekend." The goth mutters as he attempts to resettle himself in Martin's arms.

"I'll make it up to you later," Martin promises, pressing a kiss behind his ear.

"You let that happen on purpose, didn't you." It's not a question. "Just to see that look on his face."

"Yes," Martin says, chuckling into Gerry's pillow.

"Very good, sir."

[mckinlily]

shalluraweek day 1: stars/sky

Summary: stars/sky Shiro had a celebrity crush. 

read on ao3: here

“Sure you’re not freaking out, Shiro?” said Keith, his voice bland and amused.

Shiro realized he was repeatedly doing and undoing the Velcro on the back of his (one) fingerless glove and quickly put his hands behind his back. Behind him, someone—probably Pidge—snorted.

Shiro breathed and looking around, forcing himself to take in his surroundings. Small office, lots of sound equipment, his and Keith’s guitars against the wall, air conditioner that made that annoying hum. Keith was nearest him, slouched in his leather jacket in a way that made Shiro wonder if he and Keith made it as a punk duo on Keith’s emo vibe alone. Sprawled across the couch was Lance, their PR and social media manager, sipping on a smoothie and clearly snickering at Shiro. Pidge was fighting Lance’s legs encroaching on her space on the couch. She worked on post-production with Hunk, a musical genius who played an impossible number of instruments and had a knack of fleshing out every song idea Keith and Shiro had into a massive hit, and helped Lance out where PR became technical. She was also definitely smirking at Shiro. Really, Hunk was the only one of them not actively laughing at him, and that was because his expression was worryingly close to pity.

Why did Shiro like these people again?

Oh yeah, because his band and the team behind it had become something like a second family.

And sometimes “family” meant “incredibly annoying.”

Shiro resisted the urge to fiddle with one of his piercings. “I’m fine,” he said stiffly.

“Yeah. Suuuuurre, you are,” drawled Lance.

Hunk shot Lance a look, clearly chiding him for not being sympathetic. He looked back to Shiro. “You really don’t need to be nervous.”

“Sure he does,” said Pidge, grinning over her glasses at him. Besides Keith, she has known Shiro the longest, and Shiro could see the blackmail in her eyes as she looked at him. She took on a sing-song voice, “It’s Allura.”

Just the look in Pidge's eyes was enough to make Shiro blush.

“Ugh, why are you like this?” Keith threw his hands in the air. “You sing your heart out to thousands of people an audience, take the lead in interviews, talk openly about being bi and having PTSD on YouTube, but having a conversation with one singer—”

“She’s not just another singer!” objected Shiro, scandalized. “She’s Allura. Do you have any idea the kinds of records she’s broken? Her latest album—”

“Yeah, yeah. We all know about your massive crush on Allura,” laughed Lance.

Shiro huffed. “That's not it.”

They didn't get it. It wasn’t just that Allura was totally hot (breathtakingly beautiful more like) or an incredible musician (which she definitely was) or had a voice that when she sang would make even sirens weep in jealousy (though she definitely did). She also was the kind of social activist Shiro dreamed of learning how to be. A political refugee who climbed her way to the top from nothing, she used her massive following to push for social change and speak out against inequality in all its forms. The way she handled personal attacks—on her race, her gender, her sexuality (pan, as seem on the flag in her Twitter profile)—with grace, dignity, and yet absolutely no apology left Shiro in awe. He respected the hell out of her, ever since the first time he saw a video of her neatly dissecting the intersection of racism and sexism in the music industry, and privately considered her one of his personal heroes.

And she was coming to the studio because someone thought it was a good idea for them to collab, and Shiro didn’t know how to deal.

“Okay, okay.” Lance rolled off the couch, picking up a can of whatever sugary death drink they were supposed to be promoting and opening it to hand to Shiro. “Time to chill out. Take a sip of our ‘paying for Pidge’s new sound system’ drink and remember you’rean internationally known star, too. It’s going to be fine. I planned it.”

“Oh, and that’s never come back to bite us before,” said Keith.

“Excuse you, I made Grumpy Cat Keith a meme! It’s was a stroke of marketing genius!”

Shiro opted to ignore Lance and Keith’s bickering, choosing instead to take a sip of the dubious promotional sports drink—

“I mean, worst come to worst, we could always use the footage to make another meme campaign if Shiro completely falls on his face.”

—only to immediately spit it out again. “Pidge!”

“Sorry,” smirked Pidge, unrepentant. Then her eyes fell on his shirt that he’d spilled his drink all over. “Oh. Uh. Actually sorry.”

Shiro looked down at his chest with mounting dismay. Of all the days to wear a white shirt (this was why he wore black: it wasn’t depressing, it was practical). The promotional drink was an unnatural red and splattered over most his front. It wasn’t something that could be hidden and Shiro could already tell the color wasn’t coming out.

“We could try rising it?” said Pidge, and she honestly sounded contrite.

“Dump the drink over all the shirt?” Keith offered.

“Hold on,” said Hunk. He started rummaging behind the couch. “I think Shiro’s vest from the Toronto show is in here. I know that shows off your prosthetic a lot without anything to go under it but—”

“That’s fine. You’re right: it’s probably the best option. Lance, when is Allura supposed to show up?”

Lance glanced at his phone. “Uh, now, actually?”

“All right. Not much time.” Shiro forced the panic to stay out of his voice. “Hunk—”

“Found it!”

“Good.” Shiro grabbed the back of his shirt, getting ready to pull it over his head. It had stuck to his chest where the drink spilled and was starting to feel sticky.

“Um, guys?”

Shiro yanked his shirt off, turning as he said, “Yeah, Pidge?”

But it wasn’t Pidge who answered.

“Oh my.”

Oh no.

Oh no nononononononono.

Allura—superstar, perfect, idolized Allura—was standing their doorway, blocking the way for the rest of her entourage. Shiro pressed his crumbled shirt to his chest in a vain attempt to preserve his modesty. Which was helped not at all by the way Allura (unfairly hot in skin-tight silver jeans and an adorable crop-top) was staring.

Staring. At him. Shiro. Who could feel that last of that godsforsaken drink drip to his bellybutton.

They both started talking at once.

“Sorry—”

“So sorry—”

“—I was just—”

“—Of course! Abs—I mean! Absolutely—”

“—you too—wait, that’s not—”

Pidge’s cackling laughter put a stop to their train wreck, but only gave more time for Shiro’s blush to attempt to melt his face off. Fortunately (or not so fortunately?), Allura didn’t seem to be faring much better.

“Should we give you two some privacy?” asked Lance, all waggling eyebrows.

“No, you should not,” said Allura, drawing herself up and doing a nice job of returning to professionalism considering Shiro was still half-naked and drowning in mortification. She brushes her hands on her pants. “Let’s return to business.”

Her assistant snorted behind her. “Like you can talk business when you just ogled his chest for five minutes.”

“Romelle!”

Well, at least Shiro wasn’t the only one mortified now.

“We’re here to discuss a collab, which is what we’ll do,” said Allura. But she met Shiro’s eyes looking sheepish and a tiny bit shy. "Unless..."

“Could I buy you a drink after this?”

That was not what Shiro intended to say.

But, holy crow, if Shiro had thought that pink crop-top looked hot on Allura before, it had nothing on the tiny, confident smirk growing on her face. “Hm. Are you referring to the one on your chest?”

Shiro's mouth continued to run without his permission.

“I was thinking we could work up to that.”

Keith pretended to gag behind him, but Shiro didn't care because Allura, freaking I-don’t-need-a-last-name-I’m-like-Beyonce Allura, was flirting with him and Shiro was pretty sure if he tried right now, he could fly.

“Ugh, gross. Gross! Hunk, don’t look!” said Pidge, scrambling to put her hands over Hunk’s eyes. Meanwhile, Lance was smiling like a shark.

“Perhaps we finish this up first?” said Allura. The way she was smiling at him made Shiro feel like there were tiny supernova going off in his chest.

“That—that works.” Frankly, Shiro was astonished his words still worked at this point.

Allura clapped her hands together with an authoritative “All right!” and yep, Shiro was in love. “Enough of this. Let’s get down to business.” She strode further into the room and consequently closer to Shiro. “On one condition,” she said, tapping Shiro’s chest.

“Yeah?”

“You keep that shirt off.”

Well.

Shiro felt his own smirk blooming on his face. He could work with that.

[fullsunalicia]

Hi i have been having this idea in my mind for awhile now but since you are taking requests uhm could you maybe try a 5+1 with Haechan? 🥺👉🏽👈🏽 For instance, 5 times Hyuck flustered y/n without knowing, plus one time y/n flustering Hyuck for the first time 🥺🥺 pls and thank you🤧

cherry red - LDH

donghyuck is a heartthrob. it’s no wonder he’s easily able to make your cheeks heat up with flirty words and cheeky actions. at least once, you’re determined to give him a taste of his own medicine.

highschool au

that’s such a cute idea anon!! thank you for your request <3

You don’t like the mischievous glint in Donghyuck’s eyes, not one bit. It’s the same look he grazes his best friends with before he tackles them in the middle of class because he “needs attention”. It’s also the same one for when he sets sight on a new victim.

“Oh, my god, Heejin, he’s coming over here,” you mumble, panicked. The bleachers are packed with people and plenty of his friends, so why’d he have to single you out? You, so easy to fluster?

You’re not shy - not extremely, atleast. You handle the affection you get from friends and you can strike up conversation. The second Lee Donghyuck’s attention is fixed on you, though, your brain short-circuits. You don’t know what’s worse - the fact that he doesn’t know, or how he’d be if he knew. Either way, he’s making his way over to you right now.

Somehow, Donghyuck is the playboy of the school, even though he’s not a heartbreaker. Him and his best friend Na Jaemin are notorious for their endless affection, and the harmless flirting they participate in. Never ever do they do it to play with someone’s feelings, or to hurt them, which is why their reputation is spot-clean. Still, they manage to charm quite a few girls, which ends up in soft-spoken apologies and the bitter taste of rejection.

Heejin doesn’t help you. In fact, she starts snickering and turns away from your helpless figure. If the teachers weren’t looking at you right now, you’d beat her ass. Actually, scratch that. If you weren’t so concentrated on the heavenly looks that were Lee Donghyuck, you’d be able to do atleast something.

But how do you concentrate when God’s favorite angel walks towards you? He’s so pretty. Would he tell you where he got that lip balm from if you asked?

“Hey, (y/n)ie!”

Oh no.

You wave at Donghyuck, who’s finally made it to you. His brown hair is disheveled, probably messed up by the one and only Jaemin. You want to know if it’s as soft as it looks. Saying something back would be good, but you don’t trust your brain right now, and the last thing you want to do is embarrass yourself infront of the school’s pretty boy.

Donghyuck, ever so attentive, picks up on that. “Cat got your tongue?” He grins, and when he leans forward, you can smell his cologne. Expensive. And really nice. Donghyuck searches your eyes, probably waiting for permission. Permission to let him tackle you and cling to you like he does with his friends, because he lives off attention. Despite being perceptive, Donghyuck doesn’t know what he does to your poor heart when he takes your hands and pouts, desperate for any kind of skinship. “You’ve got such a nice voice, though. Please talk to me, (y/n)ie!”

That’s the one big reason why Donghyuck is labeled a player. He knows how to rile someone up, but is still oblivious to the fact that his attention on someone can make them so nervous. His stunning features, the honest compliments he gives when he really likes something. He’s affectionate, but he’s not a liar. That’s why he tips his head in wonder when your cheeks heat up, not aware that he’s the one who did that to you. You almost jump on the spot when his fingers trace your cheekbones. “So pretty,” he mumbles. God, you wish he wouldn’t be so charming. “Pretty enough to make me forgive you for not talking. Let’s chat later, yeah?”

You watch him retreat back to his friends to watch the game. It’s no wonder he launches himself into Renjun’s lap after he didn’t get what he wanted from you, and his friend promptly tries to shove him off. Maybe you should ask Renjun for advice.

“You’re such a klutz,” Heejin finally speaks up behind you. “Freezing up infront of him? What, is it so hard to say a simple hey?”

You swiftly turn around and deliver a kick to the back of her knees. She doesn’t buckle, neither does she get annoyed; Heejin laughs loudly, enjoying this as much as Donghyuck does.

Is this bullying?

❀ ❀ ❀

Embarrassing you becomes a hobby Donghyuck doesn’t know he’s picked up.

You and him are on normal talking terms, because you share classes and you often let him copy the homework. What you both do not do is share lunch together.

That’s why the second he slides into the seat next to you and rests his head on your shoulder, you already feel like burning up.

Heejin quietly giggles into the palm of her hand, but it gets stuck in her throat when Donghyuck’s entourage sits down next to her. Well, maybe not his entire entourage. It’s only Jaemin and Renjun who follow his guide, but it’s still enough to shut a Jeon Heejin up.

You shouldn’t lean back just yet. Donghyuck didn’t come to help you with Heejin.

“(y/n),” he complains loudly, bratty as always. He has a very melodious voice, one you love listening to. That’s why you don’t mind being the quiet one when it comes to him. It bothers Donghyuck, though. “You didn’t even come talk to me after the game. Do you not like me?”

“What?” you sputter out, blood already rushing into your face. How was this so easy to Donghyuck? You shake your head, sitting up so the boy slides off your shoulder, but all it does is make him drop his head on your lap as he looks up to you. That’s worse. You cover your face, embarrassed. “I didn’t know you’d want me to come talk to you! I’m not a mind-reader!”

You like listening to him so much more than speaking yourself. Whenever you roam the halls during free periods, Donghyuck’s mellow voice is heard even through the thick doors of the auditorium. It’s so tender and pleasant, you end up sitting infront of it every time so you can listen to him sing to his heart’s content. Once, he’d been in the school choir. He dropped it, though, because he claimed he wasn’t getting along with the people in it.

You like Donghyuck, full stop. Whether this is a crush or just a passing fancy, you’re already aware that Lee Donghyuck is able to make your heart flutter in more than one way.

For example now, as he pulls away your hands to look at your cherry cheeks. “Don’t,” Donghyuck says, voice void of mockery. He speaks in such a caring way that you can’t find yourself to stop him, and you let him imprint the sight of your face into his mind. After all, you do the same with his. “Don’t hide your face. I like you in red.”

Oh, Christ.

❀ ❀ ❀

The third time Lee Donghyuck embarrasses you is on a school hiking trip. The classes had drawn lots on who’d go where, and the class representative had been unlucky enough to draw hiking. Everyone else gets to go swimming or sailing, while your class is hiking. Amazing.

The sun burns down on your skin. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to wear jeans while you’re climbing a mountain, but it’s too late now. Heejin lets herself be pulled up the hiking trail by you, fingers tightly intertwined, even though both of your palms are turning sweaty. Very romantic. Somewhere above you, your teacher is basically running up the path.

Going to Jeju for this isn’t worth it. You miss your bed right now.

But the landscape is so pretty. Very often, you come to a halt to look and take pictures, no matter how much Heejin complains. While she empties her drink, you take some snaps to remember the occasion, awe evident in your eyes.

It’s beautiful here. The nature, the ocean, you adore it all. Unbeknownst to you, someone’s enjoying the view, too, but he’s not looking at the horizon. He’s looking at you.

You don’t even notice Donghyuck creeping closer until he nudges your shoulder with his. He smiles softly when you meet his eyes, unusually innocent, heartwrenching. This boy is filled with so much love and wit, you sometimes forget he’s even real.

“Do you like it?” he asks, head tipping to indicate the nature infront of you. You nod. “It’s gorgeous,” you tell him as you return to your phone to continue filling up your camera roll. “I don’t really like hiking, but this view kind of makes it worth it. It’s so different from watching the sunsets at home.”

So focussed on your device, you don’t even notice when Donghyuck links pinkies with yours. He almost cheers, but he’s able to hold himself back. He doesn’t want to ruin this moment with you. “Yeah, you’re right. I loved living here. Every day was like waking up in a painting.”

“You lived here?”

“Not long, but yeah.” He likes the awe in your eyes whenever something suprises you pleasantly. You’re so cute, he wants to kiss you. “Haven’t you been here before? Or are you just taking pictures to commemorate your visit?”

Heejin quietly sneaks off. Donghyuck makes a mental note to thank her for that.

Your eyes finally trail to your locked pinkies, but you don’t let go of him, thank god. “No,” you mumble, flustered from the simple interaction. Are you that unused to physical affection? “I’d love to come back someday, but I don’t know if that will happen... So, better more pictures than none.”

“I’ll take you.”

For the first time, Donghyuck misses the way he makes the heat blossom in your cheeks because he turns his head to look at the red and pink clouds. Thanks to you, his favorite color has become red now, like cherries. He didn’t even mean to fluster you - he meant it with his whole heart. He’d love to take you here. Introduce you to his grandparents. Show you all his favorite places. Go swimming together...

You’re both pulled out of your world when the teacher blows into his whistle and starts scolding you for taking so long.

❀ ❀ ❀

“(y/n),” Donghyuck says, leaning over your desk to look you in the eyes. It’s last period, and you can’t wait to get out of this hellish chair and escape into the weekend. Donghyuck’s doe eyes though make you wanna sit here a little longer. “(y/n), you’re not allowed to blush for anyone else.”

“I- what now?”

He doesn’t even mind the stares your classmates are giving you when he takes your hands into his own and starts leaving kisses all over them, his lips plush, the pecks loving. Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest at the adoration you feel for this boy. “Don’t blush for anyone else,” Donghyuck pouts, and he moves to press your hands against his cheeks. Like this, he looks like a pudu. You wonder if that would offend him if you’d say it out loud. “If someone else sees it, they might fall in love and I’d have to duel them for your hand in marriage.”

“Take me on a date first at least.” Your hands move to cover his eyes and push him back into his chair, because you’d rather die than show him your face right now. With ease, Lee Donghyuck meddles with your feelings like no one else can. If he’d ask, you’d gladly give your heart away to him. But you can’t do that if he doesn’t mean it.

Perplexed over your words, Donghyuck quiets down and doesn’t speak for the rest of the lesson again.

A date?

❀ ❀ ❀

Heejin, like Donghyuck, is obnoxiously perceptive.

For the second time during this study date, she closes her book and throws it at you. This time, you already know what she’s going to do, but you’re still too late at moving out of the way, and the heavy object hits your shoulder. “Will you stop throwing your work at me?”

“Stop pouting then,” Heejin groans. The girl folds her arms on top of the table so she can rest her head on it, her hair framing around her head like a halo. She’s really pretty. Even in middle school, she was already donning the features that made everyone swoon. Despite that, she’s never gotten into a relationship, because she claims all she needs in life is you and food. Very cute, when she’s currently not pestering you about your crush on a certain Jeju boy.

“It’s not my fault? This is my resting crybaby face. You chose to be my friend. Bear the consequences, coward.”

“Shut up.” Heejin blindly reaches for her pencil case, but you quickly take it away before she can assault you with it. “If you’re so upset about it, you should’ve asked him on a date yourself. He’s clearly wrapped around your little finger, (y/n). You’re just being a dumbass.”

You love Heejin. You’d even go as far as trusting her with your life. She’s kind and loving, and she’s the first one to jump in the car to comfort you after a fight with someone. Heejin’s the kind of friend who braids your hair for fun and falls asleep on your lap after watching your favorite movies, and she laughs at you everytime you fall behind in Mario Kart. In a way, she even babies you.

But whenever you get insecure, Heejin stops the sugarcoating to deal with it seriously. Both of you are aware of what you’re thinking and why you didn’t ask Donghyuck out(“not good enough”, “maybe I read too much into it”, etc.), she’s only waiting for you to say it so she can strangle you. Jokingly, of course. She loves you. The only thing Heejin doesn’t tolerate is putting yourself down.

So you respond, “I’m scared he doesn’t feel the same.”

The girl looks up, onyx eyes meeting yours. No amused glint in them, only honesty. You love that about her. “(y/n), he’s just waiting for you to do something,” Heejin states. It’s like she can hear your pulse quickening, because she laughs and pinches your cheek. “Seriously. I’m telling you to go for it. That dude may be really flirty, but you should see the way he looks at you. He’s basically worshipping the ground you’re walking on. Do the man a favor and give him the slither of attention he’s begging for.”

“He is not begging.”

Heejin raises an eyebrow. “So you’re not denying that he’s basically at your feet? Interesting.”

“Heejin!”

❀ ❀ ❀

It’s kinda ironic that Donghyuck pulls you aside at another game to talk. You wonder what he’s going to do now to set your face on fire.

This time though, Donghyuck is in no joking mood. His fingers are tightly intertwined with yours, the air he’s breathing out mingling with yours because you’re standing so close to each other. It makes you lightheaded, but it also makes you want him to stand closer. “(y/n),” he mumbles.

Is he... is he nervous?

The people on the bleachers cheer, and Donghyuck briefly looks up. Maybe he’s thinking about whether his friends made the point or not. Nonetheless, his attention is on you, and he’s not shy about touching. Warm, soft hands cradle your face and angle your face up, because he wants you to look him right in the eyes. It works like magic; you can’t look away, can’t break eye contact. Under his touch, your heart starts racing.

“You’re not talking again.” The corner of his mouth twitch, barely holding himself back from smirking. His thumbs trace your cheekbones, wandering over your skin and meeting your lower lip. He tugs at it, and relishes in the heavy blush settling on your cheeks. It’s his favorite view. “Say something, baby?”

“You make me nervous.”

The confession is honest, refreshingly so. Donghyuck giggles and steps closer. The nearer he gets, the faster your heart pounds. Does he do this on purpose? You’d bet money on it.

“You make me nervous, too.” He lightly presses his thumb against your lips and you deliver a kiss to it. That seems to satisfy him. His hands abandon your face to hold your waist, and your own fly up to bunch up his shirt in your fists. “Embarassingly so.”

“You’re not acting very nervous, Lee Donghyuck.” You watch as he leans down, the tip of his nose touching yours. Your breath hitches. What is going on? Did he pull you behind the bleachers just for a quick make-out?

Your heart sinks.

“(y/n),” Donghyuck says. “I really, really want to kiss you right now. But I want to take you out on a date first. I want to be called yours and seal the deal with a kiss afterwards. So will you let me?”

“You’re so cheesy,” you deadpan, and for the first time in weeks, you’re not the one who’s cheeks are turning into cherries. You basically gape at the sight of Lee Donghyuck blushing heavily under the dim lights of the soccer field. He screws his eyes shut, embarrassed. “Are you blushing, Lee? Oh my god, that’s so cute.”

“Shut up before I kiss you senseless.” With that, Donghyuck pushes you further into the shadows so no one can see him cling to your lips like the neediest brat ever. The plan had been to kiss you as your boyfriend, but surely, getting a taste won’t be so bad. After all, he’s been dying to find out the many ways he can make the blood rush to your cheeks...

[salvejoon]

BTS Ideal Type

A/N: Please note that these are my personal views and opinions. What is written is in no way, shape or form, true. It is purely written for entertainment purposes.  

Kim Namjoon

Style: 

I think he’d like someone who dresses sophisticated, yet sexy. Classy yet suggestive. At the same time I also feel like he wants someone who likes to just put on a pair of jeans with a t-shirt and a pair of sneakers to just go book shopping with him.

Might like a little bit of tomboy. 

Personality: 

 I think he’d value maturity a lot seeing as he is very mature himself. Still, the person should have some wit. A quick comeback or a smart-ass comment. 

Confidence is something he’d find very attractive. Someone who is comfortable in their own skin. 

I think he’d like someone who like to debate or discuss various things.

Someone who is a great listener as I think this man could use a shoulder to lean on sometimes. A person who doesn’t necessarily understand the problems he’s facing but will still listen to him and give him support and hugs. Lots of hugs.

A person who knows what they want in life. I don’t think he’d want someone who doesn’t have plans or just takes day-by-day. 

To be honest, I can see him finding someone who is older than him, perhaps by as much as 5 years, who already have an established life. 

I feel like he has the biggest chance of dating a foreigner.

I think he’d prefer if his partner also has a more... Dirty side to them as well. if you catch my drift

Kim Seokjin

Style:

Feminine clothes. Dresses, gowns, skirts, pretty silk blouses, that whole shabang. A very feminine woman. 

But like’s it when she dresses up cute too.  

