#sure he’s stubborn and a little bit of an asshole sometimes but literally so are the doctor and clara

[foolishlyzephyrus]

we hate on danny pink too much, he’s a pretty reasonable human being for the most part.

[angelwonie]

X + Y = YOU AND I || jeon wonwoo

PAIRING: academic rival!wonwoo x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 8.6k

GENRE(S): smut, fluff, rivals to lovers, college au

SUMMARY: you wish jeon wonwoo would sometimes act like an insufferable prick instead of the perfect guy, because then you wouldn't have to feel your head spinning each time he looks at you.

WARNINGS: SMUT [unprotected sex, fingering, use of petnames (baby, good girl), praise, some degradation, sex in an empty classroom] wonwoo is so in love

Class discussions where both Wonwoo and you are involved never end well. 

Partly, it’s because none of you possess the ability of backing down from a fight, but mostly it’s because of Wonwoo’s annoying tendencies of having read all the books in the world, which allows him to criticize every word that comes out of your mouth. 

Which again leaves you with no choice but to get angry and argue even more vividly — though Soonyoung claims that’s just your own stubbornness making matters worse. 

He doesn’t get it, though. The desire to beat Wonwoo at his own game each time he opens his mouth. It’s something you can’t entirely explain, but it keeps you grounded, and so you don’t question it too much. The adrenaline that comes along with it is enough for you. 

And that’s exactly what keeps you going today — Wonwoo’s annoying takes on social anthropology.

“I just don’t think cultural differences are the root of conflicts.”

He says this and shrugs, eyes subconsciously drifting to the side to look at you. As expected, you’re already raising your hand to comment on his statement and he has to fight the urge to smile. Despite coming in tired, eyes drooping, you’re eager to partake in a discussion with him. Always. It’s a little too reassuring to think about, so he stops, and instead focuses on what you’re saying. 

“That’s a baseless claim to make,” you scoff, and again, he feels his lip twitch, almost forming a smile. “Of course they are. No differences means nothing to fight about.”

“Yes, in theory,” he says, and his eyes crinkle with the smile he offers you. A smile you can’t seem to tell if is cocky or genuine. “But cultural differences aren't everything. If we don’t have culture, people will still form opinions. And those opinions will still become the roots of conflicts.”

With those words, he crosses his arms over his chest, his elbow bumping into you. 

You’re not sure who came up with the idea of the two of you sitting together in the classroom, but moments like these make you want to find that person and rip their hair out. Because in what universe should you have to argue with Jeon Wonwoo while his shoulder is literally touching yours? 

It’s stupid, unethical, and every other derogatory term you can come up with, but most of all, it’s making it hard to focus. Obviously, it’s not about him, it’s about the closeness itself. You think. Probably. 

You lean a bit to your left so you can actually think of a response, but end up sighing and asking a question instead. 

“So you’re saying conflicts are inevitable?”

He tongues his cheek – a sign that he’s in deep thought – and bumps his elbow into you again. An accident, probably, but it catches your attention nevertheless. 

“I’m saying disagreements become conflicts because we can’t handle our emotions. It’s not differences that are the problem, it’s our way of handling them.”

And there it is — that twinkle in his eyes that signalizes he knows he’s won. You know it, too, from the way he leans back into his chair and your words die down in your throat and the professor nods his head approvingly. Still, you wish he wouldn’t be so fucking happy about it.

“Asshole,” you mumble only loud enough for him to hear as you sink back into the chair. 

He chuckles and you feel your insides turn. God, he’s annoying. Super annoying. 

Especially when he leans a bit to your side of the desk, face a lot closer to yours than it needs to be when he whispers, “Good job.” 

You glare at his soft expression, your own face heating up in something resembling embarrassment. 

“No need to gloat about your success, dickhead.”

“I’m not gloating,” he frowns, the smile slowly fading from his face.

“Sure you aren’t. You’re just kindly reminding me that you’re better than me.”

“That’s not what– That’s not true.”

His voice falters, and he leans back in his chair and taps his pen against the desk. You scoff at him, but it’s nowhere as threatening as you’d like it to be — thrown off by the quiver in his tone. 

“It is true,” you whisper, more to yourself, and avert your gaze from him. 

The professor picks up where he left off, and you let your thoughts scatter and eyes drift closed. It’s been a long day, you think. Thankfully, the professor’s got you and Wonwoo placed in the back, and so he doesn’t notice it when you manage to fall asleep in your chair, head falling to the side. 

Wonwoo notices, though. Your cheek squished against your shoulder, hair in your face. It’s not the first time you’ve fallen asleep in class, and he should probably start scolding you for it, but seeing your under eye bags and hearing your tired voice makes something turn unpleasantly in his stomach. And so he lets you sleep. 

(It’s all because of his perceptiveness.

You know about this trait of his, and it’s awful. How he hands you a pen when you’ve forgotten your own without you having to ask for it. How he knows when to shut up during an argument, because your face tells him he’s won. How he never feels the need to embarrass you, or anyone, for that matter.

He’s a good person in and out, and you hate him for it.) 

It’s not before the class is nearing its end that Wonwoo decides to wake you. 

“Y/N,” you feel a hand on your shoulder, shaking you awake, and then a deep voice hits your ears. Wonwoo’s voice, you realize instantly, and then criticize your heart for jumping at the thought. “You might wanna wake up for this.”

“Huh?” 

Wonwoo’s smiling at you softly, and you sit up straight, confused. At least until you see your professor clutching his phone against his ear, muttering aggressively.

“His wife called,” Wonwoo explains in a hushed tone, leaning towards you so you hear him better. “I feel kinda bad for the guy. She doesn’t seem to like him very much.”

You rub your eyes and yawn, then realize Wonwoo is sitting right there, and clear your throat. 

“Maybe he’s an asshole.”

“Maybe,” he turns to look at you. “Girls like assholes, though, don’t they? 

Your breath hitches in your throat involuntarily. You’re not sure whether it’s from the question or from the way he’s looking at you – like he’s already got you all figured out – but it’s making you nervous. All of it, him. And now that you’re discussing a topic you’re not certain about, it shows. 

You chuckle nervously, “Where’d you get that from?”

“You, mostly.”

“Excuse me?”

He offers you a smile, one that you subconsciously accept by feeling your insides turn to mush. This has got to be the longest you’ve spoken to him without mutual friends around, and without arguing. Truthfully, you don’t hate it. You’d never have thought that this would be the topic of your first ever civil conversation, though. 

“Minghao? Seungkwan? Your type’s pretty obvious.”

“Do you spy on me or something?” you ask, a little baffled he knows the names of your previous boyfriends. You weren’t hiding it or anything, but Wonwoo’s never shown much interest in you outside of class. “Plus, that was months ago.” 

He fixes his glasses and tilts his head to the side.

“Yeah? And what type of guys do you like now?”

You open your mouth to answer, but the words die down in your throat. Not assholes, you could say. He’s sparked your curiosity, though — what type of guys do you like now? Because you know for a fact that you’re done with assholes, which is why you’ve been trying your hardest to classify Wonwoo as one up until now. 

“I–”

You’re saved from answering his question by your professor, who’s successfully hung up on his wife and is now announcing that class is over. 

A sigh of relief escapes past your lips — another thing that doesn’t go unnoticed by Wonwoo, but he doesn’t push. He simply gathers his stuff, his pen that you borrowed included, and slings his bag over his shoulder. You smile at him, softly, a little hesitantly, because it feels right to do so.

His glasses rest at the tip of his nose as he stands up and says, “See you around, Y/N.”

Then, he walks off and you no longer fight the smile that makes its way to your face. 

—

“Okay, so I think we all know why this meeting is being held.”

This is the first thing Soonyoung says as he sits down by the round table in the cafeteria, latte almost spilling out of his cup. You and Minjeong perch up in curiosity, and she puts her phone away in favor of commenting Soonyoung’s poor word choices. 

“Meeting? It’s our lunch break, dude.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he rolls his eyes at Minjeong who snickers. “This lunch break is being held because–”

“–Because we need to eat?” you raise a brow. 

“Y/N, you are literally in no position to act all smart right now. It’s you that we need to talk about.”

“Me?”

You look to Minjeong, but she only shrugs, meaning that this is a Soonyoung thing. You try racking your brain to find what the hell he might want to discuss, but nothing comes to you. Not even when Soonyoung offers you one of his signature smirks that signalize he’s up to no good. 

“You, and hot nerd Jeon Wonwoo.”

Your mouth falls open in genuine shock. “Wonwoo?”

“Did you just call him ‘hot nerd’?” Minjeong slaps her hand over her mouth as she laughs, but stops when she sees you glaring at her. “Damn, okay, someone’s defensive.”

“Yes, Wonwoo,” Soonyoung leans over the table, hands together on the table like some sort of Hollywood detective. “What’s the deal with you and him?”

“What deal?” you look to the side for some help, but all Minjeong offers you is a smirk. She’s enjoying this a little too much for your liking. “Why are you looking at me like that? There’s no deal. We don’t get along, that’s all.”

“You sure looked like you got along yesterday,” Soonyoung giggles like a little schoolgirl, and you feel your face heating up. Of course he noticed, even though you barely talked with Wonwoo for three minutes. “Also, have you seen how he looks at you?”

“Like he wants to kill me?”

“Like he wants to kiss you. You’re mistaking passion for hate, babe. Or maybe you’re just pretending, because there’s no way you’re not seeing how cute you are together.”

“Me and Wonwoo?” you ask again, incredulously. “You’ve got to be kidding. There’s no way.”

“You have to admit, he’s pretty hot,” Minjeong cuts in. “Plus, you guys have, like, undeniable chemistry.”

“The only chemistry me and him share is the class. Which already sucks enough.”

“You know what they say, denial is a river in egypt.” 

“Nobody says that, Minjeong,” you glare at her, deciding that it’s better to get out of here before you start doubting yourself. “Anyway, I gotta go to class, so get those Wonwoo delusions out of your heads, okay? Because that’s what this is — delusion.”

“Funny you had to clarify that.”

“Just because you’re insufferable,” you send them a painfully fake smile and grab your things so you can walk away, almost missing the words Soonyoung mutters under his breath. 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

—

Usually, you can’t be found in the university’s backyard ripping your hair, but usually, you also don’t fail your chemistry exams. 

You might be acting a tad bit dramatic, running out of class and sitting down on the grass with your back pressed against the stone cold wall to cool off, but that’s something to worry about later. Right now you’re just focused on feeling sorry for yourself. Which you are. To a very high degree. 

“Are you okay?”

You jump at the sudden intrusion to your self-wallowing, turning around only to be met with a familiar face. His glasses are high up on his nose and his hair is neat, smile lines nowhere to be seen.

“Wonwoo?” you ask, a bit embarrassed that he’s seeing you in this state, especially when he looks so put together. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I read here every free period,” he says, frowning. “It’s you that should be in class right now.”

“Do you have my schedule memorized or something?” you look at him accusingly, pulling your legs closer to your chest for comfort. “Anyway, I’m just sitting here.”

Wonwoo’s silent for a moment, pondering on what to do, and then he takes a step in your direction. You don’t run away or protest, so he takes another one and another one until he’s close enough to sink down on the grass next to you. 

“You look more like you’re drowning in sadness.”

“Yeah, well, I failed an exam, so,” you say and hand him the paper your hands gripped just a moment ago — your test with every mistake highlighted in red. The whole sheet might’ve just been red at this point, you think. 

He examines it, brows furrowed, then hands it back. “Chemistry? I thought you were good at that, though.”

Your heart falters in embarrassment.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. That’s why I’m fucking sad.”

You don’t mean for it to sound so angry, but it comes out harsh and bitter. It’s nothing like Wonwoo’s used to hearing you speak. And what comes after shocks him even more — the tears that well up in your eyes and then fall, he can see them even as you turn away from him, perhaps in fear of judgement. 

“Wait,” he says, a little dumbfounded. “Are you crying?”

It’s a stupid question, but his tone isn’t judging. Still, it doesn't ease anything — you feel like you’re about to explode. And what’s worse is that he’s here, Jeon Wonwoo, of all people, watching you cry over something so miniscule that he probably can’t even relate to. You’re not sure why it bothers you so much that he’s seeing you in this state, but it does, it really does bother you, so much you feel like you might die. 

“Yes, I’m crying, Wonwoo,” you say, wiping your cheeks to your best ability. “Jesus christ. I did badly on a test, so I already feel like shit, and then you always have to come up to me with those stupid comments of yours.”

He blinks in surprise from behind his glasses, and even through your bitterness, you think to yourself that he looks cute like that — confused, for the very first time. At least it’s the very first time you are seeing him like this. But, to be fair, this is his very first time seeing you like this, too. 

“I thought you liked it when I'm mean to you, though,” he says finally, and you look at him in disbelief.

“Wonwoo, are you seriously just here to imply I have a degradation kink?” 

He remains silent for a minute, hesitating.

“Great.” 

You laugh through the tears that have now stopped falling, and Wonwoo exhales in something that resembles relief. His gaze is still set on you, unrelenting, like he’s still trying to put together the puzzle. Does he want to leave? 

A part of you hopes he won’t. Because despite that it’s a bit embarrassing, you could use someone to talk to right now. Even if it’s just so you can get your frustration out somehow. 

“What I’m trying to say is,” he starts, choosing his words carefully. “I didn't mean it like that. I never do.”

You meet his gaze – soft eyes that remain otherwise unreadable – and let out a breathy chuckle. 

“Yeah, whatever.”

You kick one of the stones in front of you, and watch it bounce a couple of times before it settles a little further away. Wonwoo doesn’t leave, even though you’re giving no signs of continuing the conversation. He just sits there, shoulder a centimeter or two from yours, and listens to both your breaths. Both uneven — his is nervous, while yours is upset. 

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he says finally, catching you off guard just enough for you to turn in his direction again. “If I ever cross the line, tell me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He bites his lip awkwardly as you feel your heart dropping to your stomach. It’s silent for a while, the back of your throat burning — threatening that you might start crying again if you say something now. 

He pushes his glasses further up his nose, and that’s when you decide to take the leap. Leap meaning that you lean forward to engulf him in a hug, your head coming to rest on his shoulder. 

It catches him off guard, you can tell. His muscles tense, breath caught up in his throat and your own heart beats so fast you think you might die. But it feels nice, hugging him. And it feels even nicer when he wraps his arms around you, too, albeit hesitantly. 

You stay like that, bathing in his scent – peach and jasmine with a hint of something you can’t quite identify – and somehow, you feel at peace. The test is still at the back of your head, obviously, bugging you, but it’s faint compared to Wonwoo and his hand that begins to slowly stroke your hair. 

“Thank you.”

The words are whispered into the crook of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. 

They’re so quiet he barely hears them, might’ve mistaken them for a hiccup hadn’t he paid complete attention, but he is. He is paying attention. To how your muscles loosen up in his arms and there are no longer tears soaking through his shirt; how his own heart beats a little faster than usual; how he’s so painfully aware of the fact that talking to you only makes him like you more.

More meaning that he’s afraid he might be advancing from the useless crush he’d developed watching you argue with him during class. Advancing into uncharted territory that he’s never even intended exploring. Though he supposes he sabotaged himself by approaching you today. 

“It’s nothing.”

But it’s a lie. It is something — the butterflies in your stomach or the warmth spreading across Wonwoo’s chest. Whatever you want to regard it as, it is something. 

And that something settles in the very depths of your mind and his mind alike. 

—

When Soonyoung announces that he’s bringing Wonwoo to come study with you and Minjeong in the library, your first instinct is to tell him you’re not coming. 

Obviously, you’re embarrassed. And scared. And a million other things you can’t even begin to describe with words. He saw you crying, after all. Jeon Wonwoo, top of the class, saw you crying over a bad grade. It really doesn’t get much worse than that. 

Still, you go. Mostly because you know staying at the dorm would spark questions from your nosy friends, but also because you don’t want Wonwoo thinking you’re avoiding him. Or else he’s going to think you care — which, essentially, you do. But he doesn’t have to know that. 

“Do you think Wonwoo will laugh at me if I get the questions wrong?” Minjeong asks as you stand outside the door to the library, her hand on the handle.

“No,” you say. “He’s not like that.”

She opens the door, and you walk inside, met with the smell of books. Soonyoung and Wonwoo are sitting by the chess boards, talking, and you feel something turn in your stomach. Is it too late to leave now? Judging by Minjeong’s worried face, she isn’t so keen on being here either. Maybe you could both just go home.

Yet when she bites her lip and asks, “Are you sure?”, you can’t bring yourself to lie just so you won’t have to face him.

“Yeah. You should ask him to teach you if you don’t understand something, you know. Better to feel a little embarrassed than to fail an exam.”

“I guess you’re right.”

Just as she says this, Soonyoung catches your gaze and waves eagerly, urging you and Minjeong to come closer. He whispers something to Wonwoo, and he, too, turns to smile in your direction.

“Guess there’s no backing out now,” Minjeong giggles and you nod your head. There really isn’t. 

The two of you make your way to the table where the boys are sitting and pick your chairs. Minjeong’s quick to sit next to Soonyoung, so you’re left with no other option but to plop down on the chair closest to Wonwoo. Normally, that would’ve only mildly annoyed you, but now, three days after he saw you bawling your eyes out, you can feel your heartbeat speed up vastly.

“Hey,” Wonwoo says and you almost jump. You’re not sure why, but you hadn’t expected him to speak to you first. 

“Hi,” you reply and try smiling at him. Thankfully, he smiles, too. “What are you guys studying?”

“Chemistry,” he says, and upon seeing you wince, he’s quick to add, “‘Cause Soonyoung’s struggling with it. He asked me to teach him.”

You have to bite back a smile at his worried tone. “Ah, I see.”

He fixes his glasses, and clears his throat.

“It’s a really tricky subject, though, so I understand why you– uh, he, finds it troublesome.”

“Right,” you nod your head with a giggle, and you can almost feel Soonyoung’s stare burning into your side. It’s fine, though, because now, Wonwoo looks the slightest bit more relaxed. 

You pull out your notebooks and textbook along with a coffee you’d made earlier, and when Wonwoo says your notes look pretty, you can’t help but grin. You kind of wish he weren’t so nice to you, but it doesn’t make you feel awkward, so you suppose you don’t have much room to complain. 

It’s probably just reality catching up to you that’s making you nervous — the fact that he’s not so argumentative outside of class, and that you definitely felt something pull at the very bottom of your heart that day you failed the exam. That, and how the feeling isn’t giving any signs of leaving soon.

You let those thoughts wander as you start making notes, and soon enough, even Soonyoung goes quiet, occupied by his own stuff. It stays like that for a while, and at some point, Wonwoo’s knee bumps into yours. Warmth spreads all across you and you look at him. 

“Sorry,” he whispers apologetically, retracting his leg, and the warmth subsides. In return you send him a smile in which you hope he can’t glimpse your slight – and unsettling – disappointment. 

“It’s okay.”

And then it’s silent again, your body painfully aware of the fact that if you lean your leg a bit to the right you’ll touch Wonwoo. It’s not like you want to touch him, at least you don’t think you do, but the awareness is slightly nerve-wracking for some unknown reason. Everything about him is.  

“Wonwoo,” Minjeong says, breaking the silence, making both his and your heads shoot up to look at her. “Y/N told me you could help me if I asked, so… I was wondering if you could explain biomolecules to me.”

“Of course.”

A quick smile flashes in your direction and then he’s leaning over the table to help Minjeong. His fingers follow the illustrations in her textbook and he starts talking — something about structure, you think. You listen intently, and it makes sense even though you’ve barely started the chapter, but you can’t bring yourself to take notes of what he’s saying. Can’t bring yourself to take your eyes off of him.

You wonder silently if he always was this handsome. You try to think of the times you spoke to him in class before, but it’s hard to recall his face in any other form than what your eyes meet now — focused gaze, lips moving to the rhythm of his voice. His glasses are slowly sliding down his nose, and you feel an immeasurable urge to push them up, but he beats you to it. 

“Basically, they’re essential for cell division to happen,” he says, and you lean forward to look at the picture he’s pointing to.

Your shoulder bumps into his and he turns to the side. You notice, but don’t react in fear that you’ll just end up giggling like a schoolgirl. Instead, you pretend to read some of the text in the book. 

Wonwoo picks up where he left off, voice a little hoarser than before, but you don’t move. Neither does he.

“Can you say that again?” you ask after he says something you don’t understand. 

He repeats with his head turned in your direction, and your eyes drift down to his lips. You don’t want them to, it just happens, your stomach tying into a tight knot. You’re almost entirely sure nobody is supposed to look this hot while talking about biomolecules. Or was it morphogenesis? You honestly don’t know. 

You don’t know why you feel like this with him of all people. Truly, there could be a lot of factors playing into it. The fact that he’s a smooth talker; the fact that he’s both intelligent and knowledgeable; the fact that you’ve grown to know him — what makes his blood boil and what makes him chuckle; the fact that he’s a constant in a sea of variables. 

Maybe that last point especially. That even when everything else goes to hell, the moment you step into social anthropology class, he’s always there. Always willing to entertain you with, albeit sometimes pointless, banter. 

You don’t even know what this is, though. Feeling your head spin when you look at him, having mini heart attacks when he says your name — are these the signs of you going insane? It could very well be that, you think. Insanity feels like the right word to explain your state right now. 

“Y/N,” he says, breaking you out of your thoughts. “You listening?”

Your eyes drift back to his own, and you swear you see a glimpse of amusement playing in his gaze when you mumble a quiet “Yeah.”

Suddenly very aware of Soonyoung and Minjeong’s presence, as well as Wonwoo’s burning stare, you stand up, dusting off your clothes.

“I just need some fresh air,” you offer as an explanation. 

“Mind if I join?”

You look at Wonwoo in disbelief as he asks the question. What the fuck? You don’t mind – at least in the sense that implies you don’t like his company – but it’s the same issue again; he makes you nervous. Goodbye to going for a relaxing walk, you suppose. And goodbye to whatever left there is of your sanity. 

After what seems like hours of overthinking, you decide to get your shit together and send him a smile paired with a nod. Minjeong raises a brow in your direction, but doesn’t inquire further and internally you thank her for that. You’re not sure what you would’ve told her if she asked. 

You and Wonwoo leave the library together, shoulders close together just like when you were sitting, and you swallow the lump in your throat. 

“Everything okay?” he asks as you leave the building. “You seem a little dazed.”

The air is still cold, though winter is nearing its end and spring is slipping through the cracks. You pull your jacket closer to your body in hopes of both warming yourself up and slowing down your heartbeat, but it only fulfills one of those wishes, leaving you to deal with the latter yourself. 

“I’m alright,” you respond with a soft smile. “Thank you for helping Minjeong, by the way. You’re a great teacher.”

Wonwoo’s smile lines shyly make an appearance. “Thanks. I’ve been thinking about becoming a real one, actually.”

You stop walking and turn your head in disbelief. Somehow, you didn’t expect that answer. Wonwoo was always a diligent student, but now that you come to think of it, he never really talked about his plans for the future, or what he wanted to do with his degree in chemical engineering. 

“Seriously?” 

“Yeah,” his cheeks redden ever so slightly. “Teaching chemistry honestly doesn’t sound that bad.”

You take a moment to think it through — him, in a suit and those glasses that fall down his nose, teaching kids about biomolecules. The idea is foreign, and yet, it fits just right. 

You nudge him with your shoulder. “Professor Jeon, huh? It would suit you.”

He lets out a snort of laughter that sounds nothing like the small chuckles you’d hear from him during class. But it sounds nice, this loud laughter and you bathe in it for as long as it lasts. You’re starting to enjoy this whole ‘being kind to each other’ thing. Suits you better than yelling about something stupid in class. It suits him better, too. 

Content with everything, you begin walking again and he follows suit. The grass is a little wet from yesterday’s rain and outgrown as it is, it tickles your ankles. It might’ve been mildly annoying if you weren’t so stupidly happy for whatever reason.  

Whatever reason being Wonwoo, of course. You might be bad at chemistry, but you like to think you’re not dumb — at least not in an oblivious way. It’s become quite obvious, you think, that you like him. 

The thought partly makes you want to kick your feet in the air and partly, it makes you want to rip your hair out. You like Wonwoo. It’s something so unexpected it makes you feel very bare as you stand there on the grass outside of your university, with your cold hands buried in the pockets of your jacket and Wonwoo’s eyes glimmering in the faint sunlight. 

You like him. God, it feels weird to admit. 

“About that day…” Wonwoo’s voice brings you back to reality, and you take a second to register what he’s saying.

“I freaked you out, didn’t I?” you ask. 

“No, no, it’s not that,” he looks away and sighs softly, only to look directly at you the next second. “I just wanted to make sure you remember that one mistake doesn’t make you a failure. I should’ve said it earlier, but that day I was a bit… taken aback, I suppose. Not by the crying, obviously, but by the whole situation. And you.” 

“Me,” you repeat, tasting the word on your tongue. Your heart starts beating a little faster, despite your best efforts at staying calm. He’s just talking after all; it’s not like this is some sort of love confession.

“Not in a bad way. Just in a new way,” he’s quick to assure you and you feel your heart swell in your chest. 

“New. You make it sound so pretty.”

You laugh a bit, looking down on your hands. It. Does he even know what you mean? Does he know you’re talking about the fact that you’re slowly but surely starting to fall in love with him? Or is he just talking about seeing you vulnerable the other day? 

“What would you call it?” he asks and you can’t stop your gaze from drifting back to him.

“I don’t know, confusing? And kind of insane.”

You swear his eyes drop to your lips for a mere second at that. He doesn’t say anything, just walks by you in silence, and it drives you crazy. You wish he’d say something – anything – just so you’d know if you’re even on the same page, but you don’t rush him. 

Finally, he smiles at you. 

“If insanity is losing control, then yes, I suppose I’m going insane. But it doesn’t feel all that insane to me.”

