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hotwings0203 · 3 years

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The Middle Ground

*Deep breath*

Woo. Okay. First of all I would like to thank everyone for 400 freaking followers. That is seriously so insane to me, I mean I’ve only been on Tumblr for like half a year.

This piece is a contribution to @bakugosbratx ‘s collaboration. It has around 40k words in total, so it’s my longest piece yet. Because Tumblr formatting is shit, I have provided an Ao3 link in case you like the chapter setup better there. I hope you all enjoy, and please please heed the warnings ahead!

Pairing: Bully!Fiance!Touya x F reader

Summary: You've been friends with Tenko Shimura for as long as you can remember...but when you're forced into an arranged marriage with Dabi, that friendship is put to a test.

TW: Noncon, bullying, language, Dabi and Hawks are scumbags, gangbang, graphic depictions of violence, gang violence, arranged marriage

Tags: @hi--rubi @bakugosbratx

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31747549

Touya Todoroki kicks out his legs and slumps into the limo seat. A permanent scowl has inhabited his petulant expression, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by his glaring father and uncomfortable family. It isn’t like he wanted to be here anyway, what were they expecting? Especially when they were practically planning out his whole life’s demise right in front of his eyes.

Think he’s being dramatic?

Try putting yourself in his shoes for a second: after being hounded by his ape-like father to put some hair gel on and to ‘take out those fiendish piercings, you look like a hooligan,’ he was also forced into a suit that felt more like a straight jacket. Worst of all, he had to keep a straight posture.

It was complete, utter torture for the young rogue.

Only after stalking and lurking around his mother for the entire day did Touya have it revealed to him that the place he had to dress up like a prissy for was none other than the house of who he was going to be betrothed to.

Once the bomb was dropped, all hell broke loose in the Todoroki house not like that was anything new, merely hours away from leaving to greet the parents-in-law.

“Is this a fucking joke? You people weren’t even gonna tell me where we were going until I had to beg like a dog!” Touya raged with balled-up fists, smoke curling from his elbows and shins as he stood in his parents’ room and interrogated his mother.

“Language, Touya!” An exasperated Rei Todoroki sighed while ironing her and Fuyumi’s dresses. “You’re of age to get married, and you’re an adult now- you knew this was bound to happen soon.”

“Come on, Touya, it’s not the end of the world. You’ll like her; her family is really well known in hero society for hosting the annual hero galas.” Fuyumi leaned against the doorframe behind her irate brother with her arms crossed, peering disappointedly at him from over the bridge of her glasses. “I’m pretty sure her parents even work in the Hero Commission headquarters, and as for the girl, I’ve heard so many good things about her from-”

“I don’t give a damn about some elitist brat who I’m gonna have to coddle. And I’m still in school, I’m not licensed yet.” Touya snapped at both the women, Fuyumi rolling her eyes and shaking her head as she walked away. Rei let out another heavy sigh and finished up her meticulous ironing.

“I just don’t understand why in the hell you’d tell me on the day of us meeting them, like why couldn’t I have a heads up?”

“Because then we’d have to put up with your little tantrums even more in advance. Plus, it's not like us telling you earlier would’ve changed the decision or your reaction,” Natsuo called out from his room across the hall.

“You know, she’s not some random gold digger. I’m fairly certain her family is more wealthy than us, and by uniting our families, we’ll both have many advantages in society and for a healthy bloodline-”

But Shoto’s chiming in was cut off with the sound of choking from Natsuo drinking something at his last words. Touya didn’t appreciate his least favorite sibling’s unwanted opinion, especially when it was about the topic of banging some prissy chick.

He let Shoto know what he thought of his comment by whipping around with a snarl and towering over the youngest Todoroki.

Well, not really towering since Shoto was quickly catching up to Touya in terms of height, a fact that Touya loathed admitting.

“You-” he jabbed a finger into the other’s firm chest, “-are the last person I wanna hear sex advice from, got it? I doubt a social degenerate like you would even get pussy anyways from the way you can barely understand a joke or social cues.” (“What did I say about language, Touya!”)

Natsuo was positively howling now, and Shoto merely shrugged his brother’s scarred finger off as Touya kept advancing on him and spitting venom. Rei was desperately trying to quell the disaster waiting to happen by raising her voice slightly and telling all her boys to back off and calm down, but she was cut off by Fuyumi calling out to ask for her dress.

“ENOUGH!”

All the other Todorokis simultaneously jumped when they heard his booming voice. Enji Todoroki appeared in front of his family, no doubt growing increasingly irritated by the pandemonium happening. He glared around at them all until his eyes landed on Touya, who grew quiet but still held a scowl on his face. Endeavor’s eyes narrowed as he approached his heir, and Touya subconsciously straightened up taller.

“You can’t make me do this. We’ve never had one single conversation about the topic of marriage, and you think I’m just gonna give in on the night you planned to make me into some domestic schmuck? Were you even going to tell me yourself before we left?” Touya growled, maintaining eye contact with his brutish father.

“You’ll do as I say, Touya. Your duty comes to your family before any wish of becoming a hero. You need to stop acting like a delinquent, and a wife would do some good to tether you to reality-”

“Oh, right, because you’d know all about how to be good to a family, right?” Touya burst out as he sneered and gestured to the scars littering his body.

Even Natsuo had stopped snickering as the house grew deathly quiet. Fuyumi sucked in a soft inhale, Shoto simply stared while observing the spectacle in front of him, and Rei was stock-still.

Endeavor didn’t back down from his son’s impertinence, however. Instead, he stepped forward until both men were chest-to-chest and looked at Touya straight into his face, purposely neglecting to ponder on the way his son’s lip trembled and his eyes twitched as if he wanted to rub them. He knew if he saw Touya as the pouty seven year old he once was and loved, he would give in.

“You will do what I ask. Do not embarrass our family or me.”

Touya’s jaw clenched as he tried to stare his father down, but after a couple of painstakingly long moments he finally looked away. Everyone let out their breaths and started to get their coats. That was that.

End of discussion.

Unbeknownst to him, however, he wasn’t the only one who had been saddled with this news recently.

Your parents might not have told you on the day of said guests coming over, but you weren’t given an option to argue either.

In fact, you were told so casually over dinner a few weeks ago that one would think you were the crazy one for “overreacting,” in the exact words of your parents to be more specific.

“Honey, you’re almost done with your hero licensing school. It's about time you start thinking of your future asides from your job and internships,” your mother had gestured to you as her delicate hands picked up a wine glass.

“Dad, seriously?” You asked in disbelief, fork suspended in midair. “I haven’t even graduated yet, plus you promised when I was done I could intern with you at the headquarters-!”

But your father merely hummed disinterestedly as if the topic of your very imminent future could do with less talking and more of shoveling roast beef into his mouth.

You incredulously turn to your mom, hoping for some reprieve.

“I don’t even know his name. Who is he, and why did you choose him anyway?” you grouch, pouting and pushing the casserole on your plate around.

“His name is Touya Todoroki, and he’s merely a year or two older than you. I’m sure you’ve heard of his father, Endeavor. He’s the number two hero, and I believe his other two children are closer to your age...Natsuo and Fuyumi? Their youngest son is Shoto, you must have seen his performance at the sports festival a little while ago.”

“T-Touya?” You almost choke on your asparagus when you hear his name. “Mom, I’ve seen him like, three times throughout the entirety of me being at that school. And I heard he’s a complete menace too! He’s got a reputation, him and his stupid friends. I know for a fact they’ve been giving Tenko a hard time for the past year for no reason.”

You’re not lying either. You’ve seen the intimidating black-haired boy skulking around some of your classes with his cronies in tow. It wasn’t like he shirked off his grades or anything; you were fairly certain he was pretty smart...when he tried, that is. When he wasn’t ditching class and giving his teachers a hard time, you usually saw him push your best friend Tenko Shimura around. This included shoving the quiet boy down the stairs, clapping him over the head a little too hard to be passed off as friendly, and childishly throwing spitballs and other trash at the back of his head. Fortunately, you’d never had the pleasure of meeting his highness personally, and so far, you’d been secretly grateful for only picking up his binders and homework off the floor of Tenko’s aftermath attacks rather than bearing the full brunt of Touya’s abuse. You weren’t even sure he knew you existed, and to be frank, you’d like to keep it that way.

However, it seemed as though your parents didn’t share the same sentiments.

Your father finally decided to give his piece, which wasn’t in your favor, surprise surprise.

“A sturdy family, they are. We’ve invited them for dinner two weeks from now, so you better curb that attitude of yours well before they arrive. Our decision is final.”