Personality:

Humor. If there’s one trait I think he values very much, that would be humor. You have to be able to make him laugh. Also likes someone who will laugh at his very bad jokes, even if he knows that they’re bad. 

A somewhat motherly type.

Someone who enjoy cooking as much as he does. 

Like Namjoon, someone who is independent but still takes care of others, like he does. 

Someone who can make him feel relaxed. 

A person that has their future planned. 

Confidence is key.

Might end up dating someone the same age, close to or a couple of years older than him. 

Min Yoongi

Style:

Likes someone who can switch it up from the tomboy style, rock, hip-hop style to a pretty, cutesy look. 

I think he’d prefer little to no make-up at all. 

Personality:

Calm. Collected. Mature. Seeing as his life is very hectic he’d want someone with those traits. 

Independence is a big thing with this guy as he spends a lot of time in his studio. 

But I also think that he’d want someone to take care of him, y’know? Bring him snacks and coffee when he’s working at a new track. 

Someone who has their own opinions and views as he is a man with very strong opinions and views on certain things. 

Someone who is strong and not in the physical way but the mental way. Seeing as Yoongi has dealt a lot with mental health, I think he’d prefer someone who was strong, able to deal with a lot of shit without breaking down and that includes his shit. Basically, you should be strong enough to juggle both your shit and his shit. 

He likes someone who can make him feel inspired. 

Someone who will be able to read him without him having to speak up. I don’t think Yoongi is particular good at voicing his feelings sometimes. 

I see him finding someone who is a year younger than him or the same age as him. Maybe a year or two older.

Jung Hoseok

Style: 

Like Yoongi, I think he’d like someone who can do both the cute girl next to and the tomboy with baggy hoodies. 

Adores accessories.

Someone who is very fashion aware. 

Personality:

Someone who has a lot of energy and can keep up with him but still can bring him that calmness. 

A bright and positive personality will draw him in. 

Might like someone who is a little bit shy. 

I think he’d love to find someone who is very attuned to reading emotions as I think Hobi deals with some pretty heavy emotions, despite his bubbly attitude. So someone who can read him and be there for him when he needs it. 

Someone who is very compassionate and affectionate towards others. 

Likes to bring a smile to people’s faces. 

Someone to share his love for dancing. The person doesn’t necessarily be a professional dancer but at least have an interest for it. 

I think he’d date someone younger than him. Maybe 3-4 years younger. 

Park Jimin

Style:

He’d find someone who dresses up cute very attractive. A true Girl next door look. 

Personality: 

This guy right here, needs his own personal hype woman. 

Someone who will hype him tf up when he’s down. Someone that he can go to for support when he’s doubting himself. 

A person to pull him out of that ‘I’m not good enough’ hole. 

Like Yoongi, I think he’d like someone with a strong mentality.

Someone who will tell him that he’s perfect, just the way that he is and someone who will love him unconditionally, despite him being an Idol. Someone who will see past the his Idol persona and see him as Park Jimin. 

Someone to make him realize his worth and this man is worth everything. 

I think he’d like someone who isn’t afraid to show her emotions and having the courage to do so. Someone who doesn’t care about what other people might think. 

Someone who is mature. A person who knows what they want and isn’t afraid of going after it. 

But I think he’d like it if that person made him feel needed. Like, he had someone to take care of. 

I see Jimin dating someone the same age or older than him.

Kim Taehyung

Style:

Fashion. Fashion. Fashion. This is the Gucci King. He’d love someone who is very into fashion, what’s in and hot, etc. 

Someone with a little bit of an edge in their look. A person who is a little daring in their outfit. 

Personality: 

Someone who is cute and can pull off aegyo. I cannot stress this enough. He likes cute!

Someone who shares his interests such as gaming. 

He’d like someone who can make him laugh by doing weird faces, someone who is a little bit weird like himself. He just needs to find his alien partner. 

Someone who can make him blush though. Oof. Compliment him or say something suggestive and he’s a blushing, fidgety mess. 

A mature person who wants a family in the future. Kids are very important to him. 

As a family man himself, he’ll want someone who values family just as much as he does. 

Might like someone who is spontaneous. Someone to drag him out on a random dinner date the second he steps through the door. 

I see Tae date someone the same age or older than him. He might date someone younger IF she’s mature enough.

Jeon Jungkook

Style:

Edgy. Rock. Leather jacket, denim jeans and boots. 

Digs an athletic look too.

Yet someone who can dress up all classic and sexy. Like Namjoon. 

Personality:

I think he’d prefer someone who is a little bit of a caretaker. Someone who can cook for him since he eats like... A lot. 

Someone to make him feel motivated. Urging him on to work out. 

Confidence again, is another trait he likes. Confidence is sexy. 

Someone who knows what they want and needs and isn’t afraid to seek it out. 

He’d prefer someone who is open about their emotions so he doesn’t need to look between the lines. Basically someone who is ‘easy’ to read. 

He’d also like someone who is a little competitive but be careful, as too much competition might end up in a fight. 

Adventurous. Someone he can try new things with. 

Open-minded. Someone to teach him various things. 

Maturity, sensibility and wise. A stable and safe harbor for him. 

I think Jungkook would date someone older than him. Like, I can’t see him with anyone younger than him.  

Another A/N: Again, remember that this is just my own thoughts, so don’t feel disheartened if it doesn’t fit you as a person. No one truly knows what the boys like. 

Just remember that you’re still beautiful in your own unique way and that you should always love yourself. 

[lallemcnt]

but all i see is him right now — 2.8k (ao3)

let's call this eliott and lucas hanging out in an unknown location, in an unknown setting, in an unknown time; lucas' head is muddled by thoughts of how much he wants eliott.

or, the one where lucas sighs dramatically (several times) and they talk about soulmates.

-

if he closes his eyes, and just .... thinks back on tender hours of hands brushing and cheeks flushing and red lips and warm breath, he —

“where are you?”

lucas squints his eyes open against the afternoon sun, blinking rapidly, and, perhaps, frowning because the person before him let’s out a light laugh, their silhouette changing from pure light to brown, fluffy hair, indiscernible grey-green-blue eyes and pink lips spread in a teasing smile: “you did it again.”

eliott is sitting there, smiling in all his breathtaking glory, staring directly at lucas who, in turn, grows warm in the cheeks and looks down at his hands. he did it again — the daydreaming seemed a prerequisite to hanging out with eliott recently. in lucas’ case, anyway. recently, he thinks, they haven’t even known each other that long.

“i should put that on my resume: interesting enough to bore lucas lallemant out of his intelligent mind.”

that’s because i spend every single minute of every day thinking about you, making up stupid fantasy scenarios about us; being in your company makes my brain overload, but lucas can’t say that. so, he narrows his eyes and kicks out a leg against eliott’s ankle, because he’s an emotionally mature adult who knows how to respond to digs no matter how lighthearted they are. eliott responds by grabbing lucas’ ankle and squeezing it. lucas tries to kick his leg out of eliott’s grasp, but soon stops — he’s tired and there’s no heart in it — lets out a dramatic sigh before lying down on his back and looking up at the sky.

seconds later he feels light fingers on the bare skin of his ankle where his jeans must have ridden up, his leg jerks in response to the soft touches, the fingers stop and when he relaxes once more, they pick up again.

no words are uttered, contrary to the rush of thoughts that consume lucas’ mind as eliott tattooes lucas’s ankle with his soft, calloused finger tips. the thing is, lucas has never had a friend quite tactile as eliott. someone who hugged everyone he met; he would hang his arm around your neck in a group circle; instead of pointing out you had something on your shirt he’d pick it off himself or take a piece of fluff out of someone’s hair. lucas couldn’t name the number of times he and eliott’s hands would brush when they walked side by side after school, but lucas always put it up to eliott and his cuddly demeanour. he was, by nature, a soft dude. his presence was magnetising; to be at the centre of that attention that everyone, whether they knew him well or not, craved, was sublime. so lucas didn’t question that moment, where others would see it as something more, he knew it wasn’t, and yet against all reason and logic he couldn’t quite help himself, knowing what would follow, he still let himself dream it was. it hurt when he thought about it too much which was all the time, but soaking up eliott’s presence and being with him, even in only a platonic way, seemed to ease the pain, but when lucas was on his own that was a different matter. the nights when he couldn’t sleep because of his insomnia, he would lie there in bed and dream, he would pull back his yellow curtains, encouraging the moon spread her light, initiating thoughts of that drawing. the greek on the moon. lucas liked to think of the moon as selene; ever since he’d learned that greek name, and ever since he’d seen eliott’s drawing, that name seemed to give it a new life — they were both ruled by the moon, after all, being cancers and all.

“i was thinking about the moon.” lucas spoke, volunteering his thoughts for no other reason than he felt like it.

“what about her?” eliott’s interest was palpable, he even stopped tracing patterns on lucas’ calf. lucas yearns for the touch, almost to the point he forgets what he was speaking about, but not quite.

“about your self-portrait on the moon.” he glances at eliott who looks thoughtful, waiting for lucas to continue. “and i was thinking how would you draw me? what animal would i be?”

eliott’s silent for a few seconds, contemplative. then he says, “sit up for me.”

lucas complies, suddenly feeling nervous in that i’m-in-love-with-you-and-it’s-so-obvious way, believing that his eyes will give him away so he gives himself a second before meeting eliott’s eyes. eliott is sitting by his feet, considering lucas. he tilts his head and gets a faraway look in his eyes, picking up the beer resting beside him: “i’d have to think about it.”

okay, lucas thinks, okay.

eliott is fiddling with the label on his beer bottle, so lucas proceeds to lie back down and sigh once more. sometimes he thinks it’s not one sided — the feelings, that is. in the mornings after having drank too much at a party and inevitably retreating back to one of le gang’s homes, and walking home together at 11am because they live only a street away from each other in the opposite direction to the other three. in the mornings when it’s tipping towards a warm afternoon, but they’re both decked out in their jackets, messy hair and morning breath and slow gaits, wishing to be home but also wishing for just a second longer in the other’s company. maybe there’s a hand brush or two, a few glances out of the corner of the eye, playful shoving because can one really be around eliott without some kind of physical contact that somehow leads to slightly longer touches, followed by avoided glances and painful hearts and close tears. but as soon as he’s had a few eliott-less hours logic returns and reprimands lucas for being so naïve because no one ever loves the person who craves love due to severe abandonment issues. no one could ever love the boy who turns spiteful when he’s angry and spits out harsh words he doesn’t mean.

lucas feels himself getting agitated by his ceaseless negative, spiralling thoughts and so he ditches that train of thought to prevent the casualty he can see himself creating. he sits back up, tugs his knees to his chest, tilting the side of his head to rest on them. he glances at eliott who is already staring back at him.

“are you sure you’re okay?” eliott inquiries, concern etched on every plain of his sun-kissed face. summer is almost over. eliott brushes a hand through lucas’ hair once before cradling his beer bottle once more. “you don’t seem yourself today.” he concludes.

lucas shrugs his shoulders and decides to be honest for once. “i don’t feel in the best mood. sorry for my terrible company.”

eliott shakes his head, but before he can come up with what lucas believes would be a placating response, despite no times of this before, lucas interrupts, changes the subject. “i’ve never met anyone guy who is so comfortable around their male friends.”

as soon as it’s out of his mouth he regrets it. eliott’s hand retreats, his body language immediately becomes closed-off: shoulders hunched, no eye contact — eyes squeezed shut before glancing off to the side. lucas wants to hit himself, badly.

“no!” lucas yelps. it’s instinctive because he adores eliott, and hurting the people he cares for is the last thing he wishes to do despite the recent regularity of it. sometimes lucas thinks he hurts himself this way on purpose, punishes himself for being this messed up boy, any time he’s reached the light. he doesn’t find eliott’s tactile nature weird. if anything, he yearns for it — his heart almost craves it. “i-“ love it. he takes a breath, because he can’t say that. “i didn’t mean it like that. i meant- it’s you. that’s just how you are. you’re warm and you-“ lucas stops. he can’t believe he- he can’t look eliott in the eye — doesn’t know if he could conceivable do so anyway because he hasn’t looked at eliott’s face since he retreated into his shell — so he does the next best thing instead. he, ungracefully, pushes eliott’s legs down and flops down on them, resting his head on eliott’s thighs and raising an arm to shield his eyes from the glaring sun which has begun to set.

“it’s just different to all our other friends, you know? but it’s nice. it’s beyond nice,” and he goes rambling on, because he’s nervous but he wants to make sure eliott knows for certain that it’s not weird, that’s it’s good, in fact. “it’s comforting. especially for someone who didn’t grow up with that kind of ... familial affection.”

eliott relaxes after those words, disrupting his own silence with movement. carefully brushes a strand of lucas’ perpetually errant hair behind his ear and he’s smiling, full teeth and beautiful crinkled-eyes, causing lucas’ stomach to drop.

how is he supposed to breathe normally around that? lucas’ mind conjures up paintings from the few museums eliott has successfully managed to drag him to. he pictures contrasting harsh and soft lines, bold colours and soft tones. but his mind lands on muted, yellow flowers- sunflowers, which he’s sure were once bright and confident in their own beauty, dulled by time and the constant attention of roaming eyes: from breathless awe to complete apathetic glances. now, lucas has never actually see the painting in real life, rather, only through the fractured screen of eliott’s phone, but they stole the air from his lungs the first time he laid eyes on them. lucas has never been the most artistic, preferring the practicality and logic of science, he thinks years of unnecessary school trips to galleries tainted art for him, forever, until he met a certain someone. he’s not sure why these sunflowers have this specific affect on him, and whether it’s actually the painting itself, or rather how the moment he was shown them still compels feelings of joy and unbridled laughter from him, especially in his most desolate moments. eliott was practically standing on top of lucas, buzzing with excitement, phone shoved directly in lucas’ line of sight — definitely too close, because lucas had burst out laughing, grabbed eliott’s hand with the phone in, and pulled it back from his eyes, which had closed from the brightness and nearness of the screen to them. his head had fallen back against eliott’s shoulder and he’d looked up at him, shaking his head:

ok, ok, ok!

ok, lucas lied. It’s definitely the feeling of that moment that made him love the painting so.

“look at the sky, lu.” eliott’s quiet voice disperses lucas’ thoughts.

lucas glances up. he hadn’t noticed how late it had gotten; the sky was a gradient of beauty: magenta, easing into a violet, dripping into a cerulean blue. there is something magical about dusk, as the sky is no longer dominated by the burning sun, is left to its own devices, unraveling its perpetual blue to reveal a masterpiece of colour.

eliott glances at lucas whose face must mirror his own feelings because he responds. “yeah.”

“i like this.”

“me too.”

“i’m surprised you’ve been single this long.”

eliott snorts out a laugh, tipping his head back. “four months. all of which you’ve known me for.”

“huh, four months?”

“yep.” a hand brush through lucas’ brown locks.

“feels like forever.”

“i know.”

-

a few hours roll by, the daylight hours cycling at a rapid pace, it’s almost time for them to leave each other, but that’s not what’s on lucas’ mind, he’s found himself getting all heated over a topic many find nonsensical — that he wouldn't dare raise with le gang in fear of being laughed out — but he’s with eliott and they often find themselves getting all kinds of existential about fate and relationships and people.

“this idea that there’s only one person on the planet who your soul connects with is bullshit.”

“you don’t believe in soulmates?”

“no, it’s not that. i just don’t believe that there’s only one person out there ‘meant’ for you. i think you can connect with more than one person like that. every relationship is different, right? you talk to each friend about something different, or maybe the same thing but in polar-opposite ways. like, yann is definitely my soulmate. i love him. no one gets me like he does. he’s my brother. but i also have arthur who knows science like me; we can discuss new and old theories or articles we’ve read — that’s a passion we both share and i don’t get quite the same feeling when i’m speaking with someone else. then there’s basile who, yeah, jokes around a lot, is inappropriate 85% of the time, but what most people miss, because they don’t take the time to get to know him, is that he’s a fucking brilliant listener, you know? so if someone’s gonna sit there and tell me there’s only one person on the planet for each person then i’m calling bullshit because i have these three great dudes in my life who are without a doubt, my soulmates.” lucas is breathing slightly harder than normal, almost like he’s just finished a 200m sprint. he didn’t mean to get so passionate and worked up. he’s almost embarrassed again. but he didn’t say anything stupid, he’s sure of that, and he meant every single word.

“i always thought the idea that there’s only one person you really fall in love with was romantic as fuck, but...what you just said...your conviction proves that feeling wrong,” eliott responds, licking his dry lips once. “i never thought about friends as soulmates, but it makes complete sense.”

“i don’t know about love...” lucas teeters off. “i’ve never really felt that before.” he admits, looking down at his hands and turning them over, because he’s insecure on this subject matter — the expectations that everyone is young when they first experience it, and if you haven’t you’re automatically deemed an outsider. is it a lie though? has he never felt it, what are these feelings he gets around eliott? he loves hanging out with him but does he love him? can lucas love in that way?

“it’s strange. it’s the most consuming emotion. it’s one of the best and worst feelings...i miss it.”

“you miss being in love or you miss your ex. aren’t they kind of the same thing?”

“i don’t miss my ex, but, yes, i miss being in love.”

lucas doesn’t respond and eliott, it seems, doesn’t feel the need to expand on that, despite lucas’ brain wanting it more than anything — for eliott to explain why and if there’s someone he likes... another few minutes pass by in their companionable silence, no daydreams for lucas, just the sounds of traffic, pushchair wheels bumping over fallen twigs and a cold, subtle breeze — a harbinger of the night — it comes and it goes, much like their conversations that day.

“so, what about me?” eliott inquiries with a teasing smile on his lips. the breeze, though seemingly gentle, has carolled his hair into a wilder state — it brings a smile to lucas’ face, who only tilts his head in response.

“am i a soulmate?”

they’re sitting only a few inches apart, and the question feels personal — almost too much, but lucas has been spiralling on thoughts of eliott all this time, and he can’t help himself any longer.

“are you a soulmate?” lucas ponders, crossing his knees to sit directly in front of eliott who nods in askance.

“hm.” is all lucas replies as he raises his palms and indicates for eliott to do the same, which he does, placing his palms against lucas’. warmth blooms, and they both let out light sighs, masked by the other’s; it’s a cobalt-blue sky now, and the noises of the lives of the people around them are muted to the feeling of their contact.

lucas swallows and puts on a grin, “dear world, is eliott demaury a potential soulmate for i, lucas lallemant?” he felts warm breath ghost out in a chuckle.

lucas raises his eyebrows with a mock reprimanding look in his eyes. “what’s so funny?” eliott rolls his lips in, trying to prevent the smile and laugh from escaping before opening his mouth to sincerely apologise, but lucas interjects. “this is serious. i mean, if you don’t want to find out if we’re destined to know each other for life, then, i don’t know why i’m wasting my precious time.” all this he says, while trying to maintain his raised eyebrows, but eliott’s cheeks are puffing out and lucas’ head is becoming slightly sore from exercising his eyebrow muscles, and they’re looking each other dead in the eyes now — blues and greys and greens dark with no light to illuminate them — trying not to crack up. eliott clutches his stomach, falling forward, his forehead resting on lucas’ shoulder.

it’s a bliss no words can name, no language lucas knows can describe this feeling.

[caelestisnox]

ten ways to say “i love you” (adansey)

ao3 link

1.

They’ve been doing this thing—hanging out, talking about cars and dead kings, being friends—for almost a month but Adam still doesn’t feel all that comfortable with Gansey. He doesn’t think he ever will. Don’t get him wrong. He likes Gansey, he likes spending time with Gansey, he likes being with Gansey. Hell, he willingly subjects himself to Gansey’s overly abrasive other half on a regular basis for Gansey.

It’s just… He can’t let go. He’s spent years hyper aware of his every movement, every word, every action, wondering if it will betray his Henrietta roots to people like them. A part of him is always waiting for a look of derision, a condescending quirk of an eyebrow. Something that tells how he doesn’t belong in Aglionby. With them. And that he should stop trying because he never will.

Sometimes though. Sometimes Gansey can catch him off guard. Gansey who can and will talk for hours upon hours about Arthurian legends, the soft cadence of his voice lulling him into calmness. Gansey who looks at him with soft expressions and awe in his eyes. Gansey who makes him feel at peace and comfortable enough to stop being self conscious.

Most of the time, the two of them hanging out means him going with Gansey back to Monmouth. This afternoon is different though. School has let out, his father is out of town and he has no work shift to rush to. It’s the perfect time to show Gansey the relatively secret part of the river that cuts through the Henrietta woods.

It’s something known only to locals like him and he knows Gansey lives for such local secrets like this. Which is why it’s not surprising when Gansey practically rips his arm off its socket, yanking at him at his rush to get there, when he asks if he wants to go there. The usually flappable and aloof Gansey is acting like a hyperactive toddler and the ridiculousness of it makes Adam burst into helpless giggles. The sound of it must have startled Gansey because he stops yanking and just looks at him.

Gansey doesn’t say anything, just looks at him with that soft expression on his face again.

“What?” he asks, a little bit confused. He’s not sure if he’s imagining it, but Gansey might be blushing.

Gansey gives him a small smile. “Nothing. I like your laugh.”

 2.

He loves his car. He really does. The Pig is one of his favorite things in the world. But what he doesn’t love is stalling on the side of some weird road in the middle of nowhere when he’s already late to meet up with his friends. Usually he’d just call AAA (or whatever the small town version of it is called).

Adam has been teaching him how to fix cars though. On rare moments when they don’t have school, Adam doesn’t have work and he doesn’t have a new Glendower lead to pore through. He thinks he’s done fine though, it’s going well. Or so he thinks. Which is why he takes the toolbox out from his trunk, pops open the hood and decides that he can fix it for himself. Adam would be so proud.

To his credit, he gets to spend at least five minutes poking and prodding at his engine before it sparks and he’s forced to admit defeat.

He kicks at the dirt and sighs before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He takes his phone out and dials Ronan’s number.

“Hey, Gansey. Pig stall out again?”

“You reading minds now, Ro?”

“Telepathy isn’t one of my many abilities, you’re just that predictable.”

“Thank you for that. Can you come pick me up?”

Silence. There’s a sound of scuffling in the background and when Ronan talks again he sounds a little worried. “Listen…”

“Oh no.”

“Gansey, you know I would do anything for you but, me and Noah are kind of the middle of something.” As if on cue, a metallic screeching is heard followed by Noah swearing softly.

“It’s Noah and I. Also, what are you doing?”

“A very volatile experiment.”

“Please don’t burn down Monmouth while I’m out.”

“We’ll try!”

He hangs up. Sends a text.

He’s leaning against the car, face tipped up to the sky and watching the slow passage of clouds when he hears the sound of gravel under bicycle wheels.

He waits a beat before he starts speaking, “In my defense, I really thought I had it all under control before the engine started sparking.”

Adam scoffs at that and Gansey turns to look at him. He’s wearing faded jeans and an equally faded shirt but all it does is emphasize how sharp and clear Adam always seems to him. Like he’s the realest thing in Gansey’s world.

He gets off his bike and stands next to where Gansey is leaning so he can nudge his shoulder against his. “You’re still getting better though. You didn’t set it on actual fire so that’s an improvement.”

Gansey feels his lips twitch into a smile, and nudges Adam’s shoulder back. Adam laughs and walks over to the hood of the car, inspecting the damage.

Barely a minute later he looks back and Gansey and says, “Come here. Let’s fix this.”

 3.

Adam rubs at his eyes and tries to blink himself to alertness. He looks at the page he and Gansey are supposed to be studying but the numbers and coefficients have started to blur together. Gansey himself has his head on the desk and is probably sleeping already.

Right, time to call it quits then. They didn’t do that bad, really. They’ve had the concept of orthogonality and orthonormality locked down early enough in their study session. It’s the more advanced parts they had a problem with and that won’t really show up on the exam.

He reaches across the table to give Gansey’s shoulders a little shove.

“Wake up.”

No response.

“Gansey, wake up. Go sleep in your real bed.”

Still nothing. He walks around to Gansey’s side and pokes him in the ribs. Gansey’s head snaps up, wakefulness crashing into him.

“Did I fall asleep?” he asks.

Adam just laughs at that. “Yeah. But I think we’ve studied enough. I’m heading home. Go sleep in your bed.”

“Oh,” says Gansey. He takes a peek at his watch, surprise crossing across his face. “Oh, it’s late. Wait, Adam, I’ll drive you home.”