His eyes crinkle, soft streaks of sun painted across his face and you almost sigh. In delight, relief, or maybe fear, you’re not sure, but it’s those words, you think, that will linger. Those are the types of words to never abandon your mind, you’re sure of it. 

“Did you rehearse this in front of the mirror or something?” you scoff at him, heart heavy in your chest. 

He only laughs, and the sound stays in the air for a long time after you’ve left. 

—

To say you were shocked to see Jeon Wonwoo sitting outside of his dorm with his head in his hands would be a major understatement. 

You had grown closer to him in the past weeks — walking shoulder to shoulder around campus; him helping you with your homework — it all would’ve seemed unlikely had someone proposed the idea to you a month prior, but now, you had grown to truly enjoy his company. And he enjoyed yours, too. 

In some ways, it stayed normal. 

Comments and half-mean, half-endearing remarks remained untouched; what didn’t was your heart. It seems to be working against you at all times, beating too quickly when Wonwoo unexpectedly smiled in your direction, and dropping down to your stomach in fear whenever you saw him tippling over in emotion, only for the feeling to fade to the sound of his laugh.

This time, though, it doesn’t fade, only intensifies as you hear him curse under his breath. 

“Wonwoo?” you try, and his shoulders tense ever so slightly. 

You watch as he sighs, rubbing his eyes, then sits up straight, back against the wall. He doesn’t respond, even as his eyes, frail as ever, look into yours. They’re a bit darker than usual, and his lashes flutter as he blinks up at you. 

There’s no one in the hallway, as if this part of the school emptied just to grant you a moment of privacy; a deciding moment, something in your stomach tells you. 

“What’s happened?” you ask softly, quietly, unsure of what else to do with this obviously unhappy Jeon Wonwoo that’s sitting on the ground in front of you. 

“It’s nothing,” he mumbles in response, leaning on his arms to stand up. “Just some school stuff.”

The corners of his mouth lift in a small smile, but you call his bullshit. You don’t necessarily doubt the genuinity of his smile, but the way he said it makes you think there is something that happened. 

Taking a step in his direction, you nudge him with your elbow. 

“What, the golden boy failed a test for the first time in his life?”

His eyes change at that — soft crinkles appearing at the very edges of them. His shoulders relax, too, and though it’s barely visible, you see it clearly. The air feels a lot lighter when he tongues his cheek and nudges you back. 

“You sure run your mouth a lot, Y/N,” he grins and you feel butterflies flapping around in the very pits of your stomach. Then the smile fades to be replaced with a faux scolding look as he says, “I suggest you stop.” 

You move to stand right in front of him, arms crossed over your chest. He’s taller, and you have to tilt your chin to look him right in the eyes as you giggle with a hint of playfulness in your gaze. 

“Or what?”

He sees the smile playing on your face, the giddiness in your tone, and his heart bangs loudly against his chest. You look gorgeous today — well, that’s nothing new but it never ceases to amaze him how you can look prettier for each day that goes by.

Is this it? Is this when he’s supposed to make a move, like Soonyoung told him to? What does even ‘make a move’ mean, exactly? 

He supposes it varies — just like the value of variables in the equations he solves so often. 

Then how come he can’t solve this one?

You’re still standing there, looking at him without a care in the world, and he thinks that he’d never forgive himself if he screwed this up. At the same time, it doesn’t seem like you’re ready to run away from him, and so perhaps making a move doesn’t sound so stupid right now. 

“Or,” he starts, and lets his eyes glide down to your lips for a moment to test the waters. You don’t scream in fear, and he takes it as a good sign. “I’m gonna have to make you.”

You giggle. “Yeah? And how exactly are you gonna do that, big boy?” 

He feels his stomach turning upside down, squeezed by some invisible force and he has to remind himself to breathe. Is he really going through with this? Don’t start something you can’t end, Soonyoung would probably tell him. For once listening to his advice seems reasonable. 

“Like this.”

And before he can even think of backing out, he brings the palms of his hands to cup your face and leans down, placing his lips against yours. 

Taken aback, you let out a startled noise, eyes growing wide. He hesitates upon seeing your reaction, about to pull away when you finally kiss him back, tongue swiping over his lower lip ever so slightly. 

A groan. Then, he’s bringing his hand to the back of your head and pulling you towards him, kissing you until your head starts to spin, and kissing you through that, too. 

Your arms hold onto his shoulders for support, cheek leaning into his touch. Your noses touch clumsily; teeth clash when you open your mouth to let him explore it. Still, it feels like heaven and you can’t bring yourself to pull away for a breath. 

Wonwoo, though, the more sensible one of you two, pulls back after a while, a smile on his lips and breath ragged.  

You look at him — waiting for him to pick up where he left off, but he doesn’t move.

“That’s it?” you ask, and for a brief moment, all color drains from Wonwoo’s face. Did you not like it? Did he do something wrong?

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just going to leave me hanging like that?”

Your lip pulled between your teeth, you look at home expectantly, heart still hammering against your ribs. Truly, it’s not just about wanting more – though that plays a part in it, too – it’s also about whether this was a one-time-thing.

“Was it not enough for you?” he asks, tilting his head to the side after he’s calmed his racing heart. 

“Considering I’ve been waiting for this, like, a month,” you say. “not really, no.”

He smiles down on you — that same smile that makes you weak in the knees, and you know there’s no turning back now. Not that there ever was. 

“I think you’re a bit greedy,” he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and you shiver in anticipation. “I’ve been waiting for half a year, and yet, I still have some self control left.”

“I never had any in the first place.”

And with that, you pull him close for another kiss. 

He doesn’t protest, opening his mouth and sucking on your tongue. His hands move down to your waist this time, pulling your body flush against his. You’ve never experienced being in such close proximity with him, and yet, you don’t feel all that nervous. It all slips away with his soft touches. 

Your hands in his hair — it feels foreign, but he likes that feeling, gets drunk on it. But it’s some kind of reversed intoxication; he doesn’t feel faint; if anything, he’s feeling more sober than ever before as he bathes in your taste, your scent, you. This must be what love feels like, he thinks. This must be it, or else he’s certain he’ll never know love. If this isn’t it, he doesn’t want to know love. 

He hopes you’re at least feeling a fraction of what he’s feeling as he pushes you gently against the wall, hands roaming your body. You do the same, holding onto him like he’s your lifeline, tugging at the strands of hair available to you. 

So caught up in this feeling of bliss, you don’t even notice how you’re not alone with Wonwoo anymore until you hear laughter from a group of bypassing students. 

“Get a room,” someone says and you pull away from Wonwoo immediately, face hot with embarrassment.

He doesn’t appear shaken, though — rather, you glimpse the shadow of a smile playing on his lips as he urges the students to leave. Just as you’re about to ask what he’s smiling about, his fingers close around your wrist and he pulls you along the hallway. He’s all rushed steps until you reach the nearest classroom that turns out to be empty, and he walks inside, dragging you with him. 

Upon closing the door behind him, Wonwoo drags you into his chest. You look up at him, his inquiring gaze that asks for permission, and smile.

“Are you sure?” he asks and your grin turns teasing. 

“Sure about what, Woo?” 

He tongues his cheek, unsure of what to say. You’re just plain teasing him – that much is obvious – so he supposes he can give the same energy back. 

“Sure that you want me to fuck you.”

You’re taken aback, though perhaps you shouldn’t be, considering how you set yourself up for this with your question. Still, your breath catches in your throat and your hand holds onto one of the nearby desks for stability as you face him. Wonwoo looks different now, to some extent; maybe it’s the lighting that gives his eyes a different glow, or maybe it’s how the air has suddenly become swollen with tension. 

Whatever the cause, it excites you to no end, the way he’s looking at you when you take his hand in yours. Like you’re the only thing that matters. 

“Yeah,” you say finally. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

At that, he pulls you impossibly closer. He takes off his glasses in a manner that you in a drunken state would’ve most likely called seductive, and throws them away somewhere you can’t see, too busy kissing him back when his lips crash into yours for the nth time today. He kisses you so hard it knocks the breath out of your lungs, and all thoughts out of your brain. 

Mouth open, you let his tongue explore it and simultaneously, you allow him to walk you further into the classroom, until the back of your thighs hit one of the desks. Standing between your legs, he pushes your shirt up so his fingers can graze the bare skin underneath, and you sigh in content. 

Before you know it, he’s pulling away to peel off your shirt and bra, leaving you bare in front of him.

“You’re beautiful, you know,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to yours again.

You smile into the kiss, goosebumps spreading over your skin with the touches of his fingers that glide further up your thigh, until they slip under your skirt. Knuckles running over your soaked panties, he bites your lip and you let out a delighted moan. 

“You’re so wet,” he comments as he slips a finger under your panties, running it through your folds. You can already feel another flood of arousal approaching just because of his words. “Won’t even need to prep you, huh?”

You desperately shake your head no, and he chuckles.

He lays his palm flat against your clit and you squirm until he retracts it. Playfulness in his gaze, he smears your arousal all over your cunt, ignoring your whines. This takes him at least half a minute before he finally – upon hearing you whimper his name in a way that makes his pants a whole lot tighter all of a sudden – gives in and slides one of his fingers into your pussy. 

You throw your head back with a whimper, holding onto his shoulder as he starts pumping it in and out of you, noises caused by the movement filling the air. 

“Oh my god,” you breathe as he adds another one, your cunt tightening around his digits endlessly. 

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder which is an immense contrast to how he curls his fingers inside of you, hitting that one spot that makes your toes curl. He plunges his digits in and out of your hole as his thumb circles your clit, until you’re moaning loudly — despite how little time has really passed. 

It’s in utter shock that you watch him retract his hand completely, sucking the arousal from his fingers with a smile. 

“Wha–” is all you manage to say before he flips you over, bending you over the desk. 

You’re painfully aware of how bare you are in front of him — your naked cunt on display, because your skirt doesn’t do much to cover anything at all, and your tits pressed against the wood of the desk. Plus the fact that the locked door won’t do much good if someone is to have class in this room next period. Which would be in about thirty minutes. 

Not that you care. Or, essentially, you do care, but now it doesn’t really matter — besides, you’re certain that Wonwoo would’ve managed to come up with some sort of excuse had you been forced to open the door for some frustrated professor. 

Amidst your thoughts, you almost fail to hear the sound of Wonwoo unclasping his belt. Almost. But when you do hear it, something turns pleasantly in your stomach. 

“You gonna be good for me and stay quiet?” Wonwoo asks and you feel his hands move to hold your hips, cock positioned at your entrance. 

You mumble something in affirmation, something you’re not even sure you can hear yourself, and spread your legs to urge him on. You feel his cock prod at your soaked cunt, run through your folds languidly; again and again, until you’re whining his name in protest. 

He only chuckles at your behavior, and asks, albeit teasingly, “What did you say?”

Gathering your thoughts, you try your best to ignore the way he’s dragging his dick over your pussy, occasionally rubbing over your clit. 

“Yes, I’ll be good for you, Wonwoo.”

Pleased with this response, he finally enters you — cock stretching you open and making you cry out, holding onto the desk for support. He’s big, you realize, tears prodding at your eyes as he bottoms out. 

“Yeah? Gonna be my good girl?” 

You nod and nod, fingers turning white from how you’re gripping the wooden desk once he starts moving — in languid strokes, he manages to turn your moans louder and louder. 

His hands hold onto your hips, pushing them against him so you’re further impaled on his cock with each thrust, and you swear you feel him all the way in your stomach. It’s a good feeling, one you can barely register fully with the way your mind’s gone hazy. 

You hardly notice it when one of his hands lets go of your hips and comes up to your lips, fingers tapping at your chin as a signal to open your mouth. When you do, he slips two digits inside and you suck on them obediently, tightening around his cock. 

Wonwoo smiles.

“Thought I told you to be quiet, baby.”

In all honesty, he loves the nosies you’re making, but he can’t risk someone starting to bang on the door before he’s got you falling apart completely. Besides, the sight of you sucking on his fingers is just as pleasing; just as effective in making his cock twitch in your cunt. 

Your walls suck him in perfectly, the sound of him gliding in and out of your pussy loud in the empty classroom. His thrusts grow gradually harder; the desk starts moving in rhythm with them, and you can’t help letting out moans and whimpers that his digits in your mouth do a poor job of concealing. 

He realizes this, and decides on removing his fingers so they can grab at your hair instead, pulling your back closer to his chest. Your tits bounce with his movements, and he plays with them briefly, groaning as your pussy clamps down on him especially hard at that, but then his hand moves between your legs to tend to your clit. 

He rubs it in circles, granting you an occasional pinch or slap that makes you cry out, and you feel the knot in your stomach grow tighter and tighter. 

“Feels so good, Wonwoo,” you sob, tears streaming down your cheeks as his fingers abuse your swollen clit. 

“I know, baby.”

Barely coherent, you beg him not to stop, and he wonders whatever even prompted you to think that he might want to stop. He only fucks into you harder, hand on your hips to steady the thrusts that bring you closer and closer to coming. 

“Wonwoo,” you say. “So close.”

“Yeah? Gonna come for me, baby? Gonna come all over my cock like a slut?”

You nod, though he probably doesn't see, and he pulls you even closer, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the sight in front of him. And to think he could’ve had this earlier had he taken the chance. You in the shortest skirt he’s ever seen, moaning his name like you don’t care if anyone hears — he honestly thinks he might be in heaven. 

“Good girl,” he groans, and that’s what sends you over the edge, your pussy clamping down on his cock as you reach your orgasm. “Good fucking girl.”

He comes less than five seconds later, buried deep inside of you as his cum coats your walls. You whimper at the overstimulation of his last thrusts, collapsing on top of the desk when he pulls out. 

He’s careful not to hurt you, but you still wince slightly, which prompts him to ask you if you’re okay.

“Never better,” you reply, and as soon as you say it, you realize it’s true. 

Wonwoo smiles. He helps you clean up – repeatedly apologizing that he’s wiping you clean with the paper by the classroom sink, even though you tell him it’s fine – and puts his glasses on again. It kind of makes you wish he’d never taken them off, but there’s no way you’re telling him that. Your opinion about his beauty is something you’ll keep to yourself for now. 

You get ready to leave just as someone knocks on the door, and Wonwoo opens it for a very flustered professor that tells you he’s sorry for interrupting. Wonwoo tries telling him it’s not like that – though it definitely is like that, and the blush coating his cheeks does nothing to hide it – and finally, you’re in the hallway, free. 

“Poor guy,” you comment, a smile playing on your lips.

Wonwoo sighs. “Tell me about it. And here I was, thinking we’d gotten lucky.”

“I think we did get lucky, though.”

You say this without thinking it through, but from the way Wonwoo’s eyes light up, you’re glad you didn’t. 

Suddenly, the doors to all classrooms in the hallway open and out come tired students, marking the start of the next period. Which you’re supposed to spend in biology.

You sigh, and Wonwoo seems to get it, because he tells you to leave for class. 

“By the way, Y/N,” Wonwoo says just as you’re about to leave. Something in his gaze tells you this isn’t just a ‘by the way’ thing. “In case it wasn’t obvious, I’m really in love with you. And I’d like you to be my girlfriend.”

“Well, you’re in luck, mister,” you kiss his jaw with a grin. “Because it so happens that I’m in love with you, too. And I’d love to be your girlfriend.”

TAGLIST: @just-here-to-read-01 @syn-hhj @nikkell @dollyji

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

Heyyy i was wondering if we could get some

Bill x short!reader hcs, but like reader is super short because bill is just a mountain of a boy ??

But about reader, even though they're short they're super very protective and really strong ? will not hesitate to fight somebody and already has ?

(hello! Thank you for requesting and sure I can! Here ya go and enjoy!)

Bill Kaulitz x Short!Reader

We all know Bill is quite tall and has always been a bit

But it don't matter because he is so proud of himself by being taller than YOU

he's is so corny with that shit and with his flirting

Will be incredibly cheesy and do pickup lines, lean over you and it all just to show you he is taller than you

He is an incredible asshole with it

If you're comfortable with it, he will come out of nowhere and just lift you up a bit by your waist

Just to surprise you and will use the opportunity to tickle the shit out of you

You sit on his lap a lot I feel and he just is living for it entirely

But even if he is taller than you, he acts like a little baby

Is the one to be laying on YOUR chest when lying down

Wants his hair played with, wants to be hugged

Everything, he's taller but he acts like a child

But what he does love about you is that you do not give a shit

He noticed you were a bit hot tempered early on when you all were close together and kiss

You were always shorter than the rest of them but were not afraid to clock them in their jaw

Tom was a subject to this growing up

You and Bill would constantly wrestle when you guys were kids and boy was surprised at how strong you were

He didn't let you win, he COULDN'T win

No matter how hard he tried, bitch was pinned down

He can be taller, he can pick you up, but he lives in fear of how strong you are

You can pick him up and the first time you did he yelped

I'm so sorry but he did

You do it now just to surprise him when he does it to you and sometimes you body slammed him when he made out mad growing up

You were an absolute crazy child and he did not help

Gustav was safe, Georg lived in fear and Tom egged you on the entire time

You guys get into a fair amount of screaming matches because you're both stubborn and hot tempered but it's okay

It all worked out in the end

But he has to watch over you all the time

Because if you're left alone and get mad??

Especially at paparazzi or people like fans making you uncomfortable??

Bill literally is scared for his and their lives

He has had to drag you away so many times as you kicked and tried to go back

You literally are up to fight any second of your life just for the hell of it

He admits, the headlines on tabloids are funny and when you get in fights, you look hot but he has to stop it

Not that he doesn't think you'll win, baby he knows you will, he just doesn't want you to go to jail

Especially if it's about him

But if something especially bad happens he'll let you have at it

Backs away with his hands up

"Beat his ass babe, I got your flower."

Y'all own that meme

You're down whenever and wherever and he cannot stop you so he must watch you

Bill knows he is taller, and at first glance you guys may see normal

But he has no control

You run this fucking relationship and he is forced to follow.

[mega-punani]

Hey could you tell me more about the skeleton pirate crew? I love writing stories and need like a base to go off of but I really wanna write them some fan fiction! Ofc I don’t have to it’s not my au. I just love writing

IM BACK!!! (and I have a buncha asks I have neglected)

Also, I don't mind when people draw/write for this au. Feel free! Just tag me or send the story pls!

Strength vs Weaknesses

Sans: He's a good leader who prioritizes his crew above all else. He's loyal and stays level-headed in most situations. He always has a plan and is good at adapting to situations. He’s humble and never under estimates an opponent leading him to make the best possible choices. 

Although... he's not morally the best person. He's selfish, and he's aware of this fact, and honestly, he could care less about strangers. Papyrus has become his moral compass. He also refuses to lean on others and receive help. MANS WILL NEVA TALK ABOUT HIS FEELINGS-

Papyrus: Papyrus is extremely charismatic and gets along with almost everyone! He will always help those in need and do his best to see the light in even the worst people. He is very mature and is accepting of life and what hurdles it throws at him. Also, mans got ultimate rizz. You and yo mama gonna like this man. 

He's too trusting for his own good and has very little self-preservation. He has low self-esteem, although he hides it quite well under a layer of confidence. He also takes actions that he thinks will be best for people even if others may think otherwise, sometimes leading to his own downfall. (Cough cough, og genocide run, cough cough)

Blue: Is great at using his head in pressuring situations and makes the most creative choices. He's energetic and always is up and at em, from early morning to late in the afternoon. He's also preservers and goes up and beyond, you will never see this man give up for what he believes in and cares for. 

But he can also be quite persistent unless you set solid boundaries. He's a little bad at picking up hints and cues and can't read the room for shit. He can be impulsive at times that may lead to future problems...

Stretch: Stretch is always ready to relax and bring down the energy. He's multi-talented and passionate about many things! He is willing to protect people he cherishes with his life, and is loyal to the tea. It makes him great company and an amazing friend.

That is, if you become his friend. Stretch isn't an open person and won't talk to just anyone. He keeps a lot of his feelings bottled up and just blows up at some point. He thinks the worst of people automatically, and has a hard time trusting. If you do something 

Red: Strong and reliable; good old Red will never lead you astray! He's rather smart (being the mechanic of the crew), and that makes him a bit cunning as well. He's very in tune with his emotions and doesn't rage as much as people assume he did.

Although Red is good at keeping his emotions in check, he's a bit of an unfiltered asshole. He will say everything that's on his mind and causes a bit of trouble for the crew sometimes. On top of that, he has a huge ego. It's definitely not a complex, but his confidence is unwelcomed by strangers. Also, flirts kinda raunchy so most ladies are not into him. Man got no rizz.

Edge: Edge is responsible and will make sure the ship is running smoothly. Well, as smoothly as he can with such a chaotic bunch. He's kind of the face of negotiations, being able to be stern yet civil. He has many skills and is very mature about many situations making him an amazing team player. He’s kind to those who need it and is always seeking a fair and moral judgement. 

Emotionally constipated. He literally has not cried since he was 10, what do you expect him to do? If you ask him for mental support, he will SUCK ASS. He is also incredibly stubborn. If he thinks it is better to do something a certain way, we are doing it that certain way. No buts and whys. 

Razz: Razz is the best at what he does. He’s efficient, quick, and works tirelessly at his one true passion: navigation. Although he’s rough around the edges, he is honestly very emotionally understanding. He’s a great person to vent to and cry to when you need to just unwind and let go. He has a very good moral compass and you can count on him to do the right thing. 

Ego so big it got two different time zones. Razz is one of the best navigators in the world and he knows it. He likes flaunting it, and not in a “slay girl” way, in a “pls shut the fuck up” way. Since he works so hard, he forgets to eat a lot of times. He also forgets to sleep, shower, stretch, relax, talk to people. Overall, he will store himself in his room for who knows how long, and you will have to drag him out kicking and screaming. 

Cash: It’s hard to compliment someone who steals 24/7 but he has some perks! Cash is very observant and can make very astute observations when it comes to relationships and fights. He can pinpoint enemy week points in a flash along with being able to grab intel from towns folks. He’s a hella good actor (liar) and can put on almost any façade for any situation.

Where do we start. He steals constantly, of course, he doesn't steal from the poor and needy, of course. But If someone is walking just a bit too happy, he just has an itch, and then BAM. Gone. He’s also a pathological liar, and always gets caught by Sans. He feels remorse and regret for things he does wrong but often shoves it down in order to keep moving. His habits are not healthy, and he knows more than anyone. 

Bear: Bear seems mellow and stupid at times but I can assure you, he’s pretty god damn smart. Bear knows a little of everything, and can probably run the ship by himself in emergency situations. Bear is very sensitive to people’s needs and will make sure any friend and ally gets a good meal. Although he is quiet most of the time he will say encouraging words once in a while. 

My baby has no flaws... Jk. Bear is a lot like sans in a way that he does not care for strangers. If you are a innocent civilian, he isn’t to keen on saving you or looking out for your safety. He doesn’t have to, so why should he, kinda thing. He is super afraid of his strength and is crippled with fear at the idea of accidently breaking something... or someone. He is bad at making friends or talking to new people. He’s an awkward lad.

Cinnamon: Wholesome sweet boy. He's kind, a trait that was hard to keep due to his traumatic childhood. He's giving, even if it may be through self-sacrifice, and always puts others before himself. (Of course with moderation). He's goofy and sweet, making him an amazing friend and partner. Mans is respectful as a mtfk and will make sure that everyone feels validated. Honestly, Cinnamon is a very nice balance of all his cousins.

He's kind of dum socially? He is unaware when someone sends him subtle hints and cues. And since he can't really read body language (cause aura doesn't show that much) he can't really tell if people like or dislike him. He's very insecure about his teeth and fails to hide his discomfort when someone mentions it.

[electricbluebutterflies]

Kabby + “ are you okay with me touching you? “

Post-s2 grayspace / turned into something of a spiral about ignoring chronic pain and I haven't actively projected through these babes in years but it's fun to know I still can. PG-ish and also on ao3.

This is getting awkward.

The fact that Abby even has a concept of awkward… would surprise most people who know her, she’s pretty sure, but she does occasionally acknowledge the existence of social boundaries even if she doesn’t cling to them unlike some people and-

She’s been in medical since she was old enough to qualify for training. She has seen everything and knows how to be calm about it even if the occasional image imprints itself in her mind for longer than it needs to stay. This is still awkward as hell.

It’s been a few weeks since the most recent blur of everything-that-could-possibly-go-wrong-went-spectacularly-wrong, which is to say that she has recovered from her recent physical damage and her counterpart has not because he’s the only person she’s ever met who’s more stubborn than she is and-

All her experience has not covered how to explain to someone with that particular flavor of charming personality that they’re probably going to have recurring pain in a bad spot for the rest of their natural life, and that might entail some difficulty moving around on an intermittent basis, and maybe they should alter their usual activities just a little bit, and-

This would be easier if it was literally anyone else she’s ever known. She’s not that lucky.

Recent… personality developments do not help the situation, and if anything make it worse. At least six months ago Marcus was a very, very consistent type of jerk. She could – and did, more than she’ll ever admit – plan around how precise and predictable all of his schemes were. They don’t have that anymore, and why is she in the position of wishing that the person who has become her main source of stability would just go back to being an asshole already because she knew how to work with that, and-

She’s managed to insist on weekly check-ins. Their communication style has improved – become existent, she thinks sometimes, become polite and more organized instead of their previous array of bad habits – and they don’t actually need these meetings for any reason having to do with herding around an entire civilization, and it always becomes just a little too personal and-

She has no one else left. She’s pretty sure he’s never had anyone else. Again the idea of might as well drive each other crazy so no one else has to deal with them sounds a lot like a reasonable justification.

“Are you okay with me touching you?”