You stay quiet, opting not to argue any further and upset your parents. To be honest, you weren’t known to be too rebellious or spoiled for that matter. You were a straightforward child- you got good grades, you didn’t trouble yourself or your parents with any drama or school nonsense, and you put up a good family name when in the presence of outsiders. To say that you and your parents were joined at the hip would be a bit of a stretch, though. You simply did what they asked, and they rewarded you with anything you wanted. Nothing more and nothing less. It’s not like they forced you to do anything unreasonable except getting married to some degenerate, so you usually followed pursuit.

So, instead of causing a scene at the dinner table, you finish up your food, clear the table, and stomp upstairs in the sanctuary of your room. You flop on the bed, and just for good measure you pummel a pillow in front of you.

This can’t be happening, you groan to yourself.

After a couple of minutes of finishing your tantrum, you decide to call Tenko. He was definitely someone who’d share the same disdain for the name Touya Todoroki.

You dial his number, and after a couple of rings he finally picked up.

“Y/N? What’s up?”

It takes less than 5 minutes for you to explain your ordeal, and he’s quiet for a few moments.

“Tenko? You there?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m still here,” he says slowly.

“Well? What do you think?” You urge, needing him to reassure you you weren’t being unreasonable for not wanting an arranged marriage with some psycho delinquent, family name or not.

“I mean, obviously it sucks ass, and I wouldn’t wanna get saddled with Tou-yuck as a fiance,” you giggle at the absurd nickname and he shares a low chuckle too. “But...I don’t know, I mean I kinda expected you to sound more upset about it.”

“Don’t get me wrong, of course I'm pissed, man. But what the hell am I supposed to do? I can’t really argue my way out of this, and even if I did, it would be so awkward between our families since his dad and my parents work so closely at the HC. I don’t think there's any way to properly react to this,” you finish helplessly, biting your lip.

“Whatever. Just don’t expect me to throw rose petals and rice at him when he shoves me into the lockers after school,” Tenko says dryly, and you can’t help but scoff.

“As if. Y’know, maybe that actually is a silver lining in all this. If we get engaged or whatever during the school year he might just go easy on you if he knows we’re friends.”

“Hmm yeah, maybe we’ll hold hands and throw each other picnics too while we’re at it!” You can practically hear his eye roll over the phone. “Speaking of prince charming, what are you gonna wear when they come?”

Which brings you back to now.

T-minus 30 minutes until the Todorokis make their appearance through your front door.

As much as you tried to convince yourself otherwise, there was no mistaking the butterflies in your stomach. You had adorned a warm knee-length dress to match the snow outside yet still look cute, meticulously done your hair in an up-do with some strands framing your face and light makeup. Your goal wasn’t to impress anyone but rather show the best natural side of you so that if any part of you wasn’t satisfactory to what met the Todorokis’ eye, they could still back out.

You stand in front of the mirror and tilt your head slightly, assessing yourself. You look straight at your reflection and practice your bow. After feeling confident in your preparation, you decide to send a quick picture of yourself to Tenko to get his opinion.

6:40: Looks okay?

Not even two minutes later as you’re lacing up your flats does his notification pop up on your screen, and you smile at his punctuality.

Ten-ten: You look great.👍 Don’t freak out okay? It’s not like anyone’s opinion should matter, especially not Tou-yuck’s

6:45: Ugh, you’re right. Idk why I feel like I’m gonna throw up

6:46: Oh fuck I think I hear their car

Wait oh my god it's a limo wtf??

When your parents call you down to greet the guests, you toss your phone on the bed and hobble across the room to close your lights and door. You don’t see the three dots coming up and disappearing as Tenko Shimura deletes the message of ‘actually, you look beautiful’ after reading your answer.

***************

You frantically straighten out your dress and wipe your sweaty palms on your knees as you stand behind your parents when they open the door.

First comes in the big man himself, a towering build of brute force and a stoic aura surrounding his presence. His brows are furrowed, but he doesn’t look angry. Your father and Enji shake hands and clap each other on their backs as your family moves back to make space for the rest of the family to enter. A woman you assume to be Rei shakes off the snow from her shoes before stepping inside the threshold, and when you make eye contact and greet her she smiles demurely at you.

It warms your heart, much to your chagrin.

Then, all time seems to stop as you see his shadow step in before he does. Your heart skips a beat or two and the wind swirls around him, causing snowflakes to latch onto his figure and obscure his face for a moment.

But when he fully comes into view, it does nothing to calm your heart that seems to be slamming against your ribcage.

The white snowflakes blend into his porcelain-colored hair, which sticks out in little tufts although you could’ve sworn he had black hair at school…?. Dark purple patches cover underneath his eyes and the lower half of his face, along with small staples that seem to hold the skin up. However, his eyes are what captivate you the most, a bright turquoise that scrutinizes you under the glare of fluorescent lights.

You freeze like a deer in headlights, hesitating a fraction of a second before bowing hastily to make up for the pause. Touya scoffs slightly before barely tilting his head and averting his eyes to your mother, who is ushering the rest of the family inside to the living room. Natsuo, Fuyumi, and Shoto follow after their eldest brother, all of them bowing more respectfully than the first sibling and giving you small smiles and waves.

You trail behind to close the door, wanting to stall as long as possible before the inevitable bonding. As you turn from shutting the dark mahogany, you catch your dad’s eyes as he turns as well and you blanch obviously- needless to say, he isn’t amused and sends you a warning glare.

Taking a deep breath in a poor attempt to still your nerves, you walk as gracefully as you can to the living room, one foot in front of the other. As expected, when you cross into the area all light conversation stops as you reach a seat in one of the white leather loveseats. You can acutely feel Rei and Enji’s eyes especially trained on you as they observe their future daughter-in-law and her mannerisms. Luckily, your parents have given you years of practice in public events on how to act like the perfect little lady.

Poised, calm, and collected, you recall the main attributes your parents had always said elders look for.

“Y/N, was it? I believe you and Touya go to the same school?” Rei speaks up after you settle comfortably, and you can’t help but notice that although their family is known for ice cold or burning hot quirks, her voice reminds you of a good medium between the two; it sounds like springtime, a transition itself.

You fidget uncomfortably before answering. “Yes ma'am, I think so. I might have seen him around the halls, and we may have had classes once or twice…” but you trail off as Touya coughs loudly, and rudely. He turns his head to look away from you not-so-subtly and the room temperature rises a few degrees as Endeavor’s mustache begins to flame. He glares at his son, but Touya stubbornly stares at the floor with an obvious scowl on his face.

Well fuck you, too, you think as your smile begins to strain.

Desperately, Fuyumi tries to fill in the silence by asking a follow up question.

“Um, Y/N, what are you studying? Touya’s trying to get officially licensed at school so he can skip internships and just head straight to dad’s agency after he graduates.”

“Well, since I don’t have a quirk I’m not doing any of the training courses, but my parents have some networks in the Hero Commision. Ultimately I decided to go into Department of Management and General Studies-”

“Wait, you don’t have a quirk?” Touya surprisingly bursts out, eyes bulging out of their sockets. His voice is deep and grating, as if he spent his early days being a chainsmoker.

“No, I don’t.” You say without missing a beat, increasingly getting a good feel of what type of person your fiance is and his possible superiority complex. “But as I was saying, even though I wasn’t born with a quirk I know I can succeed after my parents in aiding the Hero Commission and the annual galas. If I get licensed after graduation, I can kind of follow the same path as you in terms of skipping all the internships and stuff and get straight to work. Y’know, helping out in the foundations of future heroes is just as important as being an actual hero,” You say proudly as you stare straight at Touya.

Your parents and a majority of the Todorokis nod in agreement, and the only one who doesn’t seem to share the same values as you rolls his eyes and mumbles under his breath.

After that nice little ice breaker and a couple of other meaningless conversations between the other siblings and you, your mother finally decides to call in for dinner.

You breathe out a sigh of relief and stand, your dress riding up your thighs for a moment as you get up. Out of the corner of your eye you see Touya glance momentarily at your slightly exposed legs before sliding up your body and finally meeting your eyes. He catches you staring and gives you a knowing smirk. Your face lights on fire and you look around to make sure no one is watching before you flip him the bird.

He actually laughs, and you grimace as the butterflies in your stomach come back to life and travel up your throat.

Natsuo turns around curiously to see the source of his brother’s rare gravely laugh. When he sees you both emerging out of the room at the same time, he flashes you a lopsided grin, very much akin to his brother’s.

You shake your head, trying to quell the rising smile on your face as you take a seat at the marble table. Everyone finds their own chair, and much to your surprise Touya takes one right across from you. Whether or not it's a coincidence, you don’t want to get your hopes up.

Chatter resumes as both sets of parents talk about recent hero news and the missions funded by the headquarters. Shoto and Fuyumi ladle takoyaki and ramen into their bowls while Touya picks at the miniscule helping of the other assortments and kaiseki on his glass plate. You decide to wait until everyone has finished taking food until you start digging in just to be polite, a fact that Natsuo pipes up on.