Adam thinks of The Pig and its accompanying roar waking up his father. Thinks of snide comments and where-have-you-beens he’d have to deal with, at the very least. “It’s okay. You don’t have to.”

“It’s past eleven, Adam. You can’t think I’m just going to let you walk in the dark.”

“I have my bike.”

“Jesus, Adam. How is this a big deal? Load up the bike, too. I just don’t want you going off alone when it’s this late.”

“Gansey,” he says catching one of his gesticulating hands. Adam looks at Gansey in the eye, willing him to understand his unverbalized reason. “I don’t need you to drive me home.”

Gansey gets it of course. He lets out a defeated sigh. “Sure. But please, do me a favor. Call me when you get home.”

“Sure,” he answers. He draws Gansey in for a goodbye hug. “I’ve lived here my whole life, Gansey. I’m gonna be okay, stop worrying.”

He feels Gansey’s breath tickle the back of his neck as he replies, “You’re asking the impossible of me. I always worry.”

 4.

Gansey hears a muffled thump and a curse from Ronan.

Before he can even turn to look at the commotion, he hears Ronan again. “Whoa, Parrish. Move the fuck out the doorway. What are you looking—Oh.” Even without looking he knows Ronan’s got a self-satisfied smile on by that one word. He hears Ronan laugh and walk over to him. Ronan throws an arm across his shoulders and spins him around so they’re facing an extremely red-faced Adam Parrish.

“Adam!” he exclaims. “I didn’t know you were here. Have you been waiting long? What’s wrong? You look flustered.” He looks sideways at Ronan. “Did you do something to him?”

Ronan just grins sharp. “I’m not the one who did something to him.” He ignores Adam’s hissed out warning to stop talking and continues, “I think it’s his first time seeing you in skinny jeans.”

Oh. He’s not quite sure which way to take that. He’d like to think it’s Adam thinking he looks nice but it could also mean he looks weird. He knows Adam’s mostly used to seeing him in uniform or khakis. That’s his trademark style, maybe the skinny jeans make him look uncouth or trying to be cool. It’s Ronan’s fault, really. He only wears them when he’s going out with him. Ronan always said he looked attractive in them though and he trusts Ronan’s opinions. Mostly.

While he’s having this monologue in his mind, Adam’s been trying and failing to get a word out. He fumbles on his reply before managing to tell him, “It’s nothing, I’m fine. I was just surprised. It… uh… It looks good on you. Not that your other clothes don’t look good on you. The jeans are just… nice.”

“Oh,” he hears himself say. He’s pretty sure he’s blushing now, too. He feels his lips curl into a smile. “Thanks.”

 5.

He usually tells Gansey beforehand when he’s going to Monmouth. It’s a habit, born out of the early days when he thought that type of formality was required by Gansey and his kind. This afternoon though, he forgoes that notion and just goes straight inside Gansey and Ronan’s (and Noah’s, he tends to forget that) home.

His first thought is that no one’s there but he spots a slight movement at the corner of his eye as Noah materializes.

“Hey, Noah,” he says in greeting and pivots to face him. He gives Noah’s hair a slight ruffle and Noah gives him a small smile in turn.

“You looking for Gansey?” Noah asks.

“Yeah. Is he in?”

Noah nods and points upstairs. “He’s playing with his Henrietta dollhouse.”

“Thanks.”

The sight that greets him upstairs makes his breath catch in his throat. Afternoon light filters through Monmouth’s huge windows and makes everything look golden.

Gansey is turned away from him, fully focused on his mini-Henrietta. His eyebrows are drawn together; elegant fingers working skillfully as he paints a box to add to his mini-city. His glasses slip a little bit and he pushes them up with two fingers, nose wrinkling up adorably. He pauses in his work to look out the window. Gansey stays quiet for a moment and lets out a deep longing sigh. The light makes casts a soft glow on him. He looks beautiful.

“Hey,” he breathes out.

Gansey turns to him and the world feels like it’s in slow motion. Adam is drawn to the way Gansey’s lips curl into a smile, imagines how it would be like to feel the way those lips move against his own.

“Adam,” Gansey says happily. “I was just thinking about you.”

 6.

He deliberates for a while but in the end, he gives in and knocks at Adam’s church apartment door. Adam stands on the other side, bleary eyed with rumpled hair. He looks so soft, Gansey wishes it would be acceptable to just burrow his face in Adam’s neck, nuzzle him and stay there forever.

“It’s late.” Adam tells him.

“I know,” he answers and adjusts his glasses. I couldn’t sleep, he wants to say. I couldn’t sleep because I keep thinking of you. I miss you. I hate when we fight. He doesn’t say any of that and instead blurts out. “Calculus.”

Adam blinks at him.

“Calculus,” he repeats. “I can’t get the answer to number four, I was hoping you can teach it to me?”

“Sure.” Adam steps back to let him in, watching him with concern. Adam takes off his coat and drapes it over a chair. “Take a seat.”

Adam sits across him and drags his school stuff out. “So, I think your mistake was not using integration by parts…”

That’s pretty much all he heard, preferring to just watch Adam in his element. Knowledgeable, focused, sure in every word that comes out of his mouth. He lets himself get lulled by the cadence of Adam’s voice, feeling the unease that has lived in their chest since the day of their fight finally settle.

-

“Gansey,” he hears someone say and give him a gentle shake. “Gansey,” the voice repeats and this time he feels a hand smooth the hair off his forehead.

“What?” he repeats blearily, trying to blink himself awake. He’s met with the sight of Adam’s face, about three inches in front of him. “Oh,” he takes a look at his watch. “Oh, it’s late.”

“I’m sorry. I kept you up late. I’m just gonna go home now,” he stutters out as he tries to gather his stuff but he’s stopped by Adam’s hands.

“Hey, no. Stop. It’s fine.,” Adam tells him. “It’s fine and you’re right, it’s late. Stay over.”

“Are you sure?” he asks with some trepidation.

“Gansey, you’re already wearing pajamas. Just stay. Okay?”

He smiles at Adam. “Okay.”

 7.

Adam opens his eyes with a loud gasp. He shivers a little, more because of the remnants of his nightmare than the cold weather itself. He’s breathing heavily as he lies there, staring at the ceiling trying to calm himself. Hydrogen Helium Lithium Berylium Boron Carbon, he thinks, reciting the periodic table as an effort to distract himself from the dream.

It’s never gonna come true. He’s never going to betray Gansey. Never going to do something that will break what he and Gansey have.

He feels a hand on his arm and freezes.

“Adam?” whispers Gansey. Oh, right. He told him to sleep here tonight. The hand on his arm tugs at him. “You alright?”

He goes with it, turning so he can look at Gansey. His glasses are off and his eyes are already half closed again. Gansey at rest almost looks common. Almost. The undefinable commanding aura that surrounds him is always present. He aches to reach across and touch him. Run his fingers through his hair again. Gansey has the blankets pulled up to his chest, knees curled up. He doesn’t like the cold either.

“I’m fine.”

Gansey hums and extends a hand and feels for his wrist, thumb resting at his pulse. “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” he whispers back to him. “Just a little cold.”

“Yeah?” Gansey tugs him closer and shuffles towards him. He raises an arm and covers Adam with the same blanket that he’s using. “Better?”

Gansey’s arm is resting at his waist and at this close, he can feel the warmth of Gansey’s breath on his skin. He reaches out and gently slides his arm under Gansey’s head. He smiles. “Better.”

Gansey snuggles closer and drops a kiss on his forehead before settling down again. “Good. Go back to sleep.”

 8.

“Gansey, I can’t.”

He tries not to, but he’s pretty sure Adam can still see how his heart breaks when he said those three words. Adam looks wrecked, too. Like Gansey confessing his love and saying “I think we could be amazing together.” is the last thing he wanted to hear. He blinks back to clear the unexpected bleariness from his eyes. It’s not your fault, he wants to say to Adam. I’ll be fine. It’s not your fault that you don’t love me the same way.

He wonders if it would be worse if Adam just doesn’t love him at all. Because Adam does love him, he knows that. He just isn’t in love with him.

“Oh…” he finally stutters out and wonders how a single syllable could sound so broken. “It’s fine,” he says in a voice that doesn’t sound like his, doesn’t feel like his, like some other person has taken control of his mouth, the words not his own. “I understand.”

If possible, those words just make look Adam more disturbed. “No,” he says, taking Gansey’s hand in his and pressing it on his own cheek. He turns his head to kiss Gansey’s palm and he can feel the shape of Adam’s lips burn in the center of his hand. Adam places his hand on the side of Gansey’s neck. “Please look at me,” he whispers.

Gansey doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want to see how much he fucked things up. How he assumed things and destroyed his relationship with Adam.

“Gansey,” he hears him plead. And that’s enough to make him look. He could never deny Adam anything. “I love you.” Adam tells him.

And he knows, of course he does. They are friends. “I  know.”

“No you don’t,” he insists. “I’m in love with you, Gansey.”

His heart skips a beat and he’s so so confused. “Then why—“

“I just can’t be with you right now.”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

Adam sighs. “Gansey, you know why. I love you and you love me but we’re not in the right time nor place to love each other.” He scoots closer until he can lean down and put his head on Gansey’s shoulder. “Right now, this search is your life and that search needs you here in Henrietta. Your death and Glendower owns your mind and keeps you here. And, me... You know I’m going to leave Henrietta. It may not be forever and I may come back. But you know I want to live a part of my life away from here.”

Gansey’s hands have moved to stroke over Adam’s hair rhythmically. He knows what Adam means. They still have separate lives to live and no matter the depth of their feelings for each other, they can’t change that. He knows that. Had known it when Adam made the deal with Cabeswater. Known it during the party at his family’s house. It’s a while before he speaks again. “So, what happens to us?”

“I’m not sure. All I know is that next year I won’t be here.” Adam pulls back to look him in the eye. “And if we try this… us? right now? I don’t want us to end just because we both weren’t ready.”

“So we’re just never going to try?”

Adam lets out a sigh of frustration. “We will. We will, Gansey. Can’t you feel it? My feelings for you are never going to fade. We’ll have a chance, I swear.”

Gansey meets his gaze head on. “Okay. I understand what you’re saying. I do, it doesn’t mean it won’t hurt. That it’s not hurting right now.”

“It’s hurting for me, too,” Adam whispers.

“I know,” he answers. “It’s why I want to promise you something.”

“What?”

Gansey traces his thumb under Adam’s eye. “I’ll still be here when you’re ready.”

 9.

When he wakes up, the first thing he notices is the bright harsh fluorescent light. He closes his eyes and tries to raise his hand to block out the light as a reflex. That’s when he notices the pinch of a needle on his hand. His hand that is apparently being held by someone.

He opens his eyes and casts his gaze around the room. Blue’s asleep on a couch, head pillowed on Ronan’s jacket and feet on Noah’s lap. Noah’s leaning sideways on Ronan who has his head tipped back against the wall, the both of them also sleeping.

He looks at who’s holding his hand and feels a small jolt of surprise to see Adam. Adam, who’s supposed to be at New Haven and studying. With the hand Adam’s not holding, he reaches out and nudges at his shoulder.

“Adam,” he whispers. Nothing. He nudges at him a little bit harder and calls again. “Adam, hey.”

Adam blinks himself awake. “Gansey,” he breathes out. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” he answers. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you to waking up. You had me— us —worried.”

“What about Yale?”

Confusion flashes across Adam’s face. “What do you mean what about Yale?”

“Well,” he starts. “You’re busy, aren’t you?”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he knows he said the wrong thing. Adam’s face falls and a hard glint replaces the concern in his eyes. “So what if I’m busy? You’re in the hospital, Gansey. Did you think I’d just ignore that?”

Irritation flashes at him. Barely a minute of conversation and they’re heading into an argument already. “Well, you’ve ignored me for the last month. What was I supposed to think?”

“You think I’m that callous? That heartless?” He sounds hurt. “I know I haven’t been the most reliable person lately and I’m sorry. I didn’t think it college would be that hard. But did you think I just stopped caring about you? That I don’t wish I can hear your voice and feel your hand in mine?”

There are tears hanging on his eyes now and he’s desperate to hold them back. “Then why did you stop calling me?”

Adam’s thumb wipes at the edge of his eyes. Even now, hurt and still a little bit angry, he cherishes the contact. “It’s hard, Gansey. I talk to you and I wish I could be right here in Henrietta with you. I miss you too much. I can’t bear it.”

The moment he stops talking he burrows his head on the hospital bed, hiding.

“Hey, hey. No.” Gansey reaches out and starts petting Adam’s hair. “You’re here. That matters more.”

“I’m sorry,” says Adam. He straightens up and looks Gansey in the eye. “I’m really sorry. I know I’ve been unfair to you. Everything feels too much and sometimes I get overwhelmed but please… Please always know, you’re important, too.”

“You guys done?” someone interrupts. “Because I have some words about both of your dramas.”

Gansey lets out a weak laugh. “Sure, Jane. For now, at least.”

 10.

He steps out of the car and takes a deep, deep breath. He hasn’t been back in this town for almost three years. Plane tickets are expensive and his friends have opted to just visit him in New Haven instead of the other way around.

“Takes for the ride,” he tells Ronan.

“No problem, Parrish. We’ve missed you around.”

“Yeah?”

“You fishing for compliments?” Ronan wraps an arm on his shoulders and drags him forward to start walking to Monmouth. “Of course we did. You know Noah bugs me about calling you at least once a week, he’s pissed he can’t use phones by himself.”

“And Gansey?”

“Oh, you’ll see,” he answers with a smirk.

Ronan unlocks the door and starts shouting, “Gansey?” No answer. “Gansey?! You here?”

A thump. “What, Ro?”

“Will you come down? I got you something.”

“Oh, god. Is it a calf?” his voice is sounding closer. “I told you I don’t care if they’re really cute, I can’t raise one. How would I even—“

He stops talking when he sees Adam. This is probably the most unkempt he’s seen Gansey. He’s wearing a rumpled sweater, his glasses are askew and his hair is a wild tangle. God, he’s missed him. It’s been three months since his last visit and god, he just misses him.

“Adam,” he breathes out. The distance between them disappears as Gansey practically flies to his arms into a hug.

He tightens his grip on Gansey, burying his head into his neck and taking a breath. He smiles into his neck, “Hey, Gansey.”

“Alright,” he hears Ronan say. “I’m gonna find Noah.”

“You gonna be staying long?” Gansey asks, still not letting go of him.

“Sort of?”

He pulls back. “Sort of?”

Adam waves a hand at the suitcases and luggage stacked besides Ronan’s car. “For as long as you’ll have me, I guess.”

Delight is evident on Gansey’s face. “You mean that?”

Adam smiles a soft smile at him. “I do.” He reels Gansey back in and presses a kiss to his check. “I told you we’d get our chance.”

He laughs. “I know. I know.” He showers kisses on Adam’s face. “I believed you.”

The next time he leans it, Adam meets him halfway. Their lips slotting together into a kiss that’s been years in the making. All the years, the unsaid words, the longing they had being poured into the push and pull of their mouths.

“Gansey,” he whispers against his lips. “Gansey. Gansey. Gansey.” He gives him a fierce kiss. “I love you. I will always love you.”

[hungline]

kiss, kiss, fall in love

pairings: namkook, side taejin and yoonminseok  genre: fluff, angst, smut, uni au, rated e  warnings: trans male character, explicit sexual content, cross-dressing, strap-ons, anal sex, gender dysphoria, jeongguk crying a lot  words: 19278 

summary: Kim Namjoon can admit he’s an idiot. He can also admit that he likes Jeon Jeongguk more than he should. 

Namjoon is currently having difficulty getting air in and out of his lungs at the moment.

His chest aches and his fingers keep fumbling with the ends of his black tie.

Weirdly enough, his nipples are actually chafing against the binder that he wears underneath his royal blue button-up.

There’s a strange feeling building up in the pit of his stomach as he looks up towards the stage where the university’s drama club is holding their annual play and he only has eyes for Jeongguk. Never mind the fact that Namjoon’s best friend, Seokjin, is playing the male lead. All Namjoon can see is the lights reflecting off Jeongguk’s black hair, his slender arms shining in the spotlight, and lightly tanned legs twirling about with the ends of his dark blue skirt fanning around them.

If Namjoon had really been born with a penis, like he’d always wanted, he’s sure he would have popped a semi in his jeans.

No one can really blame Namjoon for how he’s feeling though. Anyone would react the same way if they had seen Jeongguk in a beautiful blue skirtーin a shade that just so happens to match their own shirtーand they were also crushing big time on said sophomore student. So it’s understandable, but Namjoon is still very pleasantly surprised about the way he’s reacting to seeing Jeongguk in a skirt.

He can sit through it though, definitely. It's not hard. Not one bit. This isn't affecting him at all.

He's just peachy.

And then Jeongguk is looking him right in the eye, a nervous glint in his brown sparkly orbs as he delivers his line flawlessly and lets the skirt twirl around him a little bit. Jeongguk looks like he's actually quite enjoying prancing around in that skirt onstage and Namjoon figures that he’s screwed. Either way, he still manages to shoot Jeongguk a supportive smile and a thumbs up before the young actor looks away to continue on with the play.

Namjoon kind of wants to die as his eyes follow Jeongguk's lithe figure around the stage, and when the younger looks in his direction, the feeling only increases by tenfold. And he is so not okay. He didn’t know that Jeongguk was supposed to perform that night. He knew the younger was Soyou’s understudy, but he hadn’t known about the young actress breaking her leg until he’d been standing in the lobby of the auditorium, waiting for the doors to open. Seokjin had run up to him and whispered fervently in his ear about what happened before he ran off to get Jeongguk ready to go on stage. Namjoon hadn’t thought that Jeongguk would embrace the role so diligently either, but the younger had been surprising him since day one

Namjoon figures that he’s really screwed.

The play is over in the blink of an eye and Namjoon doesn't know whether he should get up and go find Jeongguk or Seokjin or maybe the both of them or just remain seated until everyone has filed out of the auditorium so no human being is able to bear witness to Namjoon struggling to find his composure. He's trying his best to not think about the way Jeongguk’s tanned legs look like in a skirt, but when he looks up and all he sees is those said legs, he feels his heart jump into his throat as he makes eye contact with Jeongguk.

“I was wondering where you were,” Jeongguk says shyly, quite literally toeing at the ground with his hands clutched loosely together behind his back.

Namjoon stands up fast enough to feel vertigo and almost stumbles forward, but Jeongguk catches him and sets him back upright. Both men’s hearts are beating a mile a minute in their chests as they stand before the other. Namjoon isn't really sure what he should say to the younger, but he has to say something. Jeongguk is looking at him like the sun shines out of his ass and yeah, okay, so Namjoon knows that Jeongguk likes him, he isn't that dense, but he’s not really sure that Jeongguk would actually enjoy being with him.

A lot of Namjoon’s exes have said he was too standoffish, too intelligent, too well spoken, too independent, and when Namjoon finally made his transition, he suddenly became too weird. But Namjoon, he knows that he's worth more than what other people think or say about him, he knows that. It still doesn't mean that he can say he isn't hurt by the opinions people have about him though.

So Namjoon has trust issues, understandably so, but Jeongguk doesn't seem to quite get that. The younger fawns over him often and sometimes it makes Namjoon uncomfortable. Namjoon may really like Jeongguk, but he isn't ready for what Jeongguk may have in mind and Jeongguk doesn't quite grasp that, so now they play a game of hide and go seek where Namjoon usually hides more often than not.

But Jeongguk is nervous, and not the kind of nervous that he usually is around Namjoon. It's the “I might break down and throw a fit any second” kind of nervous. Namjoon thinks he might know why.

“Youー” Namjoon pauses to clear his throat before he tries to speak again. “You were great out there, Gukk-ah. This skirt really suits you.”

Jeongguk blushes and fuck, Namjoon is screwed with a capital S.

“Taehyung said the same thing. I didn't really think he was telling the truth though,” Jeongguk mumbles, his cheeks a blazing red and Namjoon really wants to kiss him all over his ridiculously adorable face.

“Gukk-ah, would hyung ever lie to you?” Namjoon tilts his head just so and gives Jeongguk the most dashing smile he can muster.

Jeongguk’s face only burns a brighter red and he shakes his head in response. Despite his better judgment, Namjoon can't help but take Jeongguk’s hand as he starts to lead them towards the side stage where he can see the top of Taehyung’s ridiculous high hat that he sported for the later part of the play. Jeongguk goes willingly, not really saying anything, and hand curled tight around Namjoon’s.

It's nice, the comfortable silences they tend to fall into whenever they're together. Namjoon knows that Jeongguk is a sweet kid, mostly inexperienced, incredibly intelligent, and generally quiet, but it's exactly why Namjoon is able to get along with the younger so well. Jeongguk swallows up everything Namjoon tells him without preamble and Namjoon would be worried if he wasn't also constantly forcing himself to not kiss Jeongguk.

Jeongguk in a skirt that contrasts so gorgeously with his legs is really as far as Namjoon’s limits can go. He's faring well though, much better than he thought, and much more better than Taehyung thought if the surprised look on the fashion designer’s face gave Namjoon any kind of hint.

Namjoon thinks Taehyung looks absolutely ridiculous in his steampunk get up, but the amused look on Jeongguk’s face when he sees Taehyung makes up for it.

“You're matching,” is the first thing Taehyung says when Namjoon and Jeongguk finally reach him.

Namjoon already knew this, but he still smiles when Jeongguk makes a small, surprised noise because the sound is unbearably cute. It's cute in a very non-romantic kind of way. Totally.

Taehyung is squinting at him when Namjoon meets his eye. Namjoon audibly gulps and feels his smile start to crumble under pressure.

“I guess we are,” Namjoon manages to say, his hand starting to feel sweaty in Jeongguk’s grasp.

He distantly thinks he should let go of the younger man’s hand. Friends don't hold hands for this long, they really don't. Yoongi had assured him on many occasions that friends don't do that. But Namjoon knows that if he pulls his hand away, then Jeongguk is going to become sulky and pouty and start making grabby hands at him and Namjoon is positively weak for that. So he just squeezes Jeongguk’s hand but doesn't make any move to let go.

Taehyung is still squinting at them and Namjoon feels himself break into a nervous sweat. Namjoon knows that look in Taehyung’s eye. It usually means he’s going to try and play matchmaker and Taehyung hasn’t been wrong about his matches yet. Namjoon is split down the middle with hoping that Taehyung might be wrong just this one time about Jeongguk and him, but then there’s also that other side of him that’s banking on Taehyung’s abilities to see the compatible connections between the people he sets up.

Taehyung looks like he’s going to say something, but Jeongguk is speaking before Taehyung can even let out a breath. “Are you still up for pizza right now, TaeTae-hyung?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung grunts, his eyes swiveling from Namjoon to Jeongguk and back. “Is Namjoon-hyung coming too?”

Namjoon can feel Jeongguk’s gaze on him and the light squeeze of his hand around his makes something spasm in Namjoon’s chest. He allows himself to stare at the younger man and he has to visibly restrain himself from kissing Jeongguk again. Jeongguk is biting on his bottom lip, the hand not intertwined with Namjoon’s fiddling with the pleats of the skirt he’s still wearing and all Namjoon wants to do is kiss him senseless. Kiss him until he’s never nervous again and doesn’t look at Namjoon with that hopeful glint in his eye. Namjoon’s nodding his head before his brain really filters what’s being asked of him, but the delighted smile that lights up Jeongguk’s face is definitely worth it.

“Great!” Taehyung exclaims, throwing an arm over Jeongguk’s shoulders, his trademark rectangular grin spread wide across his face. “Gukkie-ah, you should probably change.”

Jeongguk looks down at the skirt for a short span of time and Namjoon feels the need to say something, but Jeongguk is already smiling back up at the older men before he can.

“I think I’ll just go like this. You guys don’t...mind, right?”

The youngest man’s cheeks are a blazing red and he’s probably drawing blood from gnawing on his bottom lip and Namjoon really just wants to pick him up, kiss him all over, and tell him that of course he doesn’t mind, he would never mind, and Jeongguk is allowed to wear whatever his heart desires. But Namjoon doesn’t do that. Instead, he stares at Jeongguk like a fool and allows Taehyung to respond for the both of them instead.