If there’s one thing she’d keep out of recent developments, one new detail she deeply enjoys above all else, it’s how breakable Marcus has become. She’s made him speechless more times in the past three weeks than in the thirty or so years before that, and it’s so strange to watch, how easily she overwhelms him and-

“That depends on-“

“I just want to check some pressure points. Over clothes, not…”

And on the subject of things she’ll never unsee…

Look, boundaries are what they are and she did not do anything inappropriate, but there are… details she is now aware of due to the location of that particular injury, because of course that man went and took that much damage to his thigh, and she has done nothing she would not have done with anyone else but the goddamn visuals-

“Fine. I have nothing better to do than be a pincushion.”

Broken but not completely, she thinks – they still have the potential to spar at each other, rare as it is now, and-

“Nothing worse than my hands, don’t worry. And it’ll be easier if you stay standing up.”

“Has anyone suggested lately that you might be a sadist?”

Abby rolls her eyes. “Shut up, I haven’t even touched you yet. And if you weren’t so…”

He would’ve been bad enough just adapting to how time changes a body, she thinks. This whole development is just…

“What do you want?”

“You to admit you have a breaking point and you like to cross it.”

“Like you’re any better.”

Yeah, well, she’s done a little better on the major injuries front lately, but…

“I do not have as many physical tasks as you in the first place. And you could delegate once in a while and-“

“Like you’re any better,” he repeats.

“I do not have anywhere near as many possible alternates as you do. We are playing with different rules here and-“

Screw this, she thinks, putting her hand on his thigh like she’d intended. Lightest pressure, watching reactions, watching-

“Stop. Please.”

“Is that enough of a hint? Are you even aware-“

“I have to-“

“No. No you don’t. Your atonement is not going to be through your body, no matter what you-“

“Like you have any right to-“

“Have you even thought about what happens if you’re sidelined or-“

“We survived that, remember?”

“Yeah, you were running circles around me well before-“

“Someone had to-“

“Why is someone always you?!”

For a moment a flicker of something adrift in his eyes, answers not found to questions not formed and-

“Why shouldn’t it be? I have-“

“Who the fuck asked you to bleed for your mistakes?”

“Let’s see, I forget how many times you alone suggested it as a solution but it’s at least in the hundreds, maybe thousands, maybe-“

“Screw me for thinking that would be the first time you ever listened to me,” she mutters.

“Is doing better now really enough for you?”

“I haven’t even thought about how to get rid of your body since we landed. You do realize how weird that is for me.”

��You have always been very direct…”

“And that’s why I’m the only person who can get through to you, and that’s why as much as I want to give up completely sometimes…”

“You don’t have to-“

“I’m not trying to fix you. You’re doing an interesting enough job of that on your own. I just… think everything is a little easier if you’re around to deal with it with me.”

His hand covers hers, resting now on his leg, and they are not like this and maybe they are like this, and-

“Thank you.”

“For?”

“Not giving up.”

[joshslater]

Collection Fee

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

I've known Malik since we shared dorm in high school. Weird how the two immigrant boys "randomly" end up sharing a room. Not that we really cared. It was nice to have something in common, though our backgrounds were vastly different. It was on the 58th day living together, and yes I have a diary, that he revealed he could do magic. He hadn't been properly taught, since he was only two when they fled, but to someone who had never before seen real magic or even considered it possible every little was impressive. There was one thing he was good at, although he had few opportunities to use it. He could perform body swaps.

It works completely differently than any way I would have imagined, but also in the most literal sense of the description. The bodies are swapped. If you were standing in one end of the room and he in the other, once he finished the spell your bodies would have swapped places with each other. Your consciousness on the other hand wouldn't, so suddenly your body is across the room while you are still standing in the same place, but in Malik's body.

Over the following months we got to know each other's bodies well, sometimes spending several days in each other's bodies. Malik was a bit of a jock, though never really good at sports, always wanted to run or lift weights or whatever. We made an arrangement that I would take his body on his rest days so he could do workout with my body. I worked extra at Jarod's Burgers, and luckily everyone there were racist enough to not see the difference between me and Malik. Since it was really me all the time they wouldn't be able to know based on differences in knowledge or speech. Or they just didn't care that two students used the same slot under the same name. They were still racist though. Anyway, I paid Malik a PT fee out of my salary for keeping my body in increasingly good shape. I can't imagine a trainer being more personal than that. All I had to do was pay him money and endure the sore muscles.

Then came the lockdown and remote learning. Malik moved back to wherever his parents were and I stayed in the dorm. I didn't have internet good enough for zoom at home, and staying one per dorm room was allowed under the rules. We were still swapping bodies for him to train in the improvised gym he had set up in the garage. After about a month he asked when he could get his money? I first didn't understand what he meant, but then realized he still expected his PT fee. I told him that everything was closed down and I wasn't getting any Jarod's Burger money. He got really pissed at me, our first real fight. He was accusing me of stealing or at least fraud, and said he wouldn't do any more swaps until he was paid.

Fine, I shouted back and disconnected the call, only to realize I was sitting in his body in the dorm room. I tried to call him back, but he rejected it. He sent a text message back saying "I'll do nothing but chest now. Get back when you have the money". It wasn't a huge amount but without an income I was already penny-pinching to get by. First I thought he was perhaps only joking, but at least being rash and change his mind later, but a week later I came to the conclusion that he was stubborn enough to keep my body until I paid.

Desperate I put up my textbooks for sale. Not surprising there wasn't much of a bidding frenzy, but I managed to sell a few tomes. I would take the camera a take a photo of all the pages I thought I would still need, which took a few hours per book. It took a few weeks to sort out before I could tell Malik I got the money. "You have payment for the time since we last spoke?" the asshole asked me. I was very close to telling him to fuck off and keep the damn body, but I could imagine what mum would say, so I kept my mouth shut. Luckily he contined with a "Just kidding."

I sent him the money through an app and he asked me if I was ready to swap. "Sure," I said. I hadn't seen myself in a month at this point, but didn't expect much, if anything to be different. Holy shit was I surprised after the now familiar swapped was done. My chest muscles were enormous. "What the fuck did you do to my body?" I asked him. "Just some focused exercise (and a pinch of magic). Hope you have a bra! lol" he responded. I know nothing of bra sizes, but I could clearly see that quite a few would be too small. I was speechless. "Don't worry. They'll probably be down to normal once this fucking lockdown is over."

He was probably right. If I didn't exercise them they would slowly melt away. I looked at myself in the mirror. It wasn't just that they were big, it looked out of proportion compared to the rest of the body too. I started to touch them and jiggle them a bit, and I could feel a hard-on approaching. Perhaps I should keep them for a bit..

[sundaysundaes]

Jealousy

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Smut, Fluff, Drama | NC-17 | College AU Summary: It comes as a nice surprise when you saw your ex-boyfriend at your workplace and you thought everything was going to be fine. You both have moved on, right? Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend, Lee Donghyuck, thinks otherwise.

Warnings: rough unprotected sex, oral sex, slight choking, slight dirty talk, this is just pure filth you guys I’m so sorry I had too much feels

It’s the continuation of Before Our Story Began but can still be read separately if you want.

It has been months since you first dated Lee Donghyuck, also popularly known as Lee Haechan, and things were great—more than great, even, but all good things have come to an end at one point. Your relationship with Haechan is still going pretty strong, but now that you have passed the Honeymoon Phase—where it’s all just sex and raw passion—things can sometimes get a little tense.

While he’s been certainly fun and charming for the most times you’ve been together, not to mention adventurous when it comes to sex, Haechan can be really stubborn and selfish that you often start to bicker with him over the simplest of things.

Like yesterday, for example.

“Look, I said I’m sorry!” He whined and you held yourself back from rolling your eyes because that was so him and it wasn’t really cute anymore. Especially after he arrived an hour late at the cafe that he’d asked you to meet a day before.

“I’m not angry,” you stated, emptying the rest of your coffee. On the other side, Haechan’s ice americano was still pretty much full considering he just got there and you had ordered the drink for him an hour before, thinking that he was going to be on time for your date. But no, he was so into the new online game Jaemin had told him about a week ago that he began to lose track of time. It seemed to you that was all he’d been doing for the last few days, and you were fine with giving him some personal space but clearly not if he was wasting your precious time instead. Not everybody is as smart as him when it comes to keeping good grades. Maybe he doesn’t have to study much, but you do.

“You are! You’re totally angry!” He pointed out and you sighed because of course, I’m angry, you idiot, I had to spend an hour by myself doing literally nothing because you asked me to go out when I’m supposed to be working on my papers that’s due tomorrow but you kept yourself in silence. You had to be the adult in the relationship, especially when you’re dating a goddamn brat.

“Whatever.” You placed back your phone—which had been your only companion—into your purse and wore back your coat. “I have to go.”

His eyebrows—his thick, beautiful eyebrows that you love so much (though not that day) were knitted in both desperation and annoyance from how you acted. “Noona!” He wailed, grabbing your hand when you stood up from your seat. “What do you want me to do? If I could go back to the past, I would, but I can’t and you being unreasonably angry like this isn’t—”

“Unreasonably?”

Haechan’s jaw hung slackly on his face when he noticed the anger radiating off your body. You were angry before but not this angry. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong.”

You clicked your tongue in irritation, pulling your hand out of his grip. “I’ll see you later, Donghyuck.” It was cold, the way you said it, and Haechan sensed that. But being the whiny brat that he was, he just kept on shouting back, gathering people’s attention.

“Can’t we be adults and talk about this—Yah!” When you didn’t answer—or even glanced back at him—he threw his hands in the air, yelling, “You know what? Fine! I don’t really want to hang out with you anyway! In fact, it’s actually better for me if we don’t hang, ever!”

But you already had your feet out of the door.

On the next day, he came by to your dorm at four in the morning, making your roommate groan with a hellish fire burning in her eyes. “If that’s your boyfriend, I am going to kill him.”

“Don’t bother, I will,” you muttered in response before you stepped down from your bed, turned on the lighting (which earned another loud groan from your friend), and reached for the door. Haechan stood there with his hair looking like a bird’s nest, his cheeks reddening from the morning cold, and his eyes bleary from lacking sleep.

“I’m sorry,” he softly said in all of the sincerity he could emit. “I’ve been an asshole.”

“It’s four in the morning, Haechan-ah.”

“I know, but I can’t sleep thinking about what happened before and I don’t think I can before you forgive me.” He did his best pout. It was cute, but not cute enough to wash your vexation away. “Also, it’s raining heavily outside, if you haven’t noticed, so I thought it would add some dramatic effects to my apology.”

“You’re not wet though.”

“Neither were you before you met me,” he joked, wiggling his eyebrows but when he noticed you glaring at him in reticence—oh if looks could kill—he flinched and hastily added, “Sorry, bad timing. I don’t know why I said that. Well, umm, it was kinda cold when I stepped under the rain so I decided to just bring an umbrella with me.” He suddenly seemed like he remembered something. “Oh yeah, can I leave it here? I’ve got an early class today and I don’t really want to carry it with me everywhere.”

That earned another flat stare from you. “You’re not taking any of this seriously, are you?”

“I am! I swear!” He squeaked, shuffling inside his bag before he took out a white box with a red bow wrapped around it. “Look, I brought you some chocolates.”

“I’m on a diet.”

“Well, now, how am I supposed to know?”

“I literally told you that yesterday.” To say he was testing your patience would be an understatement at that point. “Remember? When you arrived late on our date and you asked why aren’t you ordering anything and I said I’m on a fucking diet!”

“Yo, chill, I was just trying to be nice.” Haechan grabbed you by the shoulders, massaging the sore spots and it would probably feel good if you weren’t so pissed-off over his antics. “Also, Noona, don’t you know? Men have a harder time remembering things than women do. And that’s just scientifically speaking, not me.”

You exhaled so loudly into the air, slapping his hands away. “Look, it’s literally four in the morning. Can we talk again when the sun is up? Like normal people?”

“Noona, pleaseeeeee.” He threw his head back in exasperation. “I said I’m sorry! What else do you wa—”

“JUST FORGIVE HIM FOR FUCK’S SAKE! YOU GUYS ARE TAKING FOREVER AND YOU’RE GIVING ME HEADACHES!” Maybe you and Haechan were getting a bit loud, but your roommate was just shouting like she was about to march on a war so you didn’t really have the choice. It was either take your boyfriend’s apology or have your roommate kill both you and your boyfriend at the same time.

Haechan sheepishly and annoyingly smiled at you. “She’s got a point, you know.”

But, of course, he does learn his lesson from time-to-time so things don’t always end up in fights. And Haechan can be considerate, if he wants, noticing the little things that you do. Like when you’re wearing a new skirt (or new underwear, for that matter), giving you his jacket when you sniffle from the cold (as cheesy as that sounds, it does make your heart flutter a bit), or intertwining your fingers together when you’re nervous before your presentation.

Hopefully today this considerate version of his comes out to play again because there’s something you want to talk about with him.

“I think I need to start looking for a part-time job,” you say, sighing contently as he has his lips on your neck, suckling on the soft skin. Your fingers are playing with the soft strands of his hair, unconsciously tugging at them when he brings his tongue into the game. You know it’s not really the best time to have this conversation—especially not when he has his hand under your shirt as you sit on his lap at the back of his car—but with Haechan, it’s almost always like this whenever you’re alone with him so you don’t really have that many options. “I’m running out of money.”

“From dumping too many dead bodies in the swamp?” He chuckles next to your ear, unbuttoning more of your shirt and pushing the fabric off your shoulder. “Babe, I’ve told you,” he mouths against your skin. “You gotta search for a new swamp that’s free of charge—”

“Shut up.” But you’re laughing anyway. This inside joke you two have has become somewhat of a routine—a topic that pops out anytime in any conversation.

You can feel his grin pressing against the sensitive skin below your ear. “Told ya this swamp thing could be our thing.”

“No, I’m serious.” But despite that, you have to hold back a moan when you feel his hand roaming around your chest, his fingers slipping underneath your bra. You can’t tell him exactly why you need this job because you don’t want him to feel sorry for you. But the truth is, your parents back home have been having financial problems and you know how costly your college tuition can get. You just want to help out, even if it’s not much, and try to survive on your own without using your parents’ money. “I need some pocket money.”

Haechan has your earlobe between his teeth, his breathing feels warm and extremely sexy in your ears. “Mmm, for what?”

“To buy personal things.”

“What personal things?”

“Like…” You bite your lower lip, having the hardest time concentrating when he starts to play with your nipple, his thumb brushing against the sensitive bud. “I don’t know, like girl things.”

Haechan suddenly pulls away, looking you straight in the eyes with his own gleaming in excitement. “You mean like a customized dildo?”

“Make-up, Donghyuck.” You flatly stare back. All your sexual excitement from before? Gone. “I mean, make-up.”

“Sure, that too. But,” he insists and you roll your eyes, knowing where this is going. “Have you ever considered playing with a dildo in your spare time? Because I have. I mean, picturing you using it. Not me using it in my ass, oh God, no.”

“Are you done?”

“No, seriously.” It turns out, he’s not finished. And he still has a long way to go, judging by the enthusiastic look in his eyes. “Because I would totally buy it for you if it’s a dildo you need. Or any sex toys, for that matter. No matter how expensive it is, I’ll pay! I’ll save up some money and buy some so we can use them together in the future!”

He’s making it look like he’s talking about buying a house for your future marriage and it’s cute and disgusting at the same time so you stop him by pinching the bridge of his nose. It’s pathetic, the way he whines, but as long as it can stop him from sputtering nonsense, you’ll do it again.

“Why do you need make-up anyway?” He eventually gives up, rubbing his red nose, still wincing from the pain. “You’re already pretty without it.” And it really does sound sincere, the way he says it. Haechan flirts a lot, even when you’ve been together for months, he still does it pretty often. But he does have his sincerity from time to time, just like now, and you can’t help but blush a little because of it.

“Well, I’m more confident with it.”

“Well, of course, you do look smoking hot with your make-up on, don’t get me wrong,” he adds, lazily circling his arms around your waist as he leans his back to the car’s seat. “But you’re beautiful the way you are too. Like, you literally can wear that I woke up like this shirt every morning and you won’t find me complaining.”

“You complained about my morning breath this morning.”

“That you should work on.”

“Asshole.” You push a palm against his face, which he licks playfully like a dog. This is your favorite Haechan, if you have to be honest, with his lips pulled back showcasing a boyish grin, his eyes sparkling as he gazes at you, and his voice sounding light and airy with a hint of teasing in his words. And of course, also with the way he has his hair slightly pushed back, his forehead shown and his eyebrows raised whenever he throws flirty lines at you.

You really should consider yourself lucky to be able to call someone like him, who has the perfect balance of cute and sexy, as your boyfriend.

“I really like you,” you say, abruptly out of nowhere that it surprises you too. Haechan’s laughter stops almost immediately, his eyes searching yours. There’s silence hanging in the air, slowly suffocating you, and you’re about to beg him to say something when he smiles, so gentle and soft, with his hand reaching up to cup your cheek, rubbing comforting circles with his thumb.

“I really like you too,” he says, almost like he’s sighing. His eyes go up-and-down your face, switching from your eyes and your lips. “I like you so much that it drives me crazy sometimes.”

It’s insane how fast he can turn your steady heart rate into something that beats too loudly for your ears. “Okay, stop right there. I can’t with all this cheesiness you’re throwing at me. Let’s just make-out.”

And that sexy smirk of his grows back almost immediately. “I won’t argue with that.”

***

It’s not easy getting a job these days, especially when you don’t really have a set of skills you can be proud of but luckily enough, you’ve found a part-time job as a waiter at a family restaurant nearby. The salary is slightly below your expectation so maybe you have to recalculate your budgeting again but beggars can’t be choosers. You thought it should be enough for now. And the most important thing is, you only have to work three days a week so you can fit in well with your campus’ schedule.

The only remaining problem is your boyfriend because, believe it or not, he demands more time than all of your classes and assignments combined.

“I can’t believe we have our Netflix account renewed like two months ago and yet we haven’t watched anything on it,” Haechan complains, a bag of popcorn on his lap. He’s in his black sweat pants, hair all tousled from lying around on the bed all day. He’s already munching more than he should, even way before you can log in to your Netflix account. “At this point, we’re just throwing our money away.”

“Don’t blame me,” you retort, taking the bowl into your arms so you can climb into his lap, snuggling close to his chest. “I’m not the one who got my dick hard during the first half of literally every movie we decided to watch together.”

“You literally rubbed your ass against my crotch every single time. What a man gotta do in that situation?”

A smile creeps up your face. That you certainly did. It’s just so funny to have him flinch every now and then whenever you move slightly in his arms so you often just exaggerate your movements a bit, sometimes leaning forward in a suggestive way whenever you tried to change the brightness of your MacBook screen—so Haechan could take a good look of your ass—before settling back between his legs, making sure to give him enough friction as you slid down. Or sometimes you just laid your head on his shoulder, pressing a random kiss to his neck, and just went back to watching the screen as if you didn’t do anything. It really didn’t take long before Haechan groaned in exasperation, threw the bowl away, tackled you down to the bed, and pulled your shorts down your legs.

“Should I move away then?” You offer. “We can stay, like, five feet apart from each other as we watch this.”

“Nah.” He shakes his head, pulling you closer again to his chest. “I like to snuggle. You’re warm and you smell really good, it comforts me. Besides, having sex with you is so much better than watching every movie out there.”

“Even better than watching The Kissing Booth?”

“Yah!” The way his cheeks turn scarlet almost immediately is too cute for you to handle. “You promised you wouldn’t make fun of me! See, this is why I—”

You cut him off with a chaste kiss, letting your lips linger on his the way he likes it before you pull away and pat him on the cheek. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it. Forgive me?”

Haechan unconsciously juts his lower lip out, just a little. “Fine,” he mutters, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist before he skims his nose along the nape of your neck. “Only because you’re cute,” he whispers.

“Oh right, that reminds me,” you say, closing your eyes as you listen to his breathing. It’s somewhat calming your nerves, after a long day of doing… well, nothing, actually. “I’ll be busy every Wednesday, Saturday and Sunday from now on so we won’t be able to hang out during those days.”

“What?!” He shrieks, almost turning you deaf. “Why?!”

“Because I have my part-time job, didn’t I tell you that before?” You can honestly hear your ears ringing from the loudness of his voice. “Or did you not listen to me again?”

“I can handle it if you work during the weekdays, but on the weekends too?” He’s actually looking pretty upset, though not that you haven’t expected him to be. “That’s our time! How can you do that to me? To us?! This is so not fair!”

You roll your eyes. “Stop being a drama queen. You literally spent the last weekend playing Overwatch at Jaemin’s place.”

“Whoa, hey,” he crows, pulling away from you with both hands raised in the air and forcing you to turn and look at him in the eyes. You do it as you nonchalantly munch on your popcorn, enjoying how dramatic your boyfriend can be at times like this. “Once again, lady,” he stresses on the word, narrowing his eyes at you. “They were holding a very, very important Anniversary Event and that does not happen every day. It’s not like I have any other choice! They were giving out new skins and other rewards!”

“Your choice was to spend your Saturday night with your fingers on your keyboard or in me. That was your choice.”

Haechan opens his mouth to say something, already holding out one finger in the air as if he’s about to make a good excuse but he fails almost immediately when your point begins to sink in his head. “You’re right,” he admits, “I’m sorry. What was I thinking? I should’ve been wiser.”

You pat his hair as you would do to a child. “Look, we can still hang out. I only work during the day, you know. You can always pick me up after work and we can get dinner together or something.”

He pouts, lowering his head as he murmurs, “It’s still not the same, though. I like spending time with you.”

You can feel your heart flutter from the way he says his line so genuinely. “Me too, Haechannie. Let’s just promise to always meet up on the weekends after I’m done with my work.”

The pout still does not falter away but it’s nothing a kiss can’t fix.

***

“Haechannie, I really need to go.” You struggle to slip yourself away from his long arms, holding back a laugh as you do it, and you almost reach the end of his bed but your boyfriend easily hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you back into his chest.

After not seeing each other for five days, you could finally see your boyfriend with his dazzling bright smile in person when he picked you up after work on a Saturday evening. You didn’t realize how much you’d missed him until he snatched you back into his embrace, intoxicating you with his amazing scent and airy laughter that sounds like music to your ears. It was a good thing being separated for a few days like that because Haechan became much more clingy in the most adorable way, following you around like a lovesick puppy. Even during sex, he was all giggly and soft, gently asking you how you feel, whether he was being too fast, or simply just telling you how beautiful you look even when you were pretty much exhausted from work. It was a nice change.

Both of you are still pretty much naked from the morning shower you just took together—or rather, the morning shower you took when suddenly your boyfriend came barging in, greasily saying, “My, my, there’s a naked lady in my shower. This must be my lucky day,” and ended up moaning against your mouth instead of washing the soap off your body.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he says, smiling into the kiss just like you do and you let him part your lips with his, slowly slipping his tongue in and tasting the roof of your mouth. “Oh man, I must be a freak for being so turned on from the fact that you’re wearing my shampoo.”

“You’ve always been a freak,” you snicker, pushing his face away with your palm. “Now, get off me. Jaemin can come back any second.”

“Jaemin’s too busy sucking Jeno’s morning wood, I’m sure. He won’t be back anytime soon.”

“Well, my shift is starting in thirty minutes.”

“Which leaves us twenty-nine minutes and fifty seconds to get each other off and ten seconds for you to get ready.” He lowly chuckles, his voice still sounding quite deep from sleep as he nips against the column of your neck.

“I’m serious…” You can tell that your voice becomes way less convincing. It’s just Haechan feels so warm and he smells so good, you have to literally offer your best effort to deny him and his touches. You’re still in the middle of putting in that so-called effort when you notice he’s sucking on the supple skin, to the point it begins to hurt a little bit. “Don’t suck too hard! You’ll leave bruises and I am not gonna wear a scarf again.”

“Good,” he murmurs against your skin. “So everyone will know you’re mine.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

You sigh, tangling your fingers around his hair, arching your back to press your body closer to him. “You can be too possessive sometimes, do you know that?”

“Any man would if their girlfriend is as pretty as you,” he replies, pulling away from you a little so he can bore his eyes into yours. “Stay with me today.”

As much as you want to, especially with that hooded eyes looking at you with so much passion and desire, you have to be the responsible adult for today. “I can’t, Haechannie.”

“Noona~” His serious demeanor falters, and the whiny brat that he is comes back to the surface again. “Pleaseeee~ I’m lonely and I’m hard, can’t you just be kind to me for just one day?”

“Are you using your aegyo on me to get a quickie? Seriously?”

“What, it’s not working?” He tilts his head to the side, looking at you with that sexy smirk and his eyebrow raised seductively. “I thought aegyo was your thing.”

No, but your goddamn smirk and eyebrow raise surely are. “Fuck, okay, ten minutes. Can we finish in ten minutes?”

“I can guarantee that you will.” His smirk grows wider, licking his lower lip. “But I’m not sure if you can make me.”

“Is that a challenge?” You push him with both hands until he falls back to the bed, with you straddling his lap. “I’m going to make you take your words back, Lee Donghyuck, you better be prepared.”

***

You’ve broken two plates so far, and you’re sure you’re about to be fired if you even do a tiny mistake in the next hour but you try to keep yourself calm and composed and promise yourself to do better. It’s not that you’re a lousy waiter—okay, maybe a bit from the lack of experience—but the restaurant you’re working in can be surprisingly packed during lunch hours and it’s really taking all that you have to carry three porcelain plates on a tray as you walk on high heels that are killing you in every step you take. You often complain about the blisters at the back of your heels when you sit next to Haechan in his car, which usually ends up with him massaging your feet, while mumbling, “See, this is why you should’ve agreed with me when I told you about buying dildos. I would work my ass off to pay for that, and you can just lie around in my room all day.”

You’re getting better at your job the more days go by, and you’re much confident now in talking with customers. You’re already standing pretty in your uniform with a menu book in your arms, ready to greet the next customer but when the front door opens, all of your professionalism just goes straight out of the window.