“You don’t have to wait for us to finish y’know, we’ll just end up keep waiting on each other out of guilt.” he says kindly.

“Oh, no worries. I just wanted to make sure you guys took enough-” but you’re cut off for the second time that evening by the same person, and it takes every ounce of self restraint you have not to dump the ramen bowl on his white hair.

“Yeah, I mean we already know you’re so uptight, no need to shove it in our faces,” Touya rumbles and Natsuo swats his arm as he glances at you apologetically.

“Sorry about him, he’s got a warped sense of humor.”

“It’s fine, I get it. Some people just think they’re better ‘cuz of unseen reasons,even with lame quirks,” you snipe and you hear Shoto subtly snort into his cup.

Touya’s nostrils flare and his forearm erupts in light blue flames. Endeavor and your parents are staring at you both, and it's not just his flames that warms your face.

But Fuyumi, along with her ice quirk, seems to know just how to cool everyone down again.

“Y/N, have you ever helped your parents out in any of the HC events?” she takes your hand in hers, and even though you expect cold palms, all you feel radiating off of her is warmth. She seemed to be saying I’m sorry about him.

So for the time being, you decid to grit your teeth and bear it. It’s not like your parents were even pretending to care about his shitty attitude either, so why should you give in any more?

“Yes, I have actually. A couple of months ago my parents were the sponsors of the annual Hero Gala, and I was the one who sent out the invitations to all the heroes and ensured their attendance. I even got to invite Gran Torino!” You can’t help but say animatedly-no matter how juvenile your excitement is, being in contact with pro-heroes was always exhilarating and nerve-wrecking.

Hench the massive pools of sweat gathering under your armpits.

And finally the youngest speaks up.

“So out of all the heroes you’ve talked to or helped, which one’s your favorite?”

“Uhhh probably Midnight, she's just so badass...and I won’t lie, she's pretty hot too,” you blush and Natuso whoops at the flush in your cheeks. Fuyumi laughs and agrees wholeheartedly, and even Shoto lets out a small smile Touya continues to pick at his sashimi as if no one had spoken.

You marveled at how at home the Todoroki siblings make you feel, even in your own house. They went well together, and fill in the gaps where the other lacked.

Too bad the same couldn’t be said for the one you were destined to marry.

Nevertheless, the rest of the evening went by without any more mishaps or interruptions, thankfully. You and Rei had a couple of conversations too, about school and winter and what you liked to do in your free time. Even Enji spared a minute, but it wasn’t so much of a conversation as it was just a gruff ‘I hear from your father that you’re doing well in school. I might hire you at my agency if you surpass the other students’, and a meek ‘yessir, I’ll try my hardest’ from you.

When it was time to leave, you hugged Fuyumi and shook Natuso and Shoto’s hands along with giving proper bows to Rei and Enji. Only Touya was left, and you’d be damned if you made the first move of civility towards him. You settled for a little bow, peering up at him through your lashes. He mimicked the same motion he did when he first entered, a pathetic little head tilt that you assumed to be the world's worst impersonation of a bow.

But his eyes never left yours, and you couldn’t decipher the unreadable emotion swirling in his blue orbs as he watched your figure bend and lift again. Whatever it was, it didn’t exactly scream proper from the way he allowed his gaze to drop to your chest and thighs not-so-subtly. You shot him a glare and he met you with a sneer before whirling around to bid farewell to your parents.

When the door finally shuts, your parents let out a sigh of relief and turn to you.

“Well, what did you think? Wasn’t their family darling? Oh and Touya was so easy on the eyes too, I don’t think you’ll have any problems getting along with each other,” Your mother babbles incessantly, completely oblivious to you gawking at her.

Is she serious? He acted like a total douche to me all night!

“I agree with your mother. He seems like a solid young man and I know for a fact he’ll make a great husband. Now, Enji gave me Touya’s number and I gave him yours, so you should expect a text from Touya soon. It’s just a formality to overcome, and in addition I want you to let him know we were glad to host him and his family.” Your dad raises his eyebrows expectantly, and you groan, slapping a hand to your face.

“Okay sure, whatever.” Your dad pulls out his phone and you watch glumly as he texts the number to you.

“I’ll text him later, ‘gotta talk to Ten first,” you mutter as you begin bounding up the stairs.

“No Y/N, you’ll do it now. Otherwise, no talking to Tenko. You need to start putting your fiance first instead of any other man.”

You grit your teeth to prevent screaming and make a show of spinning on your heel to face your dad. Smashing your thumbs against the screen, you tap out a curt ‘Hey, this is Y/N. I got your number from my dad, just wanted to say thanks for coming over tonight.’

Oh yeah. Tenko better not have any plans tonight, ‘cuz boy is he gonna get an earful of this evening’s events.

*********

Ping

Touya’s phone buzzes in his hand, and the screen lights up the dark interior of the limo. He squints at the notification, and after seeing your name he scoffs disbelievingly.

“Is it her?” Fuyumi asks excitedly.

“Jesus, keep your fucking voice down, are you trying to announce it to mom?” Touya hisses, and rolls his eyes at his sister’s pout.

All his siblings start clamoring over their seatbelts and each other’s shoes as they try to grab his phone to read the message he received, and it's all Touya can do to curse and ward them off by waving an inflamed arm towards their outreached grubby hands (thankfully Fuyumi easily distinguished his flames with a flick of her wrist, with a rather annoyed look on her face).

By the time the Todorokis reach their house it's late and everyone stumbles inside, eager for warmth and a good shower.

But not Touya.

As soon as the limo is parked he slips off the driveway and trudges off the stone path to his own destination, quickly shooting his friend a text.

“Touya?” he hears his brother calling to him from the lit up path of the driveway. “You comin’ or what?”

“No, I’ll be back in a bit. Just tell them I went to sleep early or something, and don’t let anyone in my room while I’m gone,” Touya mutters.

Natsuo wrinkles his nose and stuffs his hands in his pockets, countering the defensive look the latter was giving.

“...bring me back a cig?”

“Hell no, go the fuck inside, its freezing out here.” Touya snickers, and both boys laugh before heading off in their own ways.

It takes Touya approximately 15 minutes to slink in and out of the shadows to reach the abandoned bar that resides outside the main city. He kicks a broken beer bottle out of the entrance and checks in the dark for a lack of presence before reaching behind the bar counter and fishing around the platform for-

Bingo

He omits a tiny blue spark out of his index finger as he slides into a barstool and lights the cigarette. Taking a long drag of the substance, he tilts his head back and closes his eyes as he exhales the fumes into the empty darkness.

“Goddamn, just ‘cuz you’re immune to fire doesn’t mean we all are Touya,” a suave voice emerges from behind the counter.

Not so empty after all, then.

A dim light switches on and Touya squints to locate the source of the familiar sound. Red fills his vision as his friend’s wings spread, and he zooms in on the roguishly handsome face belonging to Keigo Takami.

AKA Hawks.

The blond makes an obnoxious show of coughing and waving the smoke away, and Touya merely takes another long puff just to blow it into Keigo’s face again.

“So, how’d it go?” He asks, using his wings to wave the offensive fumes away from his pretty face.

Touya shrugs and folds his arms on the counter, letting his head nestle on the cool granite. He closes his eyes, mentally preparing himself for the onslaught of questions that was bound to come his way any minute.

“Oh come on, don’t give me that bull, man. She can’t have been that bad right?”

“Her parents work for the HC. Maybe you should marry her instead,” Dabi shoots his friend a dark look and Keigo raises his hands in a guilty gesture. It was no secret that aside from their incognito vandalism and delinquency, the winged boy had plans to become a great hero at the heart of the HC itself.

“Yeah well, regardless of who seals the deal, either way that’s another good, ah, network for me to know.” He snickers and Touya lazily thrusts a flaming hand at his head, which Keigo easily dodges.

“This is serious man. I don’t wanna be some fucking homebody and raise a bunch of little shits along with having some bitch up my ass all the time.”

“Is she hot at least?” Keigo presses, and Touya feels his eye twitch as his patience wears thinner by each word coming out of his mouth.

“The fuck’s that got to do with any-? I mean, she was alright I guess, not too hard on the eyes…” he thinks for a moment before admitting, “she had sexy thighs, that's for sure. And an okay body overall.”

Keigo whoops and claps Touya on the back, both of them grinning like madmen now.

“That’s what I’m talking about, see now you’re getting the idea.”

“And what’s that?” Touya turns to him fully now, intrigued as to how this could be for his benefit.

“Look, you said she’s not too bad right? So that basically means you got full ownership of some hot chick, and you get to have full access to any records or information you want if she’s joined to the hip with some HC pawns.” The avian’s gold eyes flash and narrow as he thinks it over more.

