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avatar-anna · 1 year

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Can you write something about reader having an ED and Harry doesn’t notice at first but then starts to notice And then eventually helps you through it?

Try To Find a Way Back

trigger warning: mentions and direct references to eating disorders. please be cautious if you find this topic triggering

so, i don't know a ton about eating disorders and what it's like for someone who has one to be actively struggling with it, and writing about something i don't completely understand makes me nervous bc i don't want to get it wrong. however, since you asked, i'm going to do my best to write this!

in case anyone is curious, this is the article i referenced while writing

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"I just don't understand what her issue is. If I was in her shoes, I'd get help. It's that simple."

"I don't know if—"

"I mean, it's not like struggling with eating makes her special. Like, everyone has body image issues and we just deal with it. Harry will probably break up with her because of all the reassurance she needs. Poor guy probably didn't know what he got himself into when he asked her out. God what a headache for him."

You backed up slowly, not wanting to hear the conversation that was so clearly about you anymore. You'd gone to grab drinks for yourself and who you thought were your friends, but now your hands were shaking so hard you worried the contents in the two wine glasses would come spilling out, glass shattering to the floor. Your heart pounded in your chest, bile rising in your throat. Finding the nearest server walking around with an empty tray and, you set the glasses down before booking it out of the club.

Tears were already starting to pool in your eyes as you ordered an Uber to take you home. Phoebe was one of Harry's friends, but she'd been kind to you since the day he introduced you to her and the rest of his close knit group of friends he'd had for years. You'd been incredibly nervous. You were an outsider, not a model or a writer or a musician or an actor. You weren't extraordinarily talented or beautiful, you were just...you.

None of that seemed to matter to Harry, though. He'd been nothing but flirtatious since the moment he met you. Well, once he was able to look past his nerves. He'd been a bit of a stuttering mess at first, and it wasn't until an hour into talking to him where he really got comfortable enough to flirt, and flirt he did.

It took not one, not two, but three tries to get you to go out with him, your insecurities getting in the way the first two times. But that had been a few months ago, and now you were pretty sure you were in love with him, except now you knew his friends hated you.

She doesn't understand, you thought. It isn't so black and white. You would love to just fix yourself, to make yourself see a doctor, seek help. But eating disorders were a behavioral disease, and when you were in the thick of it, it was hard to shake. You'd told Phoebe about your struggles with your weight and eating disorder in confidence, thinking she was someone you could confide in, only to find her mocking your pain behind your back to someone else, and now you didn't know what to do.

Your phone buzzed with a text message, and you tensed when you saw who it was from.

Bubbie: hey where'd you run off to?

You: not feeling well. heading home

Bubbie: why didn't you say anything? let me take you home

Wiping away a tear, you typed out a text. In most cases, being around Harry would've brought you comfort, but right now, you just wanted to be alone. You couldn't let him see you like this, so unsteady.

You: it's ok. enjoy your first night back with your friends. kissies xx

*.*

You'd been avoiding Harry for the last week and a half. Phoebe's words sent you into a bit of a tailspin, and shame kept you from speaking to him, not wanting to involve him in your issues. Because you realized Phoebe was right. To some extent. You should've been able to ask for help, you should've been able to tell Harry how much you were really struggling, but your shame kept you from reaching out to anyone or asking for help, along with the desire to keep up your habits, which created a toxic cycle.

"It seems like this boy is doing you more harm than good, honey," your mom said over the phone. She was the only one you told about what you overheard Phoebe say.

"He's not the problem, Mom. I just—"

"You were doing so well up until you started seeing him. I just don't want you to slip again. I worry about you, and if being with that boy is causing you problems, then you need to look at the bigger picture."

Her heart was in the right place, it really was. Your mom had been there for a lot of your darkest moments and was rightfully protective of you and your health. But Harry really wasn't the problem. He'd never made you feel like you needed to change your body for him, it was quite the opposite in fact. He constantly praised the way you looked, and not because you needed reassurance or asked him to, despite Phoebe's assumptions. He just really thought you were beautiful.

"I can't just live my life alone, Mom," you said eventually, not wanting to admit more. "He makes me happy."

You heard your mom sigh, but she thankfully didn't press the matter further, even though you knew she had lots to say. She always had lots to say where your boyfriend was concerned. The last thing she said on the matter was, "Just...be careful."

Once you hung up the phone, you fell back against your bed for a few minutes before standing up and walking to your kitchen. A trip to the grocery store was in order, just based on the meager items in your pantry and refrigerator—pasta and no sauce, cereal but no milk, veggies but they weren't organic, and did you really need the family size bag of Doritos—

You took a breath, willing those thoughts away. You were fine. You were just upset about what Phoebe had said about you, nothing more. "It's just the grocery store," you murmured. "You go all the time."

*.*

The grocery store had never looked bigger. There were too many labels, too many colors, too many brands making promises of health and wellness. Your hands gripped the shopping cart until your knuckles were white, eyes wide as you carefully browsed the aisles. Everyone else was going about their business just fine. You watched as people grabbed what they needed with ease, scratching items off their lists and moving into the next thing.

How did they know which bread to buy? How did they decide on a cereal? Whole grain or multi grain? They didn't even look at the nutritional facts before putting something in their carts, didn't stop to do the math, counting calories and carbs and grams of sugar against what they already had. How could they just exist without caring about—

Your phone buzzing pulled you from your anxiety-riddled thoughts. With shaking hands, you pulled your phone out of your oversized zip-up, Harry's face popping up with the notification that he was calling you.

"H—Hello?"

"Hey, you! I feel like I haven't heard from you, so I thought I'd call and check in."

You smiled, despite the anxiousness that still had your shoulders tensed. "Sorry, I've been...busy."

"God, me too," Harry said woefully. "But I've let work get in the way far too much this week. I need to see you. Are you free tonight? I can come over and make dinner for the two of us."

The word dinner filled you with dread. That wasn't a good idea right now. The idea of anyone seeing you eat, even Harry, felt terrifying. But what could you do? Saying no would involve having to explain yourself, and you wanted to do that even less.

"I'd love to," you said, all that anxiety coiling in the pit of your stomach.

"Yeah? You're in for a treat, I happen to be a fabulous cook."

"Can't wait."

You couldn't even feel excited to see Harry. The dread of having to sit through dinner took up too much space in your mind. You tried to will it away. You liked Harry too much to let your mind get in the way of messing up the good thing you had going.

*.*

A few weeks later, and you were at Harry's house for dinner again, only this time it wasn't just the two of you.

Your date with Harry went better than expected. You picked at your food and pushed it around, shame eating away at you as you lied through your teeth about not feeling very well when Harry asked why you'd hardly eaten anything. He'd been so sweet, making you a cup of tea, laying down with you on his couch to soothe your fake stomach ache, kissing the top of your head and rubbing a hand over your stomach comfortingly.

You felt horrible for lying to him, and you very well couldn't come clean after the fact, but it was better than talking about it. The less you talked about it, the better.

Tonight, you'd been carefully picking at your food again, making sure to take bites that were big enough to look normal and trying not to look like it was making you physically unwell. Each bite was excruciating, your mind telling you not to eat anymore and that you could never exercise all those calories away. It was all you could do to not focus on all the ways you knew how unhealthy this dinner was. It didn't match at all with your diet journal and you'd have to make up for it by—

"—just so hard, don't you think, Y/n?"

"Huh?"

Phoebe smiled at you, but it didn't feel very friendly. You'd avoided talking to her all night so far, had even taken the farthest seat away from her at the table.

"We were talking about how hard it is to live here in LA," she said, gesturing vaguely to the people around her. "It feels like there's a new diet trend every week, and it's just so hard to lose weight while not looking completely anorexic—"

"Phoebe," Harry said tightly, cutting her off before she could finish.

Your grip was tight on your fork, unable to meet anyone in the eye. Did they know? You'd been careful tonight, and any of the other times you'd seen Harry or his friends recently. You didn't want their pity or their questions or their judgement. Nothing would've been worse than the disappointed look on Harry's face, or the look of disgust if he discovered the truth.

That still wasn't enough to stop, though.

"What? I didn't mean to be offensive. I'm just saying how hard it is to get to that perfect size. Y/n knows what I'm talking about. God, I feel like I can taste every calorie I eat, can't you, Y/n?"

"I—Not really," you said meekly. This was not the conversation you wanted to have right now, especially since it felt like you could feel everything you'd eaten tonight, every single bite, sinking to the bottom of your stomach.

"God, I wish I could just throw it up, you know? Then I could eat whatever I want and not feel guilty about it. No more diets, no more counting calories, I could—"

"That's enough," Harry said, voice sounding harder than you'd ever heard it. He glared at Phoebe, whose mouth was still open from stopping mid-sentence. Her eyes were wide with shock as she tried to justify her conversation topic.

"Excuse me," you murmured to Harry, standing up on shaking legs to step away from the table.

"Y/n—"

"I just need to use the restroom," you said, trying your best to talk around the lump in your throat.

You went upstairs to one of the guest bathrooms where you wouldn't be disturbed, though you locked the door to the toilet for good measure. Panic and guilt and self-loathing swirled through you, tears burning your eyes.

For weeks, you told yourself you had it under control. Your behavior was strict, but not worrisome. And effective, too, but that only made guilt and shame mingle with the feeling of success. Your jeans were loose, but you took to wearing baggy clothes so no one would notice. The scale in your bathroom got lower, but it never seemed low enough. Your stomach was taught, rib cage starting to poke through skin, but that just made you feel even worse about yourself and how quickly things escalated. It was a neverending cycle, but as you continued to lean over the toilet, you told yourself it would be just this once. Just this once and you wouldn't do it again. Just this once—

"Y/n? Can you let me in?"

Tears fell harder when you heard his voice. You couldn't let him see you like this. You couldn't face the humiliation, how disappointed he'd be when he realized—

"Y/n, open the door, or I'll break it down, I swear to God," Harry said with urgency in his voice.

Wiping your eye and then your mouth, you stood up, trembling as you turned the lock. You opened your mouth, unsure if an apology or an explanation would come tumbling out of your lips. But Harry pulled you to his chest before you could say a thing. You couldn't help the sobs that wracked your body as he held you up. His hand held the back of your head fiercely, but not harshly, the other one pushing you as close to him as he could.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I should've said something sooner. I knew something was wrong, but I didn't realize—I never should've—I'm so sorry."

You didn't find out what Harry thought he shouldn't have done because he rested on top of your head, kissing you repeatedly. He squeezed you so tight, as if he worried you would slip away if he didn't. You couldn't focus on anything else but your own emotions, too ashamed at being caught and guilty for having slipped so far in the first place.

"I was okay," you sobbed. "I thought I was okay. I thought—I thought I could control it."

Harry finally leaned away from you, just enough so he could hold your face in his hands and look you in the eye. "This is not your fault. Do you understand? It's not your fault."

More tears streamed down your face, but Harry's thumbs were there to wipe them away. His eyes roved over your face, searching for something, but you didn't know what. Eventually, he said, "There's so much I want to say, but I think for now...I think you should rest."

You agreed, so you didn't try to object. You were exhausted, just wanted the whole evening to evaporate into thin air. You didn't even care if Harry's friends were still in the house or not, you just wanted all the thoughts in your head—the ones still screaming at you to finish what you started and the ones begging you to let Harry help—to stop.

"I just want it to stop," you mumbled.

Harry rested his forehead against yours, breathing in deep. "I know."

*.*

"You're doing so well, love."

It didn't feel like it. In fact, you felt the exact opposite of well. But Harry was holding your hand as you walked through the aisles of the grocery store, his encouragement pushing you to take each step. "I don't think I can do this today."

"What did your eating disorder say to make you think that?" Harry murmured, causing you to grumble under your breath, but it did the trick. You took another step and grabbed the jar of pesto off the shelf.

He'd been doing that a lot recently. Ever since you came back from the treatment facility, he talked about your eating disorder as if it were a separate person, like it was a little devil with red horns talking over your shoulder and not a disease. It grated on your nerves at first because it made you feel like he was talking down to you, and because he was right. Your eating disorder had been the voice in your head and making you make unhealthy decisions. How he saw it first, you had no idea, you were just thankful he was still here, still with you on your road to recovery.

The trip to the grocery store took longer than it probably should've, especially since you only needed a couple things. But the minute you stepped inside, your body tensed up as you took everything in. It was a struggle not to turn packages over to read the nutritional facts, and even harder to put things in your cart. Today was re-introducing day, which meant eating a meal that had foods you'd actively avoided in the past. It scared the shit out of you, which was why Harry was here.

He'd been incredible, more patient than other people would be. He put up with your mother's harsh words when she blamed him for your relapse, he was there every day he was allowed to visit, and he picked up every phone call when you eventually came home. Whether it was to talk you down or talk about random things that came into his head to distract you from dangerous thoughts, he was there.

You honestly didn't know what you did to deserve him.

"How can I help?" Harry asked when you came to another stop.

"Do we really have to buy the parmesan cheese?" you asked, eyeing the aisle filled with various cheeses with a queasy stomach.

"I think you can do it," Harry said, not entirely answering the question. "I can tell you a story while I put it in the cart for you, if that helps."

"Okay," you said, not really sure if it would.

"Right, let me think for a moment," Harry said, mostly to himself. "Oh. Got it! Okay, so one time I went on this blind date, right? And I normally don't like them because my friends seemed to think I can't function without a partner, which is horribly embarrassing, and I normally have a horrible time, but I went to the bar I agreed to meet this person at, and—"

"What? You hated it?" you asked. Part of you thought it was weird that Harry was talking about a date with someone else, but it was doing its job.

Harry raised his brows at you. "I talk, you push."

You rolled your eyes, but pushed the cart another inch, trying to focus on his voice and not where you were headed.

"As I was saying, I get to the bar, and I'm like, holy shit, because I see the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life, and as I go over to talk to her, someone calls out to me, and I realize the girl I saw wasn't who I wasn't supposed to go on a date with, it was someone else. But I can't just ditch this other girl even though I'm dying to just go over to the girl by the bar, so I stay put and try to engage in conversation and laugh when I think I'm supposed to, but I just—All I could think about was the girl in this cute little mini skirt and vest and what was making her laugh so damn much."

"Mini skirt and vest...at a bar...Wait, you don't mean—You were on a blind date when we met?"

The bar in question wasn't one you frequented. It was an upscale one, and you went because your friend dragged you inside, curious to see if she could get any CEOs to buy her a drink, and you...you were just there to make sure your friend got home okay. But somehow you bumped into Harry, though now you supposed you knew why.

"Not technically," Harry said. "The date was over when I walked up to you, and, well, you know the rest. I charmed the pants off you."

You snorted. "That's not what happened."

You'd known who Harry was when before he introduced himself, it was kind of hard not to. You'd seen music videos and heard his songs on the radio and seen him on your TV more than a handful of times, but it was definitely surprising to see him in person, especially because on screen he seemed so chill and cool and cute, the Harry you met was cute, but he could hardly get a word out.

"Nonsense. I remember it differently," Harry said with a sniff.

"You were so nervous it was so cute," you said, wrapping your arms around one of his while he took a turn with the cart.

Kissing the top of your head, he said, "If that's how you want to remember it, fine. But I do remember talking to you for hours and feeling like no time had passed at all. We closed down the bar, do you remember?"

"Mmhm," you said, nodding against his shoulder. "And then you tried to take me home."

"Can you blame me? I met the girl of my dreams, I couldn't just let you leave."

"You mean that?" you asked, looking up at him.

With everything you'd been through recently, it surprised you to know Harry was still with you. This battle you were fighting was lifelong, and you wouldn't have blamed him for leaving somewhere down the line. You loved him, and it would've hurt like hell, but you would've understood. But he never did, and every time you asked him about it, he just said he wasn't going anywhere.

Eventually, you stopped asking.

"I do," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "You did it, love."

"What?" Raising your head off his shoulder, you looked around. You were at checkout, all the items you and Harry set out to buy today sitting in your basket. "We did it."

"You did it, Y/n. I'm so proud of you."

Relief rushed through you. It was one hurdle, just one, but each one was a victory, and Harry was there to help you celebrate each one. It was too public to kiss him, even though you felt the urge to, so you squeezed his hand and kissed the top of it instead.

"I love you," you whispered.

"I love you too," he said, taking you by surprise when he tilted your chin up for a brief kiss. "You ready to check out?"

Anxiety filled your belly once more as the weight of your situation bore down on you once again. Squeezing Harry's hand again, you shook your head.

Harry wrapped an arm around your shoulders and tucked you into his side. The warmth emanating from him was a comfort, and you breathed in deep, letting the scent of his cologne and laundry detergent flood your senses to distract you.

"Don't listen to the disease, Y/n. Listen to me, okay? How about another story?"

You nodded. "Please."

"You're going to be alright, Y/n, I promise," he said.

And maybe you didn't believe him completely now, but you trusted him enough to believe it for you until you did.

#harry styles #harry styles angst #hs angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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writtenbymisunderstoodnerds · 4 months

Text

Falling in love again (Christen Press x Reader)

Writers block is being a pain at the moment so sorry it's been a while since I posted. I'll be back to trying to write my list of requests in a few weeks when I'm back from holiday. This wasn't requested, just a random idea and probably not very good but I hope you like it!

Warnings: Death of a partner, grief. If you find anything else let me know and I'll add it!

Words: 4.3K

---

Almost two years had passed since I lost my person. The person I thought I would spend my life with, the person I loved more than I thought it was possible to love someone. Life was cruel like that, giving you a person who understood you, who loved you so deeply, only to rip it away in the worst way possible. The day the phone call came, telling me Talia had been in an accident that claimed her life was a blur. Honestly, at times it still felt like a dream. The overwhelming grief, disbelief and fear I felt that day still ever present if I thought back to it.

I had almost quit soccer for good after that, but I knew she wouldn't want me too. Talia loved watching me play, she knew how much I loved it, always encouraging me and supporting me in everything I did. So I kept going, every game I played, I played for her. The grief had faded since then. It was always there, it always would be, some days were worse than others, but it was bearable. It didn't consume me like it once had.

One of the things Talia used to love was colouring in my tattoos. Not that I would have admitted it to her, but once we started dating, my new tattoos were purely designed so she could colour them. Our spare time was often spent with her colouring them while I drew or did random stuff. It was something I found myself doing often, especially when I was missing her.

Someone sat down next to me as I slowly coloured in one of the many tattoos scattered over my body. I didn't pay them much attention, continuing colouring, "What are you doing?"

I shrugged, not looking up at Emily, "Colouring."

"Is she colouring in her tattoos again?" Kelley asked sitting across from us.

"Yup, we really need to get her paper or a colouring book."

"Have you ever noticed even when there's paper around she still does it? Look at how comfortable and peaceful she looks. It's like a built in stress relief." I fought the urge to chuckle at how they talked as if I wasn't there. To be fair I was only half listening.

"Why do you colour in your tattoos?"

I sighed, putting down the pen. The team had been bugging me for months now about it. These were some of the people I trusted most in the world, there was no reason to keep hiding it from them. "It reminds me of my wife. She would sit there for hours colouring in my tattoos while I drew. It became sort of a routine."

"You're married? You don't wear a ring."

I pulled the chain around my neck that held a simple black band and a silver band with a line of diamonds. "Mine and hers," I took a deep breath trying to control my emotions, "She died almost 2 years ago, I only take it off for games."

"God Y/n, I'm so sorry," Ali said, pulling me in for a quick hug.

Alex was the next to pull me into a tight hug, "How come we never knew? We've known you longer then two years?"

"No one knew except our close friends and family. At the time we weren't as close as we are now and I guess I couldn't bring myself to mention it after. We never specifically hid it, just didn't put it out there. She never wanted to the world to know who she was. Never wanted who she was with to impact her kids."

"She had kids?"

"She was a teacher at a school for kids with disabilities. They meant the world to her, she would do anything for them. It was always a worry that her suddenly being known would affect her job in some way."

"It sounds like she was an amazing person. I'm sad we never got to meet her."

"You did, you just never knew who she was to me."

"Talia? I remember you mentioning that she passed away and that's why you took that break," Alyssa asked.

"Yup, we had been married 4 years the day you met her."

"That's why you completely disappeared that day then wouldn't tell us why."

A small smile appeared on my face remembering that day. We had booked a hotel room, ordered way to much room service, gave each other massages, then had a bath and watched movies. It was simple, but one of my favourite nights besides the day we got married, "She had flown in that weekend just so we could celebrate our anniversary. We never spent one apart."

---

Christen sat down on her bed, staring up at me for a second before speaking, "That's why you turn everyone down when they ask you out? Including me."

There had been many people over the years that had asked me on dates, all being turned down for obvious reasons. Christen had been one of them though, about a year after Talia passed. Besides Talia, Christen was the only person I could actually see myself with if I ever got to a point where I felt ready. That wasn't now, but part of me hoped it would happen soon. Despite the guilt and grief that was there, I wanted the chance to be happy again with someone. We had talked about it a few times and neither of us wanted the other to hold on for too long. Talia would want me to be happy, to move on and one day, when the time was right, I would.

I sighed sitting down next to Christen. Sitting or lying on the others bed was a pretty common occurrence when we roomed together. "You know I know she would want me to be happy, but every time I even think about starting to date again, it feels like I'm betraying her. Like if I start something, I'll forget her."