“No way…” Your jaw hangs loosely on your face, eyes blinking twice in surprise. You can’t believe what you’re seeing. There, walking through the entrance door of the restaurant, is your ex-boyfriend from high school, Jeong Jaehyun. Dressed perfectly in a light blue buttoned-up shirt and a pair of black khaki pants, Jaehyun looks much, much better than how you remembered him to be. His dark hair stands in contrast to his pale skin, his veins appearing along his wrists and you have to remind yourself to stop staring and proceed with your work.

You take hesitant steps to meet him, swallowing your nervous breath and hoping that you don’t look as awkward as you think. You almost trip on your own feet when you notice Jaehyun looking back at you, his eyes widening in surprise before his lips turn upward into that gentle smile that reminds you of how he used to be back in high school. Maybe some things never change.

“Hi,” you greet with an awkward smile on your face.

“Hey.” The way his eyes droop slightly when he sees you feels nostalgic, and perhaps he’s much taller now because you have to look up to meet his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m seeing you. It’s been a while.”

“You’re right,” you reply, chuckling a little to mask how tense you really are. “Would you like me to take you to your seat?”

“Oh no, I won’t be long,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “I just wanted to talk to the manager for a sec.”

You furrow your eyebrows, trying your best not to get distracted with the way his hair ruffles almost perfectly under his touch. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, just wanted to see the latest financial report.” He smiles, showcasing his teeth. “My grandfather owns this place, and I’m helping him take care of the business while he’s overseas.”

Fuck. “A-ah, is that so?” Meeting him once as a customer is already painfully awkward enough for you to bear, but actually working for him?!

“I won’t bother you, I promise,” Jaehyun immediately adds, “I wasn’t aware that you work here, actually. Has it been long since you started?”

“About two weeks.” You fidget on your feet, having the hardest time making eye contact with him. “And I’m not very good at this.”

“Wait, are you the one who keeps breaking plates?”

You wince. “Yes. Can you please not fire me? I’ll pay for them, I promise.”

And Jaehyun laughs, his deep voice booming into the air. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll pay for them myself if that’s what it takes to keep you around.” He says his lines so naturally that it surprises you both when the words finally sink in. “I—I mean,” he clears his throat, “It’s just really been a while since I last saw you so I thought we should really catch up on things. How are you?”

“I’m—”

“Boss,” your manager suddenly comes to interrupt, carrying some paper sheets in her arms. “These are the reports you wanted. I can e-mail you the rest if you need more details.” And when she sees you standing next to Jaehyun with the worst looking smile you’ve ever had on your face, she squints her eyes menacingly at you, “What did you do this time?”

“She didn’t do anything,” Jaehyun hastily answers before you can even form a word of protest. “She’s a dear friend of mine. It’s been a while since we talked, so do you mind if I borrow her for a while?”

Your manager seems utterly shocked and you kind of dance happily in your mind because she’s been kind of mean to you—though you were the one who gave her the reasons to be—and seeing her speechless, only able to mumble out a small, “S-sure,” before she trails away back to her office like this becomes the highlight of your day.

“Thank you,” you say to him, not sure why but it feels right.

“Let me know if she bullies you again,” he says, gently patting you on the head and you can feel his fingers slowly brush your bangs off your temple. It seems like he’s unaware of what he’s doing and you can understand why because that’s just his habit, even from the time when you hadn’t started dating yet. You remember the time when he said he liked your eyes—he thought they were beautiful, and hiding them under your bangs like that was a shame.

You take a step back, looking anywhere but his eyes. “Umm…”

“Right, sorry,” he fumbles with his hands, the tip of his ears growing red. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Can we just sit and talk?”

You smile, genuinely this time. He really hasn’t changed despite his appearance. “Sure.”

***

Jaehyun doesn’t visit the restaurant every day and you don’t really expect him to, but when he does, he always spares some time to talk to you privately—usually during your break time so your manager can stop throwing ice daggers from her eyes at you.

“I’ve tried to call you after graduation,” he confesses as he takes you out for some coffee at the nearest cafe. Your shift is over and you’re waiting for Haechan to pick you up but he’s running late because he has to take a quiz that he missed from skipping the class the previous week—you guess it had something to do with him pulling an all-nighter playing Overwatch again—and you told him to take his time.

“You did?”

“Yeah. Several times, actually, but I couldn’t get connected.”

“Maybe you called after I lost my phone,” you reply, taking a sip of your hot latte and wincing when it nearly scalds your tongue. “I had to change my number. I lost my contacts and everything.”

“That makes sense. Would it be okay if I ask for your numbers now?”

“Only for business purposes,” you tease, and he grins back, almost boyishly.

“Only for business purposes,” he confirms, “Just so I can give you a heads-up when I’m about to fire you.”

You gasp, half-amused, half-terrified. “Please tell me you’re joking.” And he only responds with another laugh. Talking with Jaehyun is easy and comforting, and he really listens to what you’re saying like a loving older brother taking care of his sister. It’s a nice change considering it’s always you who have to act like the mature one when having a conversation with Haechan—not that it isn’t good. It just can get quite tiring after some time.

Jaehyun is in the middle of walking you back to your workplace when he tells you stories about the things he did after graduation, and how he’s planning to continue with his study overseas to get a master’s degree in business management as soon as he’s done with his work here. You’re so entranced with his story that you barely notice your boyfriend waiting with his back pressed against the side of his car, eyes busy staring at his phone screen.

“Haechannie, you’re here!” You run to his spot, a grin spreading wide on your face before you lean up and kiss his cheek.“When did you get here?”

“Noonaaaaa,” he pouts, voice becoming whiny as usual. Compared to how he acts, he’s dressed maturely in a white shirt and a black leather jacket, his silver necklace hanging low on his neck. It takes you a good five seconds to ogle at his amazing looks while telling your heart not to get too excited. At least not until you get back at the dorm so you can rip that shirt off him with your own hands. “I’ve been calling you three times already. Where have you been?”

“You have?” You immediately check on your phone, noticing that yes, in fact, he did call you three times. You didn’t notice before because your phone was on silent. “I’m sorry, I forgot to switch it back after work. Did you wait long?”

“A bit,” he pushes his bottom lip out but it soon turns into a cheeky grin. “But nothing a kiss can’t fix.”

“Haechannie.” You pat him softly on his cheek. “We’ve got company.” And at that, he begins to widen his line of sight—because he usually just focuses on you and forgets his surroundings—and spots Jaehyun standing a few meters behind you with his hands buried deep within the pockets of his pants.

“Oh,” he comments, acting nonchalant though you notice by the slight raise of his eyebrow that he’s already annoyed by his presence. “Who are you?”

It’s kind of rude to suddenly ask for his name, especially in the cold tone Haechan is using and Jaehyun’s lips twitch at his words. “Jeong Jaehyun.”

“Well, Jeong Jaehyun,” Haechan says with mockery on his tone, straightening his posture and you wonder whether it’s because he feels slightly inferior to Jaehyun’s height. “My girlfriend and I would like some privacy from now on, so if you can just run along now, that’d be great.”

“Hey!” You slap his shoulder, gasping in disbelief before you turn around to face the other man. “I’m sorry, he can be quite rude sometimes but I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”

“Meant it with all my heart.”

“Be quiet.” And even Haechan can tell for his own good that he shouldn’t push your buttons further than that.

“It’s okay, I have to go anyway,” Jaehyun casually says, smiling angelically like how he always does though his eyes don’t really play along. “Your boyfriend is cute. How old are you? Does your mom know you’re still playing outside at this hour?”

Oh my God, not you too. You immediately grab Haechan’s hand to stop him before he flings himself forward and throws an arm toward the other man. You can see him clenching his jaw, almost baring his teeth when Jaehyun laughs quietly to himself, saying, “I’m just kidding. Have a good night, you two,” before he walks back to the restaurant, most likely to have another business talk with the manager.

“Who the fuck does he think he is?” Haechan blurts out, his eyebrows knitted together in annoyance. You stroke his arm, trying to soothe him down but what he does is relocating his glare on you instead, almost yelling, “Why were you with him?  How many times have you guys seen each other? And why on earth did you take his side?!”

You’re too tired to care, to be honest, let alone answering him. You’re also suffering from the cold of the night, wanting desperately to climb into Haechan’s car and put on the heater to warm yourself up. “I’ll explain on our way back,” you sniffle, squeezing his hand. “Can we get inside the car? Please? I’m freezing.”

You can tell he’s still very much upset but his gaze softens when he sees puffs of air flowing from your chapped lips and your nose turning red. He sighs into the air but opens the door for you. He doesn’t really talk until he has his engine started, and you can practically see steam coming out from his ears as he drives into the night.

“Have you had dinner yet?” You ask, trying to keep as casual as you can.

“No.”

“Should we order something—”

“I’m not hungry.”

“O… kay…” You hold yourself back from sighing too loud. He’s testing your patience again, but it’s fine, you’re the mature one. You can handle this. “We’ll just go straight back to my place then. I’m sure I can make you something. I think I still have some pasta with—”

“I think I’m just gonna go back to my room right after I drop you off.” His words don’t hurt as much as the tone he’s using. You’re trying to patch things up even though you’re sure you haven’t done anything wrong but he’s not even trying to apologize about how rude he acted earlier. You can’t help but snap, probably because your fatigue is taking its toll. You figure you can act mature any other time, but not today.

“Okay, what is wrong with you?” You can feel your voice rising and it forces him to sneaks a glance at you but only for a split second before he brings back his eyes on the road again. “I’ve been trying to be nice to you but you keep on acting like a brat—”

“Oh, of course, now you have a problem with me being a brat.” He grits his teeth, sinking his nails into the steering wheel. “I think we both know that’s pretty much how I act around you—around anyone, really—and if I remember it clearly, you said being a brat was part of my charm. That was, of course, before you met this oh-so-mature Jung fucking Jaehyun and suddenly, now, I’m fucking annoying.”

“I didn’t just meet him, Hyuck.” You exhale loudly, rolling your eyes. “I’ve been friends with him since high school.”

He clicks his tongue in aggravation, quietly adding, “Friends that fucked each other whenever your parents weren’t around, I’m sure.” And he probably didn’t mean his words to be heard because he just said them out of spite, but you did hear him and it makes your blood sparks in fury.

“Actually, yes,” you jeer back, “We did. He was the one who took my virginity away, just so you know and—WHOA!”

The sudden turn of the wheels makes you yelp and scramble to wrap your fingers tightly around your seatbelt as if you were hanging for dear life, and Haechan suddenly stomps his feet on the brakes, messily parking his car on the side of the street and earning a lot of angry car honks from the drivers behind him in return.

“What?!” He shouts, eyes wide, completely ignoring the passerby or the fact that you’re still trying to catch your breath. “You had sex with him?!”

“Once, Donghyuck, Jesus Christ!” You almost yank every strand of your hair out of your head. “Just once! And I never did that with anyone else until I met you!”

“I can’t believe you never told me this! And now you just hang around with him behind my back?!”

“What’s there to tell?! It’s in the past, way back when I didn’t even know your name. It’s not like you tell me things like this too. I don’t have problems with you sleeping with hundreds of girls before you met me.”

The sudden silence that surrounds you snap you back to reality and you regret everything you just said because you know you didn’t mean it. Well, it certainly has been bugging you for quite some time whenever you think about how easy and casual he’s always been when it comes to sex—not to mention how experienced he is—so you can’t help but wonder. You do understand that it’s not fair blurting about it to him like this, though. Especially not in this situation.

And the way he just suddenly becomes mute almost makes you shudder.

“Hyuck, I didn’t mean—”

“So that’s how you think of me?” He asks, voice low and deep. “Is that the reason why you’re seeing him? Because you don’t trust me?”

“Oh my God, Donghyuck,” you almost scream from all this frustration you’re venting out. “This is getting out of hand. Okay, first, that was wrong of me to say that and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of it. And second, stop being so jealous—I was only out with him to get some coffee. We no longer have feelings for each other, I can assure you that.”

“Yeah,” he snorts, “Sure. Whatever.”

“Hyuck, he’s my boss! I was just being polite—”

“Well, that’s just fucking great, isn’t it? No wonder you keep insisting on taking this job. It’s not even about the money now, is it?” He slams his hand against the steering wheel, groaning out, “I’m so fucking stupid,” before he throws his head to the side, glaring at the scenery outside his window instead of you.

There’s silence hanging in the air again and you take a deep breath to calm yourself as much as you can because you know where this is going. You just hope you’re wrong. “Why does it sound like you’re accusing me of cheating on you?”

“Because maybe deep down, that’s what you’re doing?” He’s not even looking at you when he says it, but the bitterness in his voice is clear and it’s loud enough to finally tweak the final string of patience you have left in you.

So you grab your purse, carry your jacket in one arm and step down from the car. “I’m taking a cab,” you say and when he still doesn’t look at you, you add, “Come talk to me when you’re mature enough to have this conversation.”

And not knowing your own strength, you slam the door until his ears begin to ring.

***

It’s the worst fight you’ve ever had, not just with him but with anyone else too. You’re more the type that avoids situations like this—one that says sorry even when you know you’re not doing anything wrong just to reduce the tension, so this fight you’re having with Haechan has been ruining your mood for a whole damn week since day one. And the fact that he doesn’t come to apologize or even send a text or two is driving you insane.

You can’t help but to dwell in his way of thinking, trying to see whether it’s really your fault that this is happening. Yes, maybe you should’ve explained better, but he wasn’t really giving you the chance to do it, was he? And yes, maybe you should’ve told him about you hanging out with Jaehyun every now and then or the fact that he’s your boss but you just couldn’t find the right timing before. Well, it’s certainly too late to start now.

Should I call him…?

Because you miss him. You miss Haechan so badly. You miss his bratty smile, you miss his annoying whine, you miss his stupid dazzling smile, you miss his scent, his kiss, his embrace—everything about him. You didn’t realize how close he was to you—already becoming a big part of your life—and you just really notice it now when he’s completely out of your sight.

“Fuck this.” You’re in the middle of searching his name in your contacts and about to press dial when suddenly you get his message.

Can we meet tomorrow?

It’s really weird that a simple text can make your heart race and almost send you jumping in delight. Trying to keep your heart rate back to normal, you type back.

Of course. What time? Where?

You wait for his reply and it seems like the time suddenly slows down where seconds feel like hours. You nibble at your bottom lip, hesitating at first but sending it anyway.

I miss you, Haechannie.

Your heart starts hammering against your ribcage again. A lot of thoughts begin entering your mind at the same time, making you worry about what if he wants to meet me because he wants to break up with me? What if he doesn’t miss me and he’s grossed out with my text? What if—

His reply arrives with a slight ding coming from your phone, and with shaky hands, you open his text.

I’ll text you the time and place tomorrow morning.

There’s a disappointment that bubbles up inside your chest but the next text from him erases all of that almost instantly.

I miss you too, Noona. Good night.

And you think that maybe tonight, you can finally have a good sleep.

***

“Can you fill in for tonight?”

It’s the first thing your manager said to you the second you stepped inside the restaurant. You haven’t even taken your jacket yet, and it’s really rare to see your manager walking around the place on a Sunday morning but here she is, and she’s already ordering things around.

Your mouth suddenly feels dry. “Pardon?”

“There will be a banquet tonight for the Jeong family and we need every waiter we can get. I know you’re lousy at your job but Jaehyun-Sajangnim seems to like you so I hope you can stick longer for a few hours.”

“I…” You wet your lower lip anxiously. “I can’t. I already promised someone—”

“Look, this is not a request. It’s an order.” She seems like she’s running out of patience. “But I’ll pay handsomely for your time. I think you need the money to pay for those two plates you broke anyway. You know how expensive they are.”

You wince. “Yes, Ma’am.” It’s not like she’s leaving you with any other option. You figure you can call Haechan later during your break time. It’s still not confirmed anyway, your date with him. You’ll think of a way to make it up to him.

It’s only for a few hours anyway, right?

I’ll just text him now. You dip your hand into your purse, trying to find your iPhone as fast as you can. You run your fingers along the screen, typing letters with your thumbs.

Haechannie, something came up and I have to stay longer at work. I’ll see you later tonight at your place and we can talk then.

“What are you doing standing around like that?” Your manager suddenly shouts and you almost drop your phone in surprise. “Go and change your uniform now, we’re opening the place in ten minutes!”

“Y-yes, Ma’am!” You fumble with your steps, throwing your phone back into your purse in a hurry. You inwardly sigh. Today is going to be a long day.

I’m sorry, Haechannie.

***

“Great work today,” Jaehyun says when most of his family members have left the restaurant. You didn’t realize how big and wealthy his family was so it amazed you that one family could occupy the whole seatings they have in this place. There were more than thirty people in the room before and you had to change your high heels into a pair of flat shoes so you can run from one table to another while carrying several plates at once.

“Not really, I almost broke another plate today,” you respond with a sigh, which earns a low chuckle in return. Jaehyun has his back leaning against the wall just an arms reach away from the front door, waiting for you to finish shoving all your belongings into your bag before he curls his fingers around the doorknob and twists it open.

“Thanks,” you say, almost sheepishly because it looks weird, no matter how you see it—your boss is opening the door for you. “Stop being so nice, Jae, you’re making other staff jealous.”

“But I do this to all my staff,” Jaehyun snickers, following after your trail.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Hey,” he calls, placing his hand on your shoulder so you’ll stop on your track and turn around to face him. “Thank you.”

You raise your eyebrow questioningly. “For what?”

“For acting like how you normally do around me,” he explains, smiling a little bit bashfully. “For not being so awkward after our break-up.”

“Oh… Well…” You try to focus your gaze somewhere else, suddenly finding the  silver watch you wear around your wrist entertaining. “It’s been years since then, I think we both have moved on by now, right?”

There’s a thick tension growing between the two of you and you almost beg him to say something before it starts to suffocate you.

“Sure,” he says, but the pressure in his tone speaks otherwise. You look up to meet his eyes, expecting him to smile and bring another topic into the conversation, but all he does is just gazing at you with these gentle, almost longing eyes that make your heart stops for a split second.

You know this can’t go any further.

“Well, uhh,” Jaehyun clears his throat, running a hand through his hair, perhaps feeling rather embarrassed himself. “It’s already late. Do you want me to escort you back to your place?”

And you find it hard to form a sentence, still somewhat baffled from the way he’s acting around you, and you’re so unfocused that when another voice enters your hearing, it shocks you down to your spine.

“I’ll be taking her from here,” Haechan says, startling you both and you turn around so fast on your heel to face him that you almost stumble forward. Your boyfriend is standing with one hand carrying a black suit and another one digging inside the pocket of his pants, dressed nicely in a white buttoned up with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He has the top two buttons of his shirt loosened, showing a glimpse of his collar bones and the silver necklace he usually hangs around his neck. His short brown hair is parted to the side, slightly pushed back to showcase his temple. You’ve never seen him dressed so sharp and elegantly before since the first day you met him and you can’t help but feel a little bit starstruck from the way he looks. But you soon realize that there must be a reason why he’s so dressed up and you feel terrible because you don’t know what it is.

What day is it today?

“Haechan—”

The way he grabs your hand shows how agitated he actually is despite the calm facade he places on his face, and it’s glaringly possessive the way he drags you to match his step on the way to his car but you follow him without a word, not even sparing a glance at Jaehyun who’s looking at him as if he just stole something important from him. Haechan opens the door to the passenger seat, and you climb in with your heart thrumming loud against your chest.

Haechan walks to the other side without making eye contact with Jaehyun but even at that point, your ex-boyfriend doesn’t dare to say a word or make a move, probably because he knows he has no right to do so. Haechan does not look angry and neither does he act like it but the quietness that fills the space between you, even when his car engine is blaring noisily outside, speaks louder than everything that he does.

“Umm.” You suddenly feel parched, your throat burning with every word you try to form. “T-thank you for picking me up.” You’re about to flinch from how terrible you just sounded. “I thought you were waiting at the dorm. Didn’t you get my text?”

It takes a few seconds that feel like forever for him to answer. “I don’t know, did you send me one?” He simply asks, voice flat and nonchalant, as he switches the gears of his car.

Did I not? You gulp in horror and begin to frantically search for your phone in your purse. Your heart almost leaps out from your chest when you see your phone is dead, probably ran out of battery sometimes during your hectic hours. You didn’t check on it before because you thought that Haechan most likely had seen your text and was waiting for you at the dorm, so you decided to just run in a hurry without texting him that your shift had ended. You were also busy talking with Jaehyun and felt it wouldn’t be polite for you to check on your phone while he was around.

But, as you connect your phone to your power bank, turning it on, and run your thumbs along the screen, you notice one thing: you didn’t send him anything.

“I’m—” A shiver runs down your spine. “I’m sure I texted you before—why—” You remember how your manager suddenly interrupted you when you were about to send the text. You must have forgotten to press send, and seeing how there are suddenly a lot of messages coming to your phone at once from him makes your heart drop to the floor.

I’ve made a reservation at Boccalino at 7 p.m. I know how you’ve always wanted to go there. Wear something nice.

Where are you now? Are you still at work? Do you want me to pick you up?

You’re probably busy at work. I’ll just see you at our table, okay? Don’t be late.

I haven’t heard from you. Where are you? I’m on my way to the restaurant to make sure our reservation is still on.

All my calls are going straight to voicemails. Where are you?

You’re an hour late. Where are you?!

You can feel the tremble in your fingertips as you hold your phone, your eyes running back and forth in horror. Haechan still doesn’t speak a word, focusing his eyes entirely on the road that lays in front of him.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” Even though you know you’re already so out of line and probably won’t be forgiven anytime soon, you still apologize because what else can you say? “I didn’t realize my phone was dead. And I was sure I’d texted you but—”

“It’s fine,” he says as he props his elbow against his window, rubbing the side of his temple with his fingertips. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

And with that, the conversation ends. Your thoughts are running fast, trying to come up with a better apology or find a way to patch things up but you can’t. The more plans you make, the more you hate yourself for being so stupid and ruin this whole thing for him. The drive back to your dorm is filled with nothing but silence, and you spend the entire time counting the street light that glows faintly on the side of the road.

You do notice something, though. Haechan’s phone keeps on making little sounds, notifying him that he’s receiving text messages and chats. There was also a phone call which he ignored even when the street light was red, only saying, “I’ll just call back later,” when you nervously ask him about it.

It’s when he walks you back to your dorm, that you begin to gain the courage to ask about it. “You’re getting awfully a lot of texts today.”

“They just want to congratulate me,” he says, tucking his hands in his pockets so you can’t take a hold of any of them as you walk beside him.

“On what?”

“My birthday.”

You wish the earth could just swallow you whole because how fucking ignorantly stupid can you be? It’s the sixth of June today, and you were so busy dealing with the fight and minding your own business that you forgot the birthday of the most important person in your life right now. You can feel how your legs almost give out under your weight, your head’s spinning.

And apparently, you’re doing it again, so lost in your own thoughts that Haechan has to say, “We’re here,” to snap you back to reality. You’re now standing gawkily in front of the door to your room, palms getting sweaty from how nervous you are. Haechan murmurs something about seeing you later and you’re about to burst into tears from how terrible you feel for him so you hastily grab him by his wrist, fingers almost sinking into his skin from how desperate you’re being.

“Stay with me,” you beg with quivers in your voice. “Please, just—I need to talk to you.”

Haechan stares at you with cold eyes, his jaw clenching slightly. But he doesn’t pull back his arm and follows your trail with heavy steps as you step inside your room. He closes the door behind him and leans his back against it, still not saying anything.

You’re so occupied with trying to form a coherent sentence that you forget to be thankful about how your roommate is away for the weekend again, providing you the opportunity to have the entire room for yourself. You decide to not make any excuses and apologize for every little dumb thing you’ve been doing for the whole day—no, for a whole week even, since the time your fight started. But no matter what you say, Haechan is staring at you with lifeless eyes, as if he’s just too tired to listen—as if he just no longer cares.

And that scares the life out of you.

“Hyuck, please,” you whisper, closing the distance between you until you can feel his warm breath caressing your cheek. You have your palm pressing against the side of his face, “Say something.” You know it’s not right, but you lean in for a kiss. It’s not just because you’re desperate to pull an emotion out of him; it’s more because you miss him so terribly so, it’s driving you crazy.

Haechan has his eyes closed by instinct but he doesn’t kiss back, only letting your lips linger on him, sharing his breath. And though it feels like there’s a javelin slowly sinking into your chest, you try again, kissing him with more passion, hooking your arm around his neck to pull him closer. Haechan tears himself away, his gaze turning dark as he stares at you and you look at him back with desperation in your eyes.

“Haecha—”

It’s like something snaps inside him and he suddenly no longer has control over his own free will, because Haechan is now pushing your body against the door, slamming your spine against the surface none too gently with his hands on each side of your head, lips chasing after yours. You let out a gasp, both from the shock and the pain that stings from the back of your head, and he takes the opportunity to kiss you deeper, tongue delving in to explore the inside of your mouth. His fingers trail down from your cheeks to your jaw, before they rest on the sides of your neck, his fingertips probing against your veins. You’re not sure whether he does it unconsciously from the sheer excitement or something else but the way his hand is holding you by the neck, his fingers low key choking you make your adrenaline runs faster.

He doesn’t give you the chance to process every single thing that’s happening, or even breathe, for that matter. The next thing you know, he already has his hands running down to your thighs, pulling them up so you have no other choice but to tangle your legs around his waist and groan when he presses your hips together. Hearing the sound of his name tumbling down your lips in a desperate, needy moan, Haechan groans at the back of his throat, his hands moving up to palm your breasts before they start to struggle with your shirt.