“That’s fine with me, Jeonggukkie. If anyone says anything while we’re out, I’ll kick their ass, alright?”

Namjoon finally speaks up then. “Shouldn’t you be the one changing, Tae-ah?”

Taehyung stares at him affronted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” Namjoon trills.

The giggle that Jeongguk lets out in response absolutely breaks Namjoon’s heart.

He is smitten for this kid. He can’t deny it, not one bit. A blind person would be able to see that Namjoon is head over heels for Jeongguk and Namjoon, even with an IQ of 148, thinks he’s an idiot for trying so hard to keep his distance from the younger. It obviously didn’t work, not even a little, and it probably just made him like Jeongguk even more.

Kim Namjoon can admit he’s an idiot. He can also admit that he likes Jeon Jeongguk more than he should.

Jeongguk smiles up at him like the sun shines out of Namjoon’s ass and Namjoon knows he has it bad.

Namjoon pushes Jeongguk’s hair out of his face and lets the younger man lead the way out of the auditorium with a buzzing Taehyung who’s still wearing the ridiculous high hat right beside him. Jeongguk hesitates once they step outside and see that there are still people milling about, but Namjoon just squeezes his hand and waits for the younger man to start walking again before he follows dutifully after.

They’ve only just made it down the main steps when Seokjin flings himself at Namjoon.

“Hyung!” Namjoon whines, struggling to hold up the older bulkier man that always shows up just when Namjoon thinks things are going his way. “Get off!”

“No. I’m glad you made it though. You need to quit moping around and support your favorite hyung with every chance you get, Joonie,” Seokjin pouts, pulling himself closer to Namjoon and ruffling Jeongguk’s hair as he does. “Hey, Gukkie-ah. Where are you guys headed to?”

Namjoon really hopes that Jeongguk doesn’t answer Seokjin’s question. And if he does, then he really hopes that Jeongguk doesn’t let his bleeding heart convince him to invite Seokjin along with them. They’re co-stars and friends and all, but Namjoon really hopes that Jeongguk won’t let himself be so lenient, at least for the rest of the night.

“We’re getting pizza, hyung. Do you want to come with?” Jeongguk has a bright grin spread across his face and Namjoon wants to scream and fling himself off a cliff.

Seokjin, of course, accepts the offer and stays latched to Namjoon’s side for the entire walk. Namjoon doesn’t hate or even dislike Seokjin. They’re best friends actually, but Seokjin is a very a touchy person and Namjoon always notices when Jeongguk watches them interact just a little too closely, his eyes lingering on Seokjin’s arms slung around Namjoon’s neck. Namjoon really doesn’t want Jeongguk to start feeling less confident now that he’s out and about in a skirt. He knows how much that’s going to affect Jeongguk’s self-worth in the long run and Namjoon just hopes that Seokjin can keep his touching and hand-feeding to a minimum tonight.

Of course, that’s exactly what Seokjin doesn’t do.

Namjoon does his best to refute Seokjin’s offers of pizza slices and buffalo wings dipped in different sauces, he really does, but when Seokjin offers him a slice of his Hawaiian pizza, Namjoon can’t help but cave in. He leans in and takes a bite from the slice that Seokjin is holding out to him. He takes a bite and chews as the sweet tangy taste of pineapple and smoked ham explodes over his taste buds and he might have closed his eyes and breathed out something close to a moan. Maybe.

When he looks up to meet Jeongguk’s startled gaze, he knows he definitely did. He blushes and ducks his head, avoiding Taehyung’s penetrating gaze on him.

Seokjin pats him on the back with a pleased smile. “There’s my cute dongsaeng. Always eat well. Here! Take another bite.”

He’s holding the slice out to Namjoon again, but the irritated look on Taehyung’s face makes him shake his head and lean away from the elder. “Hyung, stop. I’m not a baby.”

Seokjin merely laughs that high windshield-wiper laugh of his and lets his free hand pinch Namjoon’s cheek. “You’re Seokjinnie’s baby.”

Taehyung makes a gagging noise and Namjoon pushes himself forcibly away from the eldest of their group. “Hyung, don’t refer to yourself in third person. We’ve talked about this before. People think you’re going loopy with old age.”

Seokjin slaps his arm just a bit more harshly than he should and pouts at the blonde-haired senior. “I’m not that old, shut up, Joonie.”

Namjoon laughs and makes the mistake of looking in Jeongguk’s direction as he does. Jeongguk looks like a kicked puppy and Namjoon feels something clog his throat. His laughter turns into choked gurgles and Taehyung leans over the table to clap a hand on Namjoon’s back way harder than what is necessary. Namjoon offhandedly thinks that Taehyung is taking this chance to release all his pent-up frustration that he has with the whole Jeongguk-crushing-on-Namjoon-and-Namjoon-acting-weird-about-it situation. Namjoon can’t really blame him. He knows that if he were in Taehyung’s position he would do the same thing to the object of his best friend’s affections.

Seokjin takes it upon himself to shoo Taehyung’s hand away from Namjoon’s back once Taehyung’s hand has taken to slapping him. He gives Taehyung a warning look and the fashion designer merely gives an innocent smile back from under his stupid hat then throws an arm over Jeongguk’s shoulders, but Namjoon still catches the blush that slowly creeps its way across Taehyung’s cheeks as he holds Seokjin’s gaze. Namjoon knows he has no right to, but he feels jealous when he notices how quickly Jeongguk relaxes under Taehyung’s touch. It’s no surprise though, ever since Jeongguk enrolled into the university, he and Taehyung had been attached at the hip, childhood best friends and whatnot. Of course, Jeongguk would be relaxed around Taehyung. Taehyung doesn’t make the younger feel nervous and jittery whenever they talk like Namjoon does.

Taehyung whispers something to Jeongguk, his gaze still on Seokjin and Namjoon has to put visible effort into looking away from Jeongguk to pierce Seokjin with his gaze instead. The elder is frowning at the young pair seated across from them and Namjoon has known Seokjin long enough to tell that the upward pull of his frown means he’s jealous. It’s the same frown Seokjin wore whenever Yoongi would come around to their dorm last year and demand that Namjoon spend time with him. It settled down once Yoongi started dating Jimin and, by extension, Hoseok, but Seokjin has never liked Namjoon in that kind of way before. Back then, Namjoon was still trying to get used to his new life as a man and Seokjin had been there for him through it all.

Namjoon can still remember the time that Seokjin fought two drunks when they tried to coerce the younger into an unwanted threesome. Seokjin had come out victorious from that fight and Namjoon had had to talk their way out of getting arrested before he got a cab and made sure he and Seokjin got home safely that night. Seokjin is sturdy and strong and Namjoon looks up to him. He’s Namjoon’s best friend and Namjoon knew him well enough to think that Seokjin might be crushing on Kim Taehyung, the elite, wanna-be fashion designer who only went to school because his parents had forced him to.

When Taehyung whispers something else into Jeongguk’s ear and the bright, childish giggle Jeongguk lets out meets Namjoon’s ears, Namjoon is absolutely certain that his best friend likes his crush’s best friend.

Namjoon tugs on Seokjin’s sleeve and offers him a buffalo wing silently. Seokjin takes it, gives him a soft smile, then bites into the wing without any kind of preamble at all. Namjoon laughs when Seokjin sets the wing down and there’s sauce covering his lips and chin. He hands the elder a napkin and laughs again when Seokjin mutters something about how Namjoon should’ve just cleaned his face himself.

When Namjoon turns back to grab another slice of pizza, Jeongguk is looking at him. Namjoon doesn’t know him well enough, he doesn’t know Jeongguk at all really, but Namjoon knows that there’s a jealous gleam in the younger man’s eye when he watches the exchange between Namjoon and his best friend. Namjoon gulps and holds his slice of pizza out towards Jeongguk.

“Say ah,” Namjoon murmurs, his voice low and throaty and Jeongguk’s pupils dilate and Namjoon is fucking screwed.

Jeongguk opens his mouth obediently and takes a bite out of the slice of pizza, twisting his face up once he starts chewing.

“Ew, pineapple,” the younger man whines.

Namjoon laughs. “Pineapple is good for you. Here, have the rest, Jeonggukkie.”

Jeongguk scrunches his nose at Namjoon’s words, but takes a few more bites out of the slice that Namjoon is holding out towards him before he groans about it tasting too gross to swallow. Taehyung makes some sly response about Jeongguk being able to swallow other things just fine and Jeongguk smacks his arm. Suddenly, Namjoon is thinking that maybe Jeongguk and Taehyung are so close because they’ve fooled around before.

He really hopes that isn’t the case when Jeongguk looks back at him with an adorable smile on his face. Namjoon finds himself leaning in, lips pursed, before he catches himself and settles himself back into his seat. Seokjin gives him a knowing look and pats him on the head before he reaches out to take the last buffalo wing. Taehyung complains about ‘Seokjinnie-hyung’ eating all of their food and Namjoon is pretty certain that Taehyung might just like Seokjin in return. He belatedly realizes that this is an impromptu double-date and is left jittery for the rest of their time spent together.

He forgets about being nervous when Jeongguk stands to pay for the bill and walks off to get into the line that’s queueing up right in front of the cash register at the front counter. Seokjin pulls out a few crumpled bills and lays them on the table as a tip before he stands to join Jeongguk in line. Namjoon moves to follow until Taehyung puts a hand on his arm and gently pushes him back into his seat.

Namjoon shouldn’t be confused, but he kind of is anyway when Taehyung leans forward on his elbows and gives Namjoon a shrewd look. He almost laughs when Taehyung’s hat falls to cover half his face.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Namjoon tries.

“Ha-ha. Funny,” Taehyung grumbles. “Listen, we need to talk.”

Namjoon snaps to attention. “About what?”

“You and Jeonggukkie.”

Namjoon stiffens then. “There’s nothing to talk about Tae.”

Taehyung shakes his head and looks over his shoulder where both of them can see Jeongguk and Seokjin eyeing them warily. “I know you like Gukk-ah. He likes you too, you know.”

Namjoon bites his bottom lip and blurts the first words he can think of in response. “Yeah? Well, I know you like Seokjinnie-hyung. He likes you as well.”

Taehyung laughs. “Good. I’ve been meaning to ask him out to dinner. Glad to know I won’t have to worry about his answer.”

Namjoon blinks. “Is it really that easy for you?”

“Yep. It should be that easy for you two as well.”

There’s a short silence before Taehyung sighs and gives Namjoon a concerned look. “Look, I know that your first few months after transitioning were tough and I know that your exes were pretty much scum, but please don’t let that affect what you can have with Jeongguk. He’s a really nice kid, albeit a bit antisocial and shy as hell, but he’s sweet and he’s very easy-going, Joon-hyung. Please, just give him a chance. He likes you a lot, more than you probably know. You could insult him and he’d still be willing to suck your face off.”

Namjoon laughs at the analogy and pats Taehyung’s shoulder. “Thanks. I don’t think that last one is a good thing exactly, but thank you.”

“No problem.” Taehyung nods his head and stands up. “Now let’s go to our men, they look like they’re going to storm over here. Plus, I promised Gukkie I would stay by his side until he took off the skirt. He’s paranoid.”

Namjoon stands up and opens his mouth to say something, but he jumps when Seokjin yells something out and punches a guy that Namjoon has never seen before while Jeongguk stands nearby, a watery look in his eyes and his hands curled so tightly into the pleats of his skirt that Namjoon thinks he’s never going to let them go. Taehyung dashes off towards the commotion, his hat askew, and easily takes Jeongguk’s hand as he pays their bill before he leads the younger man outside into the nice, cool air. Namjoon is left to deal with trying to get Seokjin off the stranger and ends up being elbowed in the face. He can feel the first drop of blood drip from his nose and Namjoon groans when someone kicks him in the chest then, right into his left boob, which is much more painful than normal thanks to how tightly his binder is on today. Seokjin is somehow by his side suddenly, a hand on Namjoon’s waist as he presses napkins that he got from who knows where to the younger man’s nose and leads them outside where Jeongguk and Taehyung wait with the manager of the place following them and telling them they aren’t allowed to come back again.

“Wouldn’t dream of eating in a place where men with fragile masculinities can’t handle seeing another dude in a skirt,” Seokjin spits out through his teeth, his body practically plastered to Namjoon’s by that point and Namjoon is starting to feel a bit suffocated.

Namjoon doesn’t like people being so into his personal space. Hugs are horrible for him and he avoids them often, but there’s Seokjin with his hand clenching on too tight to Namjoon’s waist and pressing the damp wad of napkins to his nose, his front side pressing into Namjoon’s back. Namjoon has his head tilted up and back so it ends up on Seokjin’s shoulder and then Jeongguk is suddenly in his line of vision. There’s tears in his eyes and his hand immediately replaces Seokjin’s on the wad of napkins until Namjoon is finally free from the elder’s grip on him. There’s a look of awe on Taehyung’s face and he barely notices that one of the employees is trying to press more napkins into his hands for Namjoon’s nose.

“Did you really punch that asshole in the face ‘cause he made fun of Gukkie’s skirt?” Taehyung asks as he hands the napkins off to Jeongguk.

Jeongguk is too busy pressing the new napkins to Namjoon’s nose to really pay attention to anything else, but then Namjoon’s hand is on his waist and there’s a small smile on his lips when Jeongguk looks into his face. Meanwhile, Seokjin is dusting off his shirt and sending worried glances in Namjoon’s direction before he looks back towards Taehyung.

“Yeah. It pissed me off.” Seokjin shrugs, like punching a stranger to defend the feelings of his best friend’s crush is an absolutely normal thing to do.

“Wow,” Taehyung sighs, his eyes shining with admiration as he throws his arms around Seokjin’s neck, his hat falling completely off, but Taehyung doesn’t care about that right now. “Wanna have dinner tomorrow?”

Seokjin laughs. “Took the words right out of my mouth.”

Taehyung grins and leans in, letting his lips brush briefly against the elder’s before he pulls them towards Namjoon and Jeongguk. Jeongguk is crying by this point and he keeps apologizing profusely to Namjoon who merely stands there, swaying a little, but saying nothing, the blood finally having stopped flowing. Seokjin detangles himself from Taehyung and wraps an arm around Namjoon’s shoulders.

“Hey, you alright?” Seokjin asks his best friend.

Namjoon sighs and closes his eyes, sagging against Seokjin’s side. “No. One of you kicked me in the chest and I’m swallowing my own blood.”

Seokjin, bless him doesn’t laugh and merely crouches down so he can hook his arm under Namjoon’s knees and pull him into this chest, carrying the younger, bloody man bridal style. “I’ll take you home, Joon-ah, don’t worry.”

“That’s the least you can do after you kicked me in the boob, hyung,” Namjoon murmurs, his voice frail and eyes closing of their own accord, the blood on his face stiffening.

Seokjin laughs and shakes his head with a fond look on his face before he looks back up at the younger men in front of him. “I’m gonna take him back to his apartment and set him up with an ice pack and aspirin. Sorry for ending the night like this.”

Taehyung nods his head and smiles, throwing an arm around Jeongguk’s waist and pulling him into his side. “It’s no biggie, hyung. Thanks for defending Jeonggukkie. Take Joonie-hyung home and please convince him that he and Jeongguk-ah are absolutely made for one another.”

“Tae!” Jeongguk sputters, tear tracks staining his face as he rips his eyes away from Namjoon to pin Taehyung with an accusing stare.

“I can hear you,” Namjoon whispers, his eyes still closed.

Jeongguk blushes and wipes at his eyes, unable to say anything. Seokjin only laughs again and leans in to give Taehyung a kiss on the cheek. “We’ll be off now. You have my number so just text me about the date tomorrow.”

“Okay. Bye, hyung!” Taehyung replies cheerily.

Jeongguk looks glum when he says, “Bye, hyung. Sorry about everything.”

Seokjin laughs. “It’s fine, Jeonggukkie. I’d do it again in a heartbeat, okay?”

Jeongguk nods and Seokjin shoots him a fond smile. “I know Namjoon-ah can seem really distant, but that’s only ‘cause he doesn’t want to get hurt again. Be patient with him, alright, Gukkie-ah?”

“Okay, hyung.”

“I can still hear you,” Namjoon speaks up then, a frown on his face and the blood spurting from his nose, now completely dry. “Take me home, hyung. My boob and my nose fucking hurt.”

“Shut up, you big baby.”

“Your big baby,” Namjoon mutters, hefting a sigh into Seokjin’s chest as the elder begins to walk away.

Namjoon isn’t sure if Jeongguk is still in hearing distance, but he doesn’t hesitate to yell out, “Jeongguk-ah! You looked cute in that skirt!”

Seokjin’s windshield wiper laugh meets his ears and Namjoon can distantly hear Taehyung whooping in the background, but that’s the last thing he remembers before he’s being laid on his bed, face now clean, and an ice pack wrapped in a clean rag being pressed to his throbbing nose. Namjoon isn’t sure when it happened, but Seokjin had pulled off the younger man’s shirt and his binder and pulled a hoodie on him before he settled in beside Namjoon on his bed and spooned him through the night.

Namjoon doesn’t say it, but Seokjin knows that he’s the only person Namjoon would let do that.

That night, Namjoon dreams of dark blue skirts and pretty pink blushes adorning a certain bunny-looking boy that makes his heart beat just a little faster than normal.

He wakes up to a bare chested Seokjin who’s dressed in a pair of Namjoon’s sweats as he makes breakfast in his kitchen. Namjoon smacks his butt as he walks past. Seokjin tsks at him in response.

  The next few days Namjoon has to listen to Seokjin gush over his new boyfriend.

He isn’t really annoyed though. Namjoon is happy that Seokjin is happy and Taehyung’s a good kid.

Still, Namjoon wouldn’t hesitate at all to kick Taehyung’s ass if he somehow hurt Namjoon’s best friend, but he knows that the possibility of that happening is unlikely.

Taehyung is too engrossed with the way Seokjin talks and speaks and the way his face scrunches up whenever he’s trying to with hold his laughter while telling a lame dad joke. It’s kind of cute, Namjoon thinks, how Taehyung is noticing such little things and claiming that he’s fallen in love with them. Namjoon just laughs though.

He doesn’t take Taehyung’s bold declarations of love to heart. It’s just Taehyung being Taehyung and Seokjin laughs and kisses Taehyung’s nose every time he says he’s in love.

It’s cute. It really is.

Except, now that Seokjin and Taehyung are together, all they do is pester Namjoon about getting together with Jeongguk. Namjoon is annoyed by that. He doesn’t have the time to deal with them playing cupid, he has a final to study for and he needs to meet Jeongguk in the library for their tutoring session in less than twenty minutes. So he collects his things, picks up his bag, and ducks out the doorway of Seokjin’s apartment with a rushed excuse of meeting Jeongguk. The pleased looks on their faces are a bit much, Namjoon thinks, but whatever gets them off his back.

Seokjin doesn’t live far from the university. He actually lives in the same apartment complex as Namjoon, but his apartment is on a floor lower than Namjoon’s own, so they see each other often.

Namjoon is breathing harder than usual by the time he steps onto campus, but he wastes no time at all to admire spring’s effect on campus life. He needs to be in the library in five minutes so he and Jeongguk can start their tutoring session. Jeongguk still needs work on getting his pronunciation right for his English class and Namjoon, as an English speaking person, was paired with Jeongguk in the first term.

Jeongguk is an honors student double majoring in theater and dance and minoring in photography and art. Namjoon doesn’t know how the younger man does it, but since Namjoon is a double major himself, he gets why Jeongguk might need a tutor. Jeongguk had skipped a few grades during primary school, same as Namjoon, but he was still just a kid most of the time. It was hard to believe that Jeongguk was only twenty when his face still had that round of youth to it.

Namjoon had been captivated by Jeongguk from the very first moment their eyes met.

Everything Jeongguk seemed to do had grabbed his attention and Namjoon knew he was treading in dangerous waters from the very beginning, so he’d told himself he wouldn’t get invested. He’d stay as far away from the younger as he could and he would not under any circumstances let himself dive head first into his feelings for Jeon Jeongguk.

Of course, that was unknowingly the first thing that he did.

Namjoon pushes that thought to the back of his mind as he finally reaches the library and spots Jeongguk leaning against the wall beside the door that leads to the library’s study rooms. He’s talking to a guy that Namjoon has never seen before, but he doesn’t think anything of it since nothing about Jeongguk’s posture says that the stranger is bothering him.

Jeongguk spots him and the smile that graces his lips could blind Namjoon. Namjoon feels his own lips pull into a small smile in return that quickly lowers into a frown when the guy Jeongguk is talking to takes a step towards Jeongguk and is suddenly too close for comfort. Namjoon sees the immediate change in Jeongguk’s body language and he can tell that the younger doesn’t really like the man being in his personal space and Namjoon is quick to step in between them, pulling on Jeongguk’s hand to lead him towards the study rooms.

The man follows them, a disgruntled look on his face at the sight of Namjoon, but he opens his mouth to speak anyway. Namjoon wishes that he hadn’t.

“Jeongguk, you never gave me an answer. Do you want to go out with me this Friday to the movies?” His voice is low and somewhat nasally and Namjoon decides then that he hates him.

Jeongguk looks like a deer caught in the headlights and his gaze keeps flicking from Namjoon to the man behind him. Namjoon stops in front of the door that leads to their scheduled study room but makes no move to open it. The stranger is still waiting for Jeongguk’s answer.

“You really want to go out with me?” Jeongguk asks, a confused expression on his face. “We’ve barely spoken at all, Yugyeom-ssi.”

The now named Yugyeom smirks and leans in towards Jeongguk again. Jeongguk goes still and Namjoon stiffens beside him before he pulls Jeongguk behind him.

“Listen, could you stop getting so close. It makes Jeonggukkie uncomfortable,” Namjoon murmurs, his gaze holding Yugyeom’s.

Yugyeom frowns at Namjoon and scoffs. “Who are you? His boyfriend?”

Namjoon can feel Jeongguk’s eyes on the back of his head and he knows that the younger is hoping for Namjoon to say yes, yes he is Jeongguk’s boyfriend. Namjoon knows that Jeongguk wants him to be and Namjoon thinks he wouldn’t really mind it, but Namjoon isn’t ready for a relationship. Ever since the night Jeongguk had worn a skirt, Namjoon and Jeongguk had both been made aware of each other’s feelings for the other, but neither have done anything to take a step forward. They haven’t brought up what Taehyung or Seokjin said either and instead have been tip-toeing around each other. This is Namjoon’s chance to take a step forward and really start something with Jeongguk, but he isn’t ready. All Namjoon can think about is every one of his last break ups and the reasons behind them. He doesn’t want to go through that again, no matter how much he may like Jeongguk. So he bites his lip and lets go of Jeongguk’s hand.

“No. I’m his tutor and his friend and I don’t appreciate you harassing him.”

Namjoon can feel Jeongguk visibly deflate beside him, but he doesn’t say anything to draw attention to it since Yugyeom is inspecting them so shrewdly.

“I don’t think it’s your place to decide how Jeongguk feels,” Yugyeom says, his frown still in place as he glares at Namjoon. “Anyways, Jeongguk, how about it?”

Jeongguk grips onto Namjoon’s arm as he steps forward and gives Yugyeom a shy smile. “I guess it would be okay.”

“Awesome. We’ll talk about it more tomorrow in class. See ya,” Yugyeom exclaims, a large smile on his face as he takes a few steps backwards before he turns and walks through the door that they came in from.

Namjoon gingerly pulls his arm out from Jeongguk’s grasp and turns to face the door to their study room again. On the whiteboard are their names with their time slot underneath. Namjoon can’t tear his eyes away from their names linked together with a single, small plus sign and he thinks that Jeongguk can’t either.

Kim Namjoon + Jeon Jeongguk 13:30-15:30

They’ve got two hours together. Namjoon doesn’t think he’s going to make it.

He opens the door anyways and lets Jeongguk pass by first before he steps through the door. Jeongguk is silent as he takes his usual seat at their usual table and Namjoon sits down warily across from him, which is different since Namjoon usually sits beside Jeongguk instead, but Namjoon needs the distance. They’re both unusually quiet and Namjoon doesn’t want to look the younger in the eye, but they have to get started on studying some time. So he lets out a deep breath and tilts his head upwards to meet Jeongguk’s gaze.