"You'll never forget her. No matter what you're doing or who you're with, she will always be in your heart. She'll always be your person, but you can love someone else while still loving her just as much as you always have. It's not one or the other and if the next person doesn't understand that then they aren't worth the time. There's no rush to move on."

"Thanks Chris. Out of all the people that have asked me out, you're the only one I thought about saying yes to. I'm sorry I wasn't ready."

Christen placed her hand on my knee, squeezing gently. Something that always seemed to make me feel peace. "Don't be. I always knew there was a slim chance of you saying yes and I accepted that. I was just happy that it didn't change our friendship."

"Would you still be open to that date? Not right now, but sometime in the near future."

"Of course I would. There's no rush or pressure though Y/n/n, whenever you're ready, I'm ready. And if you're never ready that's okay too."

--- Today was two years since Talia was taken. Of course it was game day. When I realised the date it was like a weight was sitting on my chest. Christen was still asleep so I slipped quietly into the bathroom to shower and let the tears out. I had originally been thinking about pulling out of the game, but after my shower I was actually feeling okay to play. I was determined to win for her.

The final whistle blew as I clung onto whoever was closest, my knees trying to give out on me. The rush of emotions I felt was not what I expected. Happiness, relief, grief all rushing through me as I tried to hold it together in front of everyone. Letting my emotions show in front of friends or family was hard enough, I didn't need that happening in front of the fans.

I managed to hold it together enough to greet the fans before we made our way to the locker room. As I put the necklace back on, I broke. Tears silently streaming down my cheeks before a sob forced it's way out. Instantly, Ali's arms wrapped around me tightly as I sobbed into her shoulder. I didn't like crying in front of people, but there was no stopping it. So for once, I just let it out with the comfort of the people I trusted most.

Once I had calmed down, Ali finally spoke up, "What's going on Y/n/n?"

"I-it's been 2 years sin-since- I'm sorry."

Ali's arms tightened as another hand squeezed mine, "Never apologise for feeling how you feel. You can always feel how you feel with us. We've got you always."

We spent longer in the locker room than we normally would as the girls took turns comforting me and making sure I was okay before we left. After dinner, most of the team ended up in one of the rooms for team bonding. There were quite a few questions about Talia, normally I didn't talk about her much because of the emotions it brings up, but everyone seemed genuinely interested in her. Also, talking about her was actually quite therapeutic.

Even though it was therapeutic, talking about Talia still brought up emotions so I had found myself cuddled up with Ali for comfort. I had almost went to Christen for comfort, but the guilt had started to creep in again making me decide against it.

"How old were you when you got married? It must have been quite young," Tierna asked.

"We were. We started dating at 19, married at 23. Possibly too young in some peoples opinions, but at the time we just got the idea in our heads and went with it. I proposed and 2 months later we were married. My time with Talia was incredible, it was fun and low maintenance. We met in college when we both didn't have a lot of money, most of our dates in our first few years were picnics, walks or movie nights.

I mean our first anniversary, we made each other homemade cards. Talia got me marshmallows because I was obsessed with them at the time and I got her chocolate and gummy bears. We ended up at the beach, making smores before going back to my apartment and making pasta for dinner. To this day that was probably one one of my favourites. Talia never cared about fancy or expensive things, that never changed the further I got in my professional career or as our money situation changed. She was just happy if we were together."

I knew I was rambling, but I couldn't help myself. Talking about Talia before I lost her was one of my favourite things. The girls didn't seem to mind though as everyone's attention seemed to be completely on me. "She sounds like she was an incredible person."

"She was. I think she would have gotten along with all of you. Especially Emily and Kelley. Talia loved pranks and just being annoying. She wrapped up a carrot and gave it to me more than once, she would pull little pranks all the time or poke and prod at me constantly."

Later that night, Christen got my attention as I slipped into my bed, "Hey, you doing okay? I know today was hard."

"It was, but I'm feeling okay right now. I think talking about her helped. I've never really let myself because of the emotions it brings up. Turns out it's quite freeing to talk about her."

"The team would agree, it was nice to hear about her. I can see how much you love her."

"It's uh not weird for you is it?"

"No. Y/n, she was your wife, you love her, you always will. I know that. If we were to eventually get to a point past friendship, I would never expect anything else. You can talk to me about her whenever you want and I don't want you to feel bad about it."

"Thank you Chris. I don't want you to think I'm leading you on or anything. I have every intention of asking you on a date, I just need a bit of time."

"Hey, I don't think that at all. Like I said, there is no rush, there's no expectations."

---

It had been about six months since mine and Christen's initial conversation. I was finally feeling like I was ready to try dating again, all I had to do was ask. It had taken longer than I thought it would and a part of me was thinking that Christen would have lost interest by now or just didn't want to deal with my past. A part of me was tempted to not ask, to save myself from rejection, but I also knew there was no way to know unless I asked.

"So."

"So?"

I took a deep breath, trying to clear some of the nerves that had been building. I had never asked one out let alone dated anyone else besides Talia. Christen sent me a small smile, the nerves melting away when I saw the adoration in her eyes. "Will you go on a date with me Chris?"

"You're ready for that?"

"I think so, I've been thinking about it a lot recently. It's just this is something I haven't done with anyone besides Talia so I might not be perfect or even close to it, but I'll try."

"I would love to Y/n. Just tell me if we go on this date and you realise you're not ready. I'll understand. You also don't have to be perfect, we'll figure this out as we go okay?"

"Thank you Chris. I'll pick you up at 6?"

"We're sharing a room."

"I'm going to get ready in Ali and Alex's room, that way I can pick you up."

"And they say chivalry is dead."

---

Trying to plan a date was so far out of my comfort zone that I didn't even know where to start. Of course I had been on many dates with Talia, but that was different. It had been 10 or so years since my first and only first date. I knew Talia like the back of my hand, I knew what she liked, where she liked to go. Christen on the other hand, I knew her, but to a far lesser extent which was making me overthink. What if she didn't like what I planned? What if I did too much or not enough?

Before I could continue to spiral, I decided to enlist the help of Tobin. Normally I would go to Ali, but Tobin was Christens bestfriend.

"You okay Y/n?"

"No. Well yes but also no. Christen and I are going on a date tonight and I'm freaking out. I cannot for the life of me decide what to do. Every time something comes to mind, I convince myself that it's not enough. Chris will be the second person I've ever taken on a date, it needs to be perfect."

Tobin led me to sit on the bed as I had started to pace across the room. "Don't tell her I told you, but Chris doesn't care what you do, she's just happy to go out with you. Tell me your ideas?"

"I know she likes parks or gardens, beaches, picnics, museums, that sort of thing. There's not a beach around otherwise I would take her there and it'll be too late to take her to the museum but I found a nice park the other day. It has a lake and there were heaps of like lights and stuff. Was thinking picking up some takeaway and other bits to have a picnic at the park, but it doesn't seem like enough."

"Y/n, that is perfect. I know this is pretty much completely new to you, but you just need to try relax a little bit. You know Chris, she's your friend, you know what she likes. She's going to love a picnic in the park, maybe a walk around after."

"Thank you Tobs."

"Hey Y/n?"

"Yeah?"

"Chris is going into this knowing there's a chance you realise you're not ready and she'll understand that, everyone will. There'll be no hard feelings or anything. Just if that happens, please tell her sooner rather than later. I know you won't do it on purpose, but I don't want her to get her hopes up."

"I will. This wasn't a decision I made lightly, I feel ready and I'm really hoping I am. I admit, it does feel a bit weird, but I really like her Tobin. The last thing I want to do is hurt her."

Tobin smiled slightly, pulling me into a quick hug, "I know and so does Chris. Just take it one step at a time, you don't need to rush anything or do anything that doesn't feel right."

After one last hug I made my way to the door, "Thanks Tobs, I should go get ready before I make myself late."

Before heading back to my room, I ran down to the shop to get a few things. Picking out what to buy took longer than it should have. Everything I thought about buying, I ended up second guessing if Christen actually liked it. Time was running out though so I ended up picking out some wine I thought she liked and some other picnic type things.

Despite almost making myself late, I knocked on the door at exactly 6 pm, trying my best to push down the nerves. Tobin was right, Christen was my friend, I knew she didn't expect or even really like some fancy date. There was no real reason to be this nervous. Part of it was probably because of how new it was, part of me was second guessing if I was truly ready for this, but I think that was due to nerves and not wanting to hurt Christen. Another part was because it was Christen. Gorgeous, kind, thoughtful Christen. Anyone in their right mind would be nervous to be going on a date with her.

"Hi Y/n/n."

"Hi."

Christen smiled, kissing my cheek softly, "You okay?"

"A bit nervous, but I'm okay. You ready to go?"

We made our way out of the hotel, stopping to pick up takeaway before starting the ten minute walk to the park. Christen didn't ask about what we were doing, instead making random conversation. Knowing I was nervous, I had a feeling she was doing it on purpose to try calm me down. It was definitely working, my nerves were fading away the longer we talked and I wasn't thinking so much about if it was enough. Instead, I was letting myself be excited about it.

When we got to the park, Christens eyes lit up as she looked around. I found a nice spot by the lake, spreading everything out on the blanket as Christen got comfortable. "How'd you find this place? It's beautiful."

"I stumbled upon it when I went for a walk the other night."

"You went for a walk, alone at night?"

"Maybe not my best idea, but I needed to clear my head away from our room, away from the hotel."

Concern covered Christens face as she straightened slightly, "Away from our room? Was I doing something wrong?"

"No, no you didn't do anything. I was trying to figure out if I asked you out or not. I guess I was worried that I had left it too long and maybe you weren't interested anymore. I also felt a bit guilty, making you wait so long. It seems unfair to you. Got in my head about it I guess. If you can't tell, I'm a bit of an overthinker sometimes."

"Well I'm glad you did. This wasn't unfair to me, I promise. You were honest about everything Y/n, you didn't give me false hope or lie to me. That was all I could ask of you. Are you feeling okay about this?"

"I am. Honestly, it feels a little bit weird which maybe you don't want to hear, but I'm really having a good time."

Christen smiled, taking my hand gently, "Look, I don't get how it feels, but I will never dismiss anything you're feeling. You can always talk to me about it. It's okay for it to feel weird because it probably is for you, I don't take offence to that."

"Thank you. Now lets eat before it gets cold."

We spent the next couple of hours talking about anything we could think of. There had never been anyone but Talia that I could talk to so comfortably without running out of things to talk about. That was until Christen came along. Long before there were any feelings, there had always been something about her that made me feel comfortable talking to her about things. Now I craved the conversations I could have with her. I wanted to get to know her more, from the mundane to the personal.

Conversation continued as we walked around the park hand in hand then back to the hotel when it started to get late. The nerves had long faded by now, instead being replaced by giddiness and maybe butterflies. Going on a date with Christen felt right. Despite the lingering guilt, I knew Talia would approve. I knew that out of anyone to move on with she would have chosen Christen for me. That in itself brought a sense of peace.

---

Christen slipped under the blankets on her bed, pulling me down with her. I laughed as she wrapped her arms around my shoulders, mumbling something about wanting cuddles. Pulling her closer, I left a soft kiss against her forehead before speaking. "You want me to sleep in your bed tonight?"

Christen just nodded. We had just got back from our fifth date in two weeks. They could have been spaced out since we lived in the same city, but I felt like a smitten teenager again. Instead of the nerves that plagued me for our first date, I was excited about the dates. Maybe to some it was too many too quick, but I didn't care and Christen didn't seem to either.

Despite the amount of dates we had been on, we were planning on taking things slow. It was my idea to take it slow as this was something I hadn't done in a long time. We had kissed for the first time at the end of the last one, but even though we were rooming together, we hadn't slept in the same bed yet.

"That can be arranged, but I need to get changed and brush my teeth." She groaned dramatically, but let me go with a pout. After completing my nightly routine, I took my necklace off, putting it next to the bed. It felt unfair to Christen to be sleeping in the same bed as her while still wearing my wife's ring.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking it off."

"Because you want to or because you feel you have to?" I just shrugged, Christen stood up, grabbing the necklace and putting it back around my neck before her arms wrapped around my waist from behind. "I will never make you take this off. I never want you to feel like you have to for me okay? You will always love her and that's okay. It doesn't mean you can't have that love for someone else as well."

I nodded leaning back into her. One of my biggest fears with dating someone new was that they wouldn't understand or get mad at the fact that I will always be in love with someone else. That person just happened to not be here anymore. It was scary that I already felt myself falling for Christen, she was just such a beautiful person, inside and out. I don't think I could stop myself from falling even if I wanted to.

---

Christen and I were lying on my bed as the movie credits started to play. We were supposed to go out, but I wasn't feeling up to it. Talia's birthday was in a few days and I had been thinking about her a lot. No matter how much time passed, I still missed her just as much. I was feeling somewhat guilty about the new realisation that I was in love with Christen, like I was being unfaithful to Talia. I felt guilty a lot when Christen and I first started dating. It had mostly faded over the 6 months we had been together, though it always got worse near dates to do with Talia. I just had to keep reminding myself that there was nothing to feel guilty about and that she would be happy for me.

"I hope she's proud of me," I stated quietly, mostly to myself.

Christen turned her head slightly, "Maybe I didn't know her very well, but I know she is. You've come so far in your life and career. You are an amazing person, anyone would be proud of you."

"Sometimes I wish I could have one last conversation with her. See what she thinks of my life, where I am, who I'm with. I still talk to her sometimes, almost expecting a response, but of course it'll never come."

Her fingers laced with mine, squeezing slightly, "I'm sure she's listening and she's happy that you're living the life you want. That's what the people who love us should want for us."

I rolled over so I could look at her properly, brushing a piece of hair out of her face, "Have I ever thanked you? For letting me talk about her, for understanding that me loving her doesn't take away from what I feel for you, for always being there for me on days like our anniversary, or her birthday or the anniversary of her death. It's something I am forever grateful for Chris."

"I will always do all of those things, you don't ever need to thank me. I love you Y/n, I'll always be there for you no matter what."

"Y-you love me?"

"I do. You don't have to say it back, I just wanted you to know."

I kissed her softly, trying to show everything I was feeling, "I love you Chris."

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #woso imagines #woso x reader #christen press x reader #christen press imagine

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bobbin-buckley · 8 months

Text

Wednesday Addams Headcanons

Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff and Smut (aged up!!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SFW

-When you both met Wednesday hated you she only disliked you because you were better than her at lots of things

-She didn’t actually really hate you she was just mad because she actually loved you

-All she would do is ignore you when she discovered these feelings. Enid told her that she should put on her big girl pants and ask you out

-Wednesday was always blaming you for this feeling, it wasn’t partially your fault I mean you’re so goddamn pretty

-She finally accepted this feeling and asked you out on a coffee date at WeatherVane. It went nicer than Wednesday expected, you exchanged numbers (you had to help her), gave her a kiss on the cheek and planned another date

-Sooner or later you asked Wednesday to be your girlfriend and how you really liked her

“The feeling’s mutual” she’d say

-After not even a few months of dating Wednesday was pretty protective of you

-If a guy were to flirt with you she’d give them a death glare causing them to flee

-You didn’t mind the Over-Protective-Wednesday-Addams it was honestly sweet that she cared for you so much, even if she wouldn’t show it physically

-Wednesday wasn’t much for physical touch, she was rather more for words. Eventually she adjusted to some touching like pinky holding, hugs, kisses on your knuckles, a kiss on her cheek or forehead

-some physical touch is always behind doors, Wednesday hates pda. The closes thing to pda you’ll get is her pinky holding under a table. It’s quite cute infact

-Wednesday was never for pet names but she’ll call you “Cara Mia” “Mi Amor” “Mon Tresor” “mea vita” in Spanish, French or Latin

-Enid tended to tease Wednesday about you, how she was so head over heels for you without even realizing it

-You guys eventually get a room if your own together

-Fencing matches, watching/listening to her play cello, hearing her type on her type writer, going to the raven with her, investigating together, she offers to grave dig with you and you actually enjoy it

-You’ll give her ideas for her writing and sometimes she’ll write them in

NSFW (Everyone is Aged up)

-More dom for sure, if you’d fight her over it she wouldn’t be slow thats for sure

-Honestly most times you guys have sex she prefers it vanilla, unless she’s feeling kinky and mad then roughness will come in

-Sex at night, never usually during the day because she’s worried Thornhill or Enid will walk in

-She’s moderately quiet there’ll be groans and whimpers from her, while as you…she wants to hear you scream but in the environment you’re in it won’t work out

-Enid almost walking in on you guys

-She’d definitely do knife play and pain play, she won’t be crazy about it like actually stab you. She doesn’t wanna hurt you too much. (So she’s still soft even during intimate)

-probably owns a strap, a black strap ina box under her bed (uses it once in a while)

-Will throw thing out of the room and will lock him in a drawer if he ever attempts to spy

-She really tries to pleasure you, she’s never done nor thought about having sex with someone (obviously this is aged up)

-She loves pleasuring you, even if she likes to make you hold your orgasm or pulls away before you cum but other than that she likes to please you well

-I’d say she is the type to do queening (face sitting) she loves having you sit on her face, like actually sit she likes the thrill of not being able to breath while tongue fucking you

-She is soft during sex, making sure your okay if she does something different or if she accidentally hurts you

“This okay?”

“Okay…I’m going to put it in Amor”

“Shit, are you alright?” “Wednesday Addams apologizing? No way” “shut up…but seriously”

-Whenever you’re top (rare) she wants you to be rough with her she loves pain. You are always unsure about it but she claims she’s fine

-Aftercare is a meh for her. She’ll make you a bath but you’re kinda on your own from there (depending on how you feel) like if she went rough and you’re super tired and can’t walk she’ll help you to the bathroom but otherwise ur good

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Where are my little gays at?

Sorry for a late upload I’ve been going through something and I broke up with my gf so it’s been hard for me to find motivation but I’m alive! I think?

Anyways, I’m starting something for Tara rn I think you guys will like it cause I love it

But have a good day/night! 😃

#wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #enid sinclair #wednesday x enid #wednesday series #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega

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sunshinedeekay · 3 months

Text

The Craving (DK’s version) || lsm.

pairing: dk x gn!reader

genre: tooth-rotting fluff

warnings: tbh none. just some kissing n hugging n stuff. slight cursing but not really

word count: just over 6k

author’s note: WOW okay hello. this has probably been a little longer awaited than i anticipated, but it is done now! the first idea on my previous post and first completed fic i’ll ever post on this account,,, and tumblr in general.

anywho, if you notice some odd spelling of some words (centre, colour) i am canadian, so things are normally spelled a little differently here. so i apologize if that throws you off 😭

but finally, i felt like i had to base a fic off of this song. after hearing the craving (jenna’s version) for the first time and seeing the video for it. i was brought to tears just because of how cute and sweet it was. i’m also a huge twenty one pilots fan, so that’s another part of me that went “WRITE THIS FIC.” so, here it is. i really hope you guys enjoy it :))

special shoutout to my bestie @wooziorgans for helping me with publishing, tags, banners, and also gassing me up to actually finish this and post this. you all should follow him as well because his posts are SO GOOD. he’s such a great writer.

divider by @cafekitsune

now, onto the fic!

~sunshinedeekay <3

“I don’t know why I can’t stop crying. I fear about getting old, and I don’t know a lot about you still…”

That was a voicemail that Seokmin constantly replayed in his long history of Y/N’s voicemails they had sent. He saved every single one. Even if it was the most mundane voicemail in existence, any sound of his precious Y/N’s voice was utter harmony to his ears.

He remembered that voicemail vividly. Waking up early in the morning to see a missed call and a voicemail from his partner of a few months. Y/N’s whisper sounded like they were crying, but also attempting to stay quiet and hold everything together. He remembered how nervous Y/N was of being good enough for Seokmin, and still not knowing a whole lot about him because they had only dated for a short amount of time. It crushed his heart to hear them like that.

He sent a plethora of loving words to them that day.

Now, here he was. Lied in an unfamiliar hotel bed in an unfamiliar hotel room. Darkness overcame the space, and the only light that shone was the screen of his voicemails. His thumb pressed the play button over… and over… and over. He kept thinking. Thinking more than actually doing, and that was what led him to the sinking feeling in his stomach. He felt so much guilt and remorse for what happened between them before he left for tour, and even if they talked after like nothing happened, it still lingered on his mind.

——

“You’ve been distant…” Y/N’s quiet voice brought up softly as Seokmin was cuddling their tired body that was still under the covers. He was up and ready to leave for SEVENTEEN’s short tour around the area. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Why would you think that?” Seokmin’s voice responded just as soft, if not even softer than Y/N’s sleepy tone. “I would tell you if something was wrong. You know that.”

“But you haven’t been telling me.” Y/N spoke back. Seokmin stopped in his tracks with that statement. “You’ve been out late at practice, always on your phone with something, and always sitting with that lost puppy look in your eyes. Every time I ask what’s wrong, you dismiss me.” Y/N continued as they slowly sat up and gently pushed Seokmin off. They finished their explanation with a rub to their sleepy eyes. “I’m beginning to worry there’s something you’re hiding from me.”

“Why would I hide anything?” Seokmin found himself getting defensive right off the bat. Why was he speaking like this? He never spoke like this right away to anybody, let alone Y/N who just asked a harmless question.

Y/N’s brows furrowed from the sudden defensive tone. Their nose scrunched with slight irritation. “I don’t know why you would. You never have before, so why do you seem to be now?” They spoke in the same tone back to him. Seokmin could tell that the way he spoke to Y/N irritated them.