“This is a win win for you either way, and hey, if you make the missus your little bitch then maybe I get to reap some rewards too, huh?” He elbows Touya playfully.

“Yeah...yeah that’s not a bad way of looking at it now that you mention it,” Keigo can practically see the gears turning in his friend’s head as he whips out his own phone.

“What was her name again by the way? I just wanna see my dear sister-in-laws’ thighs myself,” He sneers as Touya quirks up the corners of his lip.

“F/N? F/N L/N I think. God, she even texted me like, 10 minutes after we left. So fucking desperate,” Touya chuckles as he shows Keigo the message you sent.

The blond’s wings ruffle behind him as he glances at Touya’s phone before thumbing through his own, checking each social media platform for any of your accounts. After a couple of seconds his eyes widen and he positively leers at the screen before shoving the device in the latter’s face.

“Holy shit, I know this girl! Dude, you do too, we had like three classes with her before. I’m pretty sure she runs around with Rumi too. She’s uber smart, you had me thinking she’s some bimbo bitch, man. Oh, and she’s friends with Tenko by the way, just a lil’ heads up.”

At the mention of the scrawny boy’s name, Touya snatches the phone from Keigo’s fingers and holds it mere inches away from his eyes so he could scan every part of you.

“Tenko? Tenko Shimura? No fucking way, that guy’s a total tool. The hell is she doing hanging out with him?”

“No idea, but I mean I’ve seen her hanging out with some other girls in the general department, so it’s not like she only knows him. Why, you’re not getting all protective and hubby-like on her already, right?” Keigo says slyly, thoroughly drinking in the way Touya’s eyes darken and his jaw clenches at such a blasphemic notion. It was so much fun to rile him up and not have to deal with the aftermath of his brash actions.

“Fuck no. I just don’t want to be associated with a bitch who hangs around with pussies all day.”

“Mm, yeah, I don’t think I could fuck with you either if he became some kind of sister-wife to you.”

********

Winter started to seep into spring, the transition being made evident by the arrival of cherry blossom trees blooming across the campus. New clothes were bought, markers and highlighters upgraded to reflect the new bright outside weather, and the students themselves were giddy to see each other after their winter break.

You donned your white school uniform and fixed your tie in the mirror, opting to leave your hair down for the first day back.

Ping

Your phone’s screen lit up from the bed, and you grabbed it while slinging your bag over your shoulder.

Ten-ten: I’m outside, bring me a bagel if you can. Dad was being an asshole so I skipped breakfast

8:20: Gotcha, I’ll be out in 5

Thundering downstairs, you absentmindedly noted your parents’ absence as usual, your pre-made breakfast on the table (courtesy of the MIA mother and father).

Making a quick scan as to what you could quickly scarf down and what you could bring for Tenko, you decided to drink a glass of orange juice and bring a yogurt for yourself, as well as a large cinnamon bagel and a banana for him.

Opening your front door always brought in the multicolored rays of the horizon that was one of your sole motivations of waking up early. You weren’t disappointed as you stepped onto your porch and breathed in the crisp morning air, the sakura leaves falling softly onto the ground. Pink and purple stripes fanned across the sky, the trees gently swaying with the breeze. At the end of your driveway stood your lanky best friend, his sickly green and grey skin standing out almost offensively against the beautiful morning scene. His long, spindly fingers raised up and wiggled slightly in a poor imitation of a wave as he saw you coming towards him. His school uniform looked a tad bit too big on his thin, frail bones that were scarcely covered by stretched out, scratched-beyond-belief skin. His indicolite hair fell across his face in scraggly waves, effectively covering his vermillion, beady eyes.

You had never been so comforted by anyone else’s sight before.

As you reached him, you tossed him the large bagel and he helped your overbearing food load by taking the banana stem from your teeth and holding it in his own large hands, one pinky outstretched.

“You ready to go back?” You asked as you both began walking towards your school, which was a mere 15 minutes away from your house.

“Hell no,” he scoffed before tearing a large chunk out of the bagel. “Mmfh, thanks for the bagel-”

“-don’t talk with your mouth full-”

“-but nah, I’m not ready for Vlad King’s excessive droning about HC paperwork. ``Stuff's a bore honestly, I wanna take more actual work studies time out.”

“Oh yeah, you were saying earlier that your dad was gonna let you work with him at his business, right?”

“Yeah he did. But, to be honest, I don’t really know what's worse- Vlad’s lectures or my dads’.”

You swat his arm with a disapproving look as he laughs at your disdain.

“Ten, he loves you okay?” You begin softly as you furrow your brows and look at the ground in contemplation. “He just...doesn’t know how to show you. He’s just scared you’ll end up like your grandm-”

“Yeah okay, okay, I get it!” He yelps uncomfortably. Hearing any praise or defense for his father always put him in a tough spot since he didn’t want to accept the very hard fact that his dad did in fact love him-even if it was shown in weird ways.

The two of you eventually reached the grand school, the front blue and golden themes coming into view as you rounded the corner and walked through the gates of the campus.

It was a nice sight to see everyone again; kids younger and older than you laughing and shoving friends around, students sitting on the school walls, and teachers lounging around the classes with the occasional “Get to class!”

Tenko and you walk through the halls, navigating the way to your new classes and assessing each other’s schedules when you hear, “Hey, Y/N!”

You turn and see some of your other friends, Rumi Mirko, Moe Kamiji, and Yu Takeyama approaching you with grins on their faces.

Mirko waves her own peach colored schedule in her hand as she says, “Alright L/N, hand it over- I need to see which hunks you got in your classes.”

You smirk before giving your own witty reply. “Apart from you? I think the bar’s been set too high, hun.”

You playfully tug one of her ears and she squeals before chasing you in circles around your small group. Your jerky running causes Kamiji to bump into Tenko’s slender frame, and he lets out a little “oof!” before wincing and rubbing his sore arm.

“Ohmygod, I’m so sorry Tenko!”

“No worries, it’s cool.”

“Hey, Tenko, I wanna see your schedule for a sec’,” Takeyama says slyly, fluttering her lashes at him before snatching his paper. “‘Gotta see if I got lucky this semester to finally have such a cutie like you in one of my classes,” She feigns a swoon at the poor boy, his face growing a violent shade of red as he commences his hemming and hawing.

“No she’s actually right though! I wanna see which classes I have to put in extra effort in not to fail if I’m ogling at this absolute sex god for the entirety of the period,” Mirko stops chasing you long enough to peer over Takeyama’s shoulder at his paper, and Tenko finally gives in his self restraint in a moment of vigorous neck-scratching relief.

You shake your head in disbelief before absentmindedly pulling his hand away from his suffering neck, and Tenko doesn’t make a move to stop you.

“Okay, enough already, leave this poor ‘sex god’ alone, your guys’s cleavage is gonna send him into cardiac arrest alone without the horny dialogue.” You say exasperatedly, and the victim himself flashes you a grateful look out of the corner of his eye.

All three girls give you both nasty grins before making a fake show of ripping open each other's shirt buttons and feeling their sides up with lewd moans.

Just to play along and to spare Tenko’s sputtering and massively sweating self the embarrassment, you cover his eyes with a hand and shoot the girls a dirty yet humorous look.

“Alright then, miss high and mighty, were you lucky enough to have your homeroom with Cupid over here?” Mirko asks, Kamiji and Takeyama nodding eagerly behind her.

“I was, actually. Did you get anyone worth the look?” You say, beaming at a very sweaty Tenko.

“No,” She pouted, her large ears dropping visibly. “But I really wish I could’ve gotten…” and she trails off as her focus narrows on something behind her, her nose twitching in excitement as her face morphs into a sultry expression. You, along with everyone else, turn to see what captured Mirko’s attention.

“Speak of the devil,” she mutters, nudging you and the other entranced girls.

And there he is in all his glory. One of the school’s most notorious playboys, Hawks himself-he spots your little reunion, and saunters his way past the sea of kids who part their way to make room for his highness. His blond hair glows in the early morning light, reflecting the golden and brown streaks that embed themselves through his locks. His teeth gleam a blinding white as he smiles at Mirko, coming up behind her (to her utter satisfaction).

But it's not Hawks that makes your heart pound.

It's his black haired buddy that you became betrothed to not too long ago that makes the butterflies in your stomach come alive again.

He has a bored, brooding look on his face as him and Hawks approach your group. His hands are in his pockets and his body language is so sluggish and lazy that you’d think he has a million other places to be at 8:45 in the morning. In fact, the only indication you get that he sees you is when his icy eyes flit over to yours or rather, your body, and he raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

I wonder if his family knows he dyes his hair at school? Or, when does he actually have the time to do that?

You snap your focus away from him, saving yourself the embarrassment of gawking at him before looking at the spectacle Hawks and Mirko were proudly showing off.