“So, have you been working on your pronunciation lately?” Namjoon asks and Jeongguk looks like a kicked puppy again.

“Uh, no. I’ve been a little busy,” Jeongguk murmurs.

Namjoon regrets it the instant it leaves his mouth, but he can’t keep his big mouth shut. “Oh? Too busy doing what? Wooing a certain boy named Yugyeom?”

It’s below the belt, Namjoon knows it is, but he’s insanely jealous and he knows he has no right to be. Jeongguk looks like he might cry and Namjoon thinks flinging himself off a cliff would be a good idea right about now.

“Hyung, why are you being like this?” Jeongguk still looks like he’s going to cry and Namjoon feels something spasm in his chest.

He shifts in his seat, his nipples chafing against his binder again and Namjoon wants to scream. “Gukk-ah, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Jeongguk is crying now, but the way he’s pitifully wiping at his eyes makes Namjoon rise from his seat and come around the table.

“I know you like me, hyung. I can see it on your face every time you look at me,” Jeongguk hiccups, tears still trickling down his face no matter how often he wipes at them. “If you didn’t want me to go out with Yugyeom-ssi, you could have just said so.”

Namjoon twists his hands in his lap and gives Jeongguk a sheepish grin. “Even if I do like you, Gukk-ah, it isn’t my place to tell you what to do. You’re allowed to date whoever you wantー”

“I want to date you, hyung,” Jeongguk sniffles, wiping at his nose before he pulls at Namjoon’s arm, drawing the elder closer. “Hyung, I really want to date you.”

“Why’d you say yes to that guy if you want to date me?” Namjoon knows he’s treading into dangerous waters again, but if he doesn’t go along with the flow, he’s going to drown in his feelings for Jeongguk and that might be even worse.

“You said it yourself. We’re just friends, hyung. I want to date you, but you don’t want to date me.” Jeongguk is crying again and Namjoon’s heart hurts.

Namjoon wants to deny what Jeongguk is saying, but he knows that’d be lying and Namjoon doesn’t want to lie. “Jeongguk-ah, I can’t tell you you’re wrong.”

Jeongguk’s tears have come to a standstill as he stares at Namjoon and suddenly his face is too close and Namjoon isn't sure how he's even able to breathe. Jeongguk’s nose is brushing against his and his vision has gone cross-eyed trying to keep Jeongguk in his line of sight. But the younger is too close and Namjoon can feel his hand on the back of his neck and his lips are a hairsbreadth away from Namjoon’s and Namjoon. Namjoon freaks out.

He pushes away from the tableーaway from Jeonggukーand is left staring up at the ceiling, suddenly on his back. Jeongguk leans over him and pulls Namjoon up, an unreadable look on his face. Namjoon knows he's just thrown their progress five steps backwards, but Jeongguk kissing him isn't something he's ready for in the slightest and he can't bear to have Jeongguk so close to him right now. Namjoon needs to get away, he needs time apart from the younger man who looks like he’s just had his heart trampled on. Namjoon knows that look well. He’s seen it too often in the mirror.

“Hyung, I-I’mー” Jeongguk starts.

But Namjoon is already up and grabbing his things. “I have to go.”

“What?”

“I have an important thing to go to that I completely forgot about. You'll be alright studying on your own, right?” Namjoon’s voice is gruff and hoarse as he speaks, but he's trying very hard not to let his panic show as he rushes towards the door.

Jeongguk doesn't say anything and Namjoon thinks he doesn't have to. The expression on his face says it all.

“Have fun on your date, Jeonggukkie,” Namjoon says as he steps through the door and closes it behind him.

He stares at the whiteboard on the door for a moment and erases his name with the sleeve of his shirt. He runs off before Jeongguk can follow him.

Seokjin and Taehyung are going to kill him.

  Taehyung refuses to talk to him for the rest of that week.

Namjoon’s surprised when Seokjin follows suit. He knows they're dating and all now, but still. Namjoon never thought that his best friend would side with his love interest over him.

But Namjoon knows that he's justified in doing so. Seokjin has finally grown tired of putting up with Namjoon’s moping and pining and then blatant disregard of his own happiness. It's been like this for so long and there’s a lot that Seokjin can put up with, but even Namjoon knows that the elder is at his limit now.

Still, even Yoongi thinks it's cruel when Seokjin and Taehyung talk about Jeongguk’s date with Yugyeom in front of Namjoon like he isn't even there.

“For a best friend, he isn't really acting like one,” Yoongi growls, his fingers burrowing into Hoseok’s hair as he lets his legs spread out and tangle with Hoseok’s.

Namjoon currently has his head in Jimin’s lap with his knees drawn up to his chest. Jimin is running his fingers through his hair and murmuring little things that only Namjoon can hear. Hoseok and Yoongi sit across from them, not huddled up together like they do with Jimin because Namjoon understands that they aren't technically together, but it's hard to think that when Hoseok blushes whenever Yoongi touches him.

Namjoon’s been feeling shitty ever since he woke up that morning and remembered that Jeongguk’s date was to take place that night. But he’s also feeling shitty for the usual reasons as well. He has a paper due Sunday night and he’s barely gathered his resources on it, but he knows he can’t work on it today. He feels too awful. It's why he came to Jimin’s apartment, to seek comfort from the only other person he knows understands the way Namjoon feels about his body sometimes. Jimin’s touch is soothing and his words of encouragement hold more weight than Seokjin’s usually do.

Jimin had transitioned in his final year of high school, back when he’d only been dating Hoseok. Hoseok was an amazing guy, still amazing really, and had even helped Jimin buy his first packer. Then Jimin had met Yoongi through Namjoon and they’d been tip toeing around each other until all three of them sat down and discussed the parameters of their relationship the year before. Hoseok and Yoongi agreed that they didn't really want to date each other, but they wouldn't mind dating Jimin. Namjoon thinks that they must really love Jimin if they're willing to put up with each other and the weird stares they always get whenever they go out together. But it's sweet and nice and Namjoon’s really glad that Jimin is happy.

Still, they have their off days and when Namjoon’s get particularly bad, he comes to Jimin. Yoongi and Hoseok know not to say anything and just let Jimin work his magic on Namjoon, but Namjoon always feels guilty about needing the help anyways.

“Why won't you just date him, Joon?” Hoseok asks and Namjoon closes his eyes with a heavy sigh.

He feels really shitty, the worst ever since he embraced who he really was and he really doesn't want to talk about Jeongguk right now. It's all he can think about though. Whether Jeongguk will actually go through with the date or not, what he'll wear, whether he'll break out that special cologne or not. Namjoon really hopes that he won't, but he knows he has no right to say or even think that. It's his own fault for being too cowardly and he was the one who ran away when Jeongguk tried to kiss him. It's his own fault. All his fault.

“Hobi-hyung, please don't bring him up right now,” Jimin whispers, his voice is soft and musical and Namjoon feels like crying.

He coughs and Yoongi throws a pillow at him. “If you start crying, I'm kicking you out.”

Namjoon blinks back his tears to stare at the elder and closes his eyes again when Jimin’s fingernails scratch at his scalp lightly. It's soothing and it takes Namjoon's mind off the nausea and disgust he's feeling.

“You're mean, hyung,” Namjoon murmurs.

Yoongi sniffs. “The only one being mean to you is yourself, Joon-ah.”

Namjoon sighs. “Please don't, hyung. Not right now. It's really bad, okay?”

Jimin shifts underneath him and taps Namjoon’s cheek. “How bad, Joonie-hyung?”

“The worst. This is the worst I've ever felt,” Namjoon whispers, his face pillowed by Jimin’s thigh.

Namjoon hears someone get up from the opposite couch and he opens his eyes to see that it's Hoseok making his way towards the kitchen. It may be his imagination, but Yoongi looks reluctant to see Hoseok leave his side and when Namjoon looks up to question Jimin, Jimin just gives him a knowing smile before he goes back to massaging Namjoon’s head.

“You know, hyung,” Jimin starts, a thoughtful tilt to his head as he looks down at Namjoon. “Maybe your feelings for Jeongguk are what's making today so bad for you.”

“Not you too, Jiminnie,” Namjoon groans and sits up, pulling the pillow that Yoongi threw at him into his arms to hold up to his chest. “Please, drop it.”

“Just hear me out,” Jimin says, his palms held out towards Namjoon. “It's never been this bad before, right? And you said that today was Jeongguk’s date with that Yug-guy or whatever his name was.”

“Yugyeom,” Namjoon murmurs glumly. “His name is Yugyeom.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Yeah, Yugyeom, whatever. That's not important right now.”

“Then what is? ‘Cause I don't get what point you're trying to prove, Jimin-ah.”

“Well, maybe you're just feeling even more depressed because you feel like you've messed things up with Jeongguk for good.”

“I still don't get it.”

Yoongi throws another pillow at him as Hoseok walks back into the living room, cups of tea in hand. He hands one to Jimin, then Namjoon and doubles back to the kitchen to grab the last two cups. Namjoon is definitely not imagining it when Hoseok whispers about making coffee for Yoongi instead of tea since the elder hates it and hands him his cup while Yoongi blushes fiercely and mumbles his thanks. Hoseok sits down beside him and instantly tangles their legs together like they were beforehand and Namjoon knows that they've finally swallowed their pride and are dating now too.

Jimin is giving him that knowing smile again when Namjoon looks back at him, but it's none of his business so Namjoon says nothing.

“I think what Jiminnie means is that your feelings for Jeongguk are being piled on top of your other usual feelings and that's why you feel so shitty right now,” Yoongi says, taking a sip of his coffee and giving an appreciative sigh as he does. He turns to Hoseok and murmurs, “This is great, by the way, SeokSeok.”

Yeah, they’re definitely fucking now.

Namjoon sighs and sips some of his tea. “It doesn't matter. Jeongguk already made a choice and he's going to go out with that guy tonight and him doing that has nothing to do with the way I'm feeling about my body right now.”

Jimin sets his cup down and takes Namjoon’s before placing it beside his own. He then pulls Namjoon’s hands into his own hands and turns so that his whole body is facing Namjoon's. Namjoon gulps and prepares himself for the lecture that Jimin is about to give him.

“That's not what I'm saying at all, Namjoonie-hyung. What I'm saying is that you feel so awful today because both your body dysphoria and your feelings for Jeonggukkie have combined. You're blaming yourself for this date happening and honestly, I blame you too, hyung.” Jimin’s voice is hard and unrelenting and Namjoon feels like crying again.

“Jimin-ah, I don't think that's helping,” Hoseok says quietly, his gaze fixed on Namjoon’s face and the tremble of his bottom lip. “You're gonna make him cry.”

Jimin tsks at Hoseok and waves a hand at him. “That's what I'm trying to do. Namjoon needs to cry this out so he can feel better and he needs to face the music about his feelings for Jeongguk. I'm tired of having the both of them come in here crying ‘cause Namjoon-hyung is too much of a pussy to just ask the kid out and get it over with.”

“That was so mean,” Yoongi breathes out before his gummy smile breaks out over his face. “I’m so proud.”

“Stop it, Jimin. You're going to make things worse for Namjoonie,” Hoseok murmurs, a disapproving look on his face. “Look! You made him cry.”

It's true, Namjoon is crying, but it's long overdue and he's already cried twice today so crying some more isn't really a big deal for Namjoon anymore. He knows Jimin is right and he knows that Hoseok is just trying to spare his feelings, but Namjoon’s feelings are all over the place and he isn't even sure what he wants to do anymore. Jimin sighs and pulls a few tissues out from the tissue box on the coffee table and dabs at Namjoon's face with them.

“I'm sorry, hyung. You know I don't like it when people cry, but I'm really really tired of this thing between you and Jeongguk-ah. He's gone searching for me five times this week, always crying about you running away from him when he tried to kiss you and how you probably hate him and some other nonsense. And now you've come over today moping about Jeongguk’s date and I'm sick of it. Either get your shit together and pursue Jeongguk or forget about it and cut off all ties with him,” Jimin exclaims, angrier than Namjoon's ever seen him, but then his voice and his face soften and Namjoon just can't stop his tears from falling. “I'm sorry, hyung, but I'm tired of seeing you two hurting so much over this.”

Hoseok is beside Namjoon then, a comforting hand on his back. “I know Jimin-ah is being harsh, but we're all worried. You've liked Jeongguk for so long and you've done nothing to make him yours. We're concerned that you're letting your past relationships affect your chances with Jeongguk and none of us want to see it when you finally crash and burn. You're nearing your breaking point already, Joonie.”

“Yeah, what they said,” Yoongi mutters as he wiggles his way onto Namjoon’s lap before he starts wiping the younger man’s tears away for him. “Namjoon-ah, you deserve to be happy and none of your asshole exes cared enough to prove that to you, but Jeongguk-ah can. You just have to let him.”

Namjoon sniffles and buries his face into Yoongi’s hair and let's the three of them comfort him until Jimin is pushing a box of his favorite takeout into his hands and swaddling him in a blanket as they settle down for a movie. Jimin lets Namjoon sit between him and his boyfriends and Namjoon eats as much as his stomach will let him before he nestles himself into Jimin’s side and lets his gaze focus on the television instead of Yoongi and Hoseok who are definitely making out beside him.

Yoongi catches the smirk that Namjoon gives them and frowns at him before asking, “What?”

Namjoon only smiles wider and shakes his head. “Nothing. I'm just happy you finally let Hoseok into your heart, hyung. It was weird watching you guys get jealous over Jimin.”

Yoongi blushes and mutters something Namjoon can't make out. Then Hoseok is patting his cheek and smiling softly. “You should let someone into your own heart sometime, Namjoon. It's scary as hell, but it's nice and it makes you feel all warm inside and out.”

Namjoon stares at Hoseok for a little while before he nods his head slowly and finishes watching the rest of the movie. Once it's over, Jimin kisses him on the cheek and offers to make Yoongi give him a ride home, but Namjoon’s apartment isn't far and the sun is barely starting to set so he should be fine. Hoseok kisses his other cheek and gives him the leftover takeout before he runs off into the kitchen again. Yoongi mutters about not needing to be coerced into driving Namjoon home because he was going to offer anyways and blushes when Jimin pats his cheek in consolation before leaving to join Hoseok in the kitchen. Yoongi looks at his socked feet for a few seconds then goes on tiptoe and kisses Namjoon’s nose unexpectedly.

“Don't let your past fuck up your future, Joon-ah, please? I don't like you being by yourself,” Yoongi murmurs, his voice the softest Namjoon has ever heard it.

Namjoon smiles and nuzzles his nose into Yoongi’s hair. “Okay, hyung.”

Yoongi hugs him briefly and offers to walk with him up to the front gate of the apartment complex, but Namjoon tells him it's okay and gives the elder a kiss on his forehead before he bids farewell. Yoongi watches him walk down the hall and take the main steps down until he's in the courtyard. Namjoon waves as he reaches the front gate and isn't surprised to see Yoongi flanked by Jimin and Hoseok as they wave goodbye back. Namjoon grins and steps onto the sidewalk, letting the gate close behind him with a loud clang.

Namjoon’s walk home doesn't take long and he spends a lot of time looking at the spring flowers that adorn a few front gardens and shop windows. Namjoon distantly thinks that he's in the spring of his own life right now and should embrace new things, but he's scared and he doesn't want to get hurt again. Jeongguk is a really sweet kid and Namjoon likes him a lot, more than he's liked any of his exes, but whenever he thinks about being in a relationship with him, all he feels is crippling fear.

He's scared of being hurt. He's scared of being left again. No one he's been with has ever wanted to stay and while Jeongguk likes him back, Namjoon knows that it's just Jeongguk’s young mindset that’s keeping him from thinking of the future. Jeongguk certainly isn't ready for commitment, but it's what Namjoon wants. It's what he's always wanted and no one has been willing to stay long enough to give it to him.

Namjoon makes it home without any preamble at all. He’s barely walked past Seokjin’s door before it's being opened and Seokjin is standing there with his arms crossed over his chest and a wary look on his face as he notices Namjoon’s red-rimmed eyes.

“What happened?” Namjoon gives out a sigh when he realizes that the elder is worried.

“Nothing. I was over at Jimin’s today is all,” Namjoon murmurs, his fingers clenching tightly around the food Hoseok gave him before he left.

Seokjin takes in his appearance. The dumpy dark gray sweatshirt Namjoon wears when it's one of those days, the dirty washed out converse, the black jeans that leave nothing up to the imagination, and the tired look on Namjoon’s face before Seokjin is drawing him into a hug. Namjoon doesn't cry, but he feels like he might again because Seokjin hasn't spoken to him in a week and now he's in his arms and he can feel his chest against his own and Namjoon has missed his best friend.

“I'm so sorry, Joon-ah,” Seokjin whispers.

Namjoon pats his back. “It's okay.”

For the first time in a while, Namjoon doesn't think he's lying when he says those words.

  After Seokjin treated him to a home cooked dinner and some gross beer, Namjoon makes his way up the stairs to his own apartment.

He unlocks the door, takes off his shoes and closes the door behind him as he flicks the lights on.

“I'm home!” He calls out to no one in particular.

He should work on his paper, it isn’t going to write itself. But he decides that he can’t concentrate enough to even look at it. So he sighs and stretches his arms above his head.

Then he shoves his leftovers into the fridge, takes a nice, warm shower and looks at his naked body in the mirror. His hands skim across his chest, disappointed to still feel a softness there that he doesn't want to feel again, but he can admit that his chest looks flatter and his hips aren't as noticeable as before.

Namjoon is pleased to see that he's less curvy than he was a year ago.

He dresses in boxers and a white undershirt then throws himself into bed where he falls asleep.

He wakes up to soft knocking on his door that he isn't sure he really heard. He might have just imagined it, but then the sound rings out again and Namjoon grunts as he reluctantly gets out of bed.

Namjoon doesn't remember about his choice of clothing until he opens the door to a crying Jeongguk clad in a pretty black skirt and a tight shirt with a collar that dips downwards in a severe V to show off his clavicle. Suddenly, Namjoon is very aware of the fact that his shirt is very, very see-through and there's a reason why Jeongguk is trying hard not to look at his chest.

“Jeongguk-ah? What's wrong?” Namjoon asks, his arms not so subtly coming up to cover his chest.

“Hy-hyung, can I come i-in, please?” Jeongguk cries, wiping at his eyes to try and stop his crying.

Namjoon wordlessly steps away from the door and lets the younger man in. “Uh, give me a moment to put something on.”

Jeongguk nods his head and takes off his shoes politely before he sits down on Namjoon’s couch, staring at nothing and still crying. Namjoon closes his door, pushes the tissue box towards the younger as he passes by the couch, then rushes into his room to pull on a hoodie. He's back in the living room where Jeongguk is still crying and Namjoon’s not really sure what to do.

“Do you want some tea or coffee?” Namjoon asks, his voice low and soft.

Jeongguk looks up at him and mumbles, “Can I h-have milk instead?”

“Of course. Warm or cold?”

“W-warm.”

Namjoon nods and walks into his kitchen. He doesn't really spend a lot of time in here considering he can't cook for jack shit, but he can make tea and coffee and he can definitely heat up some fucking milk.

He can still hear Jeongguk crying, but he pushes that to the back of his head as he sets to work on the milk and making some tea for himself. He knows his hair must look like a birds nest so he uses the back of a spoon as a mirror while he tries to tame the rebellious blonde locks. He uses the same spoon to mix honey into his tea before he carefully makes his way back into the living room and hands Jeongguk his cup of milk. Namjoon sits as far as possible on the tiny couch as he can and tries to figure out what he should say as Jeongguk continues to cry and takes shallow sips of his milk.

“Do you, uh,” Namjoon starts, then clears his throat once he realizes how gruff his voice sounds. “Do you wanna tell me what happened?”

Jeongguk sets his cup down and Namjoon figures he should do the same. “Do y-you promise not to t-tell Tae?”

Namjoon feels his brow furrow and he turns so he's facing Jeongguk all the way. “Depends. If it's something I think Taehyung should know, then I’ll tell him, but that all depends on what it is. So tell me, what happened Jeonggukkie? Weren't you supposed to be on your date right now?”

Jeongguk takes a deep breath and stares at his hands. “Yugyeom made f-fun of my skirt.”

Namjoon feels a heated coil of anger begin to rise in his stomach. “He did what?”

“We were g-gonna go midnight b-bowling. I agreed ‘cause I didn't really c-care where we went as long as I-I got it over with. I showed up early where we were supposed to m-meet and when he finally showed up, he s-started telling me that I shouldn't have worn the skirt, that it w-was weird for guys to wear s-skirts and it's gross and he doesn't w-wanna be seen with a t-tranny,” Jeongguk manages to say.

Namjoon bolts to his feet and stomps to his bedroom to pull on socks and some sweats. When he steps into the living room again, Jeongguk is watching him with wide, teary eyes. He doesn't say anything until Namjoon is shoving his feet into his shoes.

“Where are you g-going?”

“To beat the shit out of that asshole,” Namjoon spits through his teeth as he finally get his second shoe on.

“No, you're not.”

Namjoon stills and turns to look at the younger boy who’s still crying and who looks absolutely gorgeous in the skirt he wears and Namjoon really wants to just fucking kiss him.

“Why the hell not? He deserves it!”

Jeongguk makes his away around the couch and lays his hand on Namjoon’s forearm before he starts pulling the elder back into the living room. Namjoon should kick off his shoes, but he's afraid he’ll fall if he tries to do that while Jeongguk is leading him back towards the couch.

“He may deserve it, but if I wanted his ass kicked, I would've gone to Taehyung’s.”

Namjoon stills and Jeongguk comes to a stop beside him.

“Why are you here then?” Namjoon feels like it isn't him who’s speaking right now, but it's definitely his mouth that's moving as he forms the words.

Jeongguk is staring at him like the sun shines out of his ass and Namjoon is screwed.

“Because I'm not making the same mistake twice. I know you like me, hyung, and I know why you don't want to date, but can you at least let me try, please?” Jeongguk bites on his bottom lip and Namjoon very much wants to kiss him.

Namjoon is beyond confused and he doesn't know how Yugyeom being a total jackass to Jeongguk made the younger think he should try to fix things with Namjoon, but Namjoon knows he's in no position to refuse Jeongguk’s offer right now. He can still hear Jimin’s voice telling him to either get his shit together or forget about Jeongguk once and for all.

But Namjoon doesn't want to forget about Jeongguk at all. He doesn't want to forget about the tiny mole underneath Jeongguk’s bottom lip. He doesn't want to forget about the way the younger man’s hair curls around his ears when he lets it air dry because he’s in a rush. He doesn't want to forget how Jeongguk always bites on his bottom lip when he's nervous or when he thinks that he's asking for too much or when he's just shy. He doesn't want to forget about the gleam that forms in his eyes when he gets competitive. He doesn't want to forget the feeling of his hand in his, the sound of his voice. He doesn't want to forget how he sounds like when he sings, when he laughs, and when he slips into his natural Busan dialect. He doesn't want to forget about how Jeongguk looks like a bunny when he eats. And he definitely doesn't want to forget about the way it feels to have Jeongguk close, by his side, and in his arms.

Namjoon doesn't want to forget about Jeongguk.

So, Namjoon, he nods his head and lets Jeongguk pull him close until their chests are bumping against each other and their lips are a hairsbreadth away from one another. Namjoon lets his eyes flutter shut when Jeongguk's soft lips press against his own and he feels a hot flash of something rocket straight towards his groin. He lets Jeongguk lead them to his bedroom and kick off his shoes. Namjoon lets the younger push him into the mattress and straddle his waist and kiss him breathless. He lets his hands pull the younger closer until all he feels is Jeongguk pressed against him and then suddenly Namjoon is pulling his hoodie over his head and he’s guiding Jeongguk’s hands up his undershirt until they're cupping his chest. Namjoon lets the younger kiss him and fondle him, but he doesn't let them go any further than that.

Jeongguk doesn't push it. He knows that this is as far as Namjoon will go and he lets the elder tuck him into his bed with a few good night kisses before Namjoon throws himself onto his couch. Namjoon didn't expect for his day to end so eventfully, but he can't say that he regrets it really. He closes his eyes and lets sleep envelop him for the second time that night.

When he wakes up, he’s greeted by a mess of black hair and a warm body pressed against his on the couch. Namjoon smiles and kisses Jeongguk’s nose before he lets himself sleep for a little while more.