“You act like I’m cheating or something.” Seokmin suddenly muttered. Then he thought about what he just said, and his eyes widened while his blood turned to ice. Did he really just say that? Even after he knew that was a sore subject for you? He cursed that dirtbag for even considering another woman over you… Now he just threw that out into the open.

“…What?” Was all that could come out of Y/N’s mouth. Their voice got quiet again, and their brows angled more with worry and irritation. “There’s no way you said that just now.” Despite the instant regret Seokmin felt for saying what he just said, he felt all of the stress from his planning and work bubbling over. He couldn’t stop himself from speaking now.

“Jesus, Y/N. I just wanted to say goodbye. I don’t have time to talk about this right now. Do you really not trust me enough to believe I could cheat on you?” Seokmin asked. His voice slightly sharpening with every syllable as he stood up and looked at his partner. His heart squeezed just looking at Y/N, their expression read as two parts confused, and one part hurt.

“Well excuse me for being a little worried and skeptical about your shady behaviour recently. You haven’t exactly been open and affectionate with me as of late.” Y/N started to argue. It was true. Because of Seokmin’s thinking and panicking about their relationship, he said less, and gave Y/N less affection than he normally did.

“Do I have to be clung to your hip the whole time in order for you to trust me? That’s a little much.” Seokmin retorted back. He slung his backpack over one shoulder and raised the handle of his suitcase.

“That’s not what I said at all, and you know it.” Y/N raised their voice slightly. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back for Seokmin.

“Well then I don’t know what you want from me, Y/N! It’s ridiculous that I change my routine with you just slightly and suddenly you think I could be cheating?” Seokmin just spoke without thinking. If current him could go back in time, god he would slap himself in the face. “I don’t have time for this. I gotta go before I’m late.”

“Fine. Leave.” Y/N spoke sharply. No “travel safe” or “I love you” spoken between either of them. Seokmin just left without a word, and probably too harsh of a slam of the front door.

——

Seokmin groaned internally thinking about that fight. Even though he apologized profusely over the phone to Y/N that night after he landed in Japan, he felt his heart still hurting. If he could explain everything, he would. But it wasn’t like that.

Truth be told, he was thinking about proposing to them.

He thought about it so much that it made him panic to himself. What if they weren’t ready? What if they said no? What if they realized they suddenly didn’t love him enough to want to spend a life with him like that? Sure, they had been together for about three years now, living together for one, and everything had been absolute bliss for Seokmin since then. But what if Y/N didn’t feel the same?

Seokmin continued to scroll his camera roll now. Having a folder made specifically for any of Y/N’s pictures or videos he would end up taking or saving. Every time he would look at a photo, the memory replayed in his mind.

Oh! Like the beautiful one of Y/N walking a trail full of looming evergreen trees. Dawned in a cute trench coat, a beanie, and a scarf he had bought for them just moments ago before that point. Their nose and cheeks were red from the cold, and their eyes were crinkled from their joyful, genuine smile.

——

“Take a few steps ahead, love! The scenery is perfect for a picture!” Seokmin told Y/N. His new camera he got for his birthday held in his chilled, slender hands while he placed it closer to his face to get a good frame.

Y/N didn’t even question it, but he could see the way they got flustered from him being so eager to take a picture of them. He knew they always got bashful when he insisted on taking a picture of them because that moment was just right. Even if the scenery wasn’t perfect, Y/N always was to Seokmin’s eyes. So a pretty scenery like this was just the cherry on top of an already delectable sundae.

Seokmin snapped a couple pictures, and as he looked back at them, his heart lept. Y/N looked so pretty. They were always so pretty. He couldn’t suppress the goofy smile on his face. He caught up to Y/N after taking the pictures with the same smile that started to ache his cold cheeks.

“Did they turn out good?” Y/N asked, but before they could even finish that breath, they felt Seokmin’s strong arms around their waist. Lifting them off their feet and spinning them in circles. Y/N burst into a fit of laughter, and held onto him tight.

“You’re so pretty.” Seokmin mumbled into their warm neck. He placed a lingering kiss against their supple skin. “I love you so much.”

——

Seokmin continued to scroll. Finding a video of him and Y/N playfully partner dancing courtesy of Seungkwan. There wasn’t any special setting, no special occasion, they were just dancing in their kitchen to the music playing on the TV. Both of their smiles infectious through the screen as they just looked happy to be with each other, and Y/N’s darling laugh as Seokmin tried (but ultimately fumbled) a complicated spin around. Seokmin wrapped his arms around his love, and the video ended.

There were so many little things. So many pictures that were taken at such different points in time. From fun and outdoorsy, to the mundane, soft, and intimate moments Seokmin got to share. All with one person. One person he knew he could and would love for the rest of his life. If Y/N wasn’t ready, he would wait for the rest of his days until they were.

He needed to let them know just how much he was ready for this next step. How much he loved them. He hated the thought of putting them on the spot like that, but goddammit, he would give Y/N the universe if they asked for it. Even if it meant taking a chance, and possibly taking some sense of security for such a big decision even for a split second. He would give them everything.

And that’s exactly what Seokmin was determined to do. He was gonna marry Y/N.

“So, I’ve had this idea for a while,” Seokmin started casually, sitting across Joshua in a secluded café the next morning. The warm sun comforting both of their bodies in addition to the lattes and pastries on a large plate in front of them. “But you have to swear to me that this stays between us. It goes to nobody else in the group or anybody else you know unless I say something to somebody else.”

This puzzled Joshua. He eyed Seokmin over his mug as he sipped from it for a lingering moment before setting the drink back on its saucer. He licked the frothed milk off his lips before he spoke. “Alright. What are you thinking about?”

Seokmin felt his heart begin to race in his chest once more as he nervously tapped his index finger onto the porcelain cup of his half-drank latte. He had to prepare himself to gain the courage to even say a few words- the main words- of his plan. How was he gonna explain everything he thought about the whole process?

“I…” His voice fell short for a moment. His throat forced a hard swallow before he sighed and tried again. “I’m proposing to Y/N.”

It was a good thing Joshua had his mug set down by now. Otherwise he’d have choked and had hot coffee spilled all over himself. Fortunately, only one of the two things happened. Except he choked on air when he heard Seokmin finally explain the summed up version of his idea.

He finished coughing a couple more times before patting his chest softly. “You’re being dead serious?”

“I’ve never been more serious than anything in my life.” Seokmin breathed. His brows furrowed in concern for his friend, but they quickly softened once he saw Joshua was fine. “I just,” he continued. “I was thinking about it all last night. Listening to their beautiful voice over the phone, looking over our old pictures and videos… It made me realize just how lucky of a person I am to have somebody as great as Y/N. They make me shine only the best parts of me, and I’ve never felt unsafe or uncomfortable around them once. I’ve thought about this for so long, and it was what was making me so off these past couple weeks. But now, I don’t think any other choice is a compromise.”

Joshua stared in awe, but the way his doe eyes twinkled when hearing Seokmin just open his heart up and speak truthfully about such a huge decision made his heart swell with pride for his best friend. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if he cried at the wedding. “Seokmin…”

Seokmin looked to Joshua, and paused for a moment before continuing. The tapping on his mug stopped. “Every moment we’ve shared together has held a special place in my soul. Y/N is the most patient, loving, and perfect person I’ve been graced with. I want your help in carrying out the plan, and even the planning. I was thinking of asking Seungkwan as well, but I wanted to tell each of you this privately.”

Joshua couldn’t fight the smile on his face. He reached to take Seokmin’s nervous tapping hand and clasp it in a firm grasp. “I’ll do anything you need me to do. I’m so proud of you, Seokmin. You deserve Y/N and Y/N deserves you. To see the way you two have blossomed over the past couple years has been an honour, and I would love nothing more than to help you take the next step.”

Seokmin felt his eyes gloss slightly. He squeezed Joshua’s large hand with the same intensity as he gave him a tearful smile. His bright teeth in full view and almost glimmering from the morning sun coming through the window.

“I knew I could count on you.”

“Y/N-ah!~” Seokmin’s sweet sing-song tone would call out to his beloved partner. His feet scuttled from the kitchen to their shared bedroom, where a sleepy Y/N, probably only about half awake thanks to Seokmin’s loud voice, would lie.

“Min…” Y/N would grumble. Opening their eyes and squinting from the neutral light that now flooded the bedroom. “What time is it?”

“I’m sorry, lovebug, I know it’s early and you like your sleep,” Seokmin started. Straddling his partner’s legs to lean over them and slightly press his weight onto their body. Peppering Y/N in delicate kisses. “But I have a big day planned. I’m making breakfast right now, so you can get ready while I finish. Dress nicely, because I’m pampering you, today.” He gave a cheeky grin. Leaning over to place one last kiss right in the centre of their forehead.

Y/N would laugh gently through their nose. They moved to lazily wrap their arms around Seokmin’s toned body and pulled him closer on top of them. “But you’re so warm and comfy like this…” They’d whine into his warm neck.

Seokmin would breathily laugh in return. He rested more of his weight onto Y/N’s body as he nuzzled his nose into their cheek and gave a lingering peck on their skin. “Mmm… But today is gonna be so fun. I know you’ll love it.” His voice was a sweet and low purr into Y/N’s ear. Something that could always make them shiver just from the sensation of his breath and the vibrations from his voice.

“Fine.” Y/N sighed and slid their arms from around Seokmin’s broad body. They lied flat with their arms sprawled out so he could climb off of them with ease.

Seokmin would grin like a child on Christmas while hovering over Y/N. Placing one more kiss onto their lips before climbing off. “That’s my lovebug. Trust me. You won’t regret it!” He exclaimed, then hurriedly shuffled his way back out to the kitchen.

Y/N pushed themselves up and sighed softly again. They looked over to the clock, 7AM. Jerk. As they rubbed the sleep from their eyes and face, they couldn’t help but wonder.

What did Seokmin have planned?

“Okay… And… Open!” Seokmin uncovered Y/N’s eyes. He had covered them some minutes ago to lead Y/N to a very special place for the both of them. One they would often go to when they needed a break outside, but also didn’t want to do anything too huge. In front of Y/N was the small café where they and Seokmin had their first date. Nothing had changed about it, despite it being a couple years since that fateful day, but that’s what always made the experience so wonderful each time they revisited.

“I had a feeling you’d bring me here.” Y/N teased Seokmin with a grin and a small poke to the right side of his ticklish waist. Seokmin would laugh and grab ahold of Y/N’s hand, lacing his long fingers with theirs.

“Yeah, yeah… But you don’t love coming here any less.” Seokmin chuckled and led them into the café. The little bell rang as the cyan door opened, and Seokmin held the door for Y/N to let them enter first.

Y/N entered and absentmindedly made their way towards the table they always sat at since that first date, but a sight of something caused them to stop in their tracks.

Already lied out on the table was Y/N’s favourite pastries and coffee. The beverage being made just the way they liked it. On the little cup, the word “Lovebug” was written beside it with a small heart beside it.

“Min…” Y/N would gasp softly. Bringing a hand over their mouth as they felt their heart swell from the sweet gesture.

“Yes, love?” Seokmin would have a loving grin on his face again. Bringing his arms around his lover’s waist as he pressed them up against him a little more. “Is everything alright?”

“Of course, yes! Sorry I’m just—“ Y/N tried to explain. But there wasn’t any words that could put together the amount of love and tenderness they felt in this moment for Seokmin. Maybe it was because they resolved their fight just the night before, but they also just felt… Happy. Overjoyed to have somebody like Seokmin who loved them enough to do this.

“It’s alright… Just sit down and enjoy. We can take whatever we don’t eat back with us to the car.” Seokmin reassured with his gentle tone. Moving his hands over Y/N’s hips to gently rub gentle circles around the bones with the pads of his thumbs.

The café date was everything Y/N could’ve dreamt it would be. They caught up with Seokmin, who told many stories about SEVENTEEN’s escapades during their tour, showing pictures, videos, and whatnot. But not to mention, Seokmin was just as lovey-dovey as he always was.

He held their hands over the table, under the table, gently grabbed their knee under the table and gave it a loving caress. But the way he looked at them…

Y/N had never noticed it before, maybe because they didn’t believe the people who told them all the time about how Seokmin looked at them, but they saw it now. His eyes glimmered with the sun whenever his attention was on you. His expression was bright, beautiful, endearing. They didn’t think it was true, but Joshua was right.

“He looks at you like you put stars in the sky.”

“Everything okay, lovebug?” Seokmin’s voice would bring them back to reality. Y/N suddenly looked up to Seokmin’s curious, and almost concerned expression since they had zoned out suddenly.

“Mm? Yeah. I’m all good.” Y/N reassured. Gently squeezing Seokmin’s hand that was holding theirs on top of the table. “Keep talking, I’m listening to every word.”

To let the food settle, Seokmin took them to a park next. One in the middle of town where they’d normally walk at any time of the day. Early morning, afternoon, middle of the night, you name it. They walked it.

Seokmin had Y/N’s hand in one hand, and the strap of his camera bag in the other. He was looking for a perfect scenery spot to take pictures. But not just of the trees, or that cute little bird that perched and twittered on the branch, no. He needed a picture of Y/N. One where he could capture the memory of this moment, of Y/N, before both of their lives would change forever.

“Y/N, go stand over there. Right under those trees. You see that little divot in the grass?” Seokmin tugged gently on Y/N’s hand to get their attention. Then leaned in real close to their side to point. He wanted to make sure they could see the spot, and that he wasn’t just crazy. But honestly? It happened more than he’d admit.

Y/N squinted to look for the spot. Seokmin looked over to their expression, and a small grin spread on his narrow cheeks. The way their nose scrunched always had his heart in a knot.

“I see it!” Y/N grinned. Slipping their hand out of Seokmin’s and making their way towards the spot. Seokmin was already getting his camera out. Taking test pictures to alter anything that made the picture look less than perfect. He then watched Y/N through the camera, and his heart pounded against his chest.

God. He was down horrendously.

“Now just look around. Don’t even worry about me being here. Just be you.” Seokmin instructed. Holding the camera up to his face as he carefully watched his loving partner through the lens. He couldn’t fight the goofy smile from his face.

Y/N would casually pose and look around. Smiling up at the little bird on the branch and even whistling back. Well— they attempted to, anyway. This made Seokmin laugh behind the camera.

When they saw Seokmin lower the camera, their attention caught glimpse of a group of pigeons. Picking from the ground and minding their own business. Y/N suddenly wondered how close they could get to the pigeons without startling them.

They took careful and slow steps to the group, and eventually found themself in the centre of the pigeon circle.

Seokmin looked up from his camera to where Y/N was before. They weren’t there? He looked around the area for them, and then found his partner standing in the middle of what looked like a pigeon cult. This made his chest ring with a hearty laughter as he took out his phone and started to video them.

“How did you get in there?” He laughed.

“I don’t know! I just walked in!” Y/N would respond with a giggle. Looking up to Seokmin and shaking their head when they noticed him recording. They continued to look down at the pigeons all strutting around them. Smiling when just watching their little mannerisms.

Suddenly, Y/N did a little hop. The pigeons went flying around them. They would laugh and shield their head. Rushing their way back to Seokmin, who was laughing even harder at this point. His dimples on full display as his eyes crinkled happily. He placed his phone away and took Y/N into his arms while they both still laughed.

After the walk in the park, things were staring to get a little darker now. The afternoon was setting into dusk, and the air stared to get a bite of chill within the breeze.

“We’ll head home soon. There’s just one more thing I need to do.” Seokmin smiled. His voice had suddenly gone more quiet. It faltered slightly. Was he suddenly nervous?

“Is everything alright, Min?” Y/N asked. Squeezing his hand to attempt to reassure him, even if they didn’t know what was happening.

“I’m more than alright, my love. Don’t worry.” Seokmin smiled. Squeezing Y/N’s delicate hand in return as he led them to another small place. An abandoned boardwalk over a lake not too far from the park. It was deserted. Not a single soul in sight.

The only sign of life Y/N could see on it, was a path made just for them to walk. Small candles bordered the pathway to lead them towards the end of the dock. Their flames danced elegantly in the breeze.

“Seokmin? What is this?” Y/N asked with a surprised laugh. A wide smile on their face as they gawked at the scene in front of them. They couldn’t help but pull out their phone and take a picture.

“Shhh… Just walk with me.” Seokmin grinned. Moving his arm to wrap around Y/N’s waist and pull them into his hip. Leading them through the path in a slow pace. Like one you’d take through an art exhibit. Y/N took in the sight around them. The clear sky showed the beautiful colours of the forming sunset, the gentle waves of the lake plopped onto the shore from the slight breeze. They felt their heart beat pulsing against their chest. What was all of this?

Seokmin, on the other hand, was quaking in his dress shoes. This was it. This was the final step to take before he asked Y/N the biggest question he’d ever ask in his life. He did his best to stay calm on the outside. Pulling Y/N closer and just walking in silence to let them take in the scenery. It was beautifully romantic. Seungkwan nailed it.

As they approached the end of the dock. There was a projector screen that came into view, as well as a plethora of rose petals, and a small rug that was lied down in front of the projector.

Seokmin guided Y/N by the small of their back to stand on the rug. Watching their expression light up and their jaw slightly hang open as the projection finally came on. What would play is little video memories of Seokmin and Y/N together. From when they first dated, progressing into more recent times. While a gentle song played in the background. One Y/N had sent to him when they first started dating.

“When you touch me, yeah I feel butterflies

I’m gonna love you ‘till the day I die.”

Y/N covered their mouth with both of their hands now. Feeling tears well up in their eyes as they continued to watch the compilation of videos. There were so many. Recorded by Y/N, recorded by Seokmin, or even from an outside source of one of their friends.

Seokmin stood carefully behind Y/N. Making eye contact with Joshua and giving a small nod of acknowledgement. Joshua followed the signal. Sneaking out from his hiding place to hand Seokmin the ring box.

Seokmin clasped his fingers around the box. Joshua placed his hand over Seokmin’s fingers and the box. Joshua gave Seokmin a silent encouragement through the reassuring touch. Seokmin nodded, feeling tears already well in his eyes as he smiled to Joshua.

When the slideshow looped again, Seokmin tucked the ring box in his back pocket. He approached behind Y/N and casually wrapped his arm around their waist. He took a moment to appreciate the new music playing. A peaceful, romantic piece that Woozi had put together just for this special night.

“We’ve spent so many memories together, haven’t we?” Seokmin started. His voice just above a whisper as he tried his best to keep his own emotions in check for this important moment.

“Min…” Y/N started. Looking up to Seokmin. But he took their hands in his and gave them a tender grin. Rubbing his thumbs over their knuckles as if he still didn’t remember how they felt off the top of his head.

“I love you, Y/N. I always get so scared I don’t say it enough.” Seokmin started now. His chest tightened with tears. He sighed softly and just kept himself grounded by rubbing his thumbs over their small knuckles. “But I really do love you. With all of my heart, my soul, my existence. I wouldn’t be who I am if you weren’t by my side. I don’t know who blessed me to have you, whether it was some sort of god, or the universe, or just something that drew us together. But I will always be thankful for what I have. That I have you.” His voice broke slightly. The tears making his vision blurry as he tightened his grip on Y/N’s hands. Bringing both of them up to gently place a kiss on each set of knuckles.

“You’ve been my world, my happiness, my inspiration, my muse… You’ve been and always will be all of these for me. And Y/N I— to imagine a life without you in it breaks my heart.” Seokmin continued. He gently lowered their hands, but kept them in his grip. Blinking back his tears to meet Y/N’s tearful gaze.

They already figured it out.

“Which is why…” Seokmin trailed off. Slowly bringing himself to his left knee. His gaze never leaving Y/N’s, and his heart leaping when he saw them gasp alight from surprise and start to choke out silent sobs.

“I want you to be my everything for the rest of my days, Y/N. I don’t see myself in the future with anybody else other than you. You complete me, you love me in ways that I’m sure you don’t even know yourself. You’re kind, patient, caring, selfless… You’re everything I could ever hope to achieve.” Seokmin’s voice now began to break. Seeing their tearful expression mixed with the overwhelming feelings of both love and fear made it impossible for him to hold back his emotions now.

“I don’t say enough how much I love you or appreciate you, and I feel terrible I can’t remind you every single day just how deep my feelings root for you. So… I hope that this can tell you just how much I need you with me.” He finally one of his hands out of Y/N’s. Reaching into his pocket to pull out the black velvet box and lifting the lid of it. He held it up to them. The ring was a beautiful silver. The jewel wasn’t just a diamond within it, but instead, a mix of amethyst, his birth stone, and Y/N’s birthstone. A(n) [insert birthstone].

“Y/N. I’m not perfect in loving you like you deserve. But I’ve never been more sure of this choice in my life. So my question is, do you want to love me for just as long? Will you marry me?” Seokmin finally asked. There wasn’t much silence between them in terms of words, but even the most brief pause felt like a million years. Was he pushing this too far too soon? Was Y/N not ready? What if he just put them on the spot all for nothing?

“Yes… God, Seokmin, yes.” Y/N choked out through sobs now. Frantically nodding their head as they covered their trembling lips with their free hand that still wasn’t in Seokmin’s.

Seokmin felt his world stop for a moment. They… They said yes?