He circled his arms around her shoulders and neck, resting his head against her soft skin. She giggles and swats his other straying hand away from underneath her skirt while the rest of you roll your eyes in disgust as Mirko croons, “I didn’t hear back from you for a while, you had me worried for a moment there hot stuff.”

Hawks’s velvety words cut through the air like butter, his voice dropping a few octaves when he chuckles into her neck.

“Sorry about that babe, ‘was training pretty hard for some time, got distracted and all that. But you’re up for next weekend, yeah?”

It’s enough to placate the eager bunny and make you and Tenko gag internally for the meantime. “Mmm, only if you call me tonight,” she nuzzles into his hair. It was no secret (evidently) that the two were fucking, his smooth voice and sauve personality miraculously calming the eccentric and bold girl down. You didn’t come in contact with Hawks a lot, but you did unfortunately hear about his stamina from your girlfriend and see the way he undressed other girls in the hallways solely with his eyes enough to know that he wasn’t someone you wanted to spend your heart and time on.

Which is why you did a double take when you realized his honey colored orbs settled on you.

“L/N, right? How’ve you been?” His lids were lowered, the corners of his lips pulled up.

You stutter a moment before answering lamely, “Uh, I-I’ve been good, thanks.”

But it seems like he was more than overjoyed with your response from the way his smile widened and he lifted his head from Rumi’s neck to see you more clearly.

“Yeah? Make any new friends over the break? Maybe got yourself a little boyfriend?” Hawks turns his gaze ever so slightly to his left, and you follow his eyes as they also land on Touya.

You swallow thickly as you feel heat crawl up your neck to your face, your palms feeling slick as you register his meaning.

He knows.

And Tenko knows it too, from the way he side-eyes you concernedly, but staying silent (probably for his own sake, which was valid). Your “boyfriend” snarls quietly at Hawks, his balled fists turning a bright blue as they begin to heat up, much to the instigator’s amusement. Touya never makes eye contact with you throughout the whole exchange, though.

“Whaaatttt?” Kamiiji, Mirko, and Takeyama squeal obnoxiously, evidently intrigued at the notion of you being involved with a mystery man. “No fucking way, who is it?”

“Well-he- I mean, my parents kinda set us up…” You stammer mortified, caught between telling the truth or not. It was obvious Touya hadn’t told anyone apart from his closest friend, otherwise Rumi would have for sure found out through Hawks with Touya’s permission.

You wish you didn’t feel your heart drop a little at the thought of Touya so obviously wanting to keep your relationship with him under wraps. Were you really so embarrassing to be associated with?

But you’re saved from your internal battle when Tenko pipes up at his own expense.

Thank god.

“It doesn’t matter, it's not like they’re married or whatever-”

Yet. At least it's part of the truth.

“-come on Y/N, we should head to class,” Tenko looks at you meaningfully, and wanting to head out of the limelight before-

“Ahh, Shimura! Almost didn’t notice you there, buddy. You’re so quiet, it's easy to forget you’re there, y’know?” Hawks says gleefully as he throws an arm around the anxious boy’s boney shoulders and flashes a knowing smile at Touya, who mirrors Hawks’ saccharin expression.

Tenko refuses to rise to the backhanded comment, opting to nervously scratch his neck and you quickly pinch your fingers to avoid reaching out and pushing the ravaging hand away and nodding his head weakly.

Touya comes on his opposite side, also wrapping a patched arm around Tenko’s other side so that the poor victim is trapped between the two bloodthirsty boys. They start steering him away from the group, and you stand there, trying to decide to butt in or join the oblivious girls who start making their way to class, chattering amongst themselves.

Your dad’s words come back to you.

You need to start putting your fiance before other men, Y/N.

Fine.

This is going to be killing two birds with one stone anyways. You technically were going to be putting Touya first by letting him know what you did or didn’t like. The start of your rocky relationship had to have foundations on some form of do’s and don'ts for either of you, right?

And so, taking a deep breath, you march a couple meters up to the three boys, hearing sickening phrases of “grease-stain”, and “worthless little piece of shit, since when did you talk to girls?”, gently take an empty space of your friend’s shoulder that isn’t preoccupied by either tan or patched arm, and pull him around so that he’s facing you.

Unfortunately, you didn’t think to account for the other two who would no doubt keep an iron-grip on Tenko, so you’re left holding onto him while Touya and Hawks are staring disbelievingly and amused at you respectively.

“Tenko and I have to go to class,” you say quietly yet firmly as you ignore the spindly boy’s gaping at your audacity. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call him a grease-stain, or anything otherwise offensive.”

You continue, mustering the last of your bravery as you finally address your fiance, or whatever the hell he was to you at this moment.

“Look, Touya, it’s obvious Hawks knows, and I told Tenko too. I won’t tell anyone else, though, if you’re not comfortable with it. But I want you to please start respecting my friends, and in return me as well if we’re gonna be engaged.” It’s so hard to maintain eye contact with him while his blown-wide, furious blue oceans are burning holes into your face.

“You little bitch,” Touya starts on you to your utter dismay, but Hawks hold an arm out to prevent him from advancing on you any further. Even Tenko moves slightly in front of you to shield you from harm, a move that doesn’t go unnoticed, but rather, adds to Touya’s irate state.

In fact, if he didn’t realize, or didn't want to acknowledge your kinsmanship with Tenko, he certainly had to now.

Because not only does Tenko move in front of you, but the second Touya falters he takes the opportunity to propel you forward, covering almost 3 feet’s worth of a distance in one stride as he pushes you away from both men and down the hall, blindly following the signs to land the two of you in your designated homeroom. It all happens so suddenly with your surroundings flashing by you from Tenko’s sheer speed that you almost get whiplash as he continues to push you through the entrance of the class, and right into the first empty seat he sees towards the back of the room.

He pants slightly for a minute, staring down at your seated form intensely before sitting in the empty seat right in front of you. As he pulls in the chair, you finally speak in a mix of frustration and gratitude.

“Ten, I had it covered! You didn’t have to do that, Hawks had him too, it wasn’t like he was gonna-”

“No, you don’t understand Y/N. They’re messed up in the head, they would do something fucked up, and the worst part is they wouldn’t even care if it was in the open. Hell, you’re his-”

He whips his head around before whispering the rest to you.

“-his fiance, and look how he reacted! He’s dangerous Y/N, you need to be more careful-”

“Tenko, I’m not gonna be scared of the dude I’m engaged to,” you roll your eyes. “Okay sure, he’s a complete asshole to you and me, but he’s got too much to lose to actually do something real.”

But the rattled boy wasn’t convinced as he shook his head at your naivety. It wouldn’t do to tell you about all the times they used their quirk on him, having years of training before he did, essentially rendering him useless to fight back or stand up for himself. He didn’t think you’d believe him if he told you that merely a week ago they got in contact with some friends involved with the Yakuza to beat him into a pulp on his way home from school, simply because it made them laugh, it made them happy. And he certainly didn’t want you to have any fights with your beloved fiance because of the way they would push him down onto the gravel behind school after quirk training sessions, use their feathers and fire to burn and rip his clothes apart, and heat up the bigger rocks on the ground until they were burning coals as vermillion feathers aided in throwing the small missiles at him. He would come home in burns, bruises, and cuts that were easy to excuse from the similar treatment he got from his father.

That’s one of the only good things about his father, in hindsight. He built up Tenko’s immunity to these things, simply teaching him that these were the ways of life. You either eat, or get eaten.

So no, it wouldn’t do well to tell Y/N any of these things.

The bell rang, pulling you both from your back-and-forth arguing into a silent state along with the rest of the class. Your teacher, Vlad King, enters the room and almost fills up the doorway as he makes his way to the blackboard.

“Good morning class. I hope you all had a relaxing winter break-but not too relaxing, as I expect you all should’ve reviewed last semester’s notes.” He looks pointedly around the room, the class filled with a mixture of scoffs, laughter, and groans.

You and Tenko share an exhausted smile and simultaneously roll your eyes at your teacher’s academic reach.

“But, there is one announcement I’d like to make before we start today’s lesson. Due to some parents feeling as though their kids aren’t receiving enough variety in terms of quirk training and the business side, along with the logistics of the hero world, me and a few other teachers have agreed to switching out some students after a period of time to experience the other classes, and the materials that go along with them.”

“So, because of this change, we will be receiving some new students in our class today, as well as taking some out. But fear not! You will still have the same lunches as your friends and be able to see them in between classes.” He walks over to the door while talking, and you raise your eyebrows at Tenko. He shrugs as well, similarly clueless as to what your teacher meant.

But you needn’t be confused any longer, because when he turns the door handle and opens the door, a slew of students trickled in.

And much to your utter horror, Hawks and Touya saunter in as well.

Your eyes widen and instinctively you slouch in your seat trying to make yourself unnoticeable and smaller. You see Tenko stiffen as well, the tips of his ears turning bright red.