You’re doing the same thing, just as eager to get him out of his white shirt so you can latch your lips on his smooth sun-kissed skin. But unlike you who struggle to unbutton his shirt one by one, Haechan’s patience is wearing thin so he ends up just ripping your uniform, buttons clattering down to the floor.

“Wait, Hyuck—” You’re forced to swallow whatever it is you’re trying to say when Haechan sinks his teeth down to the skin that connects your neck to your shoulder, pushing the fabric of your shirt down to expose more of your bare skin. Your whole body shudders, clutching to him with every strength you have. It hurts, the way he bites and nibbles along your sensitive skin, but at the same time, it sends electricity down to every inch of your body.

“Do you have any idea how fucking pissed I am right now?” He says in a low, dangerous voice as he gnaws around your earlobe. “Turn around.”

With his nails sinking into your hips, he forces you to turn on your heel, pressing the side of your face against the door and tears your shirt away from your body. He doesn’t immediately take off your bra like he usually does, and instead focusing first on slipping his fingers underneath the band, thumbs glossing over your hardened nipples as he applies wet kisses on your nape. You almost let out a sob when his hand travels south, raking his fingers against your stomach before he takes off your skirt in such a hurry, leaving you in nothing but your black stockings and your laced panties.

Your entire body jolts when he slips a hand between your legs, rubbing you over your underwear before he suddenly pushes the fabric down and runs his fingertips along your folds.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he whispers in your ear, his breath fanning your neck. “I’m surprised you like being treated like this.” But when you cry out his name, begging for him to stop teasing you already, he chuckles lowly. “I should’ve done this sooner.”

You’re sure that you’re just reacting this way because it’s him and not anybody else and you want to tell him that but you can barely form a word with him rubbing his fingertips along your clit. “You’re actually quite dirty, aren’t you?” He brings two of his fingers to your lips, forcing you to suck them into your mouth and you oblige, knowing what he’s intending to do. You coat them with as much saliva as you can before he brings his hand down to your heat again, this time inserting one finger into your entrance with another one following soon after.

You hiss his name under your breath, becoming a little lightheaded from all this sensation you’re having at once. “What do you want me to do?” He asks tauntingly, knowing he’s in charge of everything.

“Fuck me,” you gasp, eyes tightly shut at the feeling of him finger fucking you to oblivion. “I want you inside me, Hyuck, fuck.”

“Maybe in a few minutes.” His teasing tone is back but it’s different. It’s almost menacing this time, somewhat heartless. He picks up the pace, pumping his fingers in and out of you until you find yourself biting your lip to contain your sob. “Do you know what I want?” He carves his words against your skin, taking a handful of your hair with his other free hand and yanking it back so you can’t help but face the ceiling. His lips are hovering dangerously close against your ear. “I want to fuck you raw. We’ve never done that before, have we? I want to come inside you—want to see my cum dripping down your thighs when I’m finished with you.”

Fuck. You almost cry from the temptation. “Then do it. I don’t care just—” You arch your back, sinking yourself down to his fingers, moaning against the side of his neck. “Please, just fuck me, Hyuck.”

“Good girl,” he replies and you can hear the smirk in his voice but you don’t care. He can be as cocky as he wants for the night because you secretly like it. You like how confident he is during sex, how passionate and sexy he can get, and how desperate and uncontrolled he becomes at the end. You can feel your stomach flip at the anticipation, especially when you hear him working on his belt, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down only low enough for him to free himself.

“Let me fuck your mouth first,” he demands and you find yourself succumbing to his orders, turning around to face him before you drop to your knees, the tip of his cock protruding against your lips.

Haechan is still holding himself back, you’re sure, because he lets you take your own pace at first but his dominating persona comes back almost immediately when you only give him tentative licks against his slit. “Open up,” he orders, his fingers finding home in your hair and you loosen up your jaw to take him deeper.

Tears begin to form in the corner of your eyes from how hard he’s hitting the back of your throat but you try to keep up. He moves his hips, enjoying the warmth of your mouth. When you feel him twisting his fingers around the strands of your hair, you look up to see his expression. Haechan has his head thrown back in pleasure, his lips parted in a silent moan and you hum proudly to yourself when he brings his eyes down to meet yours. They’re glazed with lust and he’s so sexy like this with his breathing ragged, soft moans flowing like music to your ears. And he’s probably feeling the same about you, from the way he pushes the bangs out of your eyes, taking every detail of your face as you hollow your cheeks, swallowing when his taste falls upon your tongue.

“Fuck,” he hisses under his breath, “You look so perfect like this. You’re so fucking sexy, do you know that?” You hum, running your tongue along the prominent vein, giving kitten licks around the tip. Something gleams in his eyes and suddenly he commands you to stand up and pushes your body against the wall again, face first.

“Do you know how excited I was for today?” He grabs you by the waist, pushing his palm against your shoulder blades so you’ll bend lower, and positions himself against your entrance from behind. “I wanted to celebrate my birthday with you—just with you, Noona—even after our fight, I still wanted to spend it with you—”

“I know,” you gasp, thighs trembling when he rubs his tip against your folds. “I’m sorry—I was too busy with—“

“With work?” He taunts, “Or with that guy you’ve been seeing?”

“No—” A sudden yelp flows out of your mouth when he abruptly pushes himself entirely inside of you in one quick motion, his nails digging into the skin of your hips. Haechan moans a tad louder, much breathier, with his eyebrows knitted together in ecstasy. He’s more sensitive now since he’s not using a condom, directly feeling how wet and hot you are around him, how every clench makes him lose his mind and you can feel him twitching inside you. “Haechan—wait—”

He thrusts forward with such brute force, you find yourself pressed against the door. The dorm is quiet and with the way he’s slamming his hips against yours, the door making rhythmic banging noises against its frames, you’re sure you’re going to be noticed sooner or later.

“The bed—” You gasp, searching for the hands he has on your hips. “Let’s move to the bed—”

“Later,” he groans, his mind sinking in the way your heat is enveloping him.

“People can—” You have your eyes tightly shut when his thrusts get stronger. “They can hear us, Hyuck—”

He tangles his hand around your locks, making a messy ponytail out of them so he can yank on your hair as he rocks his hips faster. “I don’t fucking care,” he growls, “Let everyone know you’re mine.”

It feels fucking amazing the way he’s all breathless and rough, fucking you senselessly as if the world is ending, and it’s not long before your legs start to give up on you, quivering under the sensation.

“Fuck,” Haechan takes a sharp intake of breath, pulling you back against him when you’re about to fall. “Tired already, babe?” His chuckles are unfamiliar to your ears, as if he was mocking instead of teasing but you can’t really comment on it because he’s now pushing you down to the floor, forcing you to stay on all fours. “Now, now, what do we do?” He asks, spreading your thighs but holds your ass firmly in the air. “I’m just getting started.”

Every thrust of his hip feels like fire running all over your body and you can’t believe how good he is at hitting that particular spot deep inside you. You bite your lower lip to keep your voice down and Haechan notices it so he leans close, his chest pressing against your spine and you feel his lips and teeth caressing the crook of your neck as he speaks.

“Stop holding back your voice.” His voice sounds sultry, almost sinful to your ears. “I’ve told you before, right? I like hearing you say my name when we do this. Let me hear you moan.”

You shake your head. “I don’t want anyone to hear—“

“Well,” he doesn’t even let you finish. “I guess I’ll just have to force it out of you then.”

He slows down his pace, and instead of giving you fast, shallow thrusts, he focuses his strength on making each thrust hard and deep. You can feel your breathing being knocked out of your lungs, your toes curling in pleasure and if he keeps doing this, you know you’re not gonna last long. Your orgasm hits you so hard, a whimper falling from your mouth the way he likes it, and your body begins to shake.

Haechan laughs quietly against your ear. “You came, didn’t you? It feels so good—you feel so good around my cock.” He grabs you by the chin and roughly angles your head to face him. He kisses you hard, leaving you even more breathless than you already are before he says, “It’s my turn now.”

Haechan flips you to your back, spreading your legs wide as he sits on his knees, holding your ankles in the air like how he did the first time you had sex with him. Maybe it’s his favorite position, almost splitting your body in half, and seeing your face and your breasts bouncing up and down with every movement of his hips. You’re still dazed, reeling in the afterglow when Haechan pushes back into you again without warning, his eyes half-lidded in pleasure, his lips parted forming your name between his breathy moans.

“I’ll never get tired of how you look when I fuck you like this,” he says, smirking in the sexiest way you’ve ever seen him do. “You’re so goddamn irresistible, you know that?”

It’s frightening how different and rough he’s being right now, and you’re about to cry out because you miss him—you miss the way he used to be. The adorable, annoying little tease that he was. How can you bring him back?

“Haechannie,” you call out, voice soft and quiet almost in a whisper. “I love you.”

His movement stops almost immediately, his eyes widening in surprise. He locks his gaze back with yours, his grip on your legs becoming loose. “What?”

“I love you,” you repeat, placing your legs down so you can sit up from your position. Your back feels sore, screaming in pain but you try not to wince. You reach out to grab his face, running your thumb along his lower lip. “I love you, Lee Donghyuck.” You kiss him gently, merely pressing your lips against his and you can feel how his body stiffen under your touch. “So calm down, because I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be with you, as long as you let me.”

Haechan is still very much speechless and you decide to take control. You carefully push him down so he can sit back on the floor before you climb into his lap. You kiss him again, tangling your fingers in his hair before you slide down, enveloping him once again. There’s a small moan escaping his lips, which you immediately capture with your own and his hands find their way back to your hips again.

“That’s not fair,” he says, his cheeks reddening slightly though he’s still scowling at you. “You’re just saying that so I won’t be angry with you anymore.”

“That too, but,” you’re interrupted by a moan that departs from your lips, can barely handle the way he twitches inside you. “I’ve been feeling that way for quite some time now. Especially when we fight. I just missed you so much, I couldn’t stand it.”

His pout is growing back on his face, though not as apparent. “Well, whose fault do you think is that?” It’s perfect, the way he moves inside you and it’s driving him crazy whenever you clench your walls around him.

“There’s nothing between me and Jaehyun, I promise you,” you softly murmur as you place open-mouthed kisses down his neck. “I’d never cheat on you, Hyuck. You know that, right?”

He shivers slightly under your touch, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Still,” he breathes out, “It doesn’t mean I’m fine with you meeting him behind my back.”

“He’s my boss, I wouldn’t be able to avoid him even if I wanted—” You have to end your sentence short when he rubs his thumb against your clit, reeling in the sensation. “Hyuck, you’re going to make me come again at this rate.”

“Good, because I intend to make you come at least three times tonight.” He snickers against your lips. “So you won’t be able to forget who owns you.”

His movements become sloppy, going out of rhythm, even more desperate with each thrust and when you whisper with his earlobe between your teeth, “Happy birthday, baby,” he comes undone almost immediately with his face hiding between the slope of your neck.

He lays you down to the floor again, gently this time, before he hovers above you, his arms shaking slightly. “Holy shit,” he exhales, cheeks flushed and beads of sweat forming on his temple. “I think I came a lot inside you.”

“Glad I’m taking some pills then,” you reply, smiling a little as you cup his cheek, your thumb tracing the mole under his left eye. “You okay?”

“Are you okay?” He asks instead. “Was I too rough? Are you hurt somewhere?”

“Why is it that whenever we have sex, you end up asking me these questions?” You chuckle. “Yes, you were. And yes, I am hurt. My back is killing me.”

“I’m…” There’s a slight panic flitting across his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it was kinda hot seeing you all riled up like that. It’s like you turned into a completely different person.” You pull him down by his necklace, murmuring against his lips, “I won’t mind if you fuck me like that again sometimes.”

It’s funny that after all of this that just happened, he actually blushes over your words. Quietly cursing under his breath, he leans back on his heels, slowly pulling out of you and stare intently at how his cum starts to seep out of you.

“Goddamn…” he mumbles, eyes unblinking as if he’s in a trance. “I really did come a lot inside you.”

“Consider that your birthday gift. Also, can you stop looking at me like that—it’s embarrassing.” You don’t usually get embarrassed about sexual stuff, especially now that your boyfriend’s shamelessness kind of rubs off on you, but Haechan really knows how to push your buttons.

Seeing you fidget out of shame, Haechan’s eyes twinkle, his lips forming a teasing grin. “No, wait, let me clean you up.” Despite what he says, he slowly pushes one finger into you, with another one following right after and you part your lips in a gasp but loss for words when you see him playing with his cum that’s mixed with yours, smearing it on the inside parts of your thigh.

“Haechannie,” you gasp, feeling his fingers inside you once again, with his thumb rubbing over your clit. “What are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He grins, showcasing his perfect teeth. “I’m going to make you come again. And then you’re going to make me come again.” His face hovers above yours, wetting his bottom lip as he stares lustfully at you. “Since it’s my birthday and you’re obliged to do whatever I want.”

You gulp. You’re going to be so sore tomorrow.

***

[after-witch]

Pinned [Yandere Shigaraki x Secretary!Reader]

Title: Pinned [Yandere Shigaraki x Secretary!Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve given him a kink and isn’t that your fault, really? Follow up to “Office Hours.”

For request:

-I can’t stop thinking about your secretary fic, I think it gave me a tickling kink that I never knew I had. I would absolutely love it if you wrote some more of creepy Shigaraki and his captive secretary!]

Word Count: 1334

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, tickling, just some kink PWP

You’ve given him a kink. 

Okay. 

A few kinks. 

And maybe they were dormant inside him all along but seeing you in your stockings and heels and that fucking blouse when it gets translucent and sweat-soaked underneath his fingers--you complained about the sweat but shit, it can be thrown in a washer if you really care that much--has awakened something in him. An itch that only you can scratch--or rather, an itch that he only wants to scratch with you. And sometimes that scratch is literal, depending on his mood.

Which is why he’s staring at you now. You’re sitting at the desk he’d found on the street, a scratched up ratty thing with a bum leg that someone was throwing out. Your fingers are flying over the keys of the laptop--his laptop, but he’s nice enough to let you use it, WiFi disabled of course--and who knows what you’re typing but what you’re typing isn’t actually important.

As long as as he can focus on the way your back arches in the uncomfortable chair, the way you idly slip a heel off and flex your stockinged foot, the swishing sound your skirt keeps making when you shift against the tattered leather seat. You were trying to drive him crazy, weren’t you? You had to be. Every sound, every movement, designed to make him want you. Need you.

Fuck, you were perfect.

He’s glad more and more that he took you, rescued you, really, from that shitty hero you called a “boss.” Hypocritical asshole. If Tomura hadn’t acted first, that lowlife do-nothing (seriously, you could’ve aimed for a higher caliber of hero) was surely aiming to get you into bed. Maybe he was spiking the orange juice at your boring little brunches. Maybe he would have told you he’d help your career if you “helped him.” What a sicko.

You’ve slipped both of your black heels off entirely and fuck, fuck, fuck. He presses his knuckles to his mouth and groans and your eyes dart to him and away and that’s it, he can’t sit here, half-paying attention to a video game anymore. He sets the controller down and he sees right away that your body is tensing up, wondering what he’s up to; well, you’ll see, won’t you? You were practically begging him to come over there, so you shouldn’t be surprised.

“Tomura--”

Your voice is sweet and he knows you want him to go sit back down, so you can work--”work”--but he just can’t. You’re making it impossible for him to leave you alone. Can he help it if the way you keep glancing at him, pretending you don’t care (but you don’t) what he’s going to do sends a thrill down his stomach?

And you really tense up once he makes up his mind what to do, plopping down on the stained carpet and ducking his head under the desk. You make to tuck your legs behind the chair, but you’re too slow, and he gets a firm grip on one of your feet easily.

“Tomura,” you say again, urgency overpowering the sweetness.

“Quiet,” he tells you. “Just keep working.”

Your foot seems made to fit in his hand, and no matter how you try to pull away, his grip stays firm. He wonders if it ever dawns on you that his hands can do so much worse than tickle. Not to you, though, never to you. Not that he lets you know that--a little threat in the air is needed, particularly when you’re being stubborn. It’s not like he can threaten to dock your pay if you don’t fall in line, right?

“Come on,” you whine, when he brings up his other hand and begins to stroke your foot, up and down, deceptively patient on his part. Your foot curls as much as possible and he can hear your breath, hitching and huffing.

This is his favorite part. When you try to block it out--when you’re surely thinking that maybe this time you can hold out long enough, and he’ll get bored and go back to gaming.

You’re silly.

He’ll never get bored of you.

He also knows that you can never make it that long without giving in. All it takes is a bit of digging, itching into the nylon with a single finger, and there--like always--you break, and your bubbling, beautiful little laugh makes his stomach do flips. Whatever feeble typing you were doing before ceases entirely in favor of your hands banging on the desk, pounding helplessly on the wood.

Fuck.

Do you know what you do to him?

Fuck.

He’s chewing on his bottom lip before he knows it and there’s a bit of blood in his smile as he glances up, almost pensive, not wanting to look straight up your skirt like some kind of perv.

“T-T--Tomura,” you grind out, voice fizzy and light and breathy and laughing. “Please-stop-please-stop,” and he can’t see your face but he bets your eyes are squeezed shut, bets the eye makeup is running a bit, bets your mouth is stretched wide and he wishes he could be up there and down here at the same time so he could kiss you.

He’ll have to get you on the couch if he wants to do that.

A quick glance up, the sight of your nyloned thighs underneath the skirt rubbing together as you squirm on the chair, is all he needs to change positions.

Your sigh in relief when he lets your foot ago, and when he gets out from under the table he can see that he was right--your mouth is still slightly curved in a helpless smile and your makeup’s a bit runny and your breathing in and out, catching your breath underneath that slightly sweaty white blouse. How, how, how did that dipshit hero who hired you not bend you over his desk the first day you walked into the office?

Not that it matters. Not that your former employer matters. Not that anyone should matter to you anymore but Shigaraki Tomura, right?

He feels your muscle tense up, tight and wary, but decides to be gracious and ignore it as he looms behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and inhaling your scent. A glance at the laptop screen shows what you were writing--I’mboredI’mboredI’mboredI’mbored, how cute; but he wastes no more time before leaning forward to shut the laptop and pull the chair--and you-- backwards, until the back of the gaming chair rests solidly against his chest.

The sound you make as as gravity pulls you down can only be described (affectionately) as a squawk, and your throat looks smooth and exposed as you stare up at him, probably hoping the chair doesn’t fall out from under you. You’re so damn cute. Hot. Perfect. His.

“Couch or chair?” He asks, and your eyes dart around for a third option that doesn’t exist. You bite on your lip, cherry red smearing a bit on your tooth.

“Couch,” you practically sigh the words out of your mouth. You start to lift yourself out the chair and pause, tentative. “Tomura?”

He hmms, only half paying attention, instead focusing on the way your body looks as you finally slide out of the chair and perch yourself on the couch in anticipation.

“Keep your damn fingers out of my armpits this time.”

He won’t make any promises.

[anabsolutetrainwreck]

i can hate you sometimes || h. styles

warnings: pre-covid, mentions of sex, swearing, kissing

word count: 2.2k

summary: you and harry have mutual friends, but that doesn’t mean you two are friends. but when harry gets caught in the rain and you’re the closest person he can turn to, it makes for a much more awkward night...

Though you could respect Harry’s artistic abilities when it came to creating music, you could barely tolerate him as a person. Likewise, he wasn’t at all too fond of you. You shared friends in common, which often unfortunately resulted in many a night out with him and your mutual friends.

Yes, Harry was a respectful man. That was perhaps the one thing you could say didn’t irritate you about him. Everything else, the subtle cockiness he played off as jokes; the incessant need to be centre of attention; the bloated ego, which left him thinking he was above everyone else, all of that stuff, you couldn’t stand. But he wasn’t going to stop you from enjoying time with your friends, so you continued to go out drinking with them or go out for big meals with them or on lavish holidays with them. Unfortunately, he had the same mindset. You were both very stubborn.

Going out with your friends when Harry was there seemed like a difficult task at first. But if you sat at the opposite end of the table or stayed fairly distant in a club, the night tended to run smoothly. The one time you’d been left alone was around a year ago when you and Harry had gone out for dinner with Sarah and Mitch. Sarah had gone to the toilet and Mitch had gone to pay the bill. It had been two or three minutes maybe, but it felt like long, excruciating hours. Days, even. You’d distracted yourself by finishing off your wine and trying hard to look anywhere but in Harry’s direction. He’d busied himself with his phone and trying hard to look anywhere but your direction. But, either way, it had been perhaps the most awkward experience of your life.

And now, on a quiet Sunday evening, you found yourself preparing some pasta. Your dog, albeit too big for his own good, was curled up in front of the fireplace. You had your laptop set up on your coffee table, your classical music playlist floating through your house.

It had begun raining heavily about five minutes ago. The droplets were pelting down on your large windows. You had some candles set up and a glass of wine waiting for you on the coffee table in your living room. It was the perfect romantic evening for one.

A knock on your front door took your attention from the boiling water before you. You quickly jogged through to your hallway, opening the door. And, much to your surprise and perhaps disappointment, you were met with the face of Harry Styles. “Can I help you?” you asked, staring at him expectantly.

He sighed, almost embarrassed to ask, but said, “Can I stop at yours until the rain passes?”

You looked him up and down. Stop at yours? Why did that send your stomach into a state of flutters? “Just get an uber,” you said firmly.

He winced, “My phone’s dead. Can you at least let me charge it so I can get an uber?”

You weren’t a fan of Harry (biggest understatement of the year), but that didn’t mean you were an utter asshole. Of course you would let him stop at yours for a little while. Anyone would, right? You sighed, making sure he knew this was a reluctant decision of yours, “Sure.”

He thanked you as he shuffled into your house. He removed his coat and hung it up on your coat rack. Quietly, he followed you into your living room. “Here,” you said curtly, passing him one of your spare chargers.

The entire exchange was even more awkward than last year’s meal with Sarah and Mitch. Benny, your dog, was quite clearly enthralled about the arrival of Harry. He jumped up at the brunette man, his tongue hanging loose. As you tended to your exuberant pasta meal, you could hear Harry petting Benny.

On the few occasions Harry had met Benny, he loved the dog. But, Benny was a dog after all and it was hard to hate a dog. Especially one as lovable and as cuddly as Benny. Harry’s footsteps became louder as he entered the kitchen, Benny, tail wagging, not far behind. It was only when you looked up did you notice Harry carrying your laptop with him. Your first instinct was to tell him to put it the fuck down; it was your laptop - you paid good money for it. But something seemed to stop you from snapping at the man, who was soaked from the rain, in front of you. Usually, you struggled with biting your tongue around Harry. He was just infuriating. “Can I please put something else on?” he asked, gesturing to the screen, which had Spotify open.

You shrugged. You weren’t that bothered if he wasn’t in the mood to listen to your collection of great classical records. It was his loss. Besides, your pasta was nearly finished and then  you’d dish it up and settle down in front of the tv. “Sure.”

There was a moment of silence after he’d paused to whatever piece was playing. “What’s this?” his voice came suddenly.

You knew exactly what he’d found. And you practically kicked yourself for forgetting you had it. It was your playlist, simply titled ‘sex’. A sex playlist. A playlist for sex. “I didn’t take you as the type to have a designated sex playlist,” he said, smirking.

“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you grumbled, your cheeks heating up.

“Clearly. Some interesting choices on here, Y/N. Not as many of mine as I thought there’d be,” he said.

There was none. None of Harry’s songs on your sex playlist and, if he was being honest, it kind of irritated him slightly. The thought of you having sex to his voice was an enriching one. But what most definitely pissed him off, was the sight of a couple Liam Payne songs and a few of Zayn’s. “I didn’t think Sign of the Times was right for the occasion,” you shrugged. “Do you want some pasta?”

“If there’s some going,” he said quickly. “I do have other songs you know. Besides, Sign of the Times is a great sex song. Starts off slow, builds to a climax...”

You turned to look at him. Only then did you realise you were actually having this conversation with him. Still, you pressed on. “All songs build to a climax one way or another. It’s called a crescendo.”

“Yeah, I know what it’s fucking called,” he sighed. “I’m the musician here.”

“And yet you can’t appreciate classical music. Anyway, if you’re so convinced you have good sex songs, name a few,” you challenged.

He spoke as he followed you through to the living room. You set his bowl of pasta (you always had a habit of making your portions way too large) down on the coffee table beside the candles and wine. “Okay, Kiwi.”

You hummed in thought, “What if I want something a little slower? Like, Kiwi could totally ruin the mood.”

He shifted in his seat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his phone light up, signalling it had at least a little bit of power. But now he was eating your fresh pasta and discussing sex songs with you, and frankly, he didn’t want to leave. “Woman? You can’t tell me you’ve never had sex with Woman playing,” he said.

“Well, I can. So I will: I’ve never had sex with Woman playing,” you replied; you liked this game.

“Okay, come on. She is the perfect sex song,” he said smugly.

Now this one tripped you up. Because you’d had sex to She before. It had come on when the guy you were sleeping with asked if he could shuffle his playlist. She had come on second, maybe. And those six minutes had been the best of your life. You told yourself it was just the guy you were seeing at the time, and he certainly didn’t mind the compliment. But, in hindsight, you realised it was probably the fact that Harry was singing about living in daydreams in the background. In that moment, the sex hadn’t even been at the forefront of your mind. It was his fucking velvet voice. “I wouldn’t know.”

He smirked, “You’ve had sex to She, haven’t you?”

“No.”

“You have! I knew it.”

“Piss off, Harry.”

You hoped your nonchalant replies would be enough to deter his attention from the subject at hand. But alas, he didn’t seem to pick up on it. That, or he was deliberately ignoring your tone. You were beginning to regret letting Harry into your house. And you weren’t afraid to tell him so. “I wish I’d just left you in the rain.”

He scoffed, “That’s not very nice, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes at him, making sure he saw. God, you could really hate him sometimes. “Harry, we’re literally discussing my sex life. It’s none of your business. And a bit personal, don’t you think? You don’t even know my surname.”