“You… You will?” Seokmin stuttered out. His eyes going wide in surprise as his jaw hung agape. The tears were now flowing down his tanned and flushed cheeks full throttle now. They said yes. He couldn’t believe they just said yes.

“Yes!” Y/N nodded as they nodded frantically again. Feeling more sobs escape their chest as they looked over the ring, then to Seokmin. The Seokmin who had lived them better than anybody ever could, the Seokmin who was made of affection and tenderness, the Seokmin who was now on one knee wanting their souls to be dedicated to each other.

Seokmin quickly took Y/N’s trembling left hand and the ring out of the box with his other hand. Sliding it over their finger and looking over it now. It was beautiful. Just as amazing as he’d imagined. The best part was, it fit perfectly.

Now, Seokmin had pushed himself up to envelop Y/N in a tearful embrace. Sweeping them off their feet to wrap their legs around his waist as he quietly sobbed into their neck, while they did the same on him.

“I love you, Y/N. I love you so much.” He sobbed quietly. Moving one hand to the back of their hair to press their face a little more against his warm skin. He wanted them to be as close as possible.

“I love you too, Seokmin. With everything I have.” Y/N sobbed back. Clinging to him tighter as if it would be the last time they would ever hold him. But they both knew now that that was far from true.

Suddenly, cheers erupted from behind the embracing and tearful couple. Y/N would look up and realize that indeed. Seokmin had help.

Seungkwan was throwing leftover rose petals in celebration, also crying with the two. Joshua was just crying and cheering for Y/N and Seokmin, a clear smile of pride written all over his tearful face. Wonwoo was clapping for the pair, his camera hanging from its strap over his neck as he had the widest smile out of the bunch. Soonyoung standing next to Seungkwan, who was also throwing petals and shouting in victory like a biking going to war. Finally, a calm Jihoon and Minghao, well— calm compared to the rest. They were just as happy as everybody else, but weren’t the open crier types.

Seokmin set Y/N down, which caused Y/N to look back up to him with a trembling smile. Seokmin wouldn’t hesitate in taking their face between his hands and connecting their lips together in a deep, loving kiss. Wonwoo raised his camera to take a few more final pictures of the beautiful moment.

When Seokmin pulled away from Y/N, his forehead went to rest against theirs. Just closing his eyes and enjoying their new moments as an engaged couple.

“You won’t regret this. I’ll be the best husband anybody could have…” Seokmin promised through a whisper.

“I know you will…” Y/N whispered back. “I love you, Min.”

“I love you, too…”

As the group now worked to clean up the romantic scene, there was nobody short of a smile, or a stray tear. Joshua was clinging onto Seokmin from pure excitement, even though he wasn’t even the one that got engaged.

“Well,” Jihoon started. Approaching Y/N’s side and placing a gentle hand on their shoulder. “I guess the bad news from all of this is you’re really stuck with us now.” He joked with a slightly cheeky grin to his round face.

“Oh no, that’s gonna be terrible.” Y/N chided sarcastically as they playfully rolled their eyes.

“Listen, I’m just warning you now, this is your last chance to run for the hills.” Jihoon added. A chuckle leaving his chest as he finished. There were a few moments of comfortable silence between the two, before Jihoon tightened his grip slightly on Y/N’s shoulder.

“Welcome to the family, Y/N.”

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emdeerm · 4 months

Text

"Trapped in my Hallucinations"

Idea/Prompt

Inspired by this song

Danny faced a new ghost (or Ghost writer again if you want) that hit him with a ray during the battle.

That ray transported Danny into the DC universe but Danny was told that he will be trapped in his own head and have vivid hallucinations of the thing he wants the most. He had 3 months (the time in DP universe slows down at this moment) to break out of this state, or he will be forever stuck there.

Well, Danny gets dropped in Gotham in the Crime Alley. He is scared, hurt and thinks that everything is not real. He doesn't bother changing out of his Phantom form and gets attention of the Bats very quickly. He just kinda ignores them for a while, too preoccupied trying to return. Hey, they are not real. He didn't want to get attached to some random thought his brain made up.

The Bats are concerned about the random hurt Meta child who just showed up one day, doesn't do anything but float around, hurting himself (pain would help to wake up, right?) or muttering to something under his breath. Look, even Damian started to worry about him. You know it's bad when he is willing to let a person into his home for a bit.

At some point, Danny becomes so exhausted that he de-transforms in front of one of them and just collapses. The bat becomes concerned² and takes the teen to the hideout/cave. All of that took like a week and a half.

Danny wakes up, gets told that he should stay in the manor for a while. He doesn't care much at that point. Not real. If the hallucinations are supposed to show what he wants, then being rich was probably one of those things. All he had to do was continue to work on getting back.

He is as withdrawn from the Bats as he was when he was outside. He leaves the building when he wants and returns when he feels like it, nothing is able to contain him, he doesn't interact with them and doesn't react when he learns that his rich made-up caretakers are secretly vigilantes too. His brain was weird. He was kinda expecting something like that to pop up.

The Batfam are now concerned³. The kid doesn't react to anything they show, give tell him. The only thing he actually does is eat, sleep when he collapses (which takes way longer than one would expect), sometimes saves a person on a street if he was passing by and stargaze from the roof. The boy was frantically looking for something but refused to tell, "you will probably mess everything up even more" he told them once (Danny didn't want to involve his hallucinations. He saw their dynamic and world and knew that if he let them closer to himself, he will probably crumble and stay. He couldn't do that)

They don't know what to do. They weren't able to find anything on Danny. No surname, no school, no parents, no friends, library cards, anything! Nothing existed! Their gadgets didn't work on him most of the time.

Damian was the first one to crack Danny out of his funk. He brought a telescope to the roof when Danny was floating there, complained that his glowing was hindering starviewing and got Danny to talk about space. Danny told him a few stories. One of them being how he was in space once (that one episode with Technus and Valerie). He didn't tell the details. Just said he had been there.

Damian and the rest ran with it like their life depended on it.

At some point, Danny discovered the Lazarus Pit in the cave and began spending his time around it. It gave of Ghost vibes and he was missing them a lot. The Bats were very against it but couldn't do anything.

By the end of the second month, Danny was opening up to them a lot more (look, there is only so much stress a teen can take without support or comfort) and was becoming more and more distraught over it. He didn't have any luck waking up.

He asked for advice once. They told him that this wasn't a hallucination world. He didn't believe them until they brought hard evidence. (None of his rouges ever lied about their powers before. He didn't even think that the Ghost was not being honest). Only 2 weeks remained until he'd be stuck in that world forever.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to return anymore. He loved this family. But he also missed his friends and sisters. (We can add Dan too if you want). He asked for their help.

They began working on getting Danny back

#dpxdc #danny phantom #dc x dp #dp x dc #digital hallucinations #prompts #I want him to go back kick ass and then move to DC #but #shared custody with DP and DC universes works too XD #idk #you could also make it tragic #like hurt no comfort #oof #please don't #ill cry #but secretly enjoy it too #sorry danny

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youunravelme · 6 months

Text

murphy's law sneak peek

author's note: this is just a look into what i've been working on the past few months (again, my b for being the most inconsistent writer ever). please let me know your thoughts! i'm hoping to finish this up VERY soon!! so here are the first two and a half pages of this fic! :))))))

mat barzal x beau's step-sister!reader (bc i'm not white and wanted to leave the reader racially neutral.)

summary:nothing good could come from sleeping with your (step) brother's best friend.

when anthony was traded to vancouver, you felt like the rug had been pulled out from under you. he was your rock since you were twelve when your mom and his dad got married. he was there when you finished your undergrad, and offered up the spare room in his apartment when you started your master's degree at columbia.

but with his new job back in your home country, you knew there was no way you could afford to stay in his apartment. after all, you were nowhere close to making the millions of dollars he did.

"don't worry about it," he said. "i have it taken care of."

what he didn't say was that the solution was staying in mat's extra room.

it wouldn't be that big of a deal, you knew mat just from the sheer amount of time he and anthony spent together. if it wasn't seeing him at games, it was out at bars, or in your shared apartment when you got home from class.

but despite all the interactions you had, almost none of them were meaningful. everything you knew about him started and ended with your connection to tito. and neither of you cared to remedy that.

it didn't mean you two were hostile, didn't even mean that you didn't like each other. it just meant that when tito wasn't around, you two didn't talk.

until you started living together.

the t-shirt incident

it wasn't intentional, you'd swear up and down that it wasn't. you recalled mat's text that he would be out that night and not to wait up for him (not that you ever did, but the sentiment was clearly communicated: stay out of the common areas).

you weren't even doing anything special that night, your boyfriend was out of town on a work trip and you hadn't met friends outside of the islander wags just yet (all of whom were busy that night). so you treated yourself to a shower and a face mask. you'd just finished washing it off when you heard the front door close.

truthfully, you almost stayed in your room until you realized your water cup was empty, and you might've let it go if it wasn't for the past few nights where you woke up craving a sip of water. but you'd like to think you were a considerate roommate, so you waited five minutes for mat to go to his room before you planned on going into the kitchen.

you didn't realize your mistake until you walked into the living room and caught mat and a girl, both shirtless.

to be honest, you weren't sure who screamed first, if it was you or the other girl. you managed to see her lunge for her shirt right as you covered your eyes with one hand and dropped your cup on the floor.

"oh my god," was all you could say.

but the other girl clearly wasn't rendered speechless like you were because she yelled "you didn't say you had a girlfriend, asshole!" before slamming the front door behind her.

you didn't move, couldn't move, too mortified to even acknowledge what you'd just interrupted. very slowly, like he couldn't see you, you bent down and fumbled around with one hand, blindly searching for the cup.

the couch creaked, followed by a heavy sigh from mat. "you can look, you know? nothing you probably haven't seen before."

you peeked between your fingers and saw mat pulling his shirt back on. you dropped your hand and stood up straight almost as soon as he was fully clothed.

cue the apology tour.

"oh my god, mat, i am so sorry! i totally wasn't thinking, i thought you were in your room by this point and i needed water. i didn't even think about what it would look like to your lady friend, if you'd like i can try to catch her before she gets in a cab and explain the situation?"

mat blinked at you. "lady friend?" he asked.

you shrugged. "well, she's a lady, and a friend."

he let out a dry laugh, though his lips didn't curl up in a smile. maybe it was more of a scoff? "friend is a bit of an overstatement. i don't even remember her name."

the room went silent before you caught mat staring at your chest. you glanced down and the urge to dig a hole and die in it crossed your mind.

the seattle thunderbirds logo was staring you in the face.

"oh god, our laundry must've gotten mixed up i'm sorry--"

"i was wondering where that shirt went."

you grabbed the bottom of the shirt before you remembered stripping in front of your new roommate was probably not the best thing to do.

"i can rewash it for you."

he nodded, but otherwise didn't offer anymore commentary.

so you scooped up the cup from the floor and sheepishly sidestepped your way into the kitchen.

and even though it took approximately four seconds to pour yourself a glass of water, you hid in the kitchen until you heard the telltale click of mat's bedroom door.

part of you thought it was best to stay out of his way the next morning, to let mat meander throughout the apartment before he went to his morning skate.

but then you thought about your childhood, and how you pissed anthony and francis off when you were fourteen so you baked them cookies after school and magically, everything was okay between the three of you by the end of the day.

so you woke up earlier than you normally would've to make mat breakfast. you'd made anthony breakfast before, surely mat's diet was about the same?

the eggs were nearly done when you heard his door open. it was only a matter of time before he joined you in the kitchen. you had his protein shaker bottle sitting on the island next to the plate of bacon you'd made. the toast had just popped out of the toaster.

"morning," mat said when he walked into the kitchen.

you whipped your head around to smile at him before focusing on the eggs in front of you. "hope you're hungry," you said. "i made breakfast."

you pulled the pan off the burner and placed them on a potholder. "wasn't sure how you liked your eggs, anthony likes his scrambled, so i just made them scrambled, hope that's okay."

he shrugged and mumbled a quiet thank you before helping himself to the meal you made and fixing his protein shake. you waited until he'd helped himself to the food and took a seat at the island before you said anything, just staring at his profile until he took a bite of the toast.

"i really am sorry about last night," you started. "it wasn't on purpose, i promise." you cleared your throat and made yourself busy by fixing your plate. "next time, i'll just go stay at someone else's place."

mat snorted into his protein shake. a sly smirk was on his lips when he pulled the drink away.

"what?" you asked, looking straight at him.

mat shook his head. "if you left every time i brought a girl over, you'd never be home."

you flushed and directed your eyes back to your plate. "oh."

you couldn't see mat run a hand down his face, but you could hear him sigh. "look," he said and you picked your head up to look into his eyes. "it's just going to be an adjustment. i'll make sure to text you when i'm coming home with a girl and i'll take her to my room as quickly as possible."

"and i'll make myself scarce until the morning."

mat shrugged. "i mean, you live here too, i'm not asking you to be holed up in your room, just maybe don't make an appearance in my shirt until i've at least told the girl about you?"

you nodded almost immediately. "i can do that. i swear, after today, i won't be a problem anymore! you can have literally all the girls over and you won't even know i'm here!"

if only that were true.

#mat barzal #mathew barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #mathew barzal imagine #nhl blurb #nhl imagines #nhl imagine

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peoplesgraves · 2 years

Note

I really liked your Yandere thoughts about being a Model surrounded by Obsession. If it is not too much to ask, could you do one about being an Actor that is surrounded by obsession?

Some more yandere thots for y’all. This time you’re an actor who can’t escape obsession.<3

Other actors all want to do romantic scenes with you. If they ever had to do a sex scene with you they’d be so smug. Already thinking of ways to tease it in interviews and thinking of how many people will be shipping you together after it comes out. Do they watch edits and read fanfic of the two of you? It more likely then you’d think. Everyone wants to be your date on the red carpet or to be in a pr relationship that hopefully into more.

A personal assistant who has so much control over you. Who remembers every little detail, every meeting and every extra actor who looks at you just a little too long. They know exactly how you take your coffee and every single password you’ve ever had. Your beloved assistant will login to your phone and block anyone they don’t like and they’ll cancel shoot days if they think you need a break. Your assistant knows everything about you and they’ll use every little secret against you if they have too. They just want to take care of you. To make sure you know that there’s no way you’d survive without them.

Writers who write shows and movies specifically with you in mind. If you mention in a interview that you’d really like to do a horror movie next then within a few months you’ll be fielding more offers for horror movies then you could ever act in. The bench mark for a successful writer is no longer actually getting a show or movie made, it’s you agreeing to be in it.

Talk show hosts who make sure that every show has at least one segment about you. Maybe just a little update pulled from your social media or them gushing about how cute you looked doing press for your newest venture. They’d bump the creator of the world themselves if you requested to be on their show. They’d probably get so star struck though that you’d end up doing most of the hosting while they just give love sick stares your way.

Fans who sign onto any project as an extra or a grunt no matter how crappy the pay or conditions, Just for a chance to meet you. While extras are pretty harmless and will mostly just flock to you at any time they can and maybe break into your trailer to get a souvenir, it’s the grunts you really need to worry about. If they hear someone else on set talking badly about you then they’re not afraid to drop a light on their head.

A more seasoned actor who takes you under their wing. Steers you away from directors they know will take advantage of you or away from projects that will hurt your career. They’re just so helpful and protective that you can’t help but trust them. All they ask in return is for your time. When they hug you just a little too long you think it’s just because they care but honestly they have paparazzi hiding in the bushes. They’ve already been practicing what they’ll say when the pictures come out. That they were just trying to help your career by being seen with them, they didn’t realize you’d be upset. Of course you’ll forgive them because they’re just looking out for you right?

Award shows that always make sure you never leave empty handed. Who give you a special gift bag that makes all the other ones look like they came from the dollar store. You also never leave without an award. If you were to not make any new content for a year you can bet you’d still be invited to all the big shows and would win the ‘fan voted’ best actor/actress award, an award that definitely wasn’t created just for you.

You have a lot of influence when it comes to trends. If people notice you wearing a brand a lot then it’ll become super popular or if you endorse a product everyone will buy it. Companies and brands are always trying to get you to appear in their products or do ads for them because of how influential you are.

#yandere #yandere actor #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x you

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headlinerkwan · 1 month

Text

paths - c.sb

pairing: soobin x gn!reader

genre: nonidol!au, exes to ???, firstlove!soobin, angst, some fluff

summary: as you prepare to move back to your hometown, you discover a stack of unsent letters, causing you to reminisce on your first love and break up.

warnings: mentions of death (reader's dad passes away before events in the fic, mentioned but no detail.), some swearing, lots of lowkey pining ._.

wc: 2.5k

a/n: this fic was kind of inspired by 'paths' by niki, and the rest of her new album 'buzz' - go check it out!! requests and my general taglist is now open ･ᴗ･ lmk if you like the fic and reblog if you want, it helps writers out a lot ૮₍´˶• . • ⑅ ₎ა♡

“Mom, I promise there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Are you sure? I can drive up and help.”

“Yes, I’m all packed up, everything’s fine Mom, this isn’t my first time moving and there’s no way I’m letting you drive seven hours across the country,” You continue as she rants on about the overwhelming piles of paperwork and mess around the house, “I’ll be there to sort everything out soon, so don’t worry about that just… try to relax.”

“I’ll text you when I’m on the road, ok? I love you Mom!”

“I love you too, I’ll see you soon, yes?”

“Of course.”

You throw the phone down on the bed, your childhood hits playlist muffled by the ocean of blankets that it landed amongst. Looking around your room, an exasperated ‘fuck’ escapes your lips. Despite what you had just told your mother, your room was most definitely not packed up and you were most definitely not ready to leave behind the life that you had built just to return to your hometown.

After your Dad’s death, you had decided to move back into your childhood home, to keep your Mom company, settle down, and have a quieter life. You’ve had your fair amount of fun in the city and you were ready to return to your roots.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

A few hours later, there’s only one set of drawers left for you to pack up. You’re a sweaty mess as the sun beats down on you through the windows. Pulling your hair back, you position yourself in front of the drawers alongside some boxes, bubble wrap and packing tape.

Opening the bottom drawer you are welcomed by a pile of clothes that had been messily shoved in over the years. Okay not too much work left. Picking up a purple hoodie, a pile of envelopes reveal themselves, all of them addressed to the same person.

Choi Soobin.

Against your better judgement, you give in to your nostalgic curiosity and begin to unseal the first envelope. As far as everyone else knows, you hadn’t thought about Soobin in a couple of years - you had curated a nonchalant persona, one that didn’t care about the past and especially not the people that you had left behind. This, of course, was nothing but a persona, a facade that you had delicately crafted over the years. If you stopped lying to yourself, you would realise that he’s always on your mind. Breadcrumbs of your love littered through every street that you walk, every corner you turn, there’s always a part of you that longs for him. He lives in a part of your brain meant only for youth, for easier times. Everytime you see something bunny themed, or hear a Day6 song on the radio, you have to fight against every nerve in your body not to text or call him. So yes, it might seem like you don’t really care but oh my god, you’re not sure you’ve ever been so hung up over the past in the same way that you are when it comes to him.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

Letter One:

‘Soobin,

Hi. It’s been a while. One month and 24 days, to be exact.

I hope you’re okay. I’m sorry if this is weird. Is this weird? Oh god, this is probably weird.

It’s just, we promised to give each other space and time but I can’t seem to let you go. Every second of every day all I want to do is pick up the phone and call you. You’re the only one I wanted to talk to after my first day at this new job, and when I moved in and I couldn’t figure out the stove, and when I found a new cafe nearby.

Maybe I should’ve stayed. Maybe I should’ve told you to stop talking about the opportunities and convince me to stay with you instead. It’s hard to be happy without you by my side, I miss you and I feel selfish saying it.

We said it was for the best and besides, I was the one who moved away, I was the one who broke your heart. Am I allowed to miss you?

I don’t even know why I’m writing this. I probably won't even send it.

Bye Soobin.‘

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

Reading the letter, you chuckle as your eyes cloud with tears. You recall how you thought you’d never be happy again. That it was a bad idea for you to have lived outside of the bubble of your hometown. How naive you were, believing the world began and ended with him. You smile through the slow tearing tears as you put the letter down in favor of another and reminisce on the love that you feel felt for him.

Your thumb brushes over the water marked envelope, still bearing the scars of tears cried long ago.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

Letter Two:

‘Soobin,

How are you?

Dad told me that he had ran into you at the grocery store last week. He said you got taller but I’m not sure that’s possible. Dad said you look well too, I’m glad, I hope it’s true. I hope you’re okay. It kills me not knowing how your day was, if you’re in a bad mood, if you’re sick, if you’re hanging out with Beomgyu or staying home to watch the new ‘Jujutsu Kaisen’.

Not knowing is killing me.

It’s okay here, I’ve made a few friends at work and the city is nice, it’s new and lonely but I have hope that it will get easier with time. If it doesn’t though, and I come back home, I wonder if you’d be there with open arms and a wide grin like you always used to. Would you?

Sometimes I catch myself hoping for failure just so that I can come back to you and I have to remind myself of all of the work that I did just to get here. I remind myself too about how you’ve put me out of your mind… even if you haven’t - can we pretend that you’ve forgotten about us? I think it’ll be easier that way. ‘

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

Letter Three:

‘Hi, It’s me again.