The scratching commences, too, and you quickly kick a leg out to meet the side of his chair to deter him from it.

From the front of the classroom, all the students that were switching into your room are lined up, ready to introduce themselves.

They all go, one by one, and as meaningless names float in and out of your attention, you risk a look at the two who had you practically shaking in your seat.

You wished you hadn’t.

Thing One and Thing Two were looking straight at you, your slouching proving to be unfruitful. Thing One was smugly looking at you, taking his sweet time for his eyes to note your hair, clothes, demeanor, and lingering in some places that were less than appropriate. Thing Two was glaring at you, gaze narrowed as his hands were stuffed in his pockets and by no doubt did you think he had taken your words from earlier with appreciation.

It was too early. You didn’t want to hear what they had to say about your little speech so soon, especially when you saw how Touya took your words as an insult rather than an attempt to understand you and improve your relationship with him.

Finally, it was their turn to introduce themselves to the class.

“Hey, guys. You can just call me Hawks, no need for formalities,” the blond shrugs casually, seeing Vald King’s unimpressed expression and giving him a charming smile. You hear a couple of girls fake screaming his name as he introduces himself, and Hawks flashes a round of winks and finger guns at his fangirls, much to your disgust.

“The name’s Dabi,” and your attention is turned to him once again. His voice is gruff, yet clear, and as charming of an aura Hawks gave off with the noises of various swoons, your fiance’s introduction prompts nothing but a deadly silent classroom, the occasional paper-turning and small murmurs echoing throughout the room.

Tenko turns slightly in his seat to you and gives you another meaningful look. You both knew what each other were thinking.

That’s right, he goes by the name Dabi here. I shouldn’t risk calling him by his real name around others, he might get upset at the informality.

The rest of the students chime in with their names, and finally your teacher claps his hands, gathering your attention back to him.

“Alright everyone, now that you all know the new students, say goodbye to your transitioning classmates and wish them luck in their new classes. Hajime, Setsuna, Tenko, and Kai, please pack your belongings and report to class 3-A.”

You whip your head around in horror at Tenko who has gone stock still. The boy behind you, Setsuna, starts packing his things and grumbling under his breath. Tenko slowly begins to put his binders and pencils in his bag, not having the courage to look at your helpless expression.

You feel like you were being thrown to the dogs, a piece of meat ready to be torn apart and ripped to shreds.

Vlad King notices Tenko’s dawdling, and barks out “Hurry it up Shimura, we don’t have all day and these students need seats!”

At this, both Hawks and Dabi’s heads turn to the both of you, and if they hadn’t noticed the disposition of you both, they damn well did now. You see Dabi’s eyes trail to something behind you and the corners of his mouth quirk up a bit.

Setsuna gets up from his seat behind yours, and passes to the front of the class along with the rest of the stragglers.

Oh, fuck. Please don’t let them sit here, please please ple-

But it seems that you had previous karma to atone for, because the moment you start praying, both boys start making their way towards you. You shrink even lower in your seat, wishing desperately that you had brought a hoodie to wear to at least cover your face from this torture.

It was only when Tenko finally packed his things and stood up at the side of his seat in front of you that Dabi and Hawks stopped stalking towards the seats that sandwiched you. He blocks their path and predatory looks, giving you a second’s reprieve of sheer panic. There is a tense moment where Dabi stands directly in front of Tenko, sizing him up and looking him down. You vaguely hear Ten murmur something to him, and Dabi lets out a loud scoff, elbowing the thin boy out of his way.

You half rise out of your seat, naturally wanting to intervene as Tenko winces and grips his wounded side, but he quickly looks over his shoulder and shakes his head minutely, as if warning you to stay put. In the midst of you standing up however, Dabi moves forward, leaving you face to face with him.

For the second time that day, you were in very close proximity to him, much to your discomfort. His blue eyes scorch your soul, much like the small blue flames emitting from the sides of his forearms. He narrows his gaze at you and stares at you until you relent and slowly sit back down. You can feel his eyes still on your form as he halfway circles around you and sits in the empty seat behind you. Hawks watches all of this in great amusement, and winks at you as he usurps Tenko’s seat in front of you.

That’s just fucking great.

Your fate is sealed as you look at the front of the room and watch Tenko give you a worried look as he’s ushered outside in the wave of kids exiting the room. The door slams shut as Vlad King closes it behind him, and the class is noticeably quieter as the lesson starts, some boring shit about submitting paperwork on time in an office setting and how to deal with setbacks.

You try to focus as much as you can, but it's hard to ignore the way the back of your desk leg is being repeatedly slammed against any time Vlad King raises his voice, so the sound is muted to everyone but you. You grit your teeth and grip your pencil harder, almost breaking the lead when almost two minutes later you smell singed hair.

And singed hair it was, all yours in fact as you frantically gather your hair in your hands and see burnt stands breaking off in your trembling fingers. In complete fury now, you whip around and harshly whisper, “Can you please stop-”

“You got some fuckin’ nerve, you know that? Hangin’ out with that freak, and then defending him-especially in front of me. As if that’s not bad enough, you got the balls to ignore me when you owe me an apology.”

You gape at him and even let out a little disbelieving laugh at his words. He said you had some nerve when he’s the one asking for an apology?

“Apologize for what, exactly? Stopping you from harassing Tenko and calling him offensive names?”

His eyes widen mockingly, his eyebrows raised as the staples around his mouth tremble in his effort to not burst out laughing at your indignation.

“I’m not harassing him. He should be glad we’re even approaching him, we’re like the closest things to friends he has. Why do you think he only hangs with you? It’s ‘cause you're the only braindead idiot in this school who doesn’t realize what a creep he is. And as for the ‘offensive names’, it can’t be offensive if it's true. He is a f-”

Your ears start ringing as you feel like he’s pushing you past your breaking point. You can’t bear to hear any more slander against one of your closest friends, but as you try to whip around to face the front Dabi quickly catches onto one of your wrists, preventing you from turning away from him any more. His staples holding his scarred sin together dig into your flesh, and you quietly whimper in pain as you try to wrench your hand free.

He simply tightens his grip and jerks you forward, causing you to practically fall out of your seat as he leans in close.

“Don’t try to move away from me, Y/N. You were practically thrown at me, and that means you’ll do whatever the fuck I want, when I want.”

You look up at him with glassy eyes, hair messily covering your face from the rough treatment. He looks almost thoughtful, the closest thing to a soft emotion you’ve seen from him yet as he brushes the hair from out of your face and behind your ear.

“And right now, your fiance wants you to stop hanging out with Shimura. Permanently.”

**********

It’s less of a school bell and more like a trumpet from heaven when the indication of the class ending rings throughout the school. You had already packed your bag almost 10 minutes before the bell rang, not wanting to waste a second of the opportunity to make a mad dash away from Dabi.

But you needn’t worry, because while you were practically sprinting down the halls looking for Tenko’s class, Dabi and Hawks were leisurely taking their sweet time packing up their bags, which were a little too light for anything deemed studious.

Hawks chuckles after your form stumbled out of the classroom. “What’s gotten into her? Scared her off already?”

“Something like that,” Dabi scoffs humourlessly. “ I just told her to stop fuckin’ around with Shimura.”

“Man, and here I thought we were gonna take it easy on her for her first day.” Hawks tuts, shaking his head mockingly so that his blond locks fall handsomely around his face. “You’re breaking her in like a dog, Dabi.”

But Dabi could care less about the timing of your inevitable breaking. He shoulders his bag and runs a hand through his hair, careful enough not to dislodge the black dye.

They both walk out of the room to the next class, Hawks sending random girls an appreciative up-down look that lead to eruptions of teasing giggles along the halls. “Regardless of how or when I break her-which, by the way, is gonna happen hard ‘cause there’s no fuckin’ way I’m putting up with her bitchy attitude-I’m not gonna let that walking mistake hang out with her anymore. He’s dead weight to anyone, and it’s so embarrassing to see how big of a boner he gets when she looks at him.”

“That's the spirit,” Hawks clapped him on the back, steering him around the corner to their next class.

“By the way man, you know we have lunch with her too, right?”

**********

“And then he burned my hair!” You cry indignantly, folding your arms and leaning against the wall next to Tenko who was waiting in line for mediocre cafeteria food.

“See? I told you, he’s dangerous. Him and Hawks both have a messed up sense of humor, and they have no shame in it either. You need to be more careful around them Y/N, don’t piss Dabi off especially, please.” He murmurs, looking at you through his bluish white bangs. You pick up a banana and plop it onto his green tray, causing him to whine about ‘NPC’s poisoning the crappy facility food’. Whatever that meant.

“It’s healthy, you need it,” you shoot him a disapproving glare and pointedly lift one of his free spindly arms, gesturing to the lack of meat on his skin.