Jeongguk nestles into his chest and sighs into Namjoon’s neck and Namjoon’s really glad the younger didn't wear his special cologne for his date with Yugyeom last night.

  Jeongguk becomes clingy after that.

Namjoon wouldn't mind it if he also wasn't a person who needed their space from to time to time and Jeongguk was always in his space.

He really likes the kid and he likes that they kiss and hold hands now and lay sprawled out across Namjoon’s living room studying and working on homework, but Namjoon needs space. Jeongguk can’t always be wrapped up in his arms and in his apartment and sleeping in his bed with him. It's nice having someone to keep him company when he's at home in his tiny one roomed apartment, but it's terrifyingly domestic seeing Jeongguk in his kitchen more often than Seokjin.

Jeongguk even has overnight clothes in Namjoon’s drawers now. Despite the fact that Namjoon isn’t one hundred percent happy about all the time they spend together, he still washes Jeongguk’s clothes come laundry day.

They aren’t even dating. Not officially, but it's not like Taehyung cares. He's just happy to see his best friend and his boyfriend’s best friend finally happy. Jimin tells Namjoon not to screw it up, but even Yoongi is concerned about how much of his time is spent with Jeongguk. Yoongi understands about Namjoon needing his space, he gets the same way most days and usually locks himself up in the studio until Jimin or Hoseok drag him out, but Namjoon has never had to worry about that. His apartment has always been his place and his alone. Namjoon needing his space is the only reason he and Seokjin don't live together anymore, even though they live in the same apartment complex.

But Jeongguk is always in his space and Namjoon feels like screaming.

Jeongguk asking for a key to his place is when Namjoon finally puts his foot down.

“Gukkie-ah, don't you think we're spending too much time together?” Namjoon is going for the gentle approach, but Jeongguk is overly sensitive so Namjoon has to pick his words carefully.

Jeongguk’s excited grin falls into a pout and Namjoon wants to kiss him until he’s giggling. “What do you mean, hyung?”

“I mean, when’s the last time you hung out with your friends? With Taehyung?”

“Hyung, we saw him yesterday, with Seokjin-hyung when we went out to eat at that diner,” Jeongguk says and tilts his head like he’s confused about why Namjoon is asking him this.

Namjoon sighs and shakes his head. Jeongguk’s resorting to the dreaded “we” now and Namjoon feels his fingertips start to tingle. “When was the last time you hung out with Taehyung, just the two of you, Jeonggukkie?”

“Three weeks ago.”

Namjoon gasps dramatically, aiming for scandalized and probably only reaching comedic. “No wonder Taehyung has been giving me dirty looks. He thinks I'm stealing his best friend and keeping him all to myself.”

Namjoon pulls Jeongguk into his arms and tries to cackle, but ends up choking instead and Jeongguk has to pat his back in between his giggles.

“Hyung! Tae doesn't think that. Are you kidding? He practically moved in with Seokjin-hyung already and they've been dating a month. When's the last time you saw Jin-hyung, just the two of you?” Jeongguk asks, an amused look on his face.

“Five weeks ago,” Namjoon says sheepishly and then a thought strikes him. “Actually, Seokjinnie-hyung wanted me to go to the movies with him this weekend. Said he misses me terribly and hates not being able to see me when he wants anymore.”

Jeongguk nibbles on his bottom lip as he looks up into Namjoon’s face. “He said that?”

Namjoon nods. “Mhhm.”

“I guess I have been keeping you all to myself recently, but it's just thatー” Jeongguk pauses and only continues when Namjoon coaxes him into talking again. “I’m not used to having things to myself. I've always had to share and I-I really like you, hyung, and I didn't think that anybody would m-mind if I took up most of your time.”

Namjoon feels guilty now and undoubtedly so since he kind of just lied to Jeongguk, but Namjoon really needs one night away from him to clear his head and get himself into gear. He needs to think about whether they should make things official or not, but Namjoon needs to think about that away from Jeongguk. Whenever they're together, Namjoon is drunk off the smell, the look, and the feeling of Jeongguk in his arms. Then he goes insane over the fact that all his stuff is being touched by Jeongguk and nothing he owns is sacred anymore, even the packer he never uses. Jeongguk had put that on his head and chased Namjoon around his apartment asking for a kiss until Namjoon tripped on the couch and Jeongguk had to ice his ankle with the damn packer still on his fucking head.

Namjoon needs a clear head if he's going to take a step forward with Jeongguk.

Namjoon kisses the younger, long and sweet and his blood is thrumming in his veins when Jeongguk kisses him back.

When they break apart, Namjoon keeps his eyes closed and lets their noses bump against one another. “Sorry, Gukkie-ah. But I do kind of need this night with hyung. I wanna think about certain things with you not around ‘cause you drive me insane and it's hard to think whenever I have you like this.”

Jeongguk pecks his lips and nuzzles his nose into Namjoon’s cheek. “What is it that you need to think about hyung?”

Namjoon smiles and Jeongguk pokes one of his dimples. “That's for me to know and you to find out.”

The younger man pouts and Namjoon laughs before kissing him again. “That's not fair, hyung.”

“Don't worry, baby.” Namjoon doesn't realize what he just said until Jeongguk is looking at him wide-eyed and in awe.

“What?”

Jeongguk shakes his head. “You called me baby.”

Namjoon freezes. “Did I?”

“Yeah.”

“D-do you mind if I call you baby?” Namjoon asks.

Jeongguk smiles and draws Namjoon closer into his embrace. “No. I like it.”

Namjoon lets out a breath in relief and laughs again. “That's ‘cause you are a baby.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“You're mean, hyung.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Baby,” Namjoon huffs.

Jeongguk just giggles and kisses Namjoon before he walks off into the elder’s kitchen. “Your baby.”

Namjoon doesn't say anything.

  Seokjin readily agrees to the impromptu movie date with Namjoon for that Friday and that makes it easier for Namjoon to breathe whenever he and Jeongguk are together.

Jeongguk cuts back on his time spent with Namjoon though and Namjoon is glad that the younger is giving him some much needed space. Still, whenever Jeongguk isn’t around, he gets a bit antsy and starts twisting the ends of his hair in his fingers.

Namjoon knows he's gotten attached, but Jeongguk is just as attached if the constant Kakao messages from Taehyung about Jeongguk not shutting up about him are anything to go by. It might be a little unhealthy the way they tend to gravitate towards one another, but Namjoon has been waiting really long to have the younger in his arms. He needs his space, he really does, but he’s starting to not mind having Jeongguk around. It's comforting and Jeongguk is nice and he’s warm.

Namjoon thinks he might love him.

It doesn't stop him from knocking on Seokjin's door that Friday night at 20:30 on the dot. Seokjin answers and gives Namjoon a hug that's a bit longer than usual since they haven't been alone together ever since the night of Jeongguk’s date with Yugyeom. Namjoon pats the elder’s back then coughs awkwardly and Seokjin lets him go, his face a bit pink. They walk down the steps and into the garage where Seokjin’s car waits for them.

Seokjin, ever the gentleman, opens Namjoon’s door for him and Namjoon slips inside the car. The elder is quickly buckling his seatbelt in the driver’s side and Namjoon waits silently for Seokjin to start the car, his seatbelt already buckled.

Then they're off and Namjoon laughs when Seokjin smashes his hand on his console to change the radio station since a song he hates came on.

“Shut up,” Seokjin mutters under his breath, his eyes on the road now that the light has turned green.

Namjoon can only laugh louder as he sings off-tune to the rock song Seokjin put on. Seokjin has a small smile on his lips as he drives and Namjoon rolls his window down to let the wind blow through his hair. Seokjin grumbles about his hair being ruined, but Namjoon just laughs again and ruffles the elder’s hair. Seokjin shoots him a disapproving stare until he’s pulling into the movie theatre’s parking lot.

They park and Namjoon links his arm with Seokjin’s as they walk down the steps and make it towards the main exit of the parking lot. Seokjin pauses to stare at his hair in the window of a bar and Namjoon laughs as he helps the elder fix his hair.

“Brat,” Seokjin murmurs before he pulls Namjoon into his side as they walk under the bright marquee displaying the newest movies being shown at the movie theatre.

Namjoon wiggles beside him, not really minding that Seokjin has a hand on his waist since this is their usual way of being together, but now that they both aren’t technically available, Namjoon thinks he should feel weird about the way they look like a couple right now. They’ve always been perceived as one though and Namjoon takes a deep breath and lets it go. Seokjin rubs his thumb into Namjoon’s hips like he can read his mind and he probably does have an idea about what’s on his mind, but he says nothing about it and Namjoon lets the elder lead him towards the short line to buy their tickets.

Seokjin shoves his hand into Namjoon’s back pocket and Namjoon opens his mouth to say something until he realizes that the elder is pulling his wallet out to pay for their tickets.

“That broke, hyung?” Namjoon asks.

“You invited me, so you’re paying,” Seokjin chuckles as he unwraps his arms from around Namjoon and takes out the necessary won he needs to pay for both their tickets.

Namjoon scoffs when Seokjin shoves his wallet back into Namjoon’s back pocket and wraps his arms around the younger again after getting their tickets. “Fine, but you’re paying for food.”

Seokjin grunts and awkwardly pushes Namjoon forward towards the doors. “I’m only buying it now. If you come in to get food during the middle of the movie, you have to pay for it yourself, Joonie.”

Namjoon laughs and pushes Seokjin until the elder is back at his side again instead of uncomfortably plastered to his back. Seokjin pouts and Namjoon pats his cheek before he gives the employee that waits just past the front doors a sheepish smile. Seokjin hands the girl their tickets and waits for her to tear off the stubs and hand them back before he herds Namjoon towards the concession stand. Namjoon lets Seokjin cling to him as they order their food, but tears the elder away from him once they’re being given their nachos and slurpees and salted pretzels with cheese. Seokjin mumbles something about having a sleepover with pizza after the movie’s over. Namjoon chuckles and gives the elder a maybe.

They’re a bit early for their movie, but that means they get first dibs on what seats they want. Namjoon leads the way up the steps to the topmost row of seats and plants himself right underneath the projector. Seokjin sits on his left and hands him his slurpee while Namjoon puts his pretzel in the elder’s lap. Namjoon laughs when Seokjin remembers they forgot to buy popcorn.

“We don’t need it, hyung,” Namjoon chuckles.

Seokjin lets out an overly-dramatic scandalized gasp as he stands up. “Popcorn is a vital factor to having a terrific movie experience. You’re not the dongsaeng I raised.”

Namjoon cackles and Seokjin leans over to press his lips to the younger’s hair. “I’ll be right back, Joonie.”

Namjoon blushes and watches Seokjin leave, barely taking notice of the person who slips into the movie theatre after Seokjin has left. They’re wearing a red hoodie that Namjoon thinks he’s seen before and they move quickly, taking a seat at the end of Namjoon’s row where Namjoon is, like, ninety-five percent sure that person isn’t able to see the trailers that are being shown. He forgets about it when Seokjin returns with a large tub of popcorn and a hand ruffling Namjoon’s hair as he sits down. Namjoon frowns at him and vainly tries to fix whatever damage Seokjin has done to his hair before he lets the elder feed him a tortilla chip lathered in cheese and chili. Namjoon gives him a sip of his slurpee and then he’s made aware of three girls who are sitting in front of them laughing as they turn in their seats to stare at Namjoon and Seokjin.

Seokjin tenses beside him and Namjoon doesn’t like the way the girls are looking at them.

“Just ignore them,” Namjoon whispers, his eyes on his food as he starts to tear his pretzel into tiny, bite-sized pieces.

He dips a piece into his cheese and holds it out for the elder to eat. Seokjin eyes it warily, gives the girls who are still staring at them a heated glare before he leans in and takes the piece of pretzel into his mouth. Namjoon coos appreciatively and wipes at the corner of Seokjin’s mouth with a napkin and Seokjin, despite the staring girls in front of them, smiles and wipes at Namjoon’s nose where chili from his nachos has ended up.

“Cute,” one girl says, practically sending them heart eyes and Namjoon, even in the near dark of the movie theatre can see that the back of Seokjin’s neck is turning red.

Namjoon coughs and thanks every deity out there for the lights finally turning off and the big screen becoming brighter, filled with flashing images that he doesn’t really pay attention to. Namjoon’s not quite sure why Seokjin picked out this movie to watch, but it’s dreadfully boring and halfway through he’s finished all his food. Seokjin gives him a pitying look and hands him a few won to buy a soda from the concession stand. Namjoon smiles and tells the elder to not waste telling him what he missed if he comes back.

He’s hyperaware of the fact that the hooded person is following him, but he chalks it down to coincidence. They may just have to go to the bathroom and when he gets into line, his suspicions are balked when the hooded person makes a beeline for the men’s restroom. Namjoon sighs, inexplicably relieved and orders his soda. He forgets about the hooded person and loiters about for a bit near the concession stand until he sits down on the bench that's in front of the restrooms.

Then Red Hoodie is stepping out of the bathroom and Namjoon almost drops his soda when he realizes it's Jeongguk. He's wearing a fake mustache, sunglasses, and a snapback on under his hoodie. Namjoon would laugh at how ridiculous he looks if he also wasn't just a tiny bit pissed off.

“Jeongguk-ah.” Namjoon’s voice is rough and there's a tenor to it that shows he's mad.

Jeongguk stills and reluctantly sits down with Namjoon on the bench when the elder pats the empty space beside him. Jeongguk sits on the far end of the bench and Namjoon sets his drink down so he can glare at him.

“What are you doing here?”

The younger takes his sunglasses off and pushes the hoodie back. Namjoon wants to be mad, he really does, but Jeongguk looks like a knock-off Mario and Namjoon finds it absolutely hilarious.

“Came to see the movie, hyung,” Jeongguk answers timidly.

Namjoon tilts his head to the side and stares at the younger man beside him. “Oh yeah? So you just happened to be here wearing that ridiculous disguise? Sure you're not spying on me and hyung, Jeongguk-ah?”

Jeongguk bites his lip and finally nods his head. “I'm sorry.”

“Why are you spying on us?”

“Becauseー” Jeongguk pauses and takes a deep breath. “Because I thought you two were on a date and the way you've been touching each other tonight only made me think that more. Why do you let hyung touch you like that, but you won't let me?”

Namjoon is definitely pissed. He doesn't have time for this kid’s overactive imagination and he one hundred percent does not have time for Jeongguk’s petty jealousy. Not now or ever. It's not “hot” having the younger be possessive enough to follow him and his best friend to the movies. It's disgusting and it's unhealthy.

“You had no right to follow us, Jeongguk-ah. Just because you're jealous doesn't give you any actual reason to do this. It's gross, Jeongguk-ah. Relationships are about trust and if you're going to get like this,” Namjoon waves a hand at the younger, pointing at his get up, “then I think we should break up.”

“Break up?” Jeongguk’s voice is low. “But w-we aren't even dating, hyung!”

Namjoon crosses his arms over his chest and glares. “And we never will if you keep this up.”

Jeongguk takes off his hat and runs a hand through his hair and over his face. “Hyung, I'm sorry. I was justー”

“You were just what, Jeonggukkie?”

“Scared,” Jeongguk whispers.

Namjoon sighs and holds his hand out for the younger to take. He doesn't like jealousy in a partner, he really doesn't, but he really likes Jeongguk and he knows that he’d really like to date him. If Jeongguk is going to be like this though, then Namjoon doesn't want to waste his time stuck in another unhealthy relationship. He should let the younger man know what he's doing is wrong though. It's wrong to do something this extreme when he's feeling jealous. Namjoon isn't an object, he's a person with a mind of his own and he has feelings. Jeongguk needs to know this.

“Jeongguk. It's wrong to do this. Do you understand that?” Namjoon waits for the younger to nod his head. “I'm not your property. I'm a human being with crazy emotions and I make my own decisions. You can't do this every time I go out somewhere with Seokjin-hyung, or maybe Jimin-ah, or even Tae! It's wrong and it's embarrassing and it makes me mad, Jeongguk-ah.”

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Jeongguk ducks his head and Namjoon thinks he might be crying again, but Namjoon isn’t going to let him off the hook so easily like that.

“Yeah, you’re gonna be sorry. I’m telling hyung and Tae-ah what you did.”

Namjoon uses his free hand to pull his phone out of his back pocket and starts scrolling through Kakao to find his conversation thread with the two men he just mentioned. Jeongguk says nothing and scoots a bit closer as he squeezes the elder’s hand.

“Hyung, I was scared, okay?” Jeongguk begins. “I’ve never dated before and the only times the people I’ve liked have seemed to like me back is when they wanted to use that against me to hurt me. High school was the worst. This one senior I thought was really cute kissed me in front of everybody during gym class then pulled my shorts and underwear down. Taehyung kicked his ass once he heard, but the possibility of Taehyung beating them up hasn’t stopped the other people who pretended to be interested in me.”

Namjoon feels sick now. He understands what Jeongguk means though. Every person he’s ever been with has been toxic for Namjoon and he guesses that he has that in common with the younger. The thought makes his heart churn and Namjoon wants to make sure that no one hurts Jeongguk ever again.

“I know people have been shitty to you in the past, trust me, I understand that much more than you think, but that doesn’t excuse what you did here, Jeongguk-ah,” Namjoon says, still trying to press his point with the younger.

Jeongguk scoots even closer and cups Namjoon’s hand with both of his. “I know it doesn’t hyung and I know you do, but I was scared. I really thought that you and Seokjin-hyung were on a date and I started thinking that maybe you both were just stringing me and TaeTae-hyung along for fun.”

Namjoon’s palm itches and he kind of feels like slapping Jeongguk for thinking so low of him and his best friend, but Namjoon understands, he really does. He’d done this exact thing to Seokjin on his first date with Taehyung and Seokjin had given him a long, long lecture about not thinking the worst about people. Taehyung was nice and he treated Seokjin like a king and Namjoon is still pretty ashamed about following them on their dinner date, but at the time he was just trying to protect his friend. Jeongguk followed them tonight because he was trying to protect his friend and his own heart. Namjoon sighs and pulls the younger closer until he’s sitting on his lap.

“I’m still mad at you, but I can forgive you. You have to promise you won’t do this again, Jeongguk-ah. It’s really unhealthy and I don’t want us to have a toxic relationship. I really like you and I want to be with you, but you have to trust me and my feelings for you. I wouldn’t let anybody kiss me you know,” Namjoon huffs, burying his nose into Jeongguk’s hair. “They have to be really special to me and I don’t like it when people touch me either. I want to make this work with you, but I can’t do that if you don’t trust me, alright?”

Jeongguk nods glumly and nestles himself into the elder’s chest. “Okay. I’m sorry, hyung, I really am. I promise not to do this again. Next time, we’ll talk about it like civilized adults. I was just scared.”

Namjoon laughs. “You have no reason to be scared, baby. I like you and you like me and that’s it. Put your trust in that.”

“Tell my brain that.”

“I’m telling you this, Jeonggukkie. I like you and I want us to date, but we need to talk about a few things.”

“Like what?” Jeongguk asks.

“About how much time we spend together. It’s reallyー” Namjoon bites his lip and pauses before he continues. “It’s really suffocating having you so close and in my space so often. It freaked me out at first, if I’m being honest. I’m a person who sometimes just needs to be alone so that I can function properly, but you were always around and it drove me crazy. Don’t take it as I don’t want you around, because I do want you near me, just not all the time.”

Jeongguk nods. “Yeah, I-I kinda figured, hyung. You’d get this panicky look in your eyes sometimes when I’d go to hug you or when you’d find me in your kitchen making food. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable. I promise to cut back on our time together.”

Namjoon kisses the top of his head and hugs the younger man tightly. “Thank you. I really appreciate it. And remember, if you’re worried about anything, you can talk to me and we can discuss it together. That’s what relationships are about.”

“Are you saying that you’re finally ready to date me, hyung?”

Namjoon tilts Jeongguk’s head up, pulls off the fake mustache that he still has on and kisses him. Their lips slot together softly and Namjoon kinda feels like his bigger lips drown Jeongguk’s smaller ones, but it’s fine. Jeongguk still makes his presence known by letting his hand trail up to cup Namjoon’s head and bring it down so he's closer to the younger and breathes out a tiny sigh when Namjoon’s hand grips his waist. The kiss is indescribably soft and Namjoon feels a haze begin to cloud his thoughts as Jeongguk continues to kiss him. Jeongguk is warm and pliant in his arms and Namjoon is suddenly aware of the younger man’s barely there erection pressing into his abdomen as he leans over Jeongguk. Namjoon’s mind flashes to the fact that he doesn’t own a strap-on that’s supposed to be used for sex and then he remembers that Taehyung took his measurements for new pants last week so he can just ask the fashion designer to share those with him tomorrow.

Jeongguk is the first to pull away and there’s a soft smile on his face that makes Namjoon’s heart beat rapidly in his chest.

“Hyung?”

“Hmm?” Namjoon hums.

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

“Okay.”

“Cool.”

“This doesn’t mean I’m not mad about what you did though,” Namjoon says.

Jeongguk smiles and nods. “I understand. I’d be upset as well. Despite that, thank you for agreeing to be my boyfriend.”

Namjoon laughs and kisses the younger again. They sit on the bench and wait for Seokjin to finish watching the movie and stand up together, hand-in-hand, when the elder steps out into the main lobby. He spots them and Namjoon is only slightly surprised to find Taehyung trailing after him.

“Yours came too, huh?” Seokjin asks as he nears them and lifts a brow in question.

Namjoon nods and grunts when the elder throws an arm around his shoulders and turns them so that they’re facing their boyfriends. “Whatever shall we do with them?”

“I don’t know about you, but a massage sounds really good right about now,” Namjoon murmurs wickedly and slips his arm around the elder’s waist as they start making their way towards the exit.

Seokjin laughs. “You read my mind.”

The two older men laugh when Jeongguk and Taehyung rush to open the doors for them and follow them dutifully outside.

“How’d you guys get here, anyway?” Seokjin asks as they walk towards the parking lot.

Taehyung shrugs. “A cab.”

“Then you can take a cab back,” Seokjin chuckles and waves goodbye as he leads Namjoon towards his car. “See you at my place!”

Namjoon waves at the two younger men with a smirk on his face, but he can tell that they aren’t going to complain. They’re both on thin ice and are being punished for following them tonight, so they are going to do as they’re told.

Seokjin cackles just a tiny bit too gleefully when they pull out from the parking lot and see Taehyung and Jeongguk struggling to get a cab. He shows mercy by pulling over and telling them to hop in before he changes his mind.

Namjoon rolls his window down and sings along off-key to the radio at the top of his lungs with Seokjin as they drive back home.

  His fingers are tingling a little and his knees shake. Namjoon feels like he might just vomit, but he needs to knock on this door and he needs to get his wits together.

Namjoon takes a deep breath and knocks.

Jeongguk opens the door almost immediately, as if he was waiting behind it for Namjoon to knock. He’s wearing a shimmery black dress and Namjoon feels his heart splutter in his chest. They’re going on their first official date and Namjoon feels like he might go insane if he has to look at Jeongguk in that dress all night.

“You look really, really cute,” Namjoon manages to say between his wheezing breaths.

He’s completely thrown off-guard when Jeongguk drags him inside and attacks his lips. The door is being kicked closed behind Namjoon as the younger leads him towards his bedroom and Namjoon is overly excited.

They haven’t been intimate yet, but Namjoon has been prepared for a few weeks now just in case. Except that everything he prepared is back at his place, not in Jeongguk’s dorm room. But before he can really say anything, they’re in Jeongguk’s room, the door locked and Namjoon awkwardly sprawled out on Jeongguk’s bed.

Jeongguk is straddling his lap then and his lips are persistent against Namjoon’s and the elder feels like he’s swimming. Jeongguk is soft and warm and Namjoon is drunk off the feel of him. He really wants to bed the younger, but this is the night of their first date and Namjoon is going to take Jeongguk out for dinner no matter what. So he grips onto the younger man’s wrists and rolls them over so he’s looming over the younger who’s now pinned to the mattress. They’re both breathing heavily and Namjoon swallows, his throat feeling dry as he tries to speak.

“Baby, we’re going to dinner,” Namjoon whispers.

Jeongguk pouts and easily wiggles out of Namjoon’s grip on his wrists. “But I want you, hyung.”