It’s been a while since I’ve written to you. It’s summer now, my first one without you. I’ve been trying my best not to think about that too much, I’m trying to enjoy the weather instead. It’s not easy though, the other day my friend and I got ice cream and it tasted just like the one that we had on our first date.

I’ve been replaying that night in my head a lot recently. I think about running from building to building, seeking shelter from the rain, I think about your laugh and my hand in yours. I think about how your eyes followed the fish in the aquarium with such childlike wonder. I try to remember what we talked about but I can’t. I remember smiling until my cheeks hurt though, I remember the harmony of our laughter, I remember how every touch was electric - like lightning in rain. I remember how happy I was whenever you were with me.

I’ll try to enjoy this summer as much as that one, even without you, I’ve decided to smile again.‘

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

Pulling yourself together, you decide to refocus on the task in front of you, packing up your belongings in preparation for your move across the country in… less than twelve hours - great. The first item on your to-do list is food, you need to refuel (and stock up on packing tape). You decide to pick up some takeout from the Thai restaurant a couple of streets away from your apartment. The walk will be good for you, it’ll give you some space to think and maybe even soothe your puffy face.

As you walk around the city that has come to define your early twenties, mixed emotions begin to brew within you. Of course you’re sad to leave and nervous to return to your hometown, anxious about reuniting with the ghosts of your childhood. But, at the same time, you were excited to return to the place that knew you just as much as you knew it, to be back in an environment that was filled with your most cherished moments, a place full of youth and inspiration and hope. It will be good for you, even if it means the end of your chapter in the city or facing the skeletons that you had been ignoring since you’d ran away.

As you turn the corner, you spot a couple walking ahead of you, they’re walking in stride, hands interlocked and swinging rhythmically between them as they exchange laughter and whispers.

Your heart hurts as you watch them, struggling not to be reminded of Soobin. Images of your love flooding your brain - all those days in the sun and nights under the stars, His hands warming yours on winter mornings, hours spent doing nothing but enjoying each other's company. Every sweet smile and gentle kiss.

You must be sick or something, you can’t even pick up takeout without drowning in love and longing for a man you haven’t seen since you left.

Returning to your apartment, you sit on the floor of what used to be your living room, you unpack your khao pad and finally begin to eat. As you make your way through the dish, the TV fails to drown out your thoughts and you cave, deciding to read another one of your letters, curious about your own ramblings. Besides, one more couldn’t hurt… right?

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

Letter Four:

‘Soobin,

I’m sure you don’t want to hear from me, I just need to be selfish today. I need someone to talk to and it has to be you. It has to be you because you’re the only one who ever really listened when I needed it and maybe one day, when I send these letters, you’ll be able to understand why.

The doctors say that my Dad is ill and I’m not sure what to do. I feel paralyzed. I don’t want to lose him and I feel so guilty because I can’t bring myself to see him that way. I want to keep the image of him as my Dad, not an ill and weak man, you know? I know he doesn’t want me to see him like that either but I feel so incredibly bad about it. I don’t know what to do, I feel helpless.

I wish that you were here with me. If you were I know you’d tell me to be an adult and face it even if it’s painful but, I can’t. I can’t do it, I’m too much of a coward. I wish that you were here to hold me like you used to and wipe my tears but, you’re not and that’s okay. I have to do this alone, however hard it may be.

I hope that on the day when our paths cross again we’ll both be okay, better than we are now. And, I hope we can laugh like we used to, like no time has passed.’

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

Hours later, you find yourself still sat on the floor, surrounded by opened letters that you had penned long ago. You look down to find there is only one left - the last one. You might as well open it, you’ve come this far.

Letter Thirteen:

‘I dreamt about you again last night.

I wish you’d leave me alone. I can’t even escape you in my sleep. I wish I could forget you but you’re stuck in my mind like gum on a shoe and I’m not sure how much more I can take.

I hate you. I hate you for letting me leave even though neither of us wanted it to happen. I hate you for lying to me and saying it would be okay when it’s really not, not when I’m without you. I hate that even after leaving, I can’t escape you. I hate that you taught me so much, that everytime I’m reminded of you, you don’t feel so far away. I hate you for telling me that I was a bird, meant to fly, and that you were my birdcage - turns out I’m more of a parakeet than a starling.

I hate you for being right and wrong at the same time. I hate your dumb smile and the way that you push your hair back. I hate your voice and the sparkle in your eyes. But, most of all, I hate how much I miss you, I hate that I still love you and that no one could ever compare to you.

I hate you, Choi Soobin.’

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

As you shove the final letter back into its envelope through tears and stifled breaths, you find yourself left entirely drained. You check the time and realise that you only have eight hours before you begin your journey back home. You gather up the scattered envelopes and throw them messily into a box alongside the last of your clothes, sealing the box with whatever scraps of packing tape that you have left.

Flopping down onto your mattress, an exhausted sigh escapes your mouth and your eyes grow heavier as you curl up under your blanket.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

“I’ll be back later, text me if you need anything whilst I’m out. Love you!”

“Love you too! Bye!” you call out to your Mom as she shuts the front door.

It has been a week since you have moved back into your childhood home and, to say you were still in the process of getting situated was an understatement. In reality, you were still drowning in moving boxes but, with a spontaneous burst of energy you decide to put an end to your procrastination and actually start to unpack.

An hour or so later, the summer heat has left you sticky with sweat but you are still determined to unpack at least half of the boxes in front of you by the end of the day. Moving to organise your books, you are interrupted by a knock at the front door.

You open it to find a man standing in front of you. He is tall with messy dark brown hair which glows golden in the sunlight. He wears a nervous smile and is gripping a small bouquet of flowers as if it might fly away at any second. His dark eyes move down to meet yours and a soft smile of relief appears on both of your faces. Seeing his face, it feels like after all this time - after everything - you can finally breathe again.

“Soobin.” you whisper, as if to reassure yourself that this is real, that it’s actually happening.

His grin grows wider as he extends the flowers out towards you, “It’s been a while.”

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positivelybeastly · 16 days

Note

Love reading through your analyses and I was wondering if you had insight on something I noticed with Hank/Beast and Kurt/Nightcrawler: writers often use both of them in the visible mutation metaphor and emotional cores, but Kurt's approach is more from faith and Hank's is more from curiosity. Often when one or either are gone/dead/changed, things seem to get worse for the Team overall.

Do you think those two would benefit each other's characters? Even just to have spirited philosophical discussion?

So, this actually touches on a funny thing that I've noticed with Beast and Nightcrawler over time - which is that they're almost never on the same team together, probably precisely because they serve an extremely similar function in a team composition, for the reasons you've kind of touched on here.

They are, after all, both heavily visibly mutated individuals who were, or are, considered figures of great integrity and morality, with a strong code of ethics and a depth of feeling that expresses itself in a deeply vivacious personality - romantic, friendly, charming, and erudite.

Therefore, having them both on a team is, unfortunately, somewhat redundant.

That being said! They do still interact, and they're shown to be sources of great comfort and friendship for one another. Their first meetings were - somewhat inauspicious . . .

See, this is the funny thing about old comics - storylines just flow and flow and flow. Comics didn't stop after ten issues and get restarted with a new #1 every few months, they just ran and ran and ran, and the pacing reflected that.

There aren't usually month long gaps where you can assume nothing happened and people just got to hang out, they're working hard! Hank has been working with the Avengers so much that he literally hasn't even had time to meet the new X-Men properly! Wild.

But, eventually, things did slow down, and they got a chance to properly socialise, and, as expected, they got along like a house on fire.

Like, these two are just born to be friends. They have so much in common. Where Hank leans more to the obscure, the erudite, and the scientific, Kurt leans more to the dashing, the swashbuckling, and, of course, the religious, but they're still both fundamentally cut from the same cloth - acrobatic, charming, philosophical, heroic, fun.

But, that same alike quality means you don't get a ton of interaction between them, so I cling to what they do have. One of my favourite interactions between them is in Nightcrawler's 2004 solo series.

First off, absolutely adore Hank in this art style. The fact that the artist decided to include the detail of his fur poking out of the shirt like that is just. It transfixes me. I really want to go over and just. Run my fingers through his side fur. But mostly, I just like their chemistry? Hank's a great supporting character because he's so emotionally intelligent and reflective, and he's great at giving people perspective, usually with a healthy dose of sarcasm and teasing.

That being said, this scene is always the one I point to whenever I say that the X-Men really have no idea what's going on in Hank's head a lot of the time, because this took place after Hank had been psychically brutalised, nearly beaten to death, and one of his best friends had just been murdered - and he's doing a really very good job of hiding that trauma.

So much so that Kurt thinks he's just fine. He's just fine. There's nothing to worry about. But it's not Kurt's fault, and it's nowhere near unique to him, either. He had no way to know, he had his own stuff going on (the subject matter of this solo series, as it happens), and Hank is doing well enough that it isn't interfering with things, so, let him deal with it in peace, I suppose.

At least on this occasion.

Kurt is, after all, an emotionally intelligent and caring individual. You can't stop Nightcrawler from trying to help where he can. And I think that even just the reaching out, just the show of support, can be enough for a character like Hank.

Moments like these matter, in my opinion. It's important to show that teammates and friends care about each other, in the moment to moment stories, otherwise it can all feel very impersonal and like no-one cares about one another. This is how you establish dynamics over years, even between characters who have, technically speaking, never really been on a team together before.

The next big milestone I can think of comes after the X-Men's move to Utopia, where, again, Hank and Kurt don't share a ton of panel time together, but . . .

This is one of the few times you'll ever hear anyone say that Hank was right. And it's not really a surprise that it comes from Kurt, because, again, these men are cut from the same cloth. They come at it from different angles, but they believe in much the same things.

And . . . that's why it hits so hard when Kurt dies.

I don't necessarily agree with the decision to have Hank break from the literal funeral procession to call Scott out for Kurt's death. Some fans of Nightcrawler really appreciate that moment, because it shows how much Kurt's death affected Hank, but I personally just. Don't think it tracks, for Hank to be quite that disrespectful.

After the funeral, or even before, but during it? Nah. Matt Fraction made a good few Hank characterisation choices I don't agree with, and this was one of them.

This felt a bit more apropos.

Remember what I said about how little moments build to dynamics between characters who have never been on teams together? I buy this moment so much more with the context of that moment from Endangered Species, where Kurt is literally positioned as the light trying to pull Hank out of the dark path he's following with obsessive fervour. The fact that he was trying went a long way. Hank felt it, even if he didn't take him up on it at the time. That moment mattered.

And that's why I absolutely buy Hank's reaction when Kurt came back to life.

Hank believes in Kurt. He believes the very best of him. On teams where Hank can often feel alone or isolated, someone like Kurt will reach out, and make him feel connected, and welcome, and pull him back. Temper his scientific pessimism and realism with optimism and belief. Restore his fervour, and remind him of simpler, happier times.

A lot of the best scientists, who have contributed the most to scientific inquiry, were religious, because for a lot of them, there's no real conflict between science and religion, they're both two sides of the same coin, in a way - a belief in a higher power. It's just how they react to that higher power that changes.

And while Hank was explicitly religious for a while, I always interpreted him as losing that faith over the years, becoming bogged down in the real over the sublime as what he went through wore him down. Someone like Kurt was able to spark that in him again. Maybe not his faith, per se, but at the very least belief in the human spirit.

It's important. As you say, massive benefit to each other's characters. Underrated dynamic, these two. Absolutely love 'em.

#aximeck #outofmuffins #hank mccoy #kurt wagner

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kingdumkum · 1 year

Text

WHERE THE RIVER MEETS THE SEA

this has been a long, long time coming. hopefully it’ll live up to the obscenely high expectations i’ve set. agree or disagree, please reblog/comment/send an anon with your thoughts--but make sure you read the RULES of interaction first.

summary: your date stood you up… again. Don’t worry, though, Baji will be there to pick up the pieces, like he always is. The only question… what will you do when you find out his secret? wc: 15k (we don't talk about it)

cw: virgin fem afab!reader x virgin!Baji, a lil itty bitty baby bit of blood, somewhat public (initially), bc why not, marking, creampie, Confessions galore, somewhat gendered pet names (princess, babe, sweetheart), actually gendered pet names (one handful of "good girl," "pretty girl," and "my girl"), subtle yandere themes but not to the extent a DC label is needed—correct me if I’m wrong though—be nice if I missed something, this is my first time :) way too many words but c’est la vie such is the way.

dedication: Storm, my friend, your support and advice has made me a better writer. Without you, this would probably still be sitting in my drafts, collecting dust and every hateful thought I’ve ever had about my writing. Thank you for being you and all of your aid in getting this to where it is. 💛

Your coffee’s cold when you give up. Well—second coffee, to be precise; the first you’d ordered after Tadashi said he was a few minutes away. That one had grown cold too, but the barista, taking pity, had given you a piping hot refill—for free.

It feels like an insult when she offers you a third.

An hour and a half has passed since Tadashi said he’d be there, and… well, you were still kinda hoping he might show up. But when the manager approaches with a tight-lipped smile, not-so-kindly pointing at their hours plastered ever so neatly on the glass door and indicating they’re just a few minutes to closing, your hope ebbs entirely.

The heat in your cheeks could’ve rewarmed your cup—but not one to cause a scene, you offer a tight-lip smile of your own and apologize. You don’t explain that you were waiting for someone; the pitying look in the barista’s eye as she mouths sorry and slides the unwanted third cup your way says they know.

You slip into the bathroom, wondering how in the world you could be so stupid— again. This was your third first date in three months… and the third time in three months that you’ve been stood up.

It hurts more when you check your phone. Two new messages from Emma, asking how it’s going and if you want to grab dinner to dish; one from Draken, asking if you can bring back a vanilla frappe and a triple dark roast espresso with two pumps of caramel; one from Baji, saying he might be late to pick you up, but he’d be there, and could you get him an order of whatever you’re having?

Nothing from Tadashi.

You don’t respond, instead letting your phone rest against the mirror while you stare at your reflection and try, desperately, to convince yourself it isn’t your fault.

Everything had been going great—you thought. You thought he really liked you, that he was excited to get to know you, and that this one, this one for sure would show up. You made jokes that he found funny, you were just the right amount of flirty, and you knew—thought—hoped—the picture you’d sent of your outfit (a simple sundress that accentuated your best features and wedges that made your legs seem endless) was enticing enough that he’d want to see it in person.

But here you are. Crying in the bathroom of a cafe you’ll never be able to return to, wondering how you’re going to explain to your friends that you got stood up.

Again.

Your phone starts to buzz. With a deep breath, you wipe off your dripping mascara. You force yourself to smile at the hollow reflection staring back at you, then answer with an overly-cheerful, “what’s up?”

“Kenny’s worried.” Baji’s familiar drawl echos, making the space seem even smaller. “I said he was being too overprotective, but—well, you know how he is. Said it’s his duty or some shit to make sure you’re okay. He tried to come down here himself, wanted to meet the guy trying to woo you—can you believe that? He actually said woo—“

“What do you want?” you interrupt. Too harsh, you realize when Baji doesn’t answer. “It’s just—I’m kinda in the middle of something, you know?”

Baji takes a moment, then forces a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, the little princess’s got a date, we know. God, they wouldn’t let it go. You should be thanking me, ya know, I’m the only reason they’re not all crashing—”

“Baji.”

The line falls quiet. Then, softly, “where are you, y/n?”

You frown and start searching for your mascara. “At the coffee shop. Why, where are you?”

Another pause. This one heavier. With the phone tucked to one ear, you slowly swipe the wand over your lashes. It’s clumpier than you usually like, but it’s better than nothing—

“I’m outside.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he echoes. You mouth another fuck, heart plummeting, then start reapplying your mascara. More carefully, now that you’re out of time. “I, uh—I’ve been here. A while.”

“Oh… yeah?” you question, teeth starting to grind. “How long’s a while?”

Baji clears his throat. “Long enough. You gonna come out, or are ya gonna make me come in?”

Mascara gets tossed in your purse, gloss comes out. “You’re not exactly welcome in the ladies room, Baji.”

You can picture the dangerous curl in his smile when he replies, “not without an invitation, babe—why, you asking?”

Your laugh isn’t completely real, but not unnatural, either. You hover the gloss over your lips, and for a moment, you imagine what it’d be like. To sneak someone into the bathroom, kissing until your lips start to bruise, his hands playing with the hem of your dress, his lips marking your skin, his voice whispering your name…

You shake the thought away. There’s no point in getting your heart broken twice in one day.

“Three’s a bit of a crowd for a single stall,” you deflect. “Be out in a minute.”

Baji hums. Your gloss feels too thick, but you don’t take it off. You fluff your hair again, placing it the way you like, turning your necklace so the clasp faces the right way, lips smacking together once, twice, three times—

By the time you run out of things to do, you think you’re ready. You pick up your purse and give yourself a final once-over. Pretty, you think. Doesn’t look like you spent the last seven minutes sobbing in a public restroom.

When you exit, Baji’s still on the line, but he doesn’t hang up. You know, because the teasing, “well shit, babe, if I had known you’d worn that, I would’ve come two hours ago,” echoes; once from your phone, and the other from the man himself, standing right in front of you.

You laugh, and this one isn’t forced at all.

Baji’s smile gleams in the evening sun. A low wolf-whistle causes your face to warm pleasantly—the way it should have, when you met Tadashi. You take Baji’s extended hand, not flinching when his callouses rub against your soft palms.

You’re used to their roughness. Much like the others, Baji’s always been a hands-on friend (and fighter), so over the years, you’ve gotten used to the various bumps, cuts, and jagged edges, to the extent that the only hands that’ve ever felt comfortable have been those rough ones, soft only for you.

Baji spins you, over-exaggerating the way he checks you out. “Sweetheart, you’re going to stop traffic looking like that.”

“Oh, please,” you deny, but your smile hasn’t been this genuine all day. “Laying it on a little thick, Baj.”

“Only the realest truth for the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” is his sly reply, accompanied by a slyer wink. It’s his usual charm, but you’re oblivious to his sincerity, the way you always are. Baji pulls you into a tight hug and closes his eyes, and for a moment, he allows himself to pretend this was your intention all along; to wind up in his arms, with his compliments, by his side—the way it always seems to go after every failed date.

But you never say as much, and you always seem so genuinely excited for the next one that he’s never going to ask. Instead, he’ll take these moments. The ones where you turn to him for comfort, where he gets to hold you, your knight-in-shining-armor, and do all that he can to make everything better.

He’s so close that you almost miss his muffled whisper of, “fucking—stupid bastard. Doesn’t know what he’s missed.”

Your smile slips. Your thumb rubs against the back of his knuckles, familiarly cracked with scabs that never seem to heal. These are fresh, though; you can tell by how his hand darts to the back of his neck, preventing you from looking too closely.

“Been up to no good?” you question with a raised brow.

“‘Course I have,” he responds easily, “you’ve been busy.”

Baji won’t meet your gaze. ‘If only you knew,’ he thinks—but he’ll never say it. Not that. Not to you. He shrugs off his black leather jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, fingertips lingering as he straightens the collar. His dark eyes flick to yours, a coy smirk almost hiding his guilt as he hopes beyond all hope you don’t see through him.

You almost do.

Not enough to call him out on it, though, so instead, you roll your eyes—but you can’t deny how this—him—is making everything better. He picks up the helmet he only brings when he’s driving you and puts it on for you, visor up so he can brush the hair out of your eyes. Baji offers a comforting smile, then juts his chin to his bike. “Wanna ride?”

The answer, of course, is yes; for him, it will always be yes.

Silently, you climb on and wrap your hands around him, chin tucking into his shoulder as if you were made to be there. He revs and pulls off, seamlessly weaving in and out of traffic. Your eyes close. The wind whips in your hair, and the familiar scent of nicotine, mint, and Baji’s crisp aftershave envelopes you. For a moment, you feel like everything’ll be okay. Your heart might hurt now, but after an evening with him, it’ll all be okay.

That’s the power of Keisuke Baji, though; the sense of embarking on your greatest adventure but feeling like being home, all at once.

It’s nearly sunset when he stops. Pulls up to the river, kicks the bike stand, then grabs your waist to lift you off the seat.

“I can do that,” you say, even as you let him lift you.

“More fun when I do,” he replies with an easy grin. Your feet hit the ground, but Baji keeps one hand around your waist. He takes off the helmet with the other and laughs when your hair flops out. Hurriedly you go to smooth it, but Baji catches your wrist after setting the helmet down. “You don’t have to do that. Not with me.”

He cages you between the bike and his hips with just a few inches of space—and suddenly, your heart starts to race. When did he get this close? How hadn’t you noticed the way his leg slid between yours? Why isn’t he taking his hand away? Why can’t you breathe?

Baji’s dark eyes dart between yours, then down to your lips, and for a second, for a split second, you think he’s about to kiss you—

“Not like anything can make it better now,” he smirks, and if it weren’t for how his fingers were locked in yours, you would’ve slapped him.

“Asshole.”

Baji laughs, and you swear the moon shines a little brighter. You’re grateful that he turns to check out the area before he can see just how much of an impact his laugh has on you—though you don’t doubt that he knows. He’s Baji, after all, and you’re not blind (or deaf). He’s handsome, witty, flirty with anything that moves—and that laugh of his could bring even the tides to a standstill.

“Coast’s clear,” he says, looking back at you, a lazy smirk curling his features. It shouldn’t be a surprise, hardly any ever comes this far south of the city—but a few weeks ago, you’d accidentally stumbled upon a couple who were… not expecting company, to put it delicately, and ever since, Baji had been extra cautious to make sure it was just the two of you before getting settled.