“Okay mom,” he sneers as you pluck a Twinkie from his tray and transfer it to yours with an innocent smile as you do so.

You both reach the end of the line and you wait as Tenko checks out. Looking around, it seems like the cafeteria is filled, so you elect to eat outside on one of the benches.

“But, anyways,” you continue your conversation from earlier, “is that how they always are? How do you deal with it?”

“Well, usually if you try to stay out of their way and just do as they do, both of ‘em will leave you alone.” He says uncomfortably, opening the courtyard doors for you with nine fingers as you quickly hold his tray to minimize the effort.

“I usually try to think of them as the boss battle. If you avoid them, you’ll have a peaceful day. But if you try picking a fight with them, then you’ll take massive damage.” He shudders as flashbacks of burning rocks pelting his skin and ripped clothes enter his vision.

You scan the area looking for a quiet place to sit among the pink ground littered with cherry blossom petals, and find relief when you see Rumi, Takeyama and Kamiji scattered around a bench on the farthest side of the building. You call out for them and all three of them simultaneously turn and wave excitedly at you to come over.

The grass feels lush and soft under your feet as the sakura petals swirl around you both as you cross the school grounds. You got lucky eating outside with this weather, and you internally want to make it a habit to come outside if the skies stay clear and blue like today’s.

“Hey you two! Lucky you both are in our lunches too, huh?” Rumi smiles wide as Takeyama tosses you a cherry Ramune. Kamiji scooches over on top of the wooden table to make room for you to sit as Tenko takes a place on the seat itself.

“Yeah, we didn’t have you all last year so I’m glad your schedules coincide with ours. How was class?” You press down on the little ball at the top of your Ramune lid and watch as it drops and fizzles in the substance. Tenko eyes it with interest, so you pass it his way and watch amusedly as he snaps open the top and practically chugs the whole thing in one go, precariously holding a finger out while he does so.

“Ugh, don’t get me started. Midnight’s tits were bouncing in my face the whole time, I couldn’t keep my eyes on my paper.” Takeyama swats Rumi’s white ears as Kamiji bursts out laughing.

“God, you’re so vile. But I can’t lie, she definitely improved her fit from last year.” Yuu says with a snort.

“She’s such a badass, I’d totally ask her hand in marriage if I wasn’t getting saddled with-” But you freeze mid-sentence, face heating up as you catch your mistake.

Tenko chokes on the drink, the girls squealing in disgust as Ramune spews out of his nostrils. You stammer, trying to cover up your tracks but there’s no need to as the focal point of the conversation turns to something behind you.

“Oh my god, what are they doing here?” Kamiji whispers in awe.

You whip your head around, and for the third time that day, your heart sinks to your ass.

**********

“Where is she, anyways? I don’t see her in here,” Dabi tries to ask disinterestedly as he casually sweeps his eyes around the crowded hall.

“Ahhh, the pining begins, I see. Don’t worry, Rumi has the same lunch with us, so my best guess is she’s with her.” Hawks chomps on a piece of chicken, somehow managing not to spill any teriyaki sauce on his jacket.

“Shut up birdbrain, I’m not pining. I just wanna make sure she’s not embarrassing me any more than she already has,” Dabi drones, cuffing the blond upside his head.

“Question: how is she embarrassing you if no one knows you two are engaged?” His red wings flutter with glee as he catches Dabi giving him a dark look, opting not to answer.

“You’re not answering my ques-tion”, Hawks sings, thoroughly basking in the catching Dabi’s ulterior motives.

“And I’m not gonna answer either. Just tell me where she sits, idiot.” Dabi snaps, getting antsier by the second.

“Alright, alright, cool your head, matchstick. Rumi usually sits outside, so let’s check there. But hurry up ‘cause I’m hungry” Hawks whines as they make their way to the outside doors.

They too are greeted with the same colors of pink sakura and bright well-kept grass, along with clear blue skies. But all Dabi sees is red when his gaze finally looks around and sees you with your friends...including Tenko Shimura.

Hawks sees you too, and whistles as he glances back at Dabi’s face. If looks could kill, you’d be a burning pile of ash right now.

“I swear to fucking god, I’m gonna kill them both.” Dabi growls as he begins to stalk towards your group. And of course, his friend joins in too, if not to just watch the episode that will unfold, but rather to actually prevent Dabi from causing any lasting damage...at least, on school property, that is.

At the sound of your animated laughter and voice, the inky black mess of hair snaps up.

He doesn’t like the way his heart clenches when the sight of you registers.

Your laugh is a mix of soft giggles that crescendos into crazed wheezes that are accompanied by breathless snorts.

It sounds so fucking ugly and obnoxious.

He wants to hear more of it.

Your hands wave around wildly as you animate your story with various gestures, sometimes throwing your arms out in the air and then bringing them close together to emphasize something else.

Who the hell uses hand gestures?

What do your hands feel like? Are they soft, or rough? Are they bigger or smaller than his?

What would they feel like if they caressed his skin? If they slapped him?

Dabi is 20 feet away, and you still haven’t noticed him stalking towards you yet.

Your head is thrown back now, hair shaking as you screech with laughter, your face scrunched up in laughter.

He should’ve burned the rest of your hair, too.

What would the material feel like through his fingers if he yanked the strands? If he caressed them slowly, in the dark?

Why the fuck am I thinking about that?

Your laughter has stopped now, the air eerily quiet. Dabi makes straight eye contact with you as he sees you've finally noticed him, as he watches Rumi whisper something to the group.

He sees Tenko look panic-stricken, fumbling around his lunch to pack up and no doubt get the hell out of there.

But not you, though.

You just stare at him like he’s a wild animal, like you don’t know why he’s coming towards you so fast and with such purpose.

He’s glad your eyes are on him. Property should know who it’s attention should be on, and who to cater to.

He just wishes your eyes weren’t filled with so much fear. It’s making his heart squeeze and it feels weird. He doesn’t like it.

“Hey Rumi. Yuu, Moe, how are you ladies doing?” He hears Hawk’s smooth voice flow into the air and join in with the falling of the soft tree petals as well.

“Hey Hawks,” they drawl, no doubt excited to be blessed with his presence.

Only you and Tenko stay quiet, the latter looking uncomfortably at his feet while you simply stare at Dabi.

“I see you ladies are all enjoying the weather tod-”

“-What the fuck are you doing here?” Dabi rudely interrupts the would-be smooth transition into conversation, but at the moment he doesn't care. He wants to know why the hell you so obviously ignored what he said earlier, and where the fuck you found the balls to blatanlty piss him off.

But you stay silent, and stare at him further, eyes widening marginally like a deer in headlights.

His heavy presence brings the feeling of death, the onslaught of dread, and it invades the group’s senses like the plague. His flashing arctic eyes scream murder, his balled hands reflect nothing but danger, and his set-mouth indicates that anything that comes out of it will end in vicious tears and a broken body.

It contrasts so weirdly with his counterpart, who has a kilowatt smile that stretches from one ear to the other, his teeth gleaming so blindingly similar to the sun that it was another reason you couldn’t keep eye contact with him for too long. His hands were stuffed in his jacket pockets, showing no sign of lashing out and causing strife. The yellow sky rays bounced off his back, making him glow with heavenly golden light like an angel, and his eyes....oh lord, his honey colored hues swam with mischief; untold secrets ladeled into his ears in the dead of the night when he would lie side to side with multiple women of all shapes, colors, and sizes.

But either way, regardless of the mismatched auras of the two, they both brought chaos and hell in their own ways, subtle or not.

“Uhhh, ladies, why don’t I treat you to some of the school’s finest soba?” Hawks chuckles and scratches the back of his head before offering a hand to Rumi. “It seems like Dabi here needs to have a conversation with Y/N in private.”

Rumi takes his hand and offers her own to Kamiji and Takeyama, who all pull each other up and look at you curiously. They’re smart enough not to ask openly, though. No sense in making things more awkward than they already are.

Tenko tries to subtly get up as well, but is stopped when Dabi snarls, “You stay there. You and I are gonna have a conversation as well, fucktard.” He looks directly at you as he hurls the insult at the gangly boy, who flinches as if the words were knives.

You nap out of your horrified reverie.

“Uhhh, well, we’ll see you around, I guess.” Kamiji calls from over her shoulder at you, her face sympathetic as Hawks’s arm circles around her shoulders and pulls her closer, whispering something in her ear that makes her blush.

“Tenko, you can leave. Whatever patchwork here has to say has nothing to do with you. It’s between us, as my fiance.” You deadpan and return his ice-cold stare.

The poor boy looks between his tormentor and saviour, conflicted as to what he should do. While Dabi’s arms and legs are starting to alight, you remain calm as ever perched on the table as if the petals littered on the ground weren’t silently catching fire.