“I know, baby, trust me I know.” Namjoon doesn’t mean to roll his hips down on Jeongguk’s erection, but it kind of, just, happens and the moan Jeongguk makes spikes a hot flash of arousal through Namjoon. “But I promised you a proper date and that’s what we’re going to do.”

“But, hyungー” Jeongguk whines.

Namjoon kisses him softly and rises from the bed. “No buts. We’re going to dinner and then we’re going to go back to my place afterward.”

Jeongguk sits up on his elbow and quirks a brow up in question. “What will we do at your place?”

“Well, I bought a new strap-on, more lube, and a box of condoms with our names on them,” Namjoon says with a straight face as he fixes his shirt. “And maybe we’ll be able to try them out if you behave and let me take you out on a proper date, Jeonggukkie.”

The younger man’s pupils dilate and he nods his head fervently before he gets up from his bed and excitedly takes Namjoon’s hand. “Let’s go!”

Namjoon laughs and lets Jeongguk drag him towards the door where he has to stop and remind the younger that his semi is noticeable in the dress. Jeongguk blushes and Namjoon takes off his jacket so Jeongguk can hold it in front of him as they walk out into the dorm’s hallway and steadily make their way outside where Seokjin’s car awaits them. Seokjin let Namjoon borrow it for the night and is supposed to knock on the elder’s door as soon as they get to his place to return the keys. Namjoon isn’t sure he’ll get the chance to do that though since Taehyung is supposed to be over tonight and he knows that those two are loud when they get together. He shakes his head and pushes the thought away to open Jeongguk’s door for him and waits until his boyfriend is properly seated before he shuts his door. He quickly walks around to his side of the car and climbs in. Then they’re off and halfway through the ride, Jeongguk gives Namjoon his jacket back.

He doesn’t say anything, he does his best not to laugh, but Jeongguk still pouts once he catches sight of the amused smile on Namjoon’s face.

Neither of the two men say anything until they’re pulling into the restaurant’s parking lot and Namjoon is opening Jeongguk’s door. Jeongguk hesitates and Namjoon leans in to give the younger a peck on the lips.

“If anyone says anything, I will kick their ass. Don’t worry, baby. You look magnificent in that dress. Did Tae-ah make it for you?” Namjoon whispers.

Jeongguk smiles and takes the hand the elder gives him. He steps out of the car and Namjoon closes it behind him before he locks the sleek vehicle. Jeongguk stays close to Namjoon’s side as they walk towards the bright lights of the restaurant.

“Yeah, Tae said the material and shade really suited my skintone,” Jeongguk murmurs.

“Well, he wasn’t wrong,” Namjoon chuckles and then they’re inside and face-to-face with the maitre’d. “The Kims.”

Jeongguk is positively glowing by the time they’re led to their table near the back of the restaurant. Namjoon feels like he isn’t going to make it to dessert if Jeongguk doesn’t stop trying to play footsie with him under the table. Jeongguk just smirks and orders a dish that’s filled with phallic food and takes his time sucking on an array of things as they eat. Namjoon gulps and tries to focus on the fact that no one even looked twice when they saw Jeongguk in a dress.

Namjoon has asked before about whether Jeongguk may identify as a girl, but Jeongguk had told him that wasn’t the case at all. He just likes skirts and dresses and he likes being a boy too. Namjoon had nodded, he understood, and they hadn’t talked about it again. He has to admit, Jeongguk looks really, really handsome in his new dress as well so he tells the younger this and theyー

They end up skipping dessert.

  Jeongguk bounces as he flops onto Namjoon’s bed, the skirt of his dress is hiked up around his thighs and Namjoon’s shirt is unbuttoned as he climbs atop the younger.

Namjoon lets his lips press briefly against Jeongguk’s chapped ones before he’s taking off the rest of his shirt and slips out of his jeans as well. Jeongguk sits up to push Namjoon’s briefs off and looks up at the elder in question when he reaches for his binder. Namjoon nods and Jeongguk smiles before he peels it off the elder and lets his tongue stroke the pert, brown nipple of Namjoon’s right breast. Namjoon groans and brings the younger closer.

The mattress shifts under their weight as Jeongguk turns them over so that Namjoon’s head is resting on the pillows now. This is the first time that Namjoon has been naked in front of someone ever since he really became a man. This is also the first time that Namjoon has had sex in over two years.

There’s a feeling in his chest that engulfs him when Jeongguk stands to let the dress slide down his figure and Namjoon’s mouth is left watering. Jeongguk wears nothing underneath the shiny material and Namjoon isn’t sure how he didn’t notice that before.

Jeongguk’s naked body makes Namjoon’s mouth go dry. Namjoon is aware that the younger man exercises and weight lifts sometimes, when he has the time at least, but seeing the proof of it right in front of him makes Namjoon go weak in the knees. Jeongguk’s abdomen is toned and lined and all the elder can think about is licking it. Jeongguk’s body is lanky and muscular, but it's barely noticeable and Namjoon is a hundred percent certain that Jeongguk could pick him up and throw him clean across the room if he wanted to. Namjoon wants to mark up the V lines leading towards Jeongguk’s groin with tiny little love bites just to prove to anybody else who sees them that yes, Namjoon was there and Namjoon will be the only one there for a long time, thank you very much.

“Wow,” Namjoon lets out appreciatively.

Jeongguk smiles and slowly straddles Namjoon’s legs. “Wow yourself.”

And Namjoon, despite always being the one to be so collected, blushes like a schoolgirl and hides behind his hands. Jeongguk laughs and kisses his chin and forehead and whatever else he can reach before Namjoon is laughing too and his hands have fallen away from his face.

Their lips slot together with a strange squelching sound that Namjoon wants to laugh at, but is too busy drowning in his feelings for Jeongguk to really do so.

It scared him before. To let himself feel what he already knows. He likes Jeongguk more than he should, but it isn't one-sided and it's far from unbalanced. Jeongguk is right here with him. Not in front leading, or behind following Namjoon’s lead.

Jeongguk is beside him and over him and under him and all around.

They're matched and perfectly paired.

The realization makes it easier for Namjoon to let Jeongguk help him into the harness and put the strap-on correctly. The realization makes it easier for Namjoon to focus on Jeongguk and the telltale signs his body is giving while Namjoon pleasures him. The realization makes it easier for Namjoon to lay there on his bed, naked, and let Jeongguk stare as much as he wants without a hint of self-loathing marring Namjoon’s thoughts.

The realization makes it easier for Namjoon to accept that he's in love and he isn't scared anymore.

After Namjoon’s been buckled into his harness properly, Jeongguk suckles on the toy, keeping eye contact with Namjoon as he does. Namjoon doesn't exactly feel it when Jeongguk’s mouth sinks lower on the toy, but Namjoon does feel it in a strange way. It's the same way that someone is aware of when the soles on the bottom of their shoes are skimming across pavement or grass or sand or hard packed dirt and even gravel. It's the same way that someone is able to tell when their hair is caught on something or when they feel the slightest touch of a fingertip caress the tips of their strands. It isn't any different, Namjoon thinks, but the effect is. The effect is Namjoon left gaping as Jeongguk takes pleasure in deepthroating Namjoon’s strap-on.

He takes his time stretching Jeongguk open once the younger has let the strap-on slip from his mouth. Jeongguk doesn't complain. He merely whines and groans and bucks his hips downwards to meet the crook of Namjoon’s fingers scissoring him and pressing against the spot that makes Jeongguk keen the most. It's awkward doing it while Namjoon lies flat on his back, but Jeongguk is flexible enough for it to be doable. Jeongguk is fucking himself on three of Namjoon’s fingers and Namjoon doesn't think he's ever been this aroused before in his life.

“Hyung,” Jeongguk groans. “Hyung, Iー”

Namjoon stills his fingers and stares at the younger who’s still moving, still riding Namjoon’s digits. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

“I want you.”

“You have me,” Namjoon whispers.

When Jeongguk smiles, it's like the dawn has risen over a new day and Namjoon can’t quite catch his breath. There's a glowing flush spreading across Jeongguk’s cheeks too. Namjoon can only stare as the younger rolls a condom on him, slicks him up with a bit more lube and slowly lowers himself atop the toy.

Namjoon cries out when Jeongguk leans down and bites his nipple. It sends a rush of arousal and slight pain through his system and then he feels the pressure of the younger’s weight on his hips and he knows that Jeongguk is moving. Namjoon should help, he should put some effort into this as well, but all he can really do is wiggle underneath Jeongguk. Jeongguk’s face is a light pink and covered in a barely there sheen of sweat and Namjoon thinks he looks gorgeous.

“H-hyung.”

“Hm?” Namjoon hums.

Jeongguk bites his lip and Namjoon takes it upon himself to kiss the younger’s lip free. Jeongguk blushes and gyrates his hips back onto the toy, letting out a moan that sets Namjoon’s skin on fire.

“C-Can I eat you out once I come?”

Namjoon feels his heart stop beating. Jeongguk stares at him, his hips stilling once he catches sight of the look on the elder’s face.

“Hyung?”

“Yeah?” Namjoon hears himself speak.

“Did you hear me?”

“Uh huh.”

“Are you okay with it?”

“Yes,” Namjoon breathes.

Jeongguk bites his lip and starts to move his hips again. “Are you sure?”

“Hell yeah.”

Jeongguk sighs, relieved, and pulls his knees up so that his hands are clamping down on Namjoon’s thighs now. He bounces on the toy and Namjoon groans as Jeongguk’s weight lands on him.

“Oh, fuck,” Namjoon groans when Jeongguk picks up his rhythm and keens.

It comes as a shock to Namjoon when Jeongguk moans, “Hyung, your cock feels s-so good.”

Namjoon doesn’t realize that he’s pulling the younger man down to grip his neck and throw an arm over his back until Jeongguk cries out. Namjoon has him pinned to his chest as his hips begin to move and pick up speed. He vaguely feels Jeongguk’s fingernails running across his shoulders, but Namjoon is too focused on finding the younger man’s prostate to really care. He pulls Jeongguk up a bit by the knees and pushes his way into the younger harshly, smiling when Jeongguk curses above him.

He's found Jeongguk’s prostate.

There’s sweat beading on his face as Namjoon continues to push his hips into Jeongguk, but it’s worth it when Jeongguk murmurs, “I’m gonna come, hyung.”

Namjoon keeps his pace and slows when Jeongguk cries out again, tears forming in his eyes, as his orgasm blows over him at full force. Jeongguk spurts out hot, white liquid in between their chests and Namjoon does his best to milk the younger through his orgasm.

Before Namjoon can catch his breath, Jeongguk is unbuckling the strap-on and lowering himself until he’s at eye-level with Namjoon’s crotch.

“Jeongguk-ah, you don’tー” Namjoon begins.

“I know,” Jeongguk interrupts before he smiles up at Namjoon and kisses his inner thigh. “But I want to. It’s only fair that we both get off anyways. So can I, please?”

Namjoon returns the grin and nods his head. “Alright.”

That’s all it takes for Jeongguk to dive right in and run his tongue from Namjoon’s taint up to his clitoris. Namjoon’s hips buck and he groans out as the younger uses his tongue to circle around Namjoon’s clitoris with sharp little movements, doing his best to touch where Namjoon wants him to. Namjoon’s skin feels on fire and watching Jeongguk fuck himself on the toy had been arousing enough that he could feel the sharp pain of his arousal, but it’s touching how persistent Jeongguk is on pleasuring Namjoon as well. He’s never had a partner like Jeongguk before and he hopes that he’ll never have to find a new one as well.

Jeongguk isn’t as inexperienced as Namjoon thought. He uses the rough pads of his fingertips to stimulate the elder and lathes his tongue where Namjoon is sensitive the most, grabbing hold of the lube that Namjoon hands to him soon after. Namjoon is taken aback at how skilled Jeongguk is and Jeongguk smirks up at him with a gleam in his eyes as he dribbles lubricant into his palm and blows on it to heat it up before he runs his hands all over Namjoon to drive him even closer to his own oncoming orgasm.

“Mm,” Jeongguk hums once he presses the flat of his tongue to Namjoon's crotch again. “You taste amazing, hyung.”

Namjoon grips the younger’s hair and pulls him closer to his groin, his toes curling with pleasure as Jeongguk continues with his ministrations. He cries out and feels his hips begin to move to match Jeongguk’s movements, feeling as if he's going crazy, and pretty soon Namjoon's orgasm crashes over him like waves beating upon the shore.

It’s intense and it’s hot and Namjoon doesn’t really know what’s going on because Jeongguk is still toying at his folds where the elder is considerably dripping a bit with the lube from before.

Then it’s over and Jeongguk is slowly pushing them into the shower where they help each other clean up and Namjoon props himself against the shower wall because his knees are still shaking.

Jeongguk laughs and kisses him and Namjoon kisses him right back.

  By the time that Namjoon is graduating, he and Jeongguk have been together for almost four months.

Namjoon should probably be worrying about whether his relationship with the younger will last now that they don’t attend the same university anymore, but he doesn’t. Namjoon’s been offered a position as a teacher’s aide for the English department and after two years of experience, he can try aiming for a teaching position as a Linguistics professor. It’s rare for a student to be taken on so suddenly, Namjoon knows that, but he also knows that the school appreciates his work and is heavily considering his potential enough that they’re willing to forgo all the rigorous requirements he should have fulfilled before becoming a professor. Jeongguk congratulates Namjoon on his achievement and they go out to celebrate with the others.

Seokjin and Taehyung are attached at the hip, in the midst of the whirlwind of their relationship. Yoongi, Jimin, and Hoseok act like an old married couple. Jeongguk grips Namjoon’s knee underneath the table and Namjoon is really glad to have these people by his side.

Everyone is doing well. Seokjin is working on getting a loan for the theater he wants to open up downtown and Yoongi’s songs have been picked up by a record label so he now works as a songwriter and producer. Hoseok is already making plans for the dance studio he wants to open up once he graduates from the university next year and a year after that, Jimin will join him. Taehyung’s designs have been noticed by one of his role models and his parents are finally going to let him drop out of school so he can really chase his dreams. Taehyung assures them all that he’s going to take his classes online though so he can at least have his degree. And Jeongguk, he plans to join Seokjin’s theater and Hoseok’s dance studio once he graduates in two years time.

Namjoon is glad they all have good things going for them and that they all have a plan about what they’re going to do with their lives.

That joy seems to pale in comparison to the joy of Namjoon realizing that Jeongguk has been slowly moving in over their few months spent together.

Namjoon hadn’t realized that Jeongguk’s red toothbrush or his favorite brands of shampoos and conditioners are in the bathroom. He’d barely noticed that Jeongguk’s shoes seem to clutter up his front door or that some of Jeongguk’s favorite things to eat are hidden away behind foods that Namjoon would never even dream of touching in the cupboards, pantry, and fridge. There’s more of Jeongguk’s clothes in Namjoon’s drawers and his closet and Jeongguk even washes both their clothes once laundry day comes around. The sweet old lady that lives next door to Namjoon is on a first-name basis with Jeongguk and often bakes him cookies that are honestly not half-bad.

Jeongguk spends more time over at Namjoon’s place than he does at the apartment he and Taehyung always share over the holidays, that Namjoon just got used to it.

He got used to waking up beside the younger man most mornings, sometimes naked, but usually not. He got used to brushing his teeth alongside Jeongguk when they get ready for the day and when they get ready for bed. He got used to seeing Jeongguk in his kitchen and on the couch watching a movie and lying on his stomach on the floor as they play a board game, or when they slept on the floor three nights in a row because of finals, or when they’re both reading. It was just natural to Namjoon when he came home late one night and found Jeongguk already asleep in bed, a bit of drool slobbering down from the corner of his mouth.

Namjoon got used to Jeongguk being in his space. It didn’t feel wrong anymore and it didn’t make the elder feel suffocated either.

It’s easy for him to shove a copy of the key to the apartment into Jeongguk’s hand on one summer morning. Jeongguk doesn’t say a word. He merely smiles and gives Namjoon a peck on the cheek before he strings the key onto his Iron Man lanyard.

Namjoon smiles and holds him after that.

He holds Jeongguk close for a long, long time.

[artificialqueens]

Playing Cupid: Chapter 3 (Witney & Shalaska) – Rosie

A/N: I’m back on my bullshit!! Major apologies for the huge gap in updates with this fic that I truly adore, but life has been wild and gets in the way. My goal is to update both this and Extra Credit this month and dang it look at me go. Hope you love this chapter, if you do please send me love notes to here or aqrosie as they fuel me to keep going :))

Tonight on Playing Cupid: Get your kit on, we’re going to the baseball.

Story Summary: Overworked and underpaid, two personal assistants meet in an unsuspecting way. Bonding over their hatred for their ridiculous working conditions and cruel bosses, they hatch a plan to solve all their problems, discovering along the way that sometimes… love needs a little assistance.

Catch up here: Chapter One | Chapter Two

*

Willam collapsed backwards onto the soft sheets of her bed, the other woman’s lips immediately on hers as she climbed over Willam’s naked form. Their tongues lapped against each other as their thighs slotted together effortlessly. Willam’s breath hitched as she felt how hot their skin was, as if their desperate passion was radiating off of them.

The blonde above Willam threw her head back and whined as their bodies connected, the sound making Willam pulse. She slowly rolled her hips against Willam beneath her, drawing a long, low whine from the older woman.

However, Willam took her off guard, hooking a leg around her waist and swiftly rolling them to put herself on top, making the blonde gasp out of surprise and lust. Grabbing the headboard, Willam took control, picking up the pace as the blonde beneath her arched her back in pleasure.

Pressure coiled in Willam’s core, and only one name etched itself into her mind as she moaned in relief.

“Courtney.”

Willam opened her eyes, a sudden movement to her right jolting her awake.

“Good morning sleepy head.”

Flinching slightly, Willam tried to orientate herself. The bright light shining through her thin curtains told her it was the morning, not night. Instead of being naked, she was wearing her baggy pajama shirt. And the girl climbing on top of her wasn’t Courtney, Alaska’s personal assistant and Willam’s cupid-in-crime, but instead her girlfriend of six months, Rhea.

Willam squeezed her eyes shut as she drew her hands to her face, shaking the remnants of the dream out of her mind. Rhea giggled and purposefully let her wavy brown hair tickle Willam’s skin as she crawled on top of her.

I just had a sex dream about Courtney, Willam thought, the panic pulsing through her veins well and truly waking her up. She clenched, wanting to simultaneously get herself off and take a cold shower.

“What were you dreaming about?” Rhea asked, moving to kiss Willam good morning, not sensing the anxious energy from her girlfriend. “You had that little smirk on your face you always get when you dream.”

Willam wanted to disappear into the mattress.

“Yeah,” she replied coolly, smiling and pulling Rhea in for another kiss. “I was dreamin’ about you.”

Hooking her leg around them just like she did in her dream, Willam rolled their bodies and swallowed back the guilt, her hands on Rhea and her mind on Courtney.

*

“Willam!”

Whipping around at the sound of her name, Willam caught sight of a baseball player rushing towards her. Blinking, she realised it was Courtney, smiling ear to ear underneath an orange cap as she quickly moved through the crowds. She finally made her way over to Willam at their meet-up point of one of the lampposts outside the stadium. Willam wore a beautiful blue, almost satin-looking trench coat over a tight red dress, which matched her red lipstick perfectly.

“I didn’t know you were batting this afternoon,” Willam commented, lowering her pink tinted sunglasses and giving Courtney’s pinstriped New York Mets jersey, matching pants and vibrant orange cap a long, judgemental once over.

“I’m in disguise!” Courtney exclaimed, as if arriving head to toe in anything but the team’s official merchandise was a ridiculous choice. “At least I’m not wearing blue, you look like you’re rooting for Philly.”

“I am rooting for Philly, dummy. I’m from there.”

“Technicalities,” Courtney laughed, waving her off as Willam scoffed. “Let’s go. We need to be in position before they arrive, I don’t want to miss a moment.”

They weaved their way through the crowds and parted through the gates once they swiped their tickets, which were free after they had pulled a variety of strings. A thrill ran through Willam as they entered the stadium and saw the huge pitch.

This was another one of her ideas.

After Alaska had grown the balls to ask Sharon out for a drink, Sharon had agreed and asked for when Alaska was free. Except Alaska never replied, an onslaught of work completely distracting her from organising a proper date with Sharon – however Courtney believed she was just as nervous as Sharon was, as every time she encouraged Alaska to reply, she always conveniently escaped the conversation.    

Even though they were on each other’s radars, as soon as the flame had been lit, it had gone out just as fast. Courtney and Willam quickly realised their jobs were far from over, and with two hesitant bosses that had been out of the dating game for far too long, they knew they needed to throw them in the deep end for any substantial progress to be made.

This idea had popped into Willam’s mind a few nights ago when lying on the couch mindlessly channel surfing when she should have just gone to bed. She landed on the baseball and watched it without paying attention – until a moment caught her eye. Before she knew it she was plotting and scheming, getting in touch with even the most vague connections and excitedly texting Courtney the next stage of their grand plan.

“I know a girl,” Willam had quickly said to Courtney at work during the week. “Robbie Turner, she works at the stadium and can get us in, and she knows how everything works, says it should go off without a hitch.”

It’ll go off without a hitch, Willam told herself yet again.

“Here,” Courtney abruptly stopped walking up the stairs and pulled Willam from her thoughts. “This is our row, we’re 16 and 17.”

They sat down in the stadium, and while Willam checked her emails on her phone, a soft exclamation from Courtney took her by surprise.

“Wow,” Courtney breathed, admiring the grand spectacle of the scene around her. Their seats were incredibly high, right up in the cheap nosebleed section, but it gave them an astounding view of the entire pitch, the thousands of seats, and the excited crowds pouring in.

“It’s alright,” Willam replied, noticing nothing out of the ordinary.  

“I’ve never been to a baseball game before,” Courtney added.

“How?” Willam asked, remembering how her childhood was full of them.

“It’s not a huge sport in Australia,” Courtney shrugged. “We have cricket. Because of England. But people only really enjoy it because you can watching it for a week straight in Summer and drink the entire time.”

“Say no more,” Willam replied. “Did you actually bring binoculars like you said you would?”

“Yep,” Courtney smiled, pulling them out of her bag. “You said we wouldn’t need them, yet look how far away we are!”

“Shut up,” Willam smiled, nudging Courtney slightly and taking the binoculars out of her hands. “Okay, wow, we’ll definitely be able to see them.”

“Well not if you’re going to hog them,” Courtney said. “Speaking of which, they should be arriving soon.”

“I’ll tell you when I see them,” Willam said, still looking through the binoculars, her mouth wide open as she moved them around and experimented with its incredible zooming ability.

“You look like a dork,” Courtney giggled.

“I’m not wearing an actual baseball uniform, Miss Act,” Willam retorted. “Oh my god, I see Sharon!”

Walking down the steps in black jeans, a white shirt and a leather jacket was Sharon, her black hair sitting around her shoulders underneath her navy New York Mets hat.

“Bitch gonna melt in all that black,” Willam laughed. “I told her it’s gonna be hot, she’s so stubborn.”

Courtney’s left leg bounced with nerves as she squinted across the stadium, spotting a woman walking into one of the most expensive VIP seating areas that was barely full. She assumed it was Sharon, but Willam was hogging her damn binoculars so she could have been looking at anyone.

She went over their plan yet again in her head. Sharon thought she was meeting with a client to network and hopefully get the ball rolling on a new movie deal. Alaska also thought she was meeting with a client to also network and get the ball rolling on their April cover shoot, which was hopefully going to be something cute and flirty and sporty.

In reality, there were no clients. But in a weird twist of fate – also known as Willam and Courtney – Sharon and Alaska would soon realise they had coincidentally been seated next to each other. With the no-show of their respective clients, they would laugh, chat, fall in love and enjoy a friendly game of baseball, without knowing a couple of surprises were in store.

“Alaska is coming!” Willam exclaimed, before Courtney well and truly ripped the binoculars from her. “Hey!”

Courtney eventually found Alaska and squealed as she saw her boss find her way to her seat, looking around cluelessly in a pale orange summer dress.

“Oh my god, she’s finding her seat,” Courtney said, commentating every one of Alaska’s moves to Willam as if she was a racehorse. “She’s looking around, she’s lost, she’s lost, she’s seen something, yep, go for it, she’s got it, she’s walking, she’s sitting down, she’s sitting behind Sharon. Wait, what?”