He takes a few steps backwards, leading you to your spot; a grassy knoll that overlooks the river as it feeds into the darkened sea. The moon slowly rises over rolling waves while the sun, more a memory, sets over the river’s bend. It’s a secret, sacred place for the two of you, where heartache and daydreams don’t exist; only the moon, the tides, and each other.

Your stomach flips but you can’t tell why; this is exactly what happens every time you come here, from the way he helps you off the bike to how he stops you from picking at your appearance. The only difference is the way his hand is still wrapped in yours.

You wonder if Tadashi’s would have been this warm.

But Tadashi isn’t here—Baji is, and it’s Baji’s warm hands that always make things better. So you let him keep his hand in yours, even though you’re not sure you should, and you let him gently tug you along when you don’t move fast enough. Let him take his time in taking his jacket back, in spreading it on the grass before waiting for you to sit. You even let him settle next to you, instinctively leaning into the familiar comfort of his body and for a minute, you wonder how you ever could’ve wanted your day to end different.

Then Baji meets your gaze, smiles that sweet, genuinely kind half smile that he only shares with you, and you remember: Baji is your friend—and no matter how many heartaches he heals, that’s all he’ll ever be.

You can’t remember when things got so complicated.

When it was just you and Kenny, you’d sneak up to the roof of the brothel and watch the sun dip behind the buildings and talk about how one day, you’d get a house that was that color pink, and it’d be on the far side of Japan where you could watch the sunset from your porch and life would be good. The sunset was the only dream you’d ever need, and it would be good.

Then Mikey started coming. More often than not he’d fall asleep before the sun did, and on the days he didn’t—the roof felt too… small. The dreams, too… little. They evolved, from a porch where you could watch the sunset to a skyline that never sleeps.

Dreams change, and that’s okay… but a part of you aches for the time when the sunset felt like enough—when the family you had, the brothers you’d found and the friends you’d made—was enough. You still had the sunset, but rarely. More often than not, you were by yourself up there, or stuck to Kenny’s side somewhere out there, or brushing against Baji’s shoulder down here.

So these days, you prefer to watch the moon rise. There’s more comfort in a light to guide you through the night, rather than watching your dreams disappear with the day.

And you do, the way you do every time you’re stood up or don’t feel—enough. You sit beside Baji with the full moon crawling towards you, staring at the conjunction of the river and the sea, and focus on how you’re going to get through this.

Baji cut his hair since the last date—the last time you’d been stood up, you correct. Still long, but now only to the edge of his jaw, not mid-back like you were used to. The light is bright behind him, bringing out the warm undertones in his onyx hair. You can make out the scab on his cheek from a bar fight a few weeks ago; the scar on his nose from when Mikey split it the first time they fought; the tender bruise along his jaw that looks too new to have told you the story yet.

Instinctively, you reach for it… then chicken out, instead teasing the edge of his hair. You’re left wondering if an angel’s wings would be as soft.

Baji glances at you from the corner of his eye. “You don’t like it?”

“What? I didn’t say that.” Your hand falls back to your lap, eyes quick to follow. The light behind him is too bright—too blinding. Too much like a halo. It’s impossible to hide the truth from an angel, and you know you don’t have the right words to convey just how beautiful you find him. “Just… gonna take some getting used to. I don’t think you’ve ever had it this short.”

He scoffs. “Maybe at birth.”

The idea of baby Baji flashes through your mind; sweet, chubby cheeks, little fists flailing at the world. A tuft of hair, dark as his and long already, but when he opens his eyes, they’re yours—

“Why’d you cut it?” your voice is steadier than you expect. It does nothing to change your thoughts, especially when Baji’s slender fingers start pulling at grass, just the way a baby grasps what's in front of him.

He stares straight ahead, letting one hand splay by your lower back as he watches the green blades dance in the wind. “Figured it was time for a change.”

You hmm in acknowledgement, brain too traitorous to come up with anything other than, ‘I bet you were a cute baby’ or ‘you look handsome either way’ or, worst of all, ‘why would you ever want to change?’

He probably meant nothing by it. Baji’s as flexible as they come; sets his own hours at the shop, varies what time he wakes or goes to bed, never eats the same thing too many times in a row… there’s not much permanency in his life as it is, so it sticks with you that he still wants something different.

If he thinks you’re being weird, he doesn’t say so. He waits for you to speak, like always, and like always, you find yourself loving him a little more for it. Baji’s so—quick; to judge, to speak, to fight… but in these moments, when it’s the two of you and the moon and no one else, he’s not. He’s slow; slow to speak, slow to touch, slow to pull away…

Slow to make you wonder why you keep wasting time with boys who don’t deserve it when he might be enough.

The silence becomes too much; too easy to drown in. Too tempting to fill with all the wrong things.

“What happened to your jaw?” is the best you come up with.

It’s no surprise when he answers, “got into a fight,” but how he says it… how he immediately ducks his head and covers the darkening bruise with a broad palm, as if he’d forgotten all about it and wished you would, too… that makes you pause.

One tenet of your relationship is that you don’t lie to each other. There are often times you wish he would, like when Chifuyu teases him about the pretty girl at the pet shop who came back and asked for the number of the flirty hunk who sold her a dog collar and Baji admits she was pretty cute and he’ll take her to drinks tomorrow night, or when Kazutora reminds Baji that he promised to go on a double date with the twins they met clubbing so no, he can’t take a look at that leaky pipe in your bathroom—but you’d never say that. Not when he could, so easily, call you out for keeping your own.

So when he goes out of his way to not have to tell you the truth, you know better than to push.

“Did it hurt?”

Baji looks to you with a cocky smile. “You should see the other guy.” You snort. Baji knocks his shoulder into yours. “I’m good, really. Just… had some business, s’all.”

It’s supposed to be comforting, but it’s not. It only flares your curiosity… and honestly? Your annoyance. “I hadn’t realized a pet shop needed such security.”

Baji barks out a laugh. “I mean, you’ve seen how crazy some people get about their pets, ‘specially when they think Dr. Google is a better resource than Chifuyu’s degree… but nah, this was… off the books.” He catches your inquisitive gaze and offers a smile, but it’s more like a grimace in the lowlight. His hand creeps closer, fingers pressing into your back, and for a moment, you’re willing to let it go. He gently grazes the middle of your spine. “It’s done, alright? Finished. Won’t happen again.”

You know he’s lying because he holds you close, the way he only does when he thinks you’re about to leave.

But you don’t leave; you never leave. You just give him a withering glare you know he can’t see, then turn back to the ocean.

You hate this feeling. The one where the world becomes unsteady, and everything you’d been trying to keep buried since you were thirteen sneaks up on you. That horrid, awful, destructive fascination and jealousy and yearning that’s plagued you since Baji first bragged about stealing a kiss from the pretty girl that lived three floors above him and only gets worse every time he mentions someone new.

Going on dates was supposed to squash this. Meeting a nice guy, having a good time, and getting a kiss or two of your own was supposed to end this. This—obsession—you’ve had since the first time Baji said he hopes that one day, you meet the right guy and you accidentally thought, ‘maybe it’s you.’ Because at the end of the day, he’s the one who’s there. Not Tadashi, who couldn’t even be bothered to show up. Not Draken, who recently started putting Emma above all else (even you). It’s been Baji, your Baji, whose mere existence makes everything better, that’s been the last one standing.

You can’t ruin that. You can’t risk pushing away the only companion who still puts you first for something you’re positive you can find somewhere else.

At least, that’s what you have to tell yourself, as yet another date fails and Baji is here, again, picking up the pieces and making you feel more whole than when the day started.

The sky is nearly dark when you finally ask the question that’s been on your mind since the barista gave you that pity cup—the one that’s probably still sitting in the bathroom, the last witness to your heartbreak. Just as alone and unwanted as you.

“What’s… wrong with me?”

Baji’s sharp. He alway has been, from the stern angle of his nose to the feral way his teeth carve like a predator’s. He watches everything—the road, the fighters, you—with a scrutiny that’s often clouded behind cheshire grins and snide quips.

But there’s nothing sharp about him tonight; only soft. Soft hands that gently grab your chin and force you to look at him. Soft breathes as he pulls you close. Soft words as he makes sure you hear him whisper, “nothing.”

Baji’s eyes, dark and teeming with something you can’t place, move from one eye to the other; to the fingers on your cheek; to your tongue, wetting your lips. He leans in, forehead resting against yours as his hand slides back, gripping your hair like you're his lifeline and not the other way around, and you’re back to thinking okay, this is it, he’s going to kiss me, he’s finally going to kiss me—

But all he does is repeat, “absolutely—fuckin’ nothing, alright? And—‘n fuck whoever makes you feel otherwise,” before resuming his seat like nothing happened.

You let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. It’s stale and hot and full of fury, your fury, and suddenly, you can’t take it anymore.

“Fuck you, Keisuke.”

“What?” Baji scrambles for your arm as you abruptly stand, too furious to even look at him. You rip away but don’t stop, trying to will the stupidness of—whatever this is—to go away, to release you so you can go back to feeling better and right and whole. “Wait—come on, I didn’t—what did I say? Did I do something? Where the hell are you going?”

“Forget it!” you snap. His every question—the fact he wants to make it right even though he’s the reason it hurts—just makes it worse. “Just—leave it alone, alright? It obviously doesn’t matter—”

This time when he grabs your arm, he doesn’t let you leave. He pulls you in to him, nearly crashing you into his chest as he holds you in place.

“Damnit, y/n, what the hell? What did—why are you being like this?” For the first time tonight, he meets your eyes without falter. He tucks a hand under your chin, all but pries your eyes open himself to search for what you're hiding. You try shrugging out of his iron grip, but he’s too strong. “What did I do?”

“Nothing—” You’re horrified at the way your voice cracks. “Fucking—nothing, Baji, you did nothing—“

“Then why’re you so fucking mad, hunh? Why’re you acting like I’m the bad guy here?” His fingers tighten. It would’ve hurt, if you weren’t so angry. “I’m not the asshole who stood ya up—I’m not the one who’s been dickin’ everyone around, pretending like everything’s fine when I know, Draken knows—even fuckin’—Pah-chin—can tell that something’s wrong—“

“You’re calling me an asshole?” you gasp incredulously. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes!” he retorts hotly—then, upon realizing how horribly angry you’re growing, quickly backtracks, “I mean—no! Actually, no, you know what, I did mean yeah, because guess what, princess? You are acting like an ass! You’ve got—all these people who wanna be here for you, I want to be here for you, and all you’re doing is getting mad at me for it—”

“What do you want me to say, Baji?” It’s useless, trying to get free, but that doesn’t stop you from trying. “That I’m—heartbroken—at being stood up—again? That I’m done with dating, that I’m giving up, that everyone fucking sucks but I must suck worse—”

“They don’t deserve you—”

“Like hell!” Your tone is scalding. It must burn him just as bad, because a single lapse in his grip lets you rip your arm away. “That’s the whole goddamn point of dating, jackass, to figure out who’s worth what—and all this has shown is that I’m not worth it, to anyone.” You slam your hands against his chest, tears stinging your lash line. If you weren’t so angry, you might not have missed how his face falters when you push him away. “And you just—sitting there, and—and holding me like that, and—and telling me that I’m not the problem when I’m the only common denominator—you’re such a fucking liar—”

“You think it’s any easier for me?” he’s quick to yell, frustration making him bare his teeth like fangs. Anyone else would’ve cowered—but you stand your ground. Place two hands on his chest and shove, hard, forcing him back as he continues, “you think it’s any easier to see you gettin’ your hopes up, to freak out over what to text, what to wear, what to do—all for those fuckin’ dickweeds? Hunh? Guys who can’t even—spell your name right, or remember what your favorite flower is, or fucking—show up? You think it’s any fucking easier seeing you so goddamn upset over someone who doesn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as you, let alone spend time with you–be with you? Because it’s not, sweetheart!”

The sweet pet name that usually makes your heart skip a beat only aggravates you further. Your hands go from shoving to slamming, open palms against the hard muscle of his chest—but he doesn’t even flinch. Just catches your wrists before you can do it again and stares, like you’ve started speaking in tongues. “Oh, poor Baji, must be hard, hunh, thinking no one’s good enough, thinking everyone’s so lucky as to have people throwing themselves at them left and right—but newsflash, Keisuke, not all of us are like you! Not all of us have the ability to pick whoever we want, some of us actually have to work at it—“

“Stop working on the wrong guys then!”

“You’ve never even met them, how would you know—“

“Because they let me stand in the way!”

The world stills.

You can’t place why; why this feels like a sucker punch, why your heart is suddenly skipping beats–why you can’t tell if this hurts. Not until Baji’s grip tightens, then his eyes widen, and you have a sneaking suspicion you know where this is going—but still, you ask, “what?”

He doesn’t respond. He can’t.

He lets go of you, though every fiber in his being begs him to stay. He takes a step back, though his heart pleads for him to wrap you in his arms and hold you close and tell you the truth, about what he did, why he did it, why he can’t bring himself to regret it…

He has to turn his back to you, to stare at the waves crashing along the sand as he tries to process just how badly he’s fucked this up and if there’s any possibility for redemption. It’s too late to lie. Too late to try and salvage this.

He’s made his bed; it’s time to lie in it.

Baji sighs–or something close. Something choked, not quite a laugh but also not quite a sob. Something is stuck in him, and even with the ice in your veins, you piece it together. Somehow, this—the failed dates, the heartache, the loneliness—it's all his fault.

Still, you have to ask. “What the hell are you talking about?”

You try making the venom in your voice match that in your blood, but you can’t. Not when he looks so—defeated. He runs his hands through his hair, doing a miserable job of either pretending he can’t hear you or attempting to buy enough time to come up with a plausible lie—though you don’t need him to. Not when his actions say enough.

It’s your turn to reach for him. Your turn to grab his arm, to keep him in place. You want to hold on to your anger, but the way his hands are shaking makes it impossible.

You draw him close, voice gentle as you say his name. You reach for his cheek, keeping his hands still with one of yours, and you tilt his head; he lets you tilt his head so that he has no choice but to look at you.

When your gazes meet, you wait.

“I had to,” he eventually says. His voice is steady, but his hands aren’t. His fingers wrap around your wrists tightly, as if he’s afraid you might try leaving—but your grip on him is equally tight. “They weren’t good for you. They were jerks, and they were only going to break your heart, and I couldn’t let that happen. Not to you. I had to—I had to.”

“Had to… what?” He doesn’t answer, not until you prompt, “had to what, Baji?”

“Don’t—” he breathes. “Don’t… call me that.” His eyes close, and he leans into the palm on his cheek. For a moment, you pretend that he’s memorizing the feel of you, as if he’s scared to lose you—but that can’t be it. Keisuke Baji isn’t afraid of anything.

You’re not sure what’s more painful: the knots in your stomach or the hope in your heart. “Tell me what you did,” you muster up. “Keisuke, tell me what you did.”

When his eyes finally open, all of his anger is gone. In its place is something you’ve rarely seen, and even rarer directed at you: desperation.

“I stopped them.”

For a moment, all you hear is your own heart… then the waves of truth come crashing down.

“I—I found them, and I swear on my life, on your life—I only meant to talk to them, to figure out if—if they had good intentions, if they were gonna treat you right—but they all sucked, y/n, they were awful—going on and on about how they were—how they wanted to—to fuck you, just to say they could—or they weren’t—serious about how they felt and I couldn’t—I couldn’t let them do that, I couldn’t let them hurt you like that, so I… I hurt them first. Not—not much, just enough so they’d—get the idea. Leave you alone. Stay away from my girl—”

He cuts himself off, and for a moment, you’re frozen. You don’t know what to do, what to think—is this real? Is he saying what you think he’s saying? Does he really mean it?

Baji’s voice cracks when he says your name.

“Y/n, listen—listen to me,” he pleads. His forehead presses against yours. Your cheeks grow wet, though you can’t tell if that’s because of you or him. “You are—the most amazing person in this whole freaking world. You get that? You’re—smart, and pretty, and so fucking funny and—and anyone who can’t see that is an idiot. And it fucking—kills me—that you’ve got it in your head that what these—stupid pricks think is the only thing that matters, because it’s not. It’s never mattered. The only thing—the only thing that has ever mattered… is you. Okay? You.”

Your throat closes. Your hands reach for his, catching only wrists as he cradles your face, trying to ground yourself in this moment. In all the things he says and all the things he doesn’t; in the silent, desperate dream that refused—refuses—to die, taking over you once more.

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.” His lips are so close, they brush your nose. “I’d say I regret it, but I don’t, because— you deserve better. You deserve the world, if you want, or—or the moon and all the stars, and—and unless they’d get it for you, they don’t deserve you. Okay? None of them deserved you.”

You’re just a hair away from kissing him, from caving to the impulses you thought were dead and gone and hopeless all these years, and the worst possible sentence sinks out: “you’re an idiot, Kei.”

Then you lean forward and kiss him.

In an instant—you feel whole. You feel right, in a way you haven’t since you decided you never had a chance with him; in a way you’ve been searching for in the words of all the others who’d let you down, who’d broken your heart and always, always, always led you back to moonrise with Baji, back home—

Baji jolts. He pulls away and stares at you with a wild mixture of shock and confusion. His fingers ghost his lips, only to draw back as he stares at them, then at you, then back at them, like he can’t quite comprehend this hand is attached to his body—like you were. Like you want to be, like you thought he wanted to be, like you thought he was asking you to be—

Your heart plummets as he just—stands, no witty quip or teasing remark at the ready. No lines to read between; no phrasing to draw false confessions from; nothing other than the stillness of the night, and the pounding of your heart.

“Wait—” you shrink as you realize just how hoarse a single stolen kiss has left you. “I thought—please, Kei—”

A flicker of… something dances in his eyes, and then—he watches you. Studies you, with the same scrutiny he holds before a fight or when picking apart a bike to see what parts are broke and what can be saved.

“Say it again.”

It’s your turn to blink; your turn to have wide eyes and parted lips, to study him like you’re not sure how to fix it. “I don’t—“

“My name,” he says, and your heart starts to leap. “Say my name, sweetheart.”

“I say your name all the time, Keisuke.” You’re barely above a whisper. Barely above the fear that this time, he’ll break your heart and there’ll be no one to pick up the pieces because—you ruined this.

“Not like that,” he breathes. You forget how to. “Say it like it means something. Like—you don’t hate me. Like—”

“Kei,” you interrupt, hands coming to cradle his cheeks as you read between the lines, “I forgive y—”

He doesn’t even let the final word form before his lips are on yours. Hard, aggressively melding like he’s worried you might change your mind and wants to milk every second out of this as he can—but you reciprocate just as desperately. Keisuke’s hands wrap around you, one gripping the base of your neck and the other resting on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly close, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. His mouth opens, teasing your lips apart as you trade air, fingers digging into your soft skin like it’s the last thing he’ll ever touch.

You pull away first, and that’s only because your lungs are aching—not that you mind. The pain helps make this feel real.

For once, Keisuke’s grin doesn’t seem mocking. He moves a hand to cradle your face, thumb rubbing against your cheek. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that, sweetheart.”

“Not as long as I have,” you admit with a breathy laugh. Your hands lock around his neck, fingers playing with his hair, and you realize you’re smiling.

You kissed. Keisuke kissed you, you kissed him—everything makes sense. Everything is right, and with the moon and tides as your witness, everything is good again.

“Can I…” Keisuke starts, eyes flicking to your lips in an unspoken question. You finish his sentence with a kiss.

“You can always kiss me, Kei,” you say. “You don’t even have to ask.”

There’s the grin you recognize; the scheming, teasing grin that always makes your stomach flip in a way you thought meant he’s up to no good, but now realize as a sign you’d fallen for him long ago.

“Oh, yeah?” he questions, brushing his lips against yours. “Only here? Or can I kiss… here?” He moves to the corner of your lips, then to the hollow of your cheek as he continues, “and… here? And maybe…”

He trails off, and he trails down, letting his lips drag against your cheek while his hand keeps you firmly in place, lips going done to your chin, down the column of your throat and back up. Your breathy yes would be pathetic—if it ever made it out. All that escapes is a breathy groan of displeasure when he stops, teasing lips hovering just above your own. “What’s that, babe? Want me t’stop?”

“You’re such an asshole.”

Your hands tangle in his hair, lips melding as your make-out turns heated. He slides his tongue along the seam of your lips, silently asking you to open—and you do. His hands curl around you, bringing you closer until there’s no space left between you.

Something digs into your leg. Something hard and unmistakable, and it leaves you grinning deeper than Kei.

You break away, laughing at his whine of protest and briefly glance down. Keisuke follows your eyes and is quick to splutter a nervous chuckle, hands dropping as he tries to step away with a short apology—though the way you catch his belt loops stops him. “Shit—sorry, I didn’t—I just—it’s your fault, y’know—“

“Shut up,” you giggle and drag him back. Now, you kiss him; once, twice, then a third before trailing your lips along the sharp ridge of his cheekbone, along his temple, to his ear. “How about you take me home, Kei?”

Keisuke’s whiplash nearly hurts you. His eyes, big and brown and wide, stare like you’ve grown an extra head. His hands shakily splay against your back, as if he wants to keep you close but he’s not sure he’s allowed to. His voice wavers slightly when he asks, “but I thought… aren’t… I mean, isn’t this… what you wanted?”