You got to your feet and made your way through to the kitchen, placing your empty bowl in the sink. You could hear him behind you, you just wanted to turn around and tell him to give you a moment to yourself. He was like a puppy. Before you had the chance to do so, you felt him lean over, placing his bowl beside yours. He was so close. 

Turning around slowly, you were met with him. He was there, right there. You looked up at him. He wasn’t moving. You were torn between pushing past him, making sure he knew you were angry and staying for a while, basking in the sexual tension that was buzzing around in the air. “I do know your surname,” was all he said.

He was so close, his eyes exploring your face as if he’d never seen it before. Trapped between Harry and the kitchen counter, you’d fantasised about this moment for ages. Harry’s face a mere few centimetres away from your own. You could feel his breath on your face. It was warm, welcoming. “Do you?” you choked out. 

He nodded slightly. The revelation of Harry knowing your surname was almost surprising to you. You didn’t think he paid that much attention to anything that had something to do with you. Up until this point, standing in your kitchen, neither of you daring to make the first move, you’d thought he only knew your first name because he was obliged to. 

You both yearned the simple delight of the other’s touch. All the pent up sexual tension from the last years, longing looks disguised as glares of disgust and the little snarky remarks used as an excuse to talk to each other, all of that began unravelling at the seams. He looked at you and you looked at him, both of you daring the other to make the first point of euphoric contact. “Harry,” you forced out quietly, hoping he’d take that as a sign that he could touch you, kiss you, anything.

“What do you want?” he hummed gently. “What can I give you?”

“Just kiss me.”

You were also embarrassed that, after years of suppressing your enrapturing feelings, you were asking him to kiss you. And still, he didn’t touch you. It was like he was playing some sick game with you. And then the dreadful thought that he might just be doing all of this to give him a means to mock you in the future. If that was the case, he’d have the perfect upper hand over you. “Do you still wish you’d left me in the rain?” he asked, almost taunting you as he left you practically begging for his touch. 

You shook your head, “No, no. God, no. Harry, please.”

“Anything you want, darling.”

“Kiss me.”

“Only if you’re sure you want me to.”

“I do, Harry. Please.”

And when he was sure he had your definite consent, he didn’t waste another moment. He placed his large hand on your cheek, the tips of his fingers buried in your hair. His lips on yours was perhaps the most perfect form of ecstasy. As you wrapped your arms around his neck, tilting your head up to meet his, you were sure you’d travelled to some distant infatuating dreamland you only ever hear about. 

Reluctantly, you pulled away, panting slightly, “Don’t go.”

“What?”

“Don’t get an uber. Stay with me tonight.”

A smile crept its way up into Harry’s features. He tried to hide how elated he was that you’d proposed he spend the night with you. A grin tugged at the corners of his lips, which were parted slightly. All he wanted to do was indulge his need for your perfect taste all night. From the moment the sky went from the most divine lavender colour to the most starry black, to the moment it turned back to the most marvellous oranges and reds in the waking of the sun. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that to me.”

part two.

[t0wnspersonb]

Kiss it Better (Tsukishima Kei x Reader)

Anonymous said:

Hello I just read your fics about Kuroo, Akaashi and Bokuto and I really liked them 💞 So I was wondering if you could write a fluff fic where tsukki gets embarassed trying to make the first move you can also just add things to your liking If you don‘t want to that‘s totally okay I‘ll be waiting for your upcoming fics thank youuuu 🧡

~~~

Omg that’s so funny because my next story was literally going to be just that! I had a lot of fun writing this one and might do a part two with some *cough* smut *cough* just like Kuroo, everyone is lowkey a Tsukishima girl. I hope you like this anon! 