Willam frowned. “She’s supposed to sit next to Sharon?”

“She’s… sitting directly behind her?” Courtney questioned.

Willam whipped out her phone, going back through her emails with Robbie, the girl who had helped organise this entire thing. “Fuck, she got the seating wrong. J26 and K27 aren’t in the same fucking row.”

“Ugh!” Courtney groaned, lowering her binoculars. “We were so close.”

Slightly defeated, Courtney and Willam sat and contemplated their next step. They couldn’t do much, because suddenly the game was beginning. The New York Mets and the Philadelphia Phillies ran out as commentators yelled over the loud speakers, pumping up the crowd.

Courtney started biting her nails, but stopped when Willam gave her a pep talk.

“It’s okay,” Willam had to shout over the roar of the crowd around them. “We’ll work something out. In the meantime, here’s what a baseball game looks like to the uninitiated.”

Courtney couldn’t help but smile at Willam’s effort to keep her spirits high. She let herself enjoy the moment, getting excited all over again as the players got into position and the game began.

She side-eyed Willam and tried (and failed) not to smile when she clapped obnoxiously loud whenever the Phillies did well, and when she booed everyone around them who were going for the Mets.

Letting her mind wander for just a moment, Courtney imagined herself on a date with Willam. Besides picturing them with soda and fries to share, not much would be so different from how it was now.

Courtney definitely wouldn’t be wearing this outfit though.

After 15 minutes, Willam picked up the binoculars, checking in on their project. “They’re both just on their phones.”

On cue, their own phones lit up.

Alaska/Boss: Hey, Violet from Prada was meant to meet me at the Mets game today? She’s not here yet and I hate baseball lol, can you get her people?

Big Daddy: Where tf is my client

Big Daddy: Why are people so annoying

“They’re getting antsy!” Willam smiled. “Good.”

Courtney/PA: Yes! Ms Chachki is meeting you at the game. Perhaps she’s running late? I’ll get in touch with her PA to sort this out.

Willy: Yeah they’re meeting you at the game. Fuckin annoying they’re late. Maybe they’re stupid and are sitting in the wrong spot. Look around first and see if you can spot them while I track down their PA.

No personal assistants were tracked down, because these real meetings were planned for later this week. Courtney and Willam smirked, before both tried to look through the binoculars at the same time, not worrying about how odd they must have appeared to the people around them.

All the way over on the other side on the stadium, Sharon bit her lip. She couldn’t believe the unprofessionalism of some people, and sitting in a row by herself just made her feel self-conscious. Turning around in her seat, she scanned the crowds on both her sides, before checking the rows behind her.

Her lips parted.

There, sitting directly behind her on her phone, was Alaska Thunderfuck.

Sharon quickly turned back around, her mind racing as she wondered if Alaska had noticed her or not. What are the fucking chances, she thought.

“Coward,” Willam whispered as they watched Sharon almost sink down in her seat. “Come on bitch, do it.”

With her heart thudding in her chest, Sharon swallowed her nerves and turned around again, having just rehearsed what she was going to say.

“Oh my god,” Sharon faked her surprised, “Alaska?”

“Ah!” Courtney squeaked, almost dropping her side of the binoculars.

Snapping her head up at the sound of her name from a voice she didn’t fully recognise yet, Alaska’s jaw dropped at the sight of the one and only Sharon Needles seated directly in front of her.

“Sharon?”

“Yeah!” Sharon said, the two of them not sure whether to laugh or be shocked. It turned into a mix of both.

“What… what are you doing here?” Alaska asked.

“I’m meeting a client, but they haven’t arrived yet,” Sharon said.

Alaska’s eyes widened.

“You’re kidding…” Alaska drawled in astonishment. “I’m meeting a client too, and they haven’t arrived yet either.”

They look at each other in shock, an eerie feeling of fate settling over them.  

“That’s so spooky,” Sharon whispered. “First the elevator…”

“…and now this,” Alaska said, finishing her sentence.

Kind of like it was meant to be, they both thought, but didn’t dare say aloud.

“Well… I hope your person arrives soon,” Sharon said awkwardly.

“Yes,” Alaska replied, not wanting their conversation to end. “I hope your person arrives soon also.”

Sharon reluctantly turned around, wishing she could have kept the conversation going, but not knowing where to take it. Alaska was so beautiful it was distracting, and Sharon didn’t want to fuck up around her. She couldn’t focus on the game in front of her, her mind constantly thinking about the woman behind her and how pretty she looked in her orange sundress.

Alaska stared at the back of Sharon’s head, her heart racing. Just five minutes into sitting down she realised the woman in front of her was the Sharon Needles, and ever since then she had been hyping herself up to tap her on the shoulder and say ‘oh my god, hiee!?’. She had prayed Sharon would somehow turn around and see her, and she had.

But then their conversation ended, and Alaska wanted nothing more than for it to continue. She stared at her phone, watching for the appropriate time of exactly 15 minutes to pass before she could ‘casually’ talk to Sharon again, completely oblivious to the fact that Sharon was doing just that as well.

“Turn around again, goddamnit!” Willam yelled, confusing the couple in front of them, who turned around slightly in annoyance.

At 12:30pm exactly, right as the pitcher swung his bat and sent the ball flying, Sharon turned around.

“I see your client isn’t here yet,” Sharon noted.

Alaska forced herself not to smile. “No, neither is yours.”

Sharon bit her lip, but a small smile played on her face, turning her expression into a sexy smirk that made Alaska throb. God, she wanted her.

“Do you want to sit together while we wait?” Sharon asked.

“Sure,” Alaska said quickly, sounding far too eager for her ‘cool’ façade. “But… I like my seat. So you’re more than welcome to come join me a row back.”

“Well, my row is closer, and it’s more expensive because it’s a better view,” Sharon rambled.

Alaska gave her a look.

Sharon got up, much to Alaska’s delight.

“Oh my god, oh my god!” Courtney yelled, bouncing on her toes as they watched Sharon grab her bag and manoeuvre herself over the seats to join a smiling Alaska.

Suddenly feeling the heat in more ways than one in her all black outfit, Sharon slid her leather jacket off before sitting down. Alaska flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder, the black bra underneath Sharon’s almost sheer white top making her mind go blank. The tight skinny jeans Sharon wore made Alaska realise how long her legs were, how snatched her waist was, and how curvy her body was.

“Fuck, you have no idea how happy I am they’re finally sitting together,” Courtney breathed a sigh of relief.

“I think I have some idea,” Willam said. “Just in time for phase two.”

They returned to spying on their bosses, catching the moment they both laughed over something.

Being this close to Sharon meant Alaska was able to admire so many more things about her. Her smile was even more perfect up close, finding the tiny little gap between her two front teeth so endearing. She noticed how blue her eyes were, and how faint laugh lines framed them.

Sharon felt her heart beat in her chest when she looked at Alaska, taking in her long eyelashes and pouty lips, which were curled into a smile because Alaska just did not ever stop smiling and laughing. Sharon wanted to keep her laughing, because even Alaska’s laugh was unique – it was so genuine and contagious.

A siren blared, snapping the two women out of their daze. Sharon honestly forgot she was in public at a baseball game, realising her and Alaska hadn’t stopped talking since she sat down with her.

“Half time!” a commentator announced.

“This is it,” Willam said quietly, her mouth suddenly dry. She grabbed Courtney’s hand and squeezed it, needing to force her nervous energy into something as she jiggled her right leg. She also wanted to hold Courtney hand.

Courtney squeezed it back, her stomach doing a flip from the anticipation. Or maybe because Willam was holding onto her hand for dear life, and she didn’t want her to let go.

“Do you want a drink?” Sharon asked, grabbing her wallet. “I can get us something. Or, you could have replied to my email.”

“Oh shit!” Alaska exclaimed. “I’m so sorry, I totally forgot. I meant to, really, I even flagged it. But then work just fucked me over and took up all my brain space.”

Alaska seemed genuinely upset, her bottom lip pouting out as her huge brown eyes searched for forgiveness in Sharon’s.

“Oh no, I totally understand!” Sharon reassured her, which was a lie considering all Sharon had done all week when she had an internet connection was refresh her emails. “I mean, the offer is still on the table, so…”

There was a small smile on her lips and a flash of hope in her blue eyes, and Alaska felt her heart rise in her chest. She was about to reply, but the commentator drowned out her voice.

“And now it’s time for our kiss cam!”

The crowd roared to life, Alaska and Sharon’s eyes darted to the giant plasma screen on the stadium wall, and Willam and Courtney squeezed each other’s hand harder.

Corny music blared out of the tinny speakers as a camera surfed the crowds, closing in on a sweet elderly couple. A big pink heart circled their faces while KISS CAM was written underneath in white cursive script. They both reacted in surprise at the shock of seeing their faces projected on the big screen, but the elderly man acted quickly and pecked his smiling wife on the lips, making the crowd applaud.

“Aw, old people are so cute,” Alaska commented.

The camera swung around again, this time targeting a young couple who could have been in college. The guy smiled widely at the thought of being on TV before wrapping his arm around his girlfriend and kissing her deeply.

The camera swung around the stadium, a blur of facing being projected before Alaska found herself looking at just that - herself.

“It’s fucking happening!” Willam exclaimed. “Robbie came through!”

Alaska’s mind tried to catch up with what she was seeing, perplexed at her reality.

“Oh!” She saw herself react in real time, and saw Sharon’s eyes widen just as much as hers.

“That’s… us?” Sharon asked, pointing at the screen, before dropping her hand after seeing how stupid she looked.

What felt like a world’s longest second passed between them as they crowds cheered for them to kiss.

Sharon instinctively brought her hand to her throat and did a small, sharp cutting motion while Alaska could only smile awkwardly, paralysed in the moment.  

The camera swung away from them, the corny romantic music filling the silence as it searched for more lovebirds.

“No!” Courtney exclaimed. Willam swore. This was not good.

Sharon and Alaska sat in shock for a moment as they breathed out in relief at not being on camera anymore.  

“Well…” Sharon attempted, “that was…”

“Interesting,” Alaska replied. She burst out laughing, which melted the sudden tension between them, and Sharon couldn’t be more grateful for her.

“What were the chances,” Sharon sighed and Alaska agreed.

To their absolute surprise, the camera returned to them.

“Oh my fucking god thank you Robbie!” Willam yelled, sounding ridiculous to the people around them as her and Courtney gawked at the huge plasma screen, the binoculars no longer needed.

“Oh my god,” Sharon and Alaska said in unison as the determined Kiss Cam decided to zero in on them for a second time.

Sharon looked at Alaska. Alaska looked at herself on camera.

Suddenly, she watched as Sharon quickly lean towards her. Like an out of body experience, she felt Sharon’s warm lips gently kiss her cheek as she witnessed it on camera, catching the pure joy that spread across her face as she experienced the moment in real time.

“AAA!” Courtney and Willam squealed as the crowd around them cheered.

“That was so fucking sweet oh my god,” Courtney rambled as she watched Alaska blush on screen as Sharon bashfully looked away and smiled.

Satisfied, the camera swung away from them, spotlighting another couple.

With the attention now off them, Alaska turned to Sharon, the kiss giving her the confidence to control her nerves.

“I liked that,” Alaska announced, cutting the crap and getting straight to the point. “A lot.”

Now it was Sharon’s turn to blush, a wash of pink blossoming on her fair cheeks. “Me too.”

They looked into each other’s eyes, not needing to say anything as the world slowed down for a second, and the roar of the crowd hushed slightly. Sharon felt weightless, and Alaska felt grounded, a natural connection bonding them together and creating chemistry that not even Willam and Courtney could try and orchestrate.

This was real.

Suddenly, the pesky, relentless, overbearing Kiss Cam scanned over the audience one last time and narrowed in yet again on Sharon and Alaska.

“Oh for goodness sake,” Alaska said.

She grabbed Sharon by her shirt and pulled her close, their lips meeting as they finally, finally kissed.

Willam’s jaw dropped, Courtney gasped, Sharon’s heart rose in her chest and fireworks went off behind Alaska’s eyes.

The crowd roared, Willam and Courtney most likely contributing to half the noise as they properly screamed in jubilation and jumped up and down in the grandstands.  

But none of that mattered as Sharon and Alaska lost themselves in their soft embrace. It was tender, and quick, but the thrill of the start of something new still ran through them while the warm sensational of familiarity spread through their veins.

They broke apart, the siren signalling the start of the second half pulling them from their daze. Satisfied, the Kiss Cam had swung away from them long ago after they finally let up. The crowd had gone from cheering over them to cheering for the players returning to the pitch. Neither could pinpoint how much time had passed. Maybe it had been just seconds, but it felt monumental.

Sharon was the first to speak, watching as Alaska’s long eyelashes fluttered as she came back to reality.  

“I loved that,” Sharon whispered, for once not over-thinking every word she said to Alaska now that their walls had come down.

Alaska’s face became overwhelmed with her smile.

“I loved that, too.”

On the other side of the stadium, their assistants were trying to collect themselves.

“Oh my god Courtney, are you crying?” Willam asked, watching as Courtney sheepishly dabbed her eyes with a tissue.

“No,” Courtney sniffed, her voice croaky. “Maybe.“  

Willam laughed and nudged her shoulder, wiping the tear of moisture that had formed in her eye. She felt high on adrenaline, replaying the moment their bosses kissed again and again in her mind.

Alaska had pulled her in, their lips had met, Sharon’s fingertips had brushed against her cheek. Their was moment where Willam thought it would end, but then the kiss entered its second second, or maybe its third, neither of them wanting to pull apart. Sure, maybe it was just a peck to some, but it felt like so much more. Willam wasn’t a Grinch for romance, but in that moment it felt like her heart had grown two sizes.

“Well damn, Willam,” Courtney sighed. “Yet another successful plan on your behalf.”

Willam shrugged happily, enjoying the credit.

“Couldn’t have done it without your help,” Willam said, “mainly Robbie’s help though. So glad she didn’t let off until they kissed.”

“Right!” Courtney gushed. “We’ll have to get her a gift or something.”

Willam looked through Courtney’s binoculars and saw Sharon and Alaska were still talking and laughing as if they had been good friends, or even partners, for years.

“I say our job here is done,” Willam concluded. “What are you doing tonight? Let’s go out for drinks! We need to celebrate, and I feel like dancing.”

Excitement washed over Courtney before it left her just as quickly.

“I can’t,” she bit her lip. “I have a date tonight.”

Willam’s eyebrows jumped, but she quickly blinked and shook her head slightly, wondering if Courtney noticed how off-guard she just appeared.

“Oh that’s cool,” Willam said, throwing her hair over her shoulder and suddenly becoming very interested in rummaging around in her bag. “Is she cute?”

Courtney watched as Willam’s expression clouded over. Well, she thought she caught it clouding over. It was hard to read Willam’s expression, as the older woman slid her sunglasses on to shield her gaze and looked anywhere but Courtney’s way.  

“I think he is…” Courtney said unsurely, trying to decipher Willam’s body language. “No, I mean, he’s cute. I don’t know, I’ve only seen his Tinder profile.”

Willam forced herself not to grimace, but a stab of rejection mixed with a little bit of betrayal struck her. A random guy of Tinder wasn’t what Courtney needed.

Whatever, Willam thought, go on your stupid little date.

Inhaling sharply, Willam shook her head, everything suddenly pissing her off.

An indescribable feeling settled over Courtney, which she didn’t want to admit felt like shame and disappointment. She didn’t even know this guy. She wanted to grab Willam by the shoulders and tell her it meant nothing. Even more so, she wanted to ditch her date altogether and go out dancing with Willam, feel their bodies move together as the music’s rhythm vibrated through their veins.

But why did she want to do that? Willam had a girlfriend. She didn’t need to be single for Willam. She needed to get over Willam.

“Well have fun,” Willam said in a clipped tone, grabbing her bag and making motions to leave. “I gotta run.”

“Yep,” Courtney said shortly, the moment suddenly reminding her of when they were in the control room after the elevator fiasco.

She walked down the grandstand stairs, returning Courtney’s genuine goodbye with a weak wave of her hand.

*

“One more!” Rhea whined as Willam leaned back into the frame of their selfie, letting her girlfriend take another photo of them together. The beaming light from Rhea’s iPhone ring light always blinded Willam. Sick of smiling, she grabbed Rhea’s cheek and licked it, causing her girlfriend to squeal as she recorded a quick video.

Done with her duties, Willam returned to her drink, throwing it back as the shitty dupstep music in the club drowned out most of the sounds around her. She sat in one of the VIP booths surrounded by her friends as they drank, laughed, made out and filmed each other, uploading to their various Stories and whatever else was new.

Willam couldn’t give less of a fuck though.

She had been feeling like this for months now. She didn’t was to admit it, but at 27-years-old, she was beginning to think the party scene – and the people who came with it, a thought she squashed with fear whenever she thought it – was wearing off on her.  

Willam used to live for nights like this. She was an incredibly hard worker, and the flip side of that meant outside her day job, Willam loved to party. She was the life of the party, and she had made a reputation for it. It meant she always had an invite, always turned it out, and always bounced back in time for another round.

It did – and recently didn’t – help that her girlfriend Rhea was a club promoter, her job requiring her to bring people in, get drinks flowing, have a good time and get paid doing it. It was a great job, but Rhea was 25. It wasn’t far off Willam’s two extra years, but 25-year-old Willam was much more into all of this than she secretly was now. While Rhea was allowed to still enjoy this life, Willam was beginning to tire from clinging onto something she had clearly out-grown.

She would never let on about that though. Instead, she continued to throw back shots and let Rhea film them for her Instagram Stories so Rhea could tag the club, like her manager wanted. For her entire twenties, this was the only nightlife Willam had known, and deep down she both longed for and feared what else was out there, what finally growing up and out of something like this meant.

Swirling her straw around her drink, Willam’s mind jumped to Courtney, knowing she was on her date with Mr Fucking Tinder right now. Actually, it was half 11, they were probably having mediocre sex right now, missionary style with the lights on before he would roll over and fall asleep, Courtney left to get herself off after politely faking an orgasm.

Willam almost tipped her glass over by how fast she swirled her straw, anger running through her.

God, Courtney deserved so much better. Courtney deserved to be worshiped. Courtney deserved to be pinned against the bed. Courtney deserved leg shaking, back-arching, mind blowing orgasms, all of which would definitely not be fake. Courtney deserved to be kissed endlessly afterwards, and held as she drifted off to sleep.

“That’s what you deserve,” Willam mumbled to herself, not one person at her table of friends taking notice of how drunk she was, and how miserable she felt.

*

Courtney couldn’t sleep.

This was for a variety of reasons.

One, she wasn’t in her normal bed. Instead, her naked body was wrapped up in Andrew from Tinder’s grey bed sheets. They smelt kind of strong. Not bad, but just different. Sure, they were comfortable, but not as soft as Courtney’s sheets. Courtney slept on a silk pillowcase though, so she let this slide.

Two, they had just had sex.

Three, Courtney never had sex on the first date, until now.

Four, she was thinking about Willam. And sex. But not those two things together. But also those two things together.

She frowned, trying to make sense of her mind. If she was alone in her own bed, she would have tossed and turned. But in Andrew’s bed, she laid still, afraid to move in case she woke him up.

She thought about their dinner date. He looked exactly like his profile picture, thank god. He was cute, and conventional, which wasn’t a bad thing at all, but he just didn’t have that… special something. Sparks did not fly. She wondered if they even sparked at all.

Courtney couldn’t tell if there was chemistry between them or not, but her head kept telling her heart that if she had to squint to find it, it probably wasn’t there.

So why did she have sex with him?

Courtney stared up at the ceiling, figuring out her thoughts.

There was no reason not to. He was very attractive, had a good personality and was willing. Courtney did genuinely want to have sex.

But maybe that was just it. She had just wanted sex. It didn’t necessarily need to be with Andrew.

There was nothing bad about the sex she had just had with Andrew, but there was also nothing about it that stuck out for her. No highlight she’d replay in her mind later, nothing she’d blush over while suddenly remembering at work on Monday.

On the other hand, just the thought of having sex with Willam, or rather, someone like Willam, made her throb.

I’m sure that’s it, Courtney nodded. It’s not actually Willam you’re attracted to, it’s just… everything Willam is and represents.

Stop bullshitting yourself, she immediately thought, not believing herself for even a moment.

Courtney sighed, accepting the fact that her main motivator for getting underneath Andrew was to try and get over Willam, which had clearly not worked.

Bored in bed and longing for the other woman, Courtney grabbed her phone. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t virtually stalked Willam until now, but she had also been so preoccupied with setting up her boss that her own online observations had been put aside.

In typical Willam fashion, Willam had grabbed the Instagram handle of simply just @willam before anyone else. Or maybe Willam was one of a kind.

Her profile loaded, an explosion of colour and candid photos reflecting exactly who she was. There were gorgeous selfies that made Courtney’s lips part as she examined Willam’s perfectly applied makeup and lashes.

There was the occasional photo of her dog Warner who lived at her parent’s place, and heaps and heaps of #OOTD posts, showcasing each and every colourful outfit Willam owned and put together every morning.

A recent photo of Willam with her arm around a brunette caught her attention.

More nights out like this with my boo please xx, Willam had captioned it.  

Courtney’s eyes widened, realising the brunette was Willam’s girlfriend, her name was Rhea, and she was just as bold and gorgeous as Willam was.

She clicked through to her profile, seeing Rhea had almost 10,000 followers and that her bio stated she was a club promoter who was “here for a good time, not a long time.”

A magenta circle formed around Rhea’s icon, something Willam’s profile didn’t have.

Courtney muted her volume before clicking to watch her Stories, a sideshow of photos appearing on her screen. First was a selfie of Rhea, then a picture of her with friends, then another selfie of Rhea before she uploaded a promo poster of the club for tonight.

Next came a bunch of videos with Willam, which took Courtney by surprise. It was weird seeing her viewed through someone else’s perspective, but she couldn’t help but smile at the way Willam leaned forwards and kissed the camera lens. Then it was a flurry of photos of Willam and Rhea together, first smiling, then laughing, then kissing… before the photos turned into a video of Willam licking Rhea’s cheek.

All of this was from tonight, posted just an hour ago.

Doubt crept over Courtney. She could long for Willam all she wanted, but she was never going to get her. She wasn’t hers to get. Plus, while she loved going out, she wasn’t this invested in the nightlife. If this was Willam’s life, did she even belong?

She tapped back to Willam’s profile, scrolling through her photos. She smiled softly at all her outfit posts, and the photos of Warner. A certain selfie of Willam caught her attention more than the others, though.

Willam sat on the beach, palm trees behind her while the sun cast a golden glow over her skin. She had the least amount of makeup on Courtney had ever seen her in. Freckles were scattered all over her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, while a yellow frangipani was tucked into her salty, wavy hair. She was half smiling, half posing, and it was such a softer side to Willam.

Don’t wanna leave Hawaii, Willam had captioned it.

Courtney’s heart had melted, her thumb instinctively double tapping the image.

She froze.

She checked the date it was posted.

November 26, 2016

Courtney wanted to die.

She unliked the post before exiting out of the app altogether and locking her phone.

Her heart raced as she gently placed her phone back on Andrew’s bedside table, instantly regretting her late night stalk session now that she had even more to mentally process.

Moments later, as she tried to fall asleep, her phone lit up. She cracked one eye open, before she gave into temptation and checked her home screen.

@willam liked your post.

Courtney bit her lip, trying not to smile and failing. She felt like she was back in high school, suddenly giddy at the smallest of online interactions with her crush. She locked her phone again, plunging the room into darkness before she held her phone to her chest. She wondered where Willam was right now. It felt bizarre to picture her on Courtney’s profile in the middle of the club. Was she at home.  

But it quickly lit up again.

WILLAM BELLI (@willam) started following you.

Then, a message.

@willam: Shar told me she got date w alaska for monday nite!!! Love that for us. Talk tmr xxx

Courtney almost dropped her phone onto her face in shock. She glanced over at Andrew asleep next to her. Slipping out of the bed, she threw her dress back on and grabbed her shoes.  

Sure, she wasn’t entirely sure of her feelings, but one thing was clear.

She definitely wasn’t over Willam.