Slowly, you nod. Even slower, you pointedly look at the space between you, bridged only by the tent of his black pants. You smile at the sweet way a blush covers his cheeks, and risk slowly trailing your hand along his belt until your fingertips are hovering over that stupid, shiny, obnoxiously big belt buckle you always tease him for.

“I want you, Keisuke, and I want you to take me home.”

He doesn’t need more encouragement.

Keisuke’s kisses grow fiercer. He devours you, never once breaking contact as his hands slide to find firm purchase on the back of your thighs. With ease, he lifts you atop his bike, setting you in front of him and stepping between your spread legs. The hem of your dress slides up with his calloused palms, collecting in a bunch then pooling down to protect your modesty as he finds two handfuls of ass. He gives a squeeze, eliciting a delighted gasp from you, then pulls back with a toothy smile.

“Then have me, sweetheart. Always been yours, anyways.”

Your stomach twists, the way it always does when he looks at you like that, and you like it. It makes sense, it feels right—and you don’t have to pretend to justify why it makes your panties wet.

“Gotta—gotta get home—“ you try saying, but Keisuke’s hands have a mind of their own. They’re the only reason you’re still upright as he starts kissing along your neck, carefully grazing his sharp teeth but never once digging in. Your arms lop around him, digging into his scalp and shoulders as he finds this one spot that makes you moan, and you almost curse him for what that smile has done to you.

“Fuckin’—insane—if you think I'ma make it,” he mumbles into your skin, and you think you finally understand how some people can climax from someone’s voice alone.

You laugh and intend to push him away and demand that he do, that you have to, that you need to, because this—isn’t like you, you’re not one to get hot and heavy like this, certainly not in public—

But you can’t think straight. Not when Keisuke’s hands are kneading your ass, pinching and releasing like he can’t decide if he wants to hold on forever or explore somewhere new. Not when his teeth nibble your neck, and you shudder at the unbelievably primal sensation running through you.

Not when the unmistakable hardness of Keisuke’s boner finds home between your thighs, and he starts bucking his hips. It’s subtle, and he doesn’t tease you for the pathetic way you start whimpering. He focuses on continuing to explore the expanse of your otherwise untouched skin, while all you can do is revel in the way your high starts building.

You’ve been kissed before, on the lips and neck and once a little lower, but no one’s ever done this to you; pressed against your collarbone. Moved your neckline aside to suck on the fat of your breast. Left a mark that’ll last longer than a minute. For a moment, you wonder if you should tell him he’s the first, but when the zipper of his pants starts catching your clit, the only thing you’re able to do is moan his name.

Loudly.

Breathy and passionate and different than before, and he pauses. Lifts his head from your collarbone, a thin tendril of salvia keeping his lips still attached to the sensitive skin you know will bruise. He lets one hand trail up your side and cup your face, staring like this might be the last time he ever sees you, all while his hips continue to rut against you.

“Say it again,” he breathes, thumb catching your bottom lip. “Just—just like that.”

“Kei,” you repeat, giggling at the way he brightens and starts kissing you, “we need to go home—now.” For good measure, you boldly let your fingers slide to the edge of his belt buckle, in case he needs some more convincing. His free hand darts to yours, but he doesn’t stop you. He laces his fingers in yours and guides you, letting you palm at his thick hard-on. He lets out a low groan and drops his head from your lips to rest at your chest, just above the collar of your dress. You card one hand through his hair, the other applying light pressure to the (you assume) very painful ache between his legs—and not at all because you know, if he kept bucking into your core the way he just was, the way he keeps doing against your palm—you wouldn’t be able to make it home, either. “Take—take me home, Kei—”

“Not—” he huffs. His grip on your ass tightens, but you can barely feel it. Not when Keisuke whines, low and needy, teeth coming out to nip at your breast, and all you can focus on is the ache between your own legs, getting even worse as his hips start moving faster, forcing the back of your hand against your cunt as you continue to palm him. His hips don’t stop; they push against you so fiercely, so desperately, that you cave, taking away your hand so there’s nothing between you but your clothes.

You’re on the precipice in minutes; hands digging into his shoulders as you choke on a sob, pleading with him to go faster, to not stop, to keep making you feel good—and it’s made all the worse when he does, pressing his throbbing erection even harder against your soaked panties, all the while pleading into your skin, “can’t—can’t—fuck, baby, I can’t—y/n—“

You gasp when his teeth break skin.

Keisuke’s hips still. Warm air saturates your chest as he groans into it, and for a moment you’re frozen. Your whole body aches, and you want to scream at the cruel way your orgasm was stolen—but you’re too in shock that he got you there that fast, that easily. Something warm trickles down your cheeks, between your breasts—blood? saliva? tears?—he doesn’t move. You don’t move. You’re not even sure he’s breathing, until his shoulders heave and your skin is warmed once more. A slight burn starts to spread across your chest, and when you open your mouth to ask him why the hell he stopped—all that comes out is his name.

You say it softly, then a little louder, but it’s not until you grab his face and force him to look up that he speaks—but his eyes are fixed firmly on the reddening bite mark forming atop your breast.

“M’sorry…”

A mean part of you wants to tell him he owes you a lot more than sorry, but the way his lower lip disappears as he nervously chews on it has you choosing otherwise. “It’s okay,” you comfort instead, “it didn’t hurt that bad.”

Keisuke grimaces. “No, I—”

He sighs, head dropping back to your chest. Both arms wrap around your waist, and he presses a light kiss to the place he’d just bitten; the only way he probably figures he can keep close without meeting your gaze. He mumbles something, but you only know because you feel his lips moving.

“Can’t hear you…” you try prompting, but it only makes him snuggle deeper. He sighs again, loud and warm and in a way you’re familiar with—the way that really means, I can’t believe I have to do this… “C’mon, Kei, don’t you want to take me home?”

“Ididntmakeit.”

You have never, ever, in your life ever seen Keisuke embarrassed. Not when he told you about needing Chifuyu to tutor him post-juvie; not when he failed his college entry exams; not even when you accidentally walked in on him showering (in hindsight, he was probably a little too comfortable with how long it might’ve taken you to leave).

This was the man who went skinny dipping for fun. He’ll order fruity drinks for his friends who are too embarrassed to do it themselves. His approach to a lost fight is to get a rematch, not pretend it didn’t exist, and even in mundane moments that have you at a loss for words, like mistaking someone’s name or forgetting a face, Kei’s always quick for a retort or defense or a smile that makes everything better.

Keisuke Baji doesn’t get embarrassed—but that’s the only word that fits. His cheeks are redder than you’ve ever seen, his breathing faster than his pulse. His eyes refuse to meet yours, and his fingers knead into clumsy, nervous patterns along the side of your thighs.

Then he takes a deep breath, and with one shaking hand, he slowly brings your palm to the crotch of his pants… that are now sticky.

Your eyes widen, and you’re almost too late to choke down a gasp. Kei’s eyes close, and he ducks his head in shame. “I didn’t—I mean, I haven’t—you're just—I’m so sorry—”

“Why?” It sounds curt, and you don’t intend it to. Better than laughing, you reason—although you will absolutely get him for this later… when it stops feeling like the most humiliating thing in the world.

Keisuke swallows. “I haven’t ever… you know.”

“What, cum early?” It’s cruel to tease, you know that, but you can’t stop the slight satisfaction that you—you—are able to bring a man like Keisuke Baji to his knees.

“No! I mean—no, I…” Kei looks out to the ocean, fingers still anxiously kneading into your thighs. The temperature drops, though you’re not sure if it actually does or you’re just feeling like it as you try to understand what’s happened, what’s happening—what you’re to do next. His jaw clenches and he tries to pull away from you, but you don’t let him. You wrap your legs around the backs of his thighs, keeping him in place.

“Kei…” you say softly. You don’t force him to look at you. Instead, you let your fingers trail up his abs, curling around his neck so you can rest your forehead against his temple and kiss his cheek. “I don’t care. Just means you gotta make it up to me—”

“I’ve never had sex before.”

You’re grateful he doesn’t look at you, because you’re not able to control the utter shock coloring your face. How is that possible? You’ve heard the whispers when you go out; you’ve seen the looks. At parties or bars or clubs, he’d find a pretty thing and disappear, and you assumed you knew what happened behind those closed doors—because why, why, why would you want to ask about that?

The others didn’t dispel it, either; in fact, they’d constantly rip on him for his… gift, and Keisuke never fought back. He’d just smirk and wink and say, “it’s never disappointed,” and by the time you’d turned red, thinking about when you caught him in the shower and knew what they were saying was true, they’d moved on to taunting someone else.

So how the hell is it possible that Keisuke’s a virgin—and, more importantly, how didn’t you know?

You’re not sure how long it takes you to recover. If he were to ask, you’d say you were just waiting for him—because when you do speak, it’s only when Keisuke turns to you with narrowed eyes, an apprehensive blush clear on his face.

“Wanna know a secret?” you ask, forcing a teasing lilt to your voice—though your stomach twists. This isn’t exactly the way you wanted to tell him, and for a flash, you think of how disappointed he might be to learn the truth.

But when he meets your gaze, eyes wide and focused entirely on you, somewhere between hopeful and nervous, you know it’s for the best. Your smile is sweet, but not as sweet as your lips when you kiss the crinkle between his eyes. He immediately relaxes, hands stilling as he leans into you. “Neither have I.”

He straightens and pulls far enough away so he can examine you. For a minute, your confession hangs between the two of you, then Kei starts floundering, “but I thought… you said… but he… what about your ex?”

You shrug, your own cheeks starting to flush. “It never felt right.”

Keisuke blinks. His mouth parts, eyes darting between yours like he’s waiting for the gotcha!, but all he receives is the embarrassed way you can’t meet his gaze, feeling as if you’ve somehow let him down. You squirm, his warm hands still atop your thighs sending butterflies to your stomach, and shrug again. “I dunno, I just—didn’t think it was fair. Doing that with someone, when all I could think about…” you swallow, lips twisting as you debate whether or not to tell him the truth.

He catches your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Think about what, sweetheart?”

The way he asks tells you he already knows; but like earlier, when you knew and had to hear it anyway, he needs you to say it, too.

So you take a steadying breath. You gently trail a finger down the side of his jaw, and you make yourself smile as you say, “you, Kei. It didn’t seem right if it wasn’t you.”

This time when he kisses you, it’s slow. He takes his time in tasting you, in savoring the moment. He lets you guide where his lips go, how his hands wander, and he waits for you to pull back before he suggests, “how about I take you home now?”

Your stomach flutters. Fingers knot at the base of his skull, and slowly, a smile spreads on your face.

“I’d like that.”

He presses a chaste kiss to your temple. You can feel the joy in it, one that doesn’t fade for either of you as he unhooks your legs so you can properly straddle the bike, then tucks the helmet on you and pops on himself.

“Hold on,” he calls as he revs the engine, “might be goin’ a bit faster than usual.”

“Don’t worry,” you laugh, and even though you know he probably can’t hear you, you add, “I’m never letting go.”

You make it to Keisuke’s apartment in seven minutes flat—which, normally, would leave you terrified, given his place is twenty minutes from your spot, but you doubt that’s what’s got your heart racing. He barely gives you enough time to take the helmet off before his hands are back on you, easily scooping you up and carrying you up the stairs. You bump into a few walls, and the way you’ve got a loose grasp on his helmet sends it craning into his back just as often, but neither of you care. Between fits of giggles and cautious glances to make sure he’s not about to walk you through a glass door (or down a stairwell), you kiss like it’ll be the last time you ever get the chance to.

“Anyone home?” you mumble into his lips. He slams you against the front door of his shared three-bedroom apartment, using his hips to keep you up while he tries to find the lock by memory.

“Nope,” he replies, lips busy with your skin, fingers fumbling uselessly behind you. “Stupid—fucking lock—told Tora to leave it—never fuckin’ listens—”

“Relax,” you laugh, although that’s rich coming from you. Your legs tighten around him as you break free from his kiss, instead sucking along the column of his throat. Freeing his face is supposed to give him enough room to actually look for the lock, so the two of you can stop dry-humping in the hall and finally get the privacy you need—but like always, Keisuke does the unexpected.

He throws his head back and moans, giving you more access to leave a matching hickey—and you’re not strong enough to resist the temptation. A whine starts in his throat, from where you’re sucking on his pale skin. The keys clatter to the ground.

“Keisuke,” you scold—but before you can tease him for being in a rush, his lips are back on yours.

“Never gonna make it,” is his only defense.

“Gonna—gonna have to,” you reply, but every time you try pulling away or reach for the keys yourself, he grabs you. Wraps your wrists in his rough hands, pins them to the door beside your head, and leans so far forward that, even with your limp legs, he’s able to keep you up himself. “Kei—“

“So help me sweetheart,” he warns, hips rolling against yours with a sense of urgency only outmatched by his kiss, “if you keep saying my name like that, I swear to the gods I’m gonna fuck you right here.”

“So help me, sweetheart,” you shoot back, breathy and hot as you try to avoid the way his lips chase yours, “if you don’t get me inside right now, I might let you.”

He freezes. Pulls away from the delightful bruise he’d just been leaving below your ear and stares at you with a mixture of awe and utter delight. “Really?”

You swat the back of his head. “No, dumbass, open the fucking door.”

Keisuke’s lips, pink and bruising slightly, twist in a pretend pout as he squats. He keeps one thick palm under your thigh, keeping your leg wrapped around him as he snags his keys. “You’re such a fucking tease.”

“Says the guy who does—that,” you try scoffing, but you’re cut off with a moan when Kei stands and bounces you against his hips. His boner is back and harder than before, pressing into your core, the messy, wet mix of your drenched panties and his earlier cum making a lewd sound in the otherwise silent hallway.

“Does… what, babe?” he teases. “C’mon, finish that sentence.”

You don’t know how he finds the focus to actually find the lock this time, but you thank every deity in the world that he does—because it takes just a second, a single, solitary second for him to jimmy it in, slam the door open, and you’re finally alone.

The door frame rattles. Something falls, but you can’t tell if it’s the mirror you insisted he hang above the entry table you insisted he get or if it’s the rickety old coat rack Chifuyu said would ‘class up the joint’; all you know is that as soon as the key is in, Baji’s hands are back to cradling your thighs for support as he crosses the threshold.

You reach for the door, but he catches it with his ankle and slams it shut, quickly spinning to pin you against it.

“Really—” you pant, “really got the place—to ourselves?”

“Mhm,” Keisuke confirms. He leans into you, palms rubbing along your thighs until they get to your knees, silently asking you to wrap tighter around him. You do, and the moment he feels your ankles cross at the small of his back, his hands move to your waist. “Told ‘em—needed space.”

“Oh?” you question, your hands reaching for the hem of his shirt and tug, tug, tugging—“And when’d you do that?”

He reaches behind his head and yanks his tee off, tossing it carelessly into the darkness of the apartment. You hadn’t even paused to turn on the lights.

“After I saw Tadashi.” You can tell he’s grinning, especially as you drag your nails along the chiseled plane of his abs. His hands slide up your torso, thumb rubbing your stomach through the thin cotton of your dress, grazing the underwire of your bra. “Told Tora this one wasn’t gonna work, either, ’n he said I should just tell ya the truth, 'cause he couldn’t watch me mope around all night again—”

“Mope?” you tease. Kei’s fingers dig in. “Kazutora accused you of moping?”

“Well—shut up!” he whines. “You try watching the person you’re in love with go out with guys who don’t deserve them and tell me you wouldn’t start moping either—y/n? Why… are you looking at me like that?”

Your eyes are wide. Your hands go limp, the helmet falling to the floor with a loud clatter. Your lips part to say… something, but you’re not sure what.

Keisuke’s told you he’s loves you a thousand times; the brief ‘kay love ya! before he hangs up; the gentle love you, see ya tomorrow whenever he’d bring you home; the drawn out gods I love you after you’ve surprised him with his favorite meal—but none like this.

None so… blatant. So unmistakable.

Kei stares at you curiously, as if he isn’t even aware of what he’s just said. He repeats your name, hands leaving your waist to catch your chin.

“You’re… in love with me?”

Keisuke blinks.

For a moment, you think you must’ve misheard, he must’ve misspoke, you must have misunderstood—but a brilliant smile breaks his face, and he nuzzles his nose against yours. “‘Course I’m in love with you, sweetheart. I’ve been in love with you, and I ain’t ever gonna stop loving you—”

You kiss him.

The gentlest one yet. The way you always dreamed your first one would be; soft, sweet, lips pressing together while your hands held him close. Heartbeats synching. The world falling away as it’s just the two of you, in this moment, endless and forever.

There’s only one thing to say when you pause: “I love you too, Keisuke.”

Your teeth knock together as Keisuke can’t contain his smile, either. Hands move, one around the small of your back and the other under a single thigh. Your lips never part as he carries you to his room.

He sets you at the foot of his bed and stands above you. His chest heaves, bare and flushed with need. Your hands slip from his neck to his bed to keep yourself propped up, legs still wrapped tightly around his waist. Keisuke’s hands travel to your knees, and he just—stares.

He loves you. How could he not, with the way that pretty dress puddles on his mattress, exposing nearly all of your leg but hiding what he’s been waiting for his whole adult life? How could he not, with the way his spit makes your collar glistens in the moonlight, filtering in from behind those sheer curtains you insisted he get? How could he not love the way you say his name, reaching towards him, fingers catching on his belt buckle as you ask him if he’s ready?

“Not yet,” he whispers. The hoarseness of his voice, the way it’s dropped several octaves from merely seeing you on his bed, sends a jolt of electricity through you. You’re about to ask why, but the reverence in how he’s looking at you makes you not want to break this spell.

He trails his fingers along your calves. Gently, he unhooks your legs from his waist. His fingers shake as he struggles with the straps of your heels, but when you go to help, he catches your wrist.

“No,” he repeats, “not yet.”

You keep quiet and merely watch as your best friend, the man of your dreams, takes his time in undressing you. One wedge, then the other, falling off your feet with a dull clank! on the carpet. Keisuke kisses your ankles, then starts kissing up your calves, then your knees, then your thighs—

The anticipation has you dripping. Your thighs instinctively clench when he gets to your hem, hands curling into fists by your sides. Your panties are uncomfortably glued to your cunt, sticky in a way you’ve never been before, and he’s not even lifted your dress to see yet.

Keisuke rests his chin atop your thigh. “Please,” he pleads—pleads—“Let me—baby, let me. I wanna taste you.”

Today is not the day you learn to refuse him.

Your muscles shake from anticipation as you slowly spread your legs, but that’s not enough for him. “Baby, no, I—I wanna hear you say it.” His voice is soft, shaky. A little hesitant, as if he’s not sure if this’ll ruin the moment but he knows he has to be sure—he has to hear you say it… if only to revel in the desperate way you say his name.

“Keisuke, please… whatever you want, have it. Just—touch me, Kei, please, I need you—“

“Need you too, sweetheart,” he praises, running his lips along your thigh. “Gonna—gonna have you now, okay?”

His fingers still shake when he lifts your dress, exposing the black lace of your panties to him. At first glance, he can’t tell that they’re absolutely soaked—but that doesn’t stop the way you start to squirm in embarrassment as he just… stares. His thumbs dig into the fat of your hips, broad palms keeping your thighs spread and pinned to the bed.

It takes you a moment to realize he’s not breathing.

“Kei?”

He doesn’t look up.

His grip gets tighter. His eyes narrow. Before you get the chance to ask him what’s wrong, he growls, “you wore these for him?”

You blink. That is not what you were expecting, but before you can defend with they’re my lucky pair, or I wanted to feel sexy, or it doesn’t matter, I’m here with you—Keisuke’s ripped them off.

You yelp when the fabric bites your skin, failing to wriggling away as Keisuke strips them off your ankle. “What the fuck—“

“I’ll get you a new pair,” he mutters. “Shit—I’ll get you a hundred pairs, but you get rid of every single set someone else has seen. Got it?”

Your lips purse. He’s being unreasonable, you think, and totally ridiculous… but no matter how much your brain tries to reason he’s out of line, your fluttering pussy doesn’t get the message. Your slick is evident now, exposed and iridescent in the moonlight, dripping down your hole and slowly saturating the sheets.

Usually, Keisuke wouldn’t let it go. Usually, he’d keep picking at it until you cave, or at least recognize you heard him—but usually, he’s not staring at your cunt.

Right now, he can’t focus on anything but how desperate he is to be inside you.

“Yeah, think ya got it… fuck, babe… seems like you like it when I say shit like that, hunh?”

You whimper slightly, having to bite your lip to keep it together. Slowly, he drags the tip of his finger from the sheet beneath you up along your wet folds. He barely touches you, but when he pulls his finger away, it’s covered in a layer of you.

He brings it to his face with a cocky grin, watching how the pad shines in the moonlight. “You always this wet, or am I special?”

“Shut up,” you shoot back, preparing to bring up how special he found you earlier—only to immediately throw your head back and moan as Keisuke buries his face between your legs.

There is no preamble. There are no more teasing quips or pauses; Keisuke dives in like a man starved, and the only thing that can sate his appetite is you.

He starts with broad strokes, gathering as much of your slick as he can. He’s messy, messier than you, and soon there’s more of his spit than your wetness between your legs. His arms wrap around your thighs, keeping them pinned and spread on his shoulders as he continues to feast, thumbs spreading your lips open so he can truly devour you.