~~~~

Word Count: 2,293

Summary: Tsukishima has always liked you, but you’ve never noticed his advances. A trip to the nurses office might change your mind. 

~~~~~~~~

You liked to think that you were friends with the tall blonde sitting behind you in class. 

 But sometimes…

 Thunk. 

 Sometimes…

 Thunk.

 Sometimes you really wanted to fucking strangle him.

 Thunk. 

 “Can you stop kicking my chair!?” you hissed, staring at the smirking middle blocker.

 “My foot slipped.” he replied coyly, causing your scowl to deepen. 

 Before you could retort back to him the bell rang, signaling the end of class. You started packing up your stuff, grumbling to yourself about how rude Tsukishima was.

 “Don’t you want to walk to the clubs together?” He called out to your leaving form. 

 You huffed turning around to see him and Yamaguchi looking at you.

 There were times when Tsukishima didn’t annoy you, and those were the times you would walk with them to your after school club activities. 

 You were part of the photography club, which was on the way to the gymnasium that held their volleyball practice. 

 But again, you only walked with them when Tsukishima wasn’t being an annoying little prick.

 Today definitely wasn’t one of those days. He had been bugging you all day. It went from his annoying comments to him poking at you harshly, and then to kicking your chair.

 You weren’t sure if it was because he was bored and had nothing better to do, or if it was because he actually didn’t think of you as a friend. Or because he was just simply an asshole.

 Maybe it was a combination of all three, you didn’t know.

 “No way.” you sniffed, sticking out your tongue to him. “I don’t want to walk with you anywhere today. If it was just Yama-kun then I would. But not if you’re there. Stupid.”

Tsukishima visibly looked annoyed at your statement. 

 “Y/n-chan.” Yamaguchi called out, raising his hands up as he looked at both annoyed expressions. “You guys should try and get along yeah?”

 “Be quiet Yamaguchi.” Tsukishima sighed, moving to walk past you. “If she wants to be childish then just let her. I’m surprised she even got into this class.”

 “I’m surprised Yama-kun is even your friend.” you fired back, crossing your arms over your chest. “I bet you aren’t even good at volleyball.”

 Tsukishima paused, and then before you could even register what had happened, he was leaning down, incredibly close to your face and to your body. You could physically feel his body heat radiating into your own. His hand resting on the doorframe, preventing you from leaving the room.

 “Why don’t you come by and find out?” he said slowly, ignoring the panicked squeak that escaped Yamaguchi’s lips. His gold eyes were piercing into your own, but you couldn’t see any anger in them at what you had said, you couldn’t see an ounce of annoyance either. But there was something else there, something you couldn’t place.

 Ignoring your hammering heart and the heat creeping up into your face, you shoved his arm away scowling. “Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll take pictures of you sucking and have an article published in the school newspaper about you being a terrible person and sucking at volleyball!” you huffed stalking away from the tall first year angrily.

 You ignored the calls of Yamaguchi and just focused on heading towards your club.

 Today was definitely one of those days where you wanted nothing to do with Tsukishima.

 The relationship you had with the middle blocker was incredibly strange. One minute you guys were perfectly fine with each other, and next - well it was exactly what had just happened.

 Tsukishima scoffed as he watched your retreating figure. But he couldn’t deny the fact that your reactions were incredibly lame, but incredibly cute.

 “You shouldn’t tease her like that Tsukki.” Yamaguchi sighed. “She’s never going to like you back if you keep making her mad like that.”

 Tsukishima didn’t say anything as they continued their way to the gym. 

 Everyone knew that he liked you. It was incredibly obvious, and Tsukishima always made sure to make it incredibly obvious.

But it wasn't obvious to you.

 The one person that it mattered to the most.

 You were frustrating and amusing, stubborn and incredibly smart, quick-witted and incredibly beautiful.

 The entire package.

 And Tsukishima wanted you to be his.

 But you were too fucking dense to realize that.

 And quite frankly, he was getting sick of it. For as smart as you were, you were incredibly thick when it came to stuff like that it appeared.

 It frustrated him to no end.

 Usually what he depicted as playful flirting you thought as him just being downright mean.

 It was a constant cycle, neverending. 

 It was ridiculous.

 Actually scratch that. 

 This was ridiculous.

 It had been a couple of days since that last encounter, Tsukishima deciding his chances at winning you over would probably be better if he stopped his teasing for a little bit.

 But right now you were nodding your head rapidly in understanding as Hinata talked to you. You were there during one of their practices, to take photos of them. A project that you had to do for your photography club. Takeda-sensei had given you permission to be there to snap pictures of the team.

 “- And then I go boom!” Hinata exclaimed bouncing around.

 You smiled at his antics. “That sounds incredible Hinata! Do you think I can take a picture of you doing your crazy jump?” you asked, holding up the camera for emphasis.

 But before he could utter an answer, Tsukishima interrupted. “We have to start practice, you can just take pictures then.” he said to you, glancing at you briefly. 

You rolled your eyes at his aloofness and apologized to Hinata who was protesting loudly at what Tsukishima had said. “He’s right Hinata, I don’t want to impede on your guys’ practice so just pretend like I’m not here and I’ll take as many pictures as possible.”

 Reluctantly he agreed and everyone continued the practices Ukai had asked them to do before splitting up into different teams. They were doing a match.

 You were honestly in awe as you watched them play. You didn’t think that volleyball could be so… amazing. You had teased both Yamaguchi and Tsukishima about how boring the sport was.

 You were so wrong.

 You had almost forgotten to take pictures, you were so captivated.

 But what had surprised you the most, was Tsukishima. You had never seen him so… concentrated? So serious? So… so attractive?

 You felt your face flush, shaking your head to rid yourself of the thought. That was ridiculous. You had never been attracted to the middle blocker, you found him annoying, a completely arrogant, unnecessarily tall asshole, and… and he was incredibly good looking.

 What was wrong with you? How could you even think of something like that? How could you - “Watch out!” your eyes went wide as a volleyball came hurtling at you with rapid speed.

 Your eyes squeezed shut, readying yourself for the impact.

 Only it never came. You heard a loud grunt and opened your eyes to see Tsukishima clenching at his fingers, the ball rolling away from his feet.

 He… he protected you from the ball. 

 Tsukishima’s pointer finger throbbed in pain, he knew it wasn’t broken, but the nail had torn just a bit, blood seeping out of his wound.

 He wasn’t sure what possessed him to move, he knew that Nishinoya was closer to you, he knew that he was heading towards the ball to stop it from hitting you. But his body just moved after he called out his warning.

 “Oi Tsukishima are you okay?” Tanaka asked running up to him, several of his teammates surrounding him.

 He removed his hand to reveal his bloody nail, causing you to gasp lightly.

“I need to stop the bleeding. I’ll go to the nurse.” Tsukishima said quietly.

 “Let me help you.” You blurted out immediately, causing all eyes to be on you now. “It’s my fault you got injured.”

 The tall blonde nodded, and both of you left the gym quietly.

 “He’s got it bad huh?” Tanaka smirked, staring after you guys.

 “I hope he can confess properly.” Yamaguchi sighed.

 ***

 The walk to the infirmary was incredibly quiet, awkward almost. But it was just your luck that the nurse was nowhere to be found.

 “You can go. I can take care of it from here.” Tsukishima said quietly.

 You shook your head. “No. You got hurt because of me. At least let me help.” You started to take out the necessary equipment to help disinfect and wrap his finger. “Go ahead and sit down.” you said gesturing to the bed.

 Tsukishima didn’t bother arguing, silently sitting at the edge of the bed and watching you closely.

 Even sitting down, he was still incredibly tall. The top of his head just below your chin. You held your hand out his expectantly, he sighed quietly before placing his much larger hand in yours.

 Carefully you cleaned up the blood and began wiping down the wound with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. The smell stingy your nose, but the atmosphere around the both of you was quiet, calm almost.

 His hand dwarfed your own, his fingers long and elegant, and surprisingly soft against your own touch.

 Tsukishima couldn’t deny the fact that he was enjoying this immensely. You stood incredibly close to him, slightly between his parted legs as you worked. He could smell the soft perfume on your skin and the laundry detergent you used on your clothes.

 It was a wonderful smell.

 Maybe… maybe now would be a good time to tell you… right?

 “I’m sorry Tsukishima.” you said quietly, wrapping his finger. “If I wasn’t there you wouldn’t be in this position.”

 “It’s fine. It’s nothing serious.” he said, equally quiet.

 “Does it hurt?” you asked, tilting your head to the side slightly as you stared into his gold eyes.

 Tsukishima could feel the blush rising in his face, you were just too cute. The way you looked concerned about him. He liked that. He liked that a lot.

 “It might hurt less if you kiss it better.” he said. He couldn’t resist, this situation was incredibly ideal to him.

 You looked incredibly confused for a moment before taking his hand and gently pressing your lips against the tip of his injured finger.

 Tsukishima felt like his heart was about to leap out of his chest, his face burning at the sweet gesture. And even though his finger was wrapped up, he just knew that your lips were incredibly soft. His other hand came up to press against his face, the backside of his hand covering the lower part of his face in embarrassment. 

 “What’s wrong?” you asked frowning, you had just done what he had said. Your heart was racing for some reason though, you weren’t sure why. 

 Tsukishima couldn’t take this anymore. He grabbed your wrist and tugged, pulling you into his chest, and then flipping you over onto the bed, his upper body hovering over yours.

 Your face was completely red, you thought your heart was about to pop, he was way too close and his face held nothing but seriousness.

 What did you do?

 “Tsukishima-” “Quiet.” he demanded.

 You snapped your jaw shut.

 You watched him take a deep breath in before speaking. “You are the most infuriating person I know. You’re stupid and you don’t pay attention to what’s going on right in front of your face.”

 Your nostrils flared slightly in anger. “Well right back at you asshole!” you grumbled back.

 He rolled his eyes and moved his face closer to your own, causing you to quiet down once more.

“But despite how incredibly dense you are, you’re smart, you’re witty, you’re stubborn, you’re hardworking, you’re pretty -”

 You have never been more confused in your entire life. Did he just insult you and then compliment you? Did he just call you pretty?

 “ - and I literally can’t take this anymore.” he pushed up his glasses just a bit. “I’ve given you so many hints, made it so ridiculously obvious, and you still don’t understand you dimwit.”

 You frowned further at his insults. 

 “I like you.” He said, “I’ve liked you for a while now. You just have never noticed. I want you to go out with me.”

 He couldn’t handle the shy expression on your face after his confession. The soft look on your face, and the dark red blush coating your cheeks. His eyes flickered towards your lips, and he started to lean closer. Your soft hands came up and gently rested against his chest, but you never pushed him away. Your eyes fluttered shut as you prepared yourself for what was about to come next.

 You could feel his breath hitting your face gently, causing your lips to part as you readied yourself -

 “Tsukishima! Everyone wanted me to go check on you and -” the door opened suddenly, and Hinata stood staring at the scene before him.

 Tsukishima whipped his head around with a hard glare at the orange haired male who had gone pale, and then had turned dramatically red at the sight before him.

 You couldn’t help but cover your face in embarrassment at the position you and Tsukishima were in. 

 “I-I’m so sorry for interrupting!” Hinata screamed and slammed the door.

 Tsukishima sighed, deflating slightly before removing himself from on top of you. He ignored the blush in his face as he stood up, looking back at you still laying on the bed.

 So incredibly tempting.

 “Wait for me after practice. We can walk home together.” He said simply before leaving the infirmary.

 Did you… did you just get yourself a boyfriend?

 You hoped so.

[yaomomvs]

Hello I saw that your req are open if there not ignore this but I just read recovery girl... girl with todoroki and was wondering if you could do a bakugku one ? Thank you : )

apprentice | k. bakugou

in which you help bakugou bc you are recovery girl’s little protege

“oh great, you are awake now” bakugou hears a voice, a little bit more enthusiastic of what he was expecting.

you enter the infirmary with a bunch of medical supplies and some other stuff like a couple of sweets and... a sandwich?

“who the heck are you?” bakugou was indeed impulsive, but in fact he was a bit curious.

minutes before he woke up with a huge headache, when he realized he was in recovery girl’s place he groaned and tried to remember why he was there this time. but seeing you there, someone who was just about his age shocked him.

“watch your tone you brat, i’m the literal reason why you are alive!” you claim.

“wHO ARE YOU CALLING-“

“DONT DO THAT!” you yell back, but it was late. the blonde haired boy let out a groan fue to the sudden and awful pain he got in his abs area. trying to stands up to fight you definitely showed you how dumb he could be.

he flinches and sits up in the bed once again feeling how the blood starts covering the bandage in his stomach.

“great!” you say helping him recover his posture “now i have to do that again, why is the hero course so fucking stubborn and careless about themselves?”

he remembered the hero combat with class 1-B but he was surprised it got this far.

you pull him close and you try to place your hand in his stomach area but instead he pushed you away.

“look” you begin tired of him, looking directly to his eyes a bit too close for his taste “you wanna be a great hero? amazing but if you still think that title doesn’t mean accepting help from others then you should leave UA, so stop the bullshit and let me change your bandage”

katsuki is amuse because of the way you talked to him, the power and determination in your eyes actually left him... speechless.

and a bit red.

“tch!” was the only thing he managed to do “you are a bit of a pushover aren’t you?”

you laugh “if you are going to insult me, please try harder”

your touch was delicate, something kacchan actually never felt before. he kept looking at you, still curious on why was a teenager taking care of him.

“where’s the old lady?” he asks lifting his arms while you take the bandage out.

“recovery girl for you” you scold “and she was out there taking care of the other ones, but i think principal nezu came and asked to speak to her, poor nezu he is actually pissing off recovery girl so much allowing this kind of events oh shit” you interrupt yourself “guess i’ll have to do it”

“do wha-“

he couldn’t finish his sentence because a green light was already sparkling from your palm, once again you touched his damaged area, and as it was magic his most of his injure was already gone.

you step back and bakugou notices how you get dizzy so before you tripped, he actually holds you by your shoulder.

“did you just disappeared it? your quirk-“ he asks shocked.

you walk and get the half of the sandwich and start eating holding your head. “yeah, injure disappearance. i am able to disappear any injure someone has. but it comes with his side effects of course, mainly because i used it way too much today”

“then why did you do something so stupid if you already knew you reached your maximum capability dumbass?”

“well i wouldn’t have had to if certain someone sat still in his freaking bed!”

bakugou felt bad for a second but his pride was more than that, and he wasn’t one to apologize, instead he deviated the subject to another he was particularly interested in.

“so that’s why you work here?” he questions.

“ha! i wished i was even paid” you joke, and hand him the other part of the sandwich and some sweet treats.

“i am not a child” he rejects them.

“well if you don’t eat that you are not going to be awake for much longer” you talk back “your body needs sugar and something to eat, and you know it because i know you feel extremely tired mr bakugou”

he hates know-it-all people, and he wants to hate you for that, and it was his pride that actually made him ignore the fact that you were just stating the obvious.

“and i’m an apprentice only, i’m in the support department, since my quirk is not ‘hero compatible’” you mention, sitting next to him.

maybe he should not say something, but he was not sure why he wanted to help you too. he tries to convince himself it is because he literally owes you his well being and that he hates being in debt with someone.

“quite stupid of you actually” he says and before you sass him back he adds “because recovery girl picked you, and saving lives in any way is being a hero too sparkly hands”

you stay shocked and smirk a bit “so you are actually a softie awww”

“SHUT IT EXTRA”

in fact, he wanted silence, just to admire you, but of course he said to himself that he just wanted to stay in the infirmary a bit longer because ‘i guess sometimes i have to rest’

—

“what the hell are you doing here?!”

bakugou is not going to lie to himself anymore, so he admits being kinda confused and scared seeing you in his homeroom. class 1-A follows you with their eyes on your way to kacchan’s seat.

“i should be the one questioning that, dork” he talks back.

with that everyone is shocked.

“oi bakugou who is this hottie-”

“i dare you to go on, grape” you stand up for yourself, and with one look mineta shuts up “you know you can’t skip your daily health check up right?”

“the old lady said-”

“still i am the one who attends you, idiot, so you are my patient, and now in fact you owe me three more days helping me out after checking you in the infirmary” you make clear to him, almost face to face knowing that will piss him up.

“says who?”

“says me” you slowly go away in order to attend your next class “so come on katsuki, you are not gonna win this one, chao!”

“whatever loser” he scoffs, fighting to hide the smile knowing he actually enjoyed the little time he got with you while helping.

denki and kirishima remained silent as you walk out while sero starts smirking along with jirou just blinks as many others.

“BAKUGOU HAS A HEART!”

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT IDIOT?” he yells to denki.

“come on we all just see how you did not ditch or even yell at her! you are an asshole to us!” mina adds.

“WHAT NO”

“you did let her call you your first name, bakugou”

“SHUT UP HALF AND HALF BASTARD!”

[dreamsfreckles]

[7:21p.m.] A Couple of Whipped Besties, One Could Say...

~

Sapnap x reader

Fluff

A couple of sus betsies - enjoy!

~

Sapnap smiled proudly at the beautiful view in front of him: you sitting in his gaming chair, beating the shit out of George on a minecraft PVP server.

Naturally, as Sapnap’s best friend, today marked your third night sleeping over at his house, the usual.

You two simply couldn’t get sick of each other.

Sure, he was annoying and relentless sometimes, and maybe you were a bit stubborn and moody; but regardless, both of your personalities clashed and complimented each other perfectly - creating a close friendship. 

Even though your friendship was his most precious treasure, Sapnap couldn’t help but be dissatisfied with it. 

Not because he wasn’t happy with you... but because he wasn’t happy with you. 

incase you need further elaboration:

Sapnap done went and caught feelings for you. (no earnings)

Leaning over your left shoulder as you gamed, Sapnap side-eyed your facial expressions as you passionately played on the computer monitor in front of you, flexing your weirdly amazing skill at PVP.

He admired you; you looked cute while concentrated. Critting George’s player with your diamond axe was Sapnap’s favorite sight to see. Your eyebrows furrowed the slightest bit and your eyes shined as you attempted to predict George’s next move. 

Not to mention you were also hot as fuck. Sapnap didn’t need to admit that though...

Not only were you his cute best friend, but you were also a super skilled player. He seemed to get the best of both worlds when it came to you.

You can be risky, fun, daring and stupid, but at the same time smart, soft, sweet, and safe. It’s rare to have someone as unique and different as you. You were irreplaceable. 

It also just makes things 1000x better when you’re the reason George regrets his entire PVP career.

Sapnap leaned back into his spare chair, laughing in disbelief at you mercilessly owning George in the game. He could hear George’s screams of absolute terror leaking from the headset on your head; his headset. (dollar tree)

Goddamn he’s whipped. (what a shrimp)

The headphones were a little big on you, which added to the cuteness. Sapnap secretly peered at you love-sickly, sighing in content. It was rare for him to be completely in a haze by you simply doing nothing; for some reason you had him completely under your control today.

Your sudden yell broke Sapnap from his trance and brought his attention to the monitor showing the signature “victory” screen. You squealed hopping up from your chair and doing a small victory dance, laughing at George as he wallowed in defeat. You turn to Sapnap, a wide smile on your face. “Were you watching that? George is SHIT!” You laughed. Sapnap shook his head in disbelief. “Have you been practicing? I have to get you to duel Dream... I doubt you could beat him though. Gogy is just trash.” You giggled with Sapnap at his open criticism towards George, while the trash PVP player on the call scoffed and mumbled incoherent curse words. (ignoring the fact Sapnap lowkey called you trash)

“Well,” you start, relaxing back into his gaming chair. “I’m kind of hungry now. Do you want to go get Chick-fil-a or something?” Just before Sapnap could respond, he was rudely interrupted by George screaming on his headset. “YOU’RE GOING TO GET CHICK-FIL-A?!” The headphones rung. “Are you trying to get cancelled Sapnap?” George joked, making literally no one laugh. You glanced at Sapnap in amusement. His face is twisted in playful annoyance as he ends the call with George. “I guess George is right... Don’t want our precious Sappy getting cancelled.” Sapnap scoffs and rolls his eyes at you playing along with George, a smile on his face. You smirk evilly, standing up to walk across his room to grab your purse. “Whelp, looks like you gotta get your own fast food.” You sling your purse over your shoulder and start heading towards his bedroom door.

Sapnap’s eyes widen at your statement. There’s no way he’s letting you go along with George’s stupid-ass joke.

Before you could leave, Sapnap scrambled to wedge himself between you and his door, stopping you from exiting the room. “Um? You’re dog water if you think you’re pulling that bullshit on me?” He sasses, backing you away from his door.

You hold in your laugh and shrug, putting up a serious face. “We should probably have a break from each other anyway... Why don’t you go out and get McDonald’s instead? I’ll be back in like,” you check your phone for affect. “Like 45 minutes.” You state, looking back up to his pretty eyes filled with betrayal.

Sapnap is frozen. He didn’t think that this Chick-fil-a joke would actually be taken some-what seriously. You wanted time away from him? What the fuck? You two have always been clingy to each other! You can barely go to his fucking kitchen by yourself! 

He took a second longer looking into your shining eyes. Then it all clicked.

You little rat. How cruel are you to be playing with his little heart like that?

Sapnap could turn this situation around in a few different ways.

1.) He could call out your cap right now and you two would go out and get your chick-fil-a, or whatever you want to eat.

2.) He could football tackle you to the fucking ground and make you apologize for saying such buffoonery.

3.) He could go along with your cruel joke, and make you think that he 100% agrees that you two “need to take a break.” He can even go as far as calling it a night and telling you that he’s too tired for another sleepover night.

Sapnap was never the merciful type. As much as he is unconditionally in love with you, he don’t play. 

Option 3 was game.

Sapnap looked up and to the side, pretending to think about your suggestion of “taking a break” like it was a valid choice. Stepping away from his place in between you and the door, Sapnap motions for you to go. “You know what, you’re kinda right. You can go ahead, I think I’m going to call someone.” Sapnap whips out his phone from his back jean pocket and turns away from you, pretending to scroll through his contacts.

This makes you stumble for a second. Did he just... agree with you..? Your heart stops beating for a split second and you debate if you should tell him that you were joking or not. You can barely go to the kitchen by yourself, why isn’t he catching on that it was a joke? You stand still there, looking at his turned back. “Okay... I’m just going to go then.” You say, still not making a move to leave. After a moment of him not acknowledging a word you just said, you start again. “Do you like...” you pause. “want me to bring you back something...” Sapnap turns back to you at that, suddenly deciding to pay attention to you. “Uh no thanks, I’ll just eat something here. You should probably call your mom, she probably wants you home. You’ve been here for what-” he checks his phone for the date. “Like 4 days?” He states, looking back up to you.

Your mouth drops. Hurt fills you heart. Did he really just say that?

Yeah... you have been at his house for a while... but you didn’t think that he was getting sick of you. You usually stayed over there for 4 nights on average before you went home.

You’ve stayed there for 6 days before! And you both STILL mourned the loss of each other’s presence when you left!

(Isn’t this simp culture?)

What does this mean? You stand there is silence just looking at him. It’s not like you could argue; you were the one who said you needed a break first.

You felt like crying. Yes... Sapnap is your best friend and this literally isn’t that big of a deal, but... you love Sapnap. You’d spend forever with him if you could. And you thought he would too. You stiffen for a moment. You know he isn’t your boyfriend; as much as you wish he was, you need to stop acting like he is. 

Him saying he wants to be alone shouldn’t be that big of a deal to you! You guys are friends! He’s standing there, looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to go on, do anything.

While you stand there debating your life choices with hurt written all over your face, Sapnap’s mind is racing a million miles an hour. He literally can’t decide if he should burst out laughing from how well his plan worked or hug you and say sorry for being so mean.

He literally can’t decide - so he does both.

Just as you feel your eyes getting the tinniest bit glassy, Sapnap roars with laughter and pulls you into a bear hug, squeezing your waist with one arm and using the other to pet your hair fondly. “I’m so sorry, I had to, it was too good, that literally couldn’t have gone better-” he rambles. You immediately sulk and smack his shoulder, aggressively hugging him back. “YOU ASSHOLE I GOT SO SCARED!” You groan in embarrassment. You literally almost cried.

Sapnap giggles and hugs you tighter, his smile couldn’t possibly get wider. You sigh in relief, snuggling into his arms. “You actually scared me so bad. That was so weird.” Sapnap laughs again, leaning back from you slightly to get a look at your pretty face. You were pouting. Cute. Sapnap smirked and squeezed your cheek with the hand that was previously petting your semi-tangled hair. “You did it to me first you dimwit, what the hell did you think I felt like?!” He exclaimed. “You literally told me to go home you asshole!” You exasperated. Sapnap threw his head back laughing, pulling you back towards him again. He nuzzled into the side of your neck, sighing happily.

As hilarious as it was watching you go through the 5 stages of grief over this situation, it was also heart breaking all at the same time. He hopes he never has to see that again on a serious note, if he’s being honest. If you ever looked like that when you guys were being legit - it would quite literally kill him.

After what felt like 20 minutes of hugging, you pulled back from the hug and looked up at Sapnap, his arms still attached to the ends of your sweatshirt, keeping you in place. 

As he stared down at your pink cheeks and flustered expression, he felt like he could stand with you here for hours. He wishes he could kiss you.

You rolled your eyes at him as he giggled. “Whatever.” You state, walking out of his hold and over to his bed side table. Sapnap watches your movements in confusion. Once at the table, you open the top drawer and snatch his wallet from inside, your back facing him. “I’m getting fucking Chick-fil-a and if you don’t come, I’m literally going to buy the entire menu with this.” You turn facing him and hold up his wallet. Sapnap’s eyes widen in realization at what’s in your possession. He makes a move to run over to you and snatch it back. Unluckily for him, you were already bolting out the door and to his car.

Hello 🥺

I hope u enjoyed sorry it took so long hehee

I’ve had lack of motivation, as we all in this tough pandemic - I hope you guys are all doing well and stay happy and safe 💕

Thankfully we have our fav mcyt gang to help us through tough times :)

Ik sapnap says fuck you, but think of it in an endearing way LOL LOVE U GUYS

[when-they-write-stuff]

SterekWeek2020: Day Six (Blue Moon)

~

“First of all,” Stiles said, pointing his fork at the red-haired banshee across from him. “The chances of Derek ever falling in love with me are like, once in a blue moon. Second of all, it’s just a quick college party to convince my college friends that I’m not single and lonely!”

“But you are single and lonely,” Lydia said, slicing delicately into her chicken as she ignored the fork in her face. “And there’s no way Derek is going to say yes.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Oh, I’m fairly sure,” Lydia said, finally glancing up. “And I’m sorry I can’t go, Stiles. I have a meeting with a professor who decided my paper wasn’t worth an A, and he’s going to regret that decision immensely.”

“On a Friday night?” Stiles frowned. “What, are you using dinner as a cover for an interrogation or something?”

“That’s precisely what it is.”

Stiles blinked, then rolled his eyes. “You can be terrifying sometimes.”

“That is the point.”

“Come on, Lyds,” Stiles said, jabbing his fork into his food, metal screeching against the plate. That earned a few glances from the other people in the relatively-cheap restaurant Stiles had picked out for his and Lydia’s reunion, but he didn’t really care. He was desperate here. “If Derek says no, then I have to go alone. And then my roommate will try to set me up with his douchey best friend and that guy gives me the creeps.”

“Then just say no.”

“And risk pissing my roommate off? Do you realize how dangerous that is?”

Lydia sighed, setting down her utensils and reaching across the table, catching Stiles’s hand and giving a small squeeze. He hated how reassuring that was. “Why don’t you actually ask Derek before you freak out? It’s been a while since he’s visited anyway.”

“I’m not even that far away,” Stiles grumbled. He’d like to say he wasn’t hurt that Derek never came by Stanford to check-in, but that would be a total lie. 

Even the betas visited more often, though it was usually just to complain about their lives or steal his clothes. But still, they came. Scott came. Stiles’s dad and Lydia came.

But Derek had only been by like, twice in the last semester. Sometimes, Stiles wondered if he was the man’s least favorite pack member.

Okay, he didn’t have to wonder.

Sighing, he poked at his food again, appetite long since gone. He’d ask Scott to go with him if the boy wasn’t basically his brother and a terrible actor. And Stiles had already decided he’d never ask the betas, because he didn’t need that kind of blackmail.

But Stiles had gone throughout his entire first year of college staying far away from everyone else. At first, it had been a supernatural thing. He had trust issues, okay? But then it was just the hassle of getting out there and yeah, Stiles ended up having one or two hookups along the way, but that’s all they were. Hookups.

And now the friends he had made were starting to get pushy. So, Lydia had been Stiles’s first choice, and Derek was his saving grace.

Dammit if that wasn’t a sentence he’d never thought he’d have to say out loud.

-

On a scale from one to ten about scared for his well being, asking Derek Hale to fake date him for a night was right up there at an eleven.

Stiles had long since come to terms with the fact that his hopeless pining was just that. Hopeless pining. He could totally look at Derek without getting butterflies now, but that’s just because he had accepted his fate.

This was crossing a line that Stiles had told himself he would never cross. And damn, if he wasn’t silently panicking.

Derek, on the other hand, just looked bored. “What did you want, Stiles?”

For a long moment, Stiles stayed silent. He’d practiced this in the mirror at least a dozen times, trying to imagine the different ways that Derek could-- would-- say no. And it really wouldn’t be that bad, would it? It wasn’t like Stiles was baring his soul to the werewolf or anything. He was just asking for a small favor.

A small, totally platonic favor. 

“Stiles.”

“O- oh,” Stiles said, snapping back to reality. “Right. I need something from you.”

Derek raised an eyebrow and Stiles winced. He was already going off script and this was so not going to end well. 

“Not like that,” he said, then winced again. “Actually, it’s exactly like that. See, I might have told a few friends that I was seeing someone to get them off my back about dating. But now I’m expected to have a date for some upcoming party.”

Derek’s face remained completely blank. Stiles hated him a little bit for that.

“Lydia can’t come, though.”

“Okay.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, burying his face in his hands. Why Derek? Why did his saving grace have to be Derek? “Yeah, okay. And I need you to come instead, dude.”

The words were said into his hands and for a long moment, the only sound was the rest of the cafe around them. Stiles kept his face hidden until he felt like it was safe, peering through his fingers at the werewolf to see that Derek’s expression hadn’t really changed much.

A long moment passed before Derek grunted. “No.”

“N-no?”

“No,” Derek said, taking a long, finishing drink of his coffee and setting it back on the table. The man started to stand and Stiles panicked, jumping to his feet so fast, the table nearly toppled over. 

“Dude, hold up, you can’t just say no and leave!”

“Don’t call me dude,” Derek said, still looking unbothered. He slipped a ten out of his wallet and set it on the table, covering both of their drinks before turning away, heading toward the door.

Stiles was almost too shocked to chase after the man.

“Derek, Derek, wait!”

He caught the man on the sidewalk and Derek sighed, turning around with a tight expression. Like Stiles was being the annoying stubborn one here. “I’m not pretending to be your date, Stiles.”

“It’s just for one night!”

“Why don’t you get an actual one?”

“Because I—” Stiles blinked, then glared. “Because I don’t want one, asshole. I just want to avoid a terrible situation with my roommate’s best friend.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. Stiles did his best not to flush red at that, ducking his head. 

“Look, it’s one night. It’s not like you ever to come by Stanford to hang out or anything anyway. No one will even know it’s a lie. Just think of it like a miniature reunion that might involve straight-up lying to my friends one or two times!”

“And these people are really your friends?”

“I mean,” Stiles said, glancing back up. “They’re normal, you know? They’re not pack, of course, but it’s kind of nice sometimes. To be around normal people.”

Derek’s jaw tightened at that and for a moment, Stiles was worried he’d offended the man. But after a long-suffering second of silence, Derek stuffed his hands into his pockets and rolled his eyes. “Fine, one night. But I’m never doing anything like this again.”

Stiles grinned, pumping a fist into the air. “Yes, dude! Thank you!”

Derek just looked completely done with everything. Holding himself back from doing something stupid like hugging the man, Stiles patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. 

“I’ll be in touch then, Sourwolf. The party is this weekend, so I’m expecting both the leather jacket and Camaro. I get to arrive in style!”

“You’ll take what you get, Stiles.”

“Right, right,” Stiles said, waving a hand through the air. “See you Friday, dude!”

He didn’t get a response, but he hadn’t really expected one. Turning away before Derek could change his mind, Stiles hurried back down the street. And he could’ve sworn he felt the man’s gaze burning into his back.

Stiles’s heart was still slamming against his chest when he turned the corner. Because he couldn’t believe that had actually gone well. Derek Hale was his fake date in less than three days.

Stiles hated himself a little bit for how excited he was.

-

His roommate left for the party first, still talking up his friend who was ‘excited to see how things went tonight’ to which Stiles put on his best smile and just nodded. 

There were a few things about Derek literally being the scariest person Stiles had ever met that might work to his favor. Well, maybe not the scariest person, but Derek could most certainly look terrifying when he wanted to. And Stiles was going to use that to his advantage tonight.

He’d texted Derek a few times over the week, but the man had never texted him back except for one reply that was a simple ‘OK’ to all the messages that Stiles had sent earlier. 

And that totally wasn’t infuriating.

Look, Stiles knew this wasn’t an actual date. And he wasn’t going to fool himself into thinking this could ever go somewhere; his life wasn’t a movie. Yeah, Stiles had been crushing on Derek since he was a sixteen-year-old hyperactive teenager, but he also knew Derek would never feel the same. 

Because Derek Hale was… well, Derek Hale. And Stiles was Stiles.

A lot of things had changed over the years and a lot of things hadn’t. And the things between them would never be anything different.

Stiles still hesitated a moment too long in his dorm room when Derek texted ‘here’. He totally didn’t almost have a panic attack, but things would have been so much easier if it was Lydia coming with him tonight instead of Derek.

Dammit. 

Derek was leaning against the passenger side of the Camaro when Stiles got outside, hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket. And Stiles hated himself for the way his heart skipped a beat at the sight of the man— because could he never wear jeans that actually fit? And Derek Hale in a v-neck should be a literal crime.

The man did not have any rights to be such a sexy… sex god. Fuck.

Stiles tried to calm himself down as he approached the Camaro. He was aware enough of the other people in the parking lot eyeing where Derek stood, cursing at the pang of jealousy he felt at that. Because he was totally over Derek Hale, remember?

Butterflies weren’t a thing when he looked at the werewolf anymore.

“Okay, dude,” Stiles said, pausing in front of the car. “So you came through. Leather jacket, Camaro, and everything. Should I be pleased or worried?”

“You should be thankful,” Derek said, opening the door. Stiles raised an eyebrow and the man rolled his eyes, leaving it open as he moved back around the car to the driver’s side. “I’m the fake date, right? Might as well have some manners.”

“Okay, who are you and what have you done to Derek Hale?”

“Shut up,” Derek said, eyes turning a little red. Stiles swallowed hard and ducked down into the passenger’s seat.

Fucking Derek Hale.

Stiles had made a plan, though. He wasn’t staying at this party any longer than necessary and he was totally using Derek to scare off anyone that dared try to make a move. Because Stiles was doing this for a reason, okay? He missed his privacy. He also— almost— missed the days when he suspected everyone of being some kind of supernatural threat, sicing the betas on anyone he found suspicious.

He always came up empty-handed.

Maybe you just miss Beacon Hills, Scott had told him at one point. And Stiles had proceeded to laugh his ass off for the rest of the day.

Because missing Beacon Hills? Him? There was a threat nearly every other week back home, and Stiles totally didn’t miss running for his life through the preserve more often than not. No, he didn’t miss any of that at all.

Because there was his dad, yeah. But the Sheriff still came to visit when he could— and so did the pack. So honestly, Stiles absolutely had nothing to miss.

Nothing at all.

 “Stiles?”

Stiles blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. He didn’t even realize they’d arrived until the faint sound of music reached his ears and then he silently cursed himself for zoning, meeting Derek's curious gaze.

“Right,” Stiles said, forcing a grin. “We’ll be in and out, I promise.”

“You don’t want to spend time with your friends?”

“Uh, do you?”

He could’ve sworn the man turned a little red at that. But it was probably just his imagination. Derek mumbled something intelligible and climbed out of the car, and Stiles hesitated for only a moment longer before following. 

He’d been to enough college parties so far that he wasn’t terribly overwhelmed right away. Granted, this was the first one before the next semester, so there were a lot more people than he was used to, but Stiles didn’t have anything against crowds. Or, anything too much. It wasn’t like he stuck next to Derek’s side as his social anxiety slowly kicked in or whatever.