When Keisuke starts suckling on your clit, your fingers knot in his hair. You moan, loud and whiney and plead for him to keep going as your orgasm starts to boil—faster than before, more powerful too, with greater ease than you’ve ever managed to pull from yourself.

Keisuke brings a hand to your clit, quickly swiping the puffy bud with the pad of his thumb as he focuses his tongue on your fluttering hole. In and out, up and down, the warm muscle drives you insane. Your grip on his hair must hurt, but he says nothing; he focuses on making you feel as good as humanly possible, never once letting up, not even when you start to choke, “Kei—I’m—I’m gonna—“

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he commands. “C’mon, pretty girl, make a mess on my face, wanna feel how you clench, wanna make ya cry—”

It sends you over the edge.

With a scream of his name, your back arches. Your thighs try closing around him but still, he doesn’t let up. He keeps pace, tongue-fucking you, lapping up all the juice that spills out as his thumb continues caressing your clit until you do start crying and you do have to plead, “no—no more, Kei, can’t—“

“Can,” he corrects—but he stops. His hand stills, moving so that the warmth of his palm covers that sensitive bundle of nerves, and only then does he stop lapping at your hole. He presses a gentle kiss to your sex, then to your inner thigh. “But I’ll be nice tonight, sweetheart. Only ‘cause I love you, though.”

You stare at the ceiling as you catch your breath. The paint is peeling in the corner. The glow-in-the-dark stars you helped him put up when he first moved in are dim. The walls are covered in motorcycle posters. A calendar set to the wrong month hangs above a salvaged desk, covered with various veterinary textbooks, barely legible notebooks, a handful of empty beer cans, and a handful of DVD cases, one of which you know is Dyslexia; How to Read When Even Your Brain Doesn’t Want You To. A neon sign advertising Margaritaville is unlit beside his closet. A pile of clothes that didn’t make it to the hamper rests beneath it.

The room is so—Keisuke , you feel at peace, even as your limbs turn to jelly.

Your heart is racing faster than if you’d just run a marathon. “Thought—thought you said you hadn’t—“ you try panting, but it’s too much effort, too soon. You end up collapsing back on the bed, head swimming with euphoria.

“Said I hadn’t had sex,” Keisuke corrects as he stands, your limp thighs falling to the either side of his waist, “not that I’ve never eaten pussy.” He scoffs, as if that should’ve been obvious. “I’m not an idiot, babe. I respect women enough to know where the clit is.”

A little laugh escapes you. The fan motor is the only other sound. It’s cool, your nipples perk beneath your bra, but you’re still hot. Still hyper aware that Keisuke is just a few inches away, watching your bare cunt flutter and beg him for more.

Keisuke does love you. You know he does, because he gives you time to catch your breathe before he starts up again, only pressing soft kisses to the inside of your legs and quiet offerings of, “so fuckin’ pretty” and “can’t believe you’re here” and, your favorite, the only one you respond to: “so in love with you.”

“I love you too, Kei.”

He runs his hands along your sides, slowly taking more and more of your dress up with it until the entire thing is resting by your neck. He makes quick work of your bra, not even needing you to sit up as he unhooks it and lifts the cups away.

He says nothing; just stares at your naked body with the same adoration and awe he held when taking off your shoes.

“You’re—so beautiful,” he whispers. “Y’know that? So—so fuckin’ beautiful.”

He bends down and takes a pert nipple in his mouth. You whine, hate yourself for doing so, then whine again as his free hand starts tweaking your other nipple. He runs his tongue over every inch of your chest, making sure you’re covered with his spit and hands, traversing as much of you as he can.

When he gets to your face, he smiles. “You’re mine, yeah? All mine?”

Your fingers run over his jaw, over the bruise that’s barely discernible in the moonlight. No one’s touched you like him; no one’s even kissed you like him, either, and you’re not sure if it’s the “Keisuke” of it all making you feel like this, or if this is how it’s supposed to have felt all along.

The answer comes easily.

“Yeah,” you agree with a smile of your own, “yeah, m’all yours, Keisuke. Pretty sure I always have been.”

“Always, hunh?” He holds you gently now; a stark contrast to the hungry way he’d just devoured you. “That mean you’ve always loved me, too?”

Your breathy yes is lost in a gasp when his hand slides between your legs. Gently, he prods a single thick finger into your virgin hole, shallowly dipping in and out. “Never had someone else in here, hunh? M’gonna be your first?”

“Y-yes,” you repeat, voice cracking. Your eyes flutter close as he keeps fingering you. You’d had fingers in there before, but none like this. Your own couldn’t compare, two of yours barely able to stretch the way one of his does… and he’s not even going all the way. Not even knuckle deep as he explores only the shallows, letting you adjust.

Your face scrunches when he adds a second.

“This okay?” he asks. You look at him, hand wrapping around his neck as you bring his forehead down to meet yours.

You nod, then remember what he said earlier, how you could feel his cock jumping when you were sweet and needy for him. “Yeah, Keisuke. Yes—yes, I want this. I want you.”

He cups your face and trails soft kisses from corner to corner, breaking apart only to lift your dress and bra over your head. They’re carelessly thrown to the floor, you have half a mind to scold him that it’ll wrinkle—but when he goes back to your cunt, two fingers halfway in, all you’re able to say is the harsh inhale of his name.

They’re shallow, never pushing in deep enough to hurt, slowly stretching your rim to its max. He goes a little deeper, then starts scissoring them, and it becomes nearly impossible to believe he hasn’t done this before.

“No—no way you’re a virgin,” you hiss when Keisuke’s lips travel to your breast. He alternates between sucking hickeys and kneading them while staring at the way your cunt sucks him in, never stopping his ministrations.

Keisuke lets out a short scoff and shifts. “You literally made me cum my pants like a teenager.”

“Then how—“

“I told ya, babe, I respect women,” is his only reply. The only one he’s willing to give, at least, because he starts paying more attention to your tits than what questions are spilling his way.

You feel like you’ve got to be ready when he adds a third, and you say as much—only for Keisuke to meet your gaze with a cocky grin. “Trust me, sweetheart. You’re gonna thank me for this.”

It can’t be much longer until he deems you ready, but it feels like forever, even if he keeps you distracted from the slight burn between your legs by playing with your breasts, sucking on your throat, praising you.

“Taking m’fingers so well, pretty thing. You’re such a good girl f’me, can’t believe you made me wait this long…”

“You didn’t tell me either,” you scold. He curls his fingers mid-way through your sentence, rubbing against a sensitive spot you’ve never been able to find on your own. You keen his name, hand snapping down to catch his forearm. He pauses.

“Too much?”

Slowly, you shake your head, eyes watering. “Please, Kei, I—I want you to fuck me.”

Keisuke presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Never could say no to you, sweetheart.”

If you could think clearly, you’d start listing all the times he has denied you, starting with just a few seconds ago—but him withdrawing his fingers leaves you feeling too empty to do much but pout.

When he pulls away, you chase after him, only for him to shake his head with a fond grin. “How am I supposed to fuck you if you won’t let me take my pants off?”

With hot cheeks, your lips twist. “You were the one who wanted to fuck on your bike, and then in the hall—what, were you planning on stripping naked then, too?”

You’re rewarded with a very rare, very endearing blush. He sits back on his knees and rubs his neck, eyes dropping from yours—then his lip curls in a smirk. “With how wet you got, seems like you wanted me to. What—you like the idea of that? Getting fucked in public? Don’t worry, sweetheart, maybe we’ll try that one day…” He laughs at the way you squirm, but he’s not wrong; your cunt clenches at the thought.

“You’re such a dick.” Your hands reach for his belt, fumbling slightly as you try to undo it. Keisuke’s hands take over, getting rid of the black leather in seconds.

“Your dick,” he corrects, hands back on you, gently laying you back against his pillows, trailing over your now completely naked body, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. You roll your eyes but say nothing, heart in your throat, pussy pulsing in anticipation.

He straightens, taking in the display in front of him. Taking in you.

You sit up slightly, chewing your lower lip. He’s beautiful, but even more so in the moonlight. It illuminates his pale skin, almost making him glow in the darkness of the rest of his room. Obsidian hair falls in a straight sheet around his flushed cheeks, his lower lip caught between his teeth. Violet and red marks adorn his neck and chest. His abs flex when he watches the way your eyes trail down; down the inlet between them, down the stern jut of his prominent v-line, over the faint trail of dark hair that disappears into the band of his jeans.

His fingers—the ones just inside you—hover on the button. They’re covered in your slick, resting just above a bulge that looks absolutely delicious, one that you know he can’t wait to bury inside you—but still, he hesitates.

“I love you, Keisuke,” you say. He smiles. It’s the only further confirmation he needs before he’s pushing off the bed and pulling down his jeans and underwear in one go.

The others have lied about a lot—like Baji’s lack of virginity—but the size of Keisuke is not one of them.

Your jaw drops as you push to your knees, staring at Keisuke’s cock like it’s the first you’ve ever seen. It’s not, and technically speaking, it’s not even the first time you’ve seen his—but that time in the shower, when it was hanging heavily between his legs and you only caught a glimpse… apparently, that was him soft.

Keisuke hard is more impressive than any porn you’ve seen. So heavy that it can barely support its own weight, even with all the blood rushing through it, and so wide around even Keisuke, with his broad palms and lanky fingers, doesn’t dwarf it.

A thick bead of pre slips out the tip, trailing along the bulging vein that disappears under Keisuke’s hand as he starts to stroke it.

“This… is where the others tapped out,” he says slowly, taking in the way you watch. “I mean—not that I’m thinking about them—but I just—“

“You’re big.”

Keisuke chokes on a laugh. “So I’ve heard. Pretty virgin like you wouldn’t know any better though, would you?”

You give him a withering glare. “I’ve sucked dick before, asshole. You’re big.”

Keisuke’s jaw clenches. “Yeah? Go on, then. Show me how you’ve sucked dick.”

Later, you’ll tease him for how jealous he got, and later, you’ll revel in the possessive way he determines to erase every other touch from your memory—but now, you obediently crawl towards him, one of your smaller hands overlapping his, and you take control.

You press a soft kiss to his flushed tip. It’s larger than your lips, his pre a salty gloss as you kiss again and again—Keisuke grips your hair. “Suck.”

It’s as much a plea as it is a command, one you can’t ignore. You take him,—just the tip—in your mouth, tongue swirling over his warm head as your hand replaces his on the rest of his dick. Your fingers barely touch, and no matter how you adjust, how you lay your palm or spread your fingers… there’s still at least an inch of him exposed.

He hisses, nearly drowning out the lewd, wet sound your pussy makes as it clenches around nothing.

“This—turning you on?” he says, as if his cock isn’t twitching obscenely against your tongue. “Fuckin—sucking on a big cock making you wet?”

You let go with a wet pop! and bat your eyelashes at him. You know exactly what you’re doing when you say, “No, Kei. I’m this wet ‘cause of you.”

With a groan, Keisuke pulls your head back to his dick and thrusts in, sliding as far as you’ll let him before you start to gag. “That’s—that’s it, sweetheart, get it nice and wet.”

He holds you there for a moment, waiting until you tap on his thigh before sliding out. Your eyes are teary, saliva dripping down the corner of your mouth. Deftly, you twist your wrist while catching your breath. His fingers go from knotting in your hair to petting the back of your head.

“You keep doing that, I’m gonna bust,” he warns, but his fond smile gives him away.

You merely smile. “Telling me you’ve never had your cock sucked, Kei?”

His lip curls in a snarl, which disappears with a groan when you take him in your throat once more. Slowly, lips pursing around him, tongue flicking along the sensitive underside of his cockhead as you try going as far as you can. Your jaw is already starting to ache, but you’re determined to prove yourself.

“Not—like this,” he moans, pushing your head a little further down. Your lips split in a smile, and you raise your hand to start fondling his balls—a trick that’s always gotten you success before—but before you make contact, Keisuke is sliding out and grabbing your jaw. He’s breathing heavily, pupils blown out with lust. He stares at your lips then leans forward, not flinching at the taste of himself on you.

“Wanna fuck you now,” he mumbles. You wrap your arms around his neck and start to lean back, nodding.

“Want you to fuck me too,” you agree. One of Keisuke’s muscular thighs slides between your legs, easing them apart. He keeps kissing you, letting you fall softly against his pillows while he keeps stroking his member, slick with your spit.

He taps the tip of his cock against your clit. You hiss in surprise, eyes closing shut at the sudden sensation of pleasure that rushes through you. “Let me know if it hurts,” he says quietly. He grips his cock right beneath the head, guiding it through your slick folds, getting as much of your fluids on him as he can.

He’s torn between needing to see the way you suck him in, and the need to squeeze his eyes shut. The sight of you alone, legs spread on either side, pussy gushing because of him, covering in marks because of him, mewling his name as you beg him to fuck you—it’s almost enough for him to cum on the spot.

Faintly, honks echo from the street below. It’s amazing that in this instant, as your world is about to change forever and for the better, everyone else is going about their business like nothing’s happening. They’re catching a late-dinner with their partner; walking home from a late-night meeting that could’ve been an email; swinging by the grocer’s to pick up snacks and drinks to share with their friends… The whole world is continuing on, just beyond that window, but for you and Keisuke… it’s as if time’s stopped.

The world is only real for the two of you.

He bends down to kiss you, making sure to pour every ounce of love and care he has into this one. You respond just as sweetly, reveling in the power of this moment, this one decision that will irrevocably tie you together forever, the way you were always meant to be.

He loves you, you love him, and there’s nothing else that matters.

“Ready?” he asks. You nod, then echo, “ready,” and he puts it in; just the tip, spearing past your tight hole. The two of you let out a synchronous gasp.

It’s even more than three of his fingers; warm, too, and thick, softer but also harder and full—you’re so, so, so full as he slowly edges in. It hurts—it feels good—it burns—you need more—

“Baby,” Keisuke pants. He’s let go of his cock, letting just the first inch or so rest comfortably within your walls. You feel him twitch, feel how tight his fingers dig into the sheets on either side of you so he doesn’t add more bruises to your ever-growing collection. “Baby, talk to me. Tell me—are you—are you okay?”

You whimper slightly when he sinks a little further. Eyes scrunching, your fingers digging into his thighs as you try to even your breath. “It—it’s so—“ you try saying, but it’s like you can feel him in your stomach, the pressure tightening all the way up your throat and cutting you off.

“So—good,” Keisuke gasps. He does the best he can, really, but you—you’re so—warm, and wet, and inviting—the place you’re joined might be the best thing he’s ever felt–ever seen. He slides a little further, presses a kiss to wherever he can reach as he waits until your chest stops heaving as horribly. He tries telling you he loves you, he really tries telling you how amazing you are, how perfect you are, how good you feel—but all that comes out are choked, half-sentences that fade into groans.

Tears prick at your lash line by the time he’s securely sheathed in you. Your fingers dig into his back, trying to pull him flush to your chest and bury his head in your neck so he can’t see. You know how he’ll feel; he’ll pull out and say he’s sorry, that he never meant to hurt you and it’s not worth it and he won’t try again–and that’s not what you want. You just need some time to adjust, that’s all.

You never realized how empty you were.

Keisuke lifts up from the crook of your neck when the first tear slides against his cheek. “M’sorry,” he breathes, kissing one eye, then the other, licking the tear tracks and kissing you again. “M’sorry, I don’t wanna hurt—“ His arms shake on either side of you. The urge to start shifting his hips is sinful, but he doesn’t. He can’t, not until you're okay, not until you tell him it’s okay.

“It’s—okay,” you breathe. Your face says otherwise, but really… it’s okay. You play with the hair at the nape of his neck, offering him a little smile as you shift your hips ever-so-slightly against his. “I’m—I’m okay, baby, really. Just—just go slow.”

Keisuke kisses you. Slowly, deeply, spreading your lips with his as he gently pulls out and slides back in, heeding your directive to go slow. It hurts, it still hurts, is it supposed to hurt like this—but right when you’re about to give up, right when you’re about to tell him it's too much and maybe you should stop… it starts to feel good.

Not just full, but satisfying, bumping against the back of your messy cunt with every stroke. The ridge of his cockhead catches your insides in a way that makes your toes curl, and before long, your legs are wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Gods—fuck, Kei, fuck—“ you hiss, burying your head in his shoulder, biting his collarbone to keep yourself from screaming. “Just—there, like that, don’t—fuck—“

“Thought you said you were a virgin,” he hisses. Your broken pleas of, I am, I am, I am—go unrecognized as he slowly picks up speed. “Virgin pussy—heh—always feel this—fuckin’ good?”

You moan, loud and unreserved, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders. Your stomach burns. Your pussy clenches, but for the first time, there’s finally something to hold on to, finally something to fill you up—you’ve never been so full, never felt so good. The coil tightens in your stomach, made all the more tense by the fact there’s something inside— “Gonna— gonna cum, Kei, don’t—don’t stop, please—“

“Yeah, sweetheart? You gonna—gonna cum for me? Go on, cum f’me. Cum on my cock, baby, show me what we’ve been—been waitin’ for—“

You cry when your orgasm finally washes over you.

You’ve never climaxed this powerfully before, to the point that you’ve felt like—this. The world is empty besides the two of you. Bells ring in your ear as you struggle to keep your eyes open, your whole body floating. You feel everything and nothing; like you’re weightless but have never been so heavy in your life.

You gasp for air, fingers digging into Keisuke’s shoulders as his hips stutter a few more times then still. His moans into your ear as his own orgasms consumes him, painting your insides white, shooting so much it drips out of your spent pussy and starts to puddle between you.

He stays there for a moment. Lets his lips trace lazy patterns beneath your ear, still half-hard inside you, one hand gripping the back of your neck and the other holding your breast. Even though you’re spent, your hands delicately trail up and down his spine. Your breathing is heavy and your smile bright and you think you could stay right here forever.

The plastic stars one his ceiling smile down at you, and you imagine the ones outside are doing the same. ‘About time!’ they seem to say. After all these years, about time. There’s a shrill whistle of bus brakes, screeching to a halt; a muffled shout from one pedestrian to another. The fan creaks slightly, the cool air washing over you and helping calm the raging fire on your skin. The clock on Keisuke’s lopsided nightstand, made even with a stack of textbooks he never got to put to use, beeps at midnight: the end of one day, the start of forever.

Kei takes a deep breath and slides off, hissing as his sensitive cock is exposed to the cool air of his bedroom. He lays on his back, taking a hand and placing it over his eyes as he tries to calm his racing heart.

Your legs are sticky. They’re already getting sore. Your hips ache, your spine stretches, your chest burns—but you relish it. Kei’s breathing evens beside you.

Glancing, you check if he’s asleep—but with the way his forearm covers his eyes, you can’t tell. He looks even more like an angel now. Light, from a city just waking up, creeps past the curtains, illuminating slivers of his pale and flushed skin. He looks–relaxed. Content, even with the blush still coloring his high cheeks bones. His lips are parted, shallow gasps of air being sucked through them, but the longer you look, the more it looks like they’re curling in a smile.

His chest rises and falls steadily, and just when you start to think he might actually be asleep, the hand beneath your neck starts playing with your hair.

“Think it’s—always this good?” he asks breathlessly, pulling you in a little closer.

You pretend to think. He tilts his head, cracking an eye to look down at you curiously. You smile. “I don’t know. Think we better try again—y’know, just to be sure.”

Kei barks out a laugh and pulls you to his chest, looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. And right now, with the gentle light filtering through his open window, sweaty and smiling and with his cum dripping from between your legs to make a mess of his thigh, you are.

You play with the edges of his hair, sprawled lazily across his sweaty forehead. With a soft smile, he reaches for your fingers and pulls them to his lips. “Do you actually like it? My haircut, I mean. Pretty sure you liked the other stuff.”

You answer with a laugh, pressing a kiss to where the edges fall. “I love it.”

He grins and rolls over, pinning you to the mattress. The short locks make a curtain, hiding the two of you from anything but each other. “Good. Did it f’you.”

“For me?”

He hums and buries his face in your neck, delicately kissing the bruising skin. “Noticed your type. None of them had long hair, ’n I thought…”

With a pealing laugh, you grab his cheeks and bring his face to yours, smothering him with kisses. “Keisuke, you are such an idiot.”

He pretends to frown, but kisses you all the same. “Weren’t calling me that when I was making you scream earlier.”

“Kei,” you say, forcing him back so you can really meet his eyes, “short hair, long hair. No hair. The only kind of guy I’ve ever truly wanted has been you.”

Keisuke blinks. Short, thick lashes bat against those endlessly high cheekbones of his, and then he smiles. He lowers his lips to yours once more and gifts you a kiss; deep, slow. A kiss that’s been years in the making, that says all that your words have and then some.

“I love you,” he says, and you barely have time to say the same before he’s kissing you, hardening cock easily gliding back through your sticky folds, and you go for round two.

So... happy adventuring :) thank you for reading! if you made it this far… pls reblog, drop a comment, or leave an ask if you enjoyed!! I worked really, really hard on this, and it would mean the absolute world to me that, if y’all enjoyed it, you told me why. if you hated it, tell me why. if i made you cry or scream or fall in love or fierce fiercely full of disappointed rage, tell me why!! i won’t bite (unless you ask)!

hopefully the next adventure gets even better. thanks for reading!

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