Except then, as if the man could read his mind, one arm wrapped around Stiles’s waist. Startling, Stiles shot Derek a confused look and the man only smirked a little before turning his gaze back to the rest of the party.

Stiles hated his treacherous heart skipping yet another beat.

“Okay,” Derek said. “Introduce me.”

Once more, Stiles gave him an open-mouthed look. Derek raised an expectant eyebrow, nodding to the rest of the room, and Stiles took a moment to regain his bearings. Then, shaking his head, he started toward the nearest familiar face.

The girl’s eyes snapped when they were less than a few feet away. Or, well, her eyes snapped to Derek, widening for a moment before fixing on Stiles. “Stiles, hey!”

Stiles grinned, fully aware of Derek’s arm still around his waist. He was tempted to glance over and gauge the man’s expression but forced his eyes to stay forward, trying to remain as relaxed as possible.

“Meg, this is Derek. Derek, this is Meg.”

This time, he did glance over. And the smile on Derek’s face was terrifyingly normal. “It’s nice to meet you, Meg.”

Meg’s smile was wide as she stayed focused on Derek’s face for a moment too long. But Stiles supposed he really couldn’t blame her as he continued to stare too, wondering when the hell Derek Hale had such a disarming smile?

Searching his brain, Stiles tried to remember the last time he’d seen Derek smile. And it left him feeling a little empty when he realized he couldn’t.

“Stiles?”

Blinking a few times, Stiles came snapping back to reality. The smile on Derek’s face had faded a little and he looked more intrigued than anything else now. 

Stiles was pretty sure he blushed as he forced himself to look away. “Sorry,” he said, looking back at Meg. “Derek is a… friend of mine.”

The girl raised an eyebrow. “Just a friend?”

“Uh—”

“New boyfriend,” Derek said, before Stiles could mess everything up. Though he might still have, jolting a little bit and giving Derek a bewildered stare.

The man returned his look with an easy smirk. Shaking his head, Stiles tore his gaze away. “Yeah,” he said, words sticking a little. “Boyfriend.”

He didn’t even know how to begin approaching any of this. But Meg just nodded, still smiling, and Stiles stayed stuck in his head for a moment longer before they were moving along again, toward yet another voice calling his name.

Derek smiled the entire time. Through every friend, every stranger. The man made polite small talk and only removed his arm from around Stiles’s waist to shake a hand or readjust, always pulling Stiles right back in seconds later.

There were a few times Stiles looked down into his drink and wondered faintly if it was spiked— and all of this was just some kind of massive hallucination.

He didn’t know how to deal with what was happening.

See, when he’d imagined tonight, staying up for hours panicking, he’d imagined it being awkward as hell. Sometimes, he worried Derek might rip his throat out if he said the wrong thing. In front of everyone would be how Stiles Stilinski went.

But it was all so normal. All so painfully normal that Stiles didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Yo, Stiles!”

He startled so hard, Derek glanced over in concern. But Stiles didn’t have a chance to say anything before his roommate was moving across the room, cup in hand with another guy at his side— one with an athletic build and the type of expression that reminded Stiles a little too much of Jackson.

He shuddered at that thought. “Hey, Vincent.”

“This is Brad,” Vincent said, nudging his friend in the ribs. Brad grinned and raised his cup, eyes raking up and down where Stiles stood. His skin crawled a little bit at that and, arm still circled around his waist, he was surprised to feel Derek’s grip tighten. 

“Uh, yeah, right. Nice to meet you, Brad.”

“And this is?” Brad said, jerking his head toward Derek. When Stiles glanced over, Derek’s eyes were hard and his lips were pressed tightly together. And there was that type of murderous expression that Stiles had dragged the werewolf here for in the first place. 

“This is Derek,” Stiles said, when it was clear Derek wasn’t going to say anything. Which was another first for the night.

Vincent looked a bit uncomfortable, offering a small nod. Brad almost looked nervous too, but he kept his chin up, that cocky smile slowly making its way back onto his face as the seconds ticked past.

“So, Stiles,” he said, turning his shoulder toward Derek. That’s when Stiles heard the first sound of a growl. “What are you doing after this?”

“Uh,” Stiles hesitated for a second. “I think we might just head back to the dorm.”

“We?”

“Derek and I.”

Brad’s smile tightened a fraction. He glanced back at Derek for only a second before scoffing. “Seriously?”

Stiles blinked. But before he could say a word, Vincent stepped in.

“There’s another party going on just down the street that we were going to check out,” he said, glancing sideways at his friend. Brad shrugged. “Then we’re gonna hit the bar on 18th street. You should come.”

Derek’s grip was tight enough that it was starting to hurt now. Stiles shifted, nudging the man in the side with his elbow. He could still swear he could hear the slightest growl coming from Derek’s throat— which wouldn’t prove to be good for anyone.

“I don’t know,” Stiles said. Because that wasn’t the plan. He hadn’t planned on going anywhere after the party except back to his dorm. “I think we might call it a night soon.”

“Lame,” Brad muttered, low enough that Stiles barely caught it. But Derek definitely growled this time and Brad looked at him in surprise. Then the boy’s eyes narrowed. “Dude, what the hell is wrong with your eyes?”

Stiles’s heart stopped and he whipped sideways, meeting Derek’s gaze. And yep, that was a hint of red in Derek’s usually grey-green eyes. Vincent started to follow his friend’s gaze too but before he could, Stiles stepped between them, taking both of Derek’s hands.

“Dude,” he hissed, alarm rising in his throat. “What are you doing?”

Derek just clenched his jaw, lowering his eyes to the floor. Glancing over his shoulder, Stiles chuckled nervously and situated himself so he was still standing as Derek’s only barrier.

“We’re just gonna go now. Bad, uh, dinner earlier.”

“What?”

“See you later, Vinc.”

Before either Stiles’s roommate or his douche of a best friend could say anything, Stiles steered Derek away. The party had worn down some and he was able to make it to the front door without incident, ducking past a few people crowded around it and pulling Derek out into the night.

The moment they were across the lawn and close enough to the Camaro, Stiles spun right back around.

“Derek, what the hell was that about?”

Derek pulled his hands away, folding his arms over his chest and shooting a venomous glance toward the frat house. “I did what you asked of me, didn’t I? Brad won’t be asking you out anywhere if he knows what’s good for him.”

“Dude,” Stiles said, staring. “You nearly went Alpha on his ass.”

“Would that have been a bad thing?”

“Would that have been a— yes, Sourwolf, that would have been a very bad thing!”

Derek just grunted, not looking convinced. And the entire one-eighty was so sudden, Stiles’s head was spinning. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

“Okay, well that party is over.”

“You didn’t seem to be having much fun anyway,” Derek said. Stiles blinked at him.

“What?”

“You were anxious and bored the entire time,” Derek said. “A combination which I didn’t know was possible until tonight.”

“I was— I was not.”

Derek gave him a flat look. Stiles frowned.

“Whatever. I just wanted to get it over with.”

“Which is why you brought me along,” Derek said. For a moment, the entire ‘Alpha’ bravado actually seemed to drop and he looked a little bothered. “To scare off your supposed friends and make sure they never invited you anywhere ever again, right?”

“Woah, woah, wait. My supposed friends?”

Derek raised an eyebrow. Stiles’s frown turned to a glare as anger crashed over him.

“That’s nowhere near true.”

“You said it yourself,” Derek said hotly. “They’re not pack. They’re normal. But that’s not what you want, is it, Stiles?”

“Why the hell isn’t that something I would want?”

“Because you’re not normal!”

Stiles drew back, a pang shooting through him at the sight of Derek’s red eyes and furious expression. For a moment, he just looked at Derek, Derek looked back, and then the man growled, turning his face away until his eyes were back to normal again.

“I did what you asked, Stiles. Should I drive you back to your dorm now?”

Stiles stood there for another second, throat tight. Then, without a word, he turned toward the Camaro. Because he really didn’t trust himself with words at the moment.

Derek took a little while longer to follow. There was no opening of the passenger side door when he stalked over, unlocking the car and climbing into the driver’s seat before slamming it closed.

There was no talking either, when the man slid the keys into the ignition. Stiles clicked his seatbelt in and glared out the window, listening to the faint sound of music where the frat house seemed to glow neon blue from the lights inside. 

And damn, if he hadn’t imagined this night going a lot of different ways.

But somehow, it had still gone off the rails.

-

When they pulled up in front of his dorm, the parking lot was empty and the one street light barely cast enough light for Stiles to see ten feet in front of him.

He climbed silently out of the Camaro, surprised to see Derek do the same. The man looked at him over the top of the car and Stiles swallowed hard, holding his gaze for a moment before turning away.

“Stiles.”

He froze, cursing himself silently. Stiles could hear the man’s footsteps on the asphalt as Derek moved around the car, finally lifting his eyes to meet grey-green again. 

“Look, Derek, I know tonight went worse than expected, but—”

“Did you like what happened back there?”

Stiles blinked, clamping his mouth shut again. Derek’s face turned a little red and he dropped his gaze.

“I mean, do you like how normal things here usually are?”

Oh.

Stiles stayed quiet, thinking Derek’s words over for a moment. In truth, something about it had been unsettling. Not the party, not the crowd. Derek, maybe. Stiles thought he’d love to see the man smile more and engage in conversation that easily somewhere else. Anywhere else.

But only if it were real. It had to be real.

“Is all of this what you want?” Derek asked, voice barely a whisper. Stiles sighed.

“No,” he said. Derek glanced up, looking startled, and he shrugged. “Or… not like that.”

The man raised an eyebrow. Stiles swallowed hard.

“It’s nice sometimes, you know? I know who these people are, Derek. They’re not supernatural. They’re not going to rip my throat out one day or get killed by a bunch of psycho hunters who think they’d be better as trophies than people.”

Derek winced. Stiles scoffed.

“No,” he said. “They’re not pack. But I’ve spent enough of my life lying about everything that all of this doesn’t seem like much of an issue anymore.”

“So am I a part of the lie now too, then?”

Stiles met the man’s gaze carefully. He wasn’t sure if it was the dim light of the street lamp or the fact that he’d drunk a little too much at the party, but Derek looked downright vulnerable. And this time, it actually seemed real. “I don’t want you to be.”

There was a flicker of red in the werewolf’s eyes. Stiles shook his head.

“I mean, we can totally pretend this whole fake dating thing never happened and go back to our previous arrangement or whatever, but—”

He didn’t get the chance to finish that sentence.

Because suddenly, Derek was kissing him.

Stiles’s brain logged offline for a moment. There was the strangest noise and then he realized it had come from him, Derek’s hand cupping the back of his neck as the man kissed him hard and deep, something about the cool night air and the fact that Stiles was not dreaming making the entire world pause around him for a long moment.

Up close, Derek smelled like leather and pine. There was no alcohol on his breath, though Stiles was pretty sure the taste of college beer had to be on his. Which was a strange thought, he figured, closing his eyes as Derek carded a hand through his hair and then finally, finally, he surged forward to kiss the man back.

Maybe a little more hard and hungry. Maybe a little more wanting and hoping that this was real. That this wasn’t part of another lie.

This couldn’t be part of another lie.

Derek growled at the back of his throat, the sound sending shivers down Stiles’s spine. And it was all wolf and one-hundred percent possessive. Nothing normal, nothing ordinary about it.

And dammit, if Stiles had been dreaming about this since he was an idiot teenager ogling werewolf abs when he thought no one was looking.

What had he told Lydia? The chance of Derek ever falling for him was once in a blue moon. Stiles was pretty sure the moon was not blue-- so did this count as falling? He blinked when Derek broke the kiss, drawing away, and there were sparks of red in the man’s eyes that faded ever so slowly.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Derek watched him almost nervously, chest rising and falling a little faster than usual.

Stiles blinked again. Once, twice. He was pretty sure this wasn’t a dream.

“Stiles?”

“That was real,” Stiles said, finally taking a breath. The man’s eyebrows drew together and he actually looked a little amused.

“It was.”

“Derek Hale just kissed me, even though the moon was not blue.”

Grey-green eyes flicked upward and then Derek gave him a strange look. But Stiles was still trying to process, touching his lips experimentally and then squinting at the werewolf, reaching out to touch the man’s cheek. 

And yeah, that was Derek Hale’s beard. Stiles breathed out a quiet ‘fuck’ and Derek rolled his eyes.

“Are you done?”

“One more time,” Stiles said, moving forward. Before Derek could react, he was kissing the man again, one hundred percent online this time as Derek stiffened in surprise, then growled, kissing him hard back. Stiles couldn’t tell which was more hungry this time.

It wasn’t normal. Nothing about this was normal.

But Stiles figured if anything was going to be out of the ordinary, it would be who he was not single and lonely with. There was something about Derek Hale happening once in a blue moon and dammit, if Stiles wasn’t going to latch on and never let go.

Once in a blue moon, he thought. But this moon wasn’t blue.

And maybe that made it so much better.

[arvandus]

Hello! Happy 750!!! So I have this OC with a singing quirk. She’s basically like Giselle from enchanted where she can control the people and animals and occasionally plants and wind with just her voice. However she processes everything around her as music so it’s constantly playing in her head and gives her severe insomnia. She’s also a member of the LOV so I was wondering what her interactions with each of the members would be like but mostly Dabi. Would they find her annoying or fun? Up to you

Thank you! It took me a little bit to dwell on this one, because the idea is so interesting! But I finally got hit by the Inspiration Imagination, and here we are! I hope you like it; I've adjusted it to x Reader per your request, and I hope you don't mind I took just a little bit of creative license for the Reader's perspective and how to describe her quirk.  I also kept it very Dabi-focused in the interest of time.

Dabi x F!Reader w/ a singing quirk (SFW)

💙 It would be a rocky start at first. Dabi would have difficulty trusting you, simply because your quirk is so powerful. Anything that could potentially take away his free will would make him mistrustful and want to avoid said threat like the plague - or remove it entirely.

💙 But Shigaraki says you’re off limits, so he settles to keep you at arms length while at the same time keeping a close watch on you. One wrong slip, and he’ll handle you himself (or so he tells himself).

💙 He also mistrusts you because… well… as a fellow insomniac, he knows that you’re up at all hours of the night. He’s not sure why, of course… he never knocks on your door to ask. But he hears you shuffling around in your space, pacing in your room. What could possibly keep you up so late every single night? What’s got you looking so exhausted every day as if you never sleep? He’s convinced that you’re a spy, somehow sending messages to their enemies when everyone is asleep. Except he never hears you leave your room. Never hears you talking to anyone. So there must be something he’s missing.

💙 You’re an enigma to him, and it drives him crazy. Dabi doesn’t like unknowns.

💙 On your end, Dabi drives you nuts. He’s an asshole, every word that falls from his mouth laced in backhanded compliments and passive-aggressive accusations. You’d come close to using your quirk on him on many occasions, just to make him shut up or leave the room. Fortunately for Dabi, you have a personal code of honor that you abide by, and controlling people through your singing is only reserved for your enemies.

💙 He’s not your enemy… not yet at least.

💙 You know why he doesn’t trust you, and you don’t blame him… and he's certainly not the first person to be suspicious of you. But does he really gotta be such a dick about it? You try to be upfront with him, to explain that you live by a code and he’s safe from your quirk, but it makes little difference. Dabi doesn’t trust easily, and promises mean very little to him.

💙 His trust is finally gained when you use your quirk to save him and the other league members from certain death. There’s nothing quite like the sensation of hearing the beautiful notes of your voice while in freefall and then feeling himself being caught on a strong wind current, only to be set safely on the ground seventy meters below.

💙 After that happens, he begins to take an even greater interest in you, but this time with more curiosity and less mistrust.

💙 He starts poking and prodding, some questions being asked directly, while others are only implied. After all, he loves his little mind games, and even more so, he loves getting under your skin, especially since you refuse to use your quirk on him. It’s basically given him a ‘get out of jail free’ card for being a brat.

💙 He really, really wants you to prank the others using your quirk. And your little miss “I’m a good girl with a special code of ethics” makes the game that much sweeter. After all, you’re just as much a villain as the rest of them. If Toga can go around swinging her knives from her fingertips, then why couldn’t you sing a little song now and then?

💙 But Dabi quickly learns that you’re just as stubborn as he is, if not more so.

💙 Even so, it’s frustrating for you because if it were anyone else you wouldn’t have put up with this level of bullshit. The persuasion, the flirting, the school-yard level dares… the man has no shame and tries every tactic in the book to try to get what he wants from you. What makes it even worse is that a secret part of you enjoys his mischief. His ideas are tempting sometimes. Especially when the other league members annoy you.

💙 On top of all that, he is strangely alluring, even with his scars. And more importantly, the ‘song’ his body gives off is, well, a pleasant one to say the least.

💙 Every person has a ‘musical aura’ more or less, a small symphony of heartbeats, breaths, and something more… ephemeral. It comes through in the way they move through the environment, in the way the air particles are displaced around them and vibrate with their energy.

💙 And for some reason Dabi’s song is practically intoxicating, just like his sharp blue eyes that always seem to pin you down, heavy lids held up by a cocky smirk.

💙 The two of you reach an impasse in your battle of wills, an unspoken stand-off that never wanes. And it’s upon this competitive dance that the two of you begin to build some strange sense of camaraderie.

💙 He’ll eventually give up on his desire for pranking his comrades when he sees you use your quirk on heroes. But not just any hero, of course…

💙 Imagine Dabi’s glee when you use your song quirk to make Endeavor literally dance as the large man’s face flushes red with rage. It was intended to keep him busy while the League made their escape. But it makes it all over the news of course, and becomes viral online for months. The laughter that the two of you share when you get back to the hideout lasts for hours as you watch the news replay the scene over and over it. It really never gets old.

💙 Oh man, does he like you even more now. You’re his new favorite person. And he finally stops harassing you about using your quirk on the League members, instead finding much greater enjoyment in targeting different heroes together.

💙 There will come a time that he’ll catch you on one of your many insomnia-induced nights. It’s a hard one, sleep being kept at bay by the musical cacophony surrounding you, despite your obvious exhaustion. Your strength finally shatters, and you break down into tears in your room in frustration.

💙 Guess who ends up knocking on your door?

💙 Of course Dabi heard you. For months he’s been listening to the pacing of your feet or your frustrated sighs through the thin, old walls. It’s almost become a lullaby to him by this point, a way for him to know that you’re safe and sound… more or less.

💙 “What’s wrong, doll?” he’ll ask, as he stares down at your tear-streaked face. “I can hear ya through the walls, so don’t gimme any of your bullshit excuses.” Anyone else would hear the mockery in his voice, but for you with your quirk, you can hear the song of caring weaved through them, a hidden secret that you’re sure even he doesn’t realize is there.

💙 He won’t wait for an answer as he enters your personal space and makes himself comfortable.

💙 His sudden presence and that comforting familiar song it brings with it soothes more than you’d like to admit.

💙 But you do admit it. You admit to everything. The fatigue you feel, the way your quirk makes you suffer, and how for some reason, the song of him puts you at ease, drowning out the other noise. It’s like your inner radio is tuned just for him. Normally you wouldn’t admit to any of this of course, but you’re well past the point of exhaustion now, and your brain isn’t running as smoothly as it normally would. So what did it matter if you told him everything? You really didn’t have the strength to care anymore.

💙 “Your quirk is fuckin’ weird.” he admits. Then a grin will spread across his face. “You like my ‘song,’ huh? C’mere.”

💙 He’ll have you lay down with him on your bed and hold you close to him, your head on his chest as he rests his chin in your hair. “Does it help?” he’ll ask.

💙 Shockingly, it does. His music surrounds you, and you close your eyes as you let it cover you like a warm blanket. Everything else seems to fall to the wayside, your tired brain only able to focus on one melody - his. Before you can even nod in response, you’re fast asleep.

💙 It’ll become a habit for you two now… On particularly hard nights, he’ll keep you company and hold you. And maybe… maybe he’ll start letting you keep him company when he has hard nights too.

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 8/?

Word Count: 1.6k

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your Name, A/N - Any Name (Your Best Friend’s Name)

This one is shorter because of the last one’s length.

Hi everyone! By the time you see this, I will probably be out and therefore cannot update the other parts with this one’s link, so don’t worry about that if you notice it.

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Jason’s Trauma and his Death, Lightning, no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9)  (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Going on day 5 of knowing each other, Jason and Y/N would spend the day apart. Why? Because they gave each other the chance to have family time, Jason got it by playing around with his baby siblings, playing Assassin.

Fluff Head canon came from frownyalfred on Tumblr, who wrote about Jason playing Assassin with his brothers 

He would go running through the halls playing the game that he and Dick knew all too well, it had been the only ‘no contact’ game they were allowed to play at a summer camp Bruce had sent them to all those years ago when they weren’t adults with a bunch of other siblings, and girlfriends. But here they were, explaining the game to their younger siblings while Alfred and Bruce hung out with Barbara, who wished she could play, but was paralyzed.

Everyone missed playing games with her like they used to, but with the video game consoles in the house they did transfer a lot of their gaming to online so they could relive memories with Barbs. It was bittersweet, and everyone remembered when she became paralyzed like it was yesterday, but she always wanted them to play games like they used to, with or without her. 

Jason admired his, hopefully, one day older sister for how she treated her disability, like it was a gift, not something that impacted her everyday life and made her have to hang up the cloak of Batgirl.

But running around chasing after Dick, because of course, he got Dick, the universe wanted them to play again, was something he missed so much. They hadn’t had so much of this time, family time, ever since they all became vigilantes, and they never realized how much they missed the thrill of running around with each other.

Jason ended up getting Dick and throwing him out of the game, calling it a ‘selfless act of brotherhood so you can hang out with your girl’ and they both laughed at it. Titus, Damien’s dog, ended up barking up a storm at Jason when he killed Dick, like the big dog was rooting for Dick to win the tournament.

“Down boy! It’s a game!” Jason would whisper-yell at his dog.

“Yeah! Good boy, Titus! Get him!”

“No!” Jason would yell while running throughout the house, Titus on his heels. Passing by Alfred, Bruce and Barbara, where Titus would stop and go lay at Bruce’s feet, but Jason didn’t know that.

Jason would end up coming in just 10 minutes later, with a green slash on his neck. Tim, who had pulled Cass but killed her, Cass, who had pulled Jason. Tim now had two kills in the game and both were to people who could have easily overpowered him. 

“Jase! Welcome to the land of the dead,” Dick greeted him.

“God dammnit I’ve already been here,” Jason whined in a joke.

“You and your ‘I died pity me’  jokes,” Barbara said.

“It’s called a coping mechanism, Barbs. And hi dad, Alfred,” Jason said as he waved slightly at both of them, Alfred waved back and Bruce nodded at him.

“You could just to go therapy, Jase,” Barbara said, seeming concerned for someone who she considered her baby brother. She remember when he came into the Manor, she was older than him, sure . But he had nightmares and she and Dick would switch between who would sleep at his door at night, they both had terrible backs until the nightmares calmed down. Jason never knew they did this.

It also happened when he was resurrected, but the nightmares were worse and he’d wake all sweaty and upset. There were too many nights where batkids would be in Jason’s bed with him from 12am to when Alfred would greet them in the morning. The nightmares had slowed down a lot in the past few years with the introduction of his Goddaughter into his life, but they still came by to remind him of what happened.

He didn’t talk about it much. They would always try to edge him on about about really happened, but he was stubborn. It made sense, sure, trauma is trauma. But they all wanted to help him get better. It hurt them all that he was hurting and they didn’t know how to help him get through it.

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

Y/N would sit on her bed that morning and finally finished organizing her criminal psychology and regular psychology notes when she came across her printed copy of Dr. Barry Allen’s dissertation she had studied so hard. She found it so weird that she was so close to someone who she looked up to in the field while also being so far in the same breath.

She didn't dote on it for long, she stocked it away with her forensics notes in their place. This, the relationship she had with Jason that intertwined her with so many people, was something she was getting used to by the minute, but it was never something she’d get fully used to as time goes on.

She would put on a JCS - Criminal Psychology video in the background as she worked and tried to make her journal look nicer when Jason texted her,

Good morning. He said.

Good morning :)  She said back.

I just lost a game against a 16 year old.

Huh?

My brothers and 2 of my sisters were playing Assassins with me right? Well my 16 year old brother, Tim, he ended up getting the better of me and beat me. 

Oh! So you suck!

What!? No, I’m literally so cool what do you mean? He said, it clearly had sarcasm undertones to it, so Y/N wasn’t worried if she offended him with saying he sucked.

Oh yeah? Then why’d you lose?

Well, I killed Dick.

Okay so you didn’t lose, Dick lost.

It started raining a little bit, the sounds of it hitting lightly against her window, and she felt at peace. It was never hard for her to feel peace when she was by herself. She only had one roommate because she liked the silence, to be alone to collect her own thoughts in her head.

Her parents said it was because she probably had underlying mental illness that they never had the money to diagnose. She agreed. But she still didn’t have the chance to do it.

Jason and her deserved so much more than what the world have given them up to this point, so when they found each other it was, in a way, the universe saying ‘I’m sorry, you deserve this’ and with each passing day it made the pain they had both felt in their lives just a little bit more tolerable.

No, I guess Dick sucks at the game more than me.

Where’d you even get the concept for that game?

Dick and I used to play it at a Summer Camp before we got kicked out.

For playing the game?

No, for being unruly children.

You seem like you were a handful back in the day.

I was, I was the worst kid to raise, my dad has a shirt that says ‘Proud parent of a kid who is sometimes an asshole but that’s OK’ and he wears it all the time.

What a dad moment. Don’t tell my father that shirt exists, he’ll get one for my mum and himself to represent my sister and I.

Were you an unruly child as well?

I was a troublemaker. Getting into arguments with my authoritative figures about dress codes, rules, why girls couldn’t carry chairs, literally anything that was unequal, I was at their throats about it.

I mean, as you should. My older sister, Barbara, and my younger sisters, Stephanie and Cassie, they would like that about you.

I feel like in someway I’ve won over every part of your family.

The rain would get more violent as time went on. Strikes and hits of lightning would strike all around the city, hitting those gargoyles on every building, she always figured they were decorative, but A/N explained that their horns were made out of copper so people wouldn’t get struck by lightning. Bruce Wayne actually made that a thing, A/N said.

Y/N got a message from the dance competition that she signed up to, turns out, California was hit with a hurricane and most people evacuated. No one was allowed in or out. She guessed weather was being funky everywhere. It sucked, but she already was wishing she could spend time at home instead of out in the world.

A feeling she hated.

She would spend the rest of the day on and off the phone with Jason while it stormed. She would go to bed early that night.

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

Jason slipped on his vigilante uniform, the Red Hood was going to be on patrol over this night, stormy or not, it was his duty and he knew that. Did he want to go? Yes. He was killing for some action and he was going with Dick. They would probably have some ‘Bro Time’ which Jason wanted. 

Even if it was silence, having Dick nearby him meant enough and gave him peace of mind.

He grabbed his guns and loaded them while packing a few extra magazines in his belt, when Dick placed a hand on his shoulder, “You have to be careful tonight, Jase,” Dick said as he gulped down tears, “Just come back to me alive if you break off from me, okay?”

“Alive but bruised,” Jason joked.

“I’m serious. I can’t lose you again and tonight is going to be massively dangerous.”

“You won’t.”

[hexensalbei]

play with fire

find on ao3

This is going to be a fun ride.

The silence in the car is scary because itʼs uncomfortable and that has never been a problem before. Buck shoots a quick glance at his friend. Eddieʼs eyes are fixated on the road, his jaw so clenched, Buck swears, he can hear his teeth gritting. His hands are on the steering wheel but his grip is so tight, his knuckles are white. Yeah, heʼs definitely mad.

The problem is that Buck doesnʼt know why Eddie is so furious.

Fine.

Maybe he knows. But that doesnʼt mean he understands. Heʼs never seen Eddie that angry. He remembers vividly when Eddie snapped at him in the grocery store right after the lawsuit—but itʼs just a pale comparison to his rage now. It doesnʼt make sense—because Buck didnʼt do anything stupid like another lawsuit—he just... He just did his job.

He risked his life to save someone elseʼs but he does it almost on a daily basis; Eddie does the exact same thing and yet, Buck has never snapped at him. So why is it different now?

Because you almost died today says an annoying voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like his sister.

Because you almost died in Eddieʼs fucking arms.

Buck tries to ignore it; he has to ignore it because if he doesnʼt, heʼll drown in guilt and shame. And probably wake up some long forgotten demons.

He canʼt re-live it again and again.

When they stop, he realises, theyʼre in front of Eddieʼs house and heʼs genuinely surprised his friend brought him here.

“This isnʼt my apartment.” He blurts out. He knows itʼs probably the dumbest thing he couldʼve said but he doesnʼt understand why Eddie took him to his home if heʼs pissed off at him. Itʼd be definitely easier to cool off if the source of his anger wasnʼt there, right? 

“Like hell Iʼm letting you stay alone after the shit you did.”

Thereʼs something in Eddieʼs voice that makes Buck squirm. He sounds angry, sure, but also hurt, broken. Resigned. He sounds exactly like when Shannon died.

Buck knows that because he was there. He remembers how mad Eddie was at his wife for leaving him and Christopher again, this time for good.

Eventually, Eddie gets out of the car and goes to the house. Buck quietly follows his best friendʼs footsteps and he flinches when Eddie drops off his bag on the floor.

“You can take a shower if you want, Iʼll make up the bed.”

He knows Buck too well; he knows that Buck hates the specific smell of the hospital and always tries to get rid of it as soon as possible. Buckʼs really grateful for that also because he can simply postpone their argument, just for a little bit. Maybe shower will help him cool off because heʼs irritated too but he doesnʼt truly want to fight with Eddie. He goes to the bathroom, takes off his clothes and steps under the shower. He lets the cold water run down his body and he really tries to calm himself; there was enough drama today and yeah, he almost died so he deserves to have a moment of uninterrupted peace. Or so he thinks. Heʼs getting more and more cold and he knows he should get out before Eddie will storm inside and drag him out of the shower. Buck wouldnʼt be even surprised if his friend did something like this.

Then, with a long sigh, he turns off the water and steps out of the shower. He quickly rinses himself with a towel and slips into his most comfortable clothes. Whatʼs a little funny and maybe even ironic, his favorite grey, worn out t-shirt is actually Eddieʼs and it even smells like him.

Crap.

He really needs to finally leave the bathroom and face his friend but heʼs trying to delay the inevitable by thoroughly brushing his teeth. And then, he doesnʼt find anything else he can do so he goes back to the living room. Heʼs quite surprised that he doesnʼt see the pillows or blanket on the couch because he thought heʼs gonna sleep there and heʼs even more surprised he doesnʼt see Eddie there. He finds him in the kitchen instead, leaning against the counter and nursing his favourite beer. Thereʼs a glimpse of hope in Buckʼs chest that maybe Eddie cooled off a little, that maybe he realised he has exaggerated and his anger isnʼt completely justified. Heʼs wrong, though. Eddie is not even slightly less annoyed and it takes Buck one look at his best friend to realise that.

He sighs again because Eddieʼs anger starts to get on his nerves. He moves closer until he stands against Eddie and looks him in the eye.

“Do what you have to do, letʼs get this over with.” He says with a tiredness in his voice. The only thing he wants right now is sleep, he wants to fall asleep and forget about the whole world for a couple of hours. “If you want to yell at me then be my guest and do it. I donʼt even care.”

“Oh, so now youʼre annoyed at me? Really?” Eddie asks wryly and sets aside the bottle with a little too much force, it almost smashes. Neither of them care anyway. Theyʼre now standing against each other, so close they almost hear each otherʼs heartbeat and they fix each other with a glare. 

“Yeah, I am. You act like Iʼve done something wrong, like I wasnʼt supposed to do this and—” 

Heʼs cut off by Eddie who lets out a humourless laugh and answers in a higher voice than usual. 

“God, do you even listen to yourself? You went to that building all by yourself, you disobeyed Bobbyʼs specific orders to not go there because youʼre you and youʼre above all the orders, right? It doesnʼt matter if Bobby did it because he didnʼt want to risk one of us dying there. But you just couldnʼt listen.”

“Funny thatʼs coming out from the man who cut his rope and almost died in the well.” Buck interjects viciously because heʼs truly angered by now.

Something flashes in Eddieʼs eyes but Buck canʼt name it. He doesnʼt even have the time to think about it because his best friend doesnʼt back out.

“Itʼs not relevant now, weʼre talking about today and your stupid, reckless behaviour. What were you thinking? Or-Or maybe donʼt. You probably werenʼt thinking at all. Obviously. And it almost cost you a life! Your life! How can you be so reckless?!” Eddie shouts and the pain in his voice is very noticeable but Buck pretends to ignore it.

“Iʼm a firefighter. Itʼs kinda in a job description, donʼt you think? Sometimes I have to be a little reckless. Besides, I did save a life and I didnʼt die either, right? Otherwise I wouldnʼt be standing there and listen to you being all pissed.” Buck shrugs like itʼs nothing, like he really doesnʼt care about his life. Itʼs probably another thing he shouldnʼt have said because Eddie straightens up and now, thereʼs almost no space between. For the second Buck thinks Eddie will lash out and just hit him. He kinda wishes he did. But Eddie only sighs heavily and rakes through his hair with frustration. 

“God, youʼre driving me crazy, Buckley. Youʼre so dumb and stubborn and you donʼt even stop for a second to think about the consequences of your actions. You donʼt even care what would happen if you actually died, do you?”

Thereʼs something in Eddieʼs voice, something hard to catch and name that stops Buck from responding immediately. His words are ringing in his ears because they are annoyingly true. He didnʼt think about the consequences of his eventual death. He literally just stormed inside the building to find a man despite Bobbyʼs direct order to not go there because it was already too dangerous. He did it anyway, he managed to save a life but he didnʼt manage to get out in time and the whole building just collapsed. He doesnʼt remember much but he certainly remembers being held out by Eddie and his donʼt you dare die here, you dumbass. 

It mustʼve been scary, he admits, and he thinks he understands how Eddie mustʼve felt because he also saw his best friend almost dying. But the anger? He still doesnʼt get it.

“Iʼve had a few close calls during the years. Why is it so different now?” He finally asks.

“Because Iʼm in love with you, you asshole!” Eddie cries out. “And you just keep dying on me and I canʼt take it anymore!”

Buckʼs brain short-circuits. He mustʼve died after all, right? There is no real possibility Eddie just told heʼs in love with him. Thereʼs no possibility he may actually reciprocate his feelings. Thereʼs no way itʼs not just his hallucination or some kind of weird dream in his afterlife. But he desperately wants to be the truth, desperately needs validation for his thoughts. So he does the first thing that comes to his mind: he grabs Eddie by the collar of his Henley and crashes their lips together. His friend is definitely surprised, even shocked and for a moment, he does nothing. Buck already starts to panic because he thinks it’s real and he might’ve misheard everything or even projected it and just destroyed their friendship. But then, Eddie suddenly changes position and pushes Buck until he leans against the counter. And when he kisses him, all thoughts and doubts are completely gone from Buckʼs mind. The only things that matter are Eddieʼs lips on his, Eddieʼs hands on his body, Eddie utterly focused on him and that desperate need to fulfil their desire. Buck mightʼve kissed a lot of people in his life; he has had both awkward and amazing kisses but they cannot compete to make out with his best friend. It feels entirely different, maybe because Eddie loves him back. They break apart only for a couple of seconds to take a breath; Buck sits on the counter and brings Eddie closer by the belt. He canʼt take his eyes off him; Eddie looks wonderful with already swollen lips, flushed cheeks and a spark in his eyes. He probably looks no better but he doesnʼt even care.

“I know youʼve probably already noticed but I love you too, asshole.” He says in a teasing voice, inches away from Eddieʼs lips.

“Well, I mightʼve suspected it when you kissed me but itʼs nice to actually hear it. But donʼt even think that you say you love me, bat your eyelashes and kiss me this way and I wonʼt be angry at you.” Eddie warns half-seriously.

“I can try.” Buck just smirks and kisses him again. This time, he also quickly unbuckles the belt Eddieʼs wearing and starts to lift his shirt. His friend doesnʼt even protest, he lets him do whatever he wants and thatʼs why his Henley ends up somewhere on the floor. Then, the blonde moves from his lips to his neck and slowly makes his way down, planting kisses on his chest. Itʼs crazy how quickly their anger turned into lust. Now, the tension between them is much better, more exciting, easy to resolve. 

Eddie lets out a loud moan when Buck—this sneaky bastard—grabs his ass and squeezes it.

“Youʼre a menace.” He hisses.

“Oh, you should wait with the sweet talk after Iʼm done with you, Diaz.” Buck grins and he doesnʼt stop with the teasing. He unzips Eddieʼs jeans painfully slowly and Eddie almost whines to hurry up. The younger man notices it and winks at him before he adds. “Although Iʼm not sure if youʼll be able to talk at all.” 

“So maybe quit talking, Evan, and show me your skills?” 

“As you wish, Edmundo.”