“If you get off the ground, I promise you won’t leave here with all your limbs intact.” The flame user says lowly, his voice catching on the gravely rasp of his threatening words.

“Tenko. Please leave.” You say with finality, crossing your arms.

A tense moment passes between all three of you, Tenko sweating bullets. He slowly starts to build his limbs up to a stand, his height matching Dabi’s yet somehow still cowering over the striking look he was receiving from him. He hesitates for a moment before sticking a cautious leg out towards where the other four departed people went, as if he were testing the waters.

Dabi copies you and merely stares him down.

His expression is unreadable as Tenko moves another leg out, and another as his body starts functioning properly and jerkily walks away from the two of you. Miraculously, Dabi is letting him, not seeming too keen on fulfilling his past promise of detaching his anatomy in favor of getting to you now.

And then there was one.

You both look away from Tenko’s disappearing figure and finally at each other.

You still don’t say anything.

He starts slowly circling around the table towards you, keeping his malicious eyes on you and your body the whole time. But regardless of the feeling of dread that courses through your veins as he draws nearer, you refuse to kowtow to this overgrown-spoiled-rotten eldest child. He was just another man, another blob of superior prejudice that was in your way of being happy in your career and in your life in general.

One more step and he’s finally in your face now, a mere foott away from your sitting form. Your eye level is with his chest as he stands before you, tilting his head as his eyes rake your figure up and down. Your skin crawls and you look away, not wanting to react to his offensive gaze when he suddenly lurches forward. You can’t help as your indifferent demeanor cracks as you flinch when both his hands settle on your knees.

He leans down, a few inches away from you when he speaks.

“Are you deaf as well as stupid, you quirkless cunt?” He breathes into your face. His hands warm up ever so slightly on your knees, and you can’t help but think with a flash of paranoia how easily and quietly he burned your precious hair not even two hours ago.

You try to placate him by talking calmly, a brutal contrast in the way your heart was pounding in your tightening chest.

“I don’t know what you mean, Touya. If you’re upset about something, we can talk about it without you trying to intimidate me.” Placing your hands on his atop your knees, you gently attempt to move him off but only succeed in him gripping you tighter. He wrenches your knees apart and you gasp as he slides himself in between your legs.

“Oh, you know exactly what I mean. Don’t play coy with me, I told you clearly not to hang around with that greasy freak. Or do I need to give you a permanent reminder, huh?”

He grasps your chin and shakes your head roughly as he presses himself further into you, hips gently rocking back and forth into the confines of your skirt.

It’s hard to keep up a calm facade when his clothed erection is feeling up the outline of your panties.

You release a frustrated cry and try to buck him off of you, but that only ends up pushing even further against him, much to your displeasure.

“Fucking let go! Let go of me you disgusting asshole!” Punching and kicking does absolutely nothing to deter him, he only laughs at your pathetic defense as he grabs a stray hand in its mission to slap him square across the face and slams it down behind you on the table. He fails to stop the other hand though, as it ducks from underneath his chin and gives him a mean uppercut.

He takes it maddeningly gracefully, though, as he finally catches the offensive hand and also smashes it down on the wood, emitting a pained wail from you.

Both of you pant for a couple of seconds, tears of pain and anger threatening to spill over your lashes and reflex tears in his amused ones.

“Do I have your attention now? Or do you want me to bruise your legs too?” He slides closer to your ear and his hot breath tickles your lobe as he whispers darkly, “I got a couple ideas in mind on how I can do that.”

Your eyes widen and you try to jerk violently out of his hold. The patched hands holding onto your wrists heat up significantly, and you wail as your skin simmers and bubbles.

“Please stop, Touya. It hurts,” you sob as he moves back to your face again, his body hovering your overs as he leans in further and hips stilling in their perverse movements, only pressing against your clothed mound at a stand-still now.

“You didn’t answer me. Why the fuck,” his cooled palms flared back to life again and you painstakingly stifle a whimper, “are you hanging out with Shimura again?”

“I-I was just having lunch with him! It wasn’t like we were meeting up outside of school or anything,” you plead with him, completely abandoning your passive facade. At the end of the day, you were quirkless and he wasn’t. Which meant you weren’t stupid or cowardly, but you were just human- you didn’t want to piss him off further by givng shitty answers and then getting burned.

You try shifting to evade the not-so-subtle bulge in his pants but he holds you steadfast. He leers at you, and you turn your head to avoid the manic expression on his face. It was just your bad luck that no one else was around, the rest of the students and teachers heading back inside for their next class.

“Aww what, you’ll take Skin ‘n’ Bones’ dick, but you can’t handle a little teasing from mine? Do I scare you that bad, princess?”

Your bottom lip quivers as you bear his filthy words, your seared hands shaking in pathetic attempts to quiet any pained noise.

He moves his head in such a way that his tilted frame comes a few millimeters away from your trembling smooth lips, and you look up at him with scrunched eyebrows in a plea for mercy.

“Or, has little miss perfect never had a cock before? Never taken a thick, pierced dick up her tight little virgin pussy?” He groans as he rubs his erection up and down your mound, your skirt shifted in the tussle in such a way that it offers him a snatch of open skin that he takes with relish.

You gasp and bite your lip and he thrusts gently into you, looking at your fearful face for the truth.

“Stop-stop being gross Touya. I haven’t done anything like that with him, not that you should care who I fuck with. And for the record, like I said before, I was just having lunch with my friends, not having a goddamn date with any of them, including Tenko. And I don’t know who you think you are telling me who I can or can’t hang out with,” you try to sneer as you finally wrench a hand away from his grip and manage to push him back some with a shaky arm against his toned shoulder.

“We’re not married yet, and Tenko has never done anything perverted or twisted like you that I would have to stay away from him. In fact, if he were my fiance then he’d act like a real one, tenfold than you ever could.”

You don’t realize how big of a mistake you made when Dabi stills his pressing hips and releases your other wrist, which you snatch in your other hand and cradle the bright red flesh.

He backs away a step or two, to your utter astonishment. He looks at you blankly and cocks his head at your unsure self. You have no idea what you said that could have caused such a change in demeanor, weren’t you just dishing back at him what he was giving you?

“You really think he’s that great, huh? Honestly, I shouldn’t even be surprised you do, a quirkless uptight bitch like you goes perfectly with that waste of space.”

“He’s not-” you begin to argue but are cut off when he spins on the heel of his black combat boot and starts walking away from you, only to call out over his shoulder, “If that’s the case sweetheart, I can’t wait for you to see how great and perfect he looks when his skin is burnt to a crisp and his body’s nothing more than ash and soot.”

The blood drains from your face as you realize what you’ve done. You’ve made the target on Tenko’s back even bigger by trying to defend him. There’s no doubt now that if he was trying to evade Dabi and Hawks’ brutal treatment, they’d never let him breathe in peace now.

You’d lose your best friend, and he’d never forgive you.

Pride be damned.

“Wait!” you cry out as you stumble off shaking legs and chase after him. His arms are thrown behind his back in an easy stretch, the movement making his stapled and scarred limbs seem even more menacing than ever before.

“Touya, please, don’t hurt him, he didn’t do anything to you!”

But he clicks his tongue and continues to stroll past you in the same direction your group had fled mere minutes before.

“Too late dollface, I can’t have my little fiance bitch thinking some fuckwad is better than me, can I?” He pouts and gives you an innocent mocking smile, knowing you were breaking slowly at each word that came out of his mouth.

“You should be glad I’m giving him any sort of attention anyways, like I said before he’s a nobody-he never uses his quirk anyways, he might as well be called a quirkless little fuck just like you! Hah! No wonder you two get along so well!”

Tripping over your own feet, you try to keep up with his long strides and sway his mission to either kill Tenko or make his life even more hell than it was before.

“No, no! That’s not true, please, Touya, he’s already so miserable, please leave him alone, I’ll do anything!” You practically shriek as you both finally reach the school doors and his hand grasps the handle.

But he stops. Miraculously, he holds the door handle without turning it, and looks demeaningly at you.

You try hard not to shrink back too much when he leans to your eye level, his hands on his knees as he says sickeningly sweetly, “Anything? You’ll do anything to save that sorry excuse of a bastard? Anything to make me not burn his ass down to hell?”

It's hard to mask the loud gulp you make, and his grin stretches so wide his staples along the corners of his mouth move along as well.

“Y-yes, anything. Please just stop hurting with him or messing with him at all. He’s not the one who pissed you off, I am.” You admit your defeat and hang your head low, peeking up at him between your lashes to judge his reaction.

His cerulean eyes scrutinize you, his nose lifted in the air as he mockingly taps his chin in fake thought.

“Hmm...well, I suppose you could start by not eating lunch with him in the first place. I don’t know how you stomach anything anyways, he reeks of a decaying body.” He smirks, but you dig your nails into your palms so as to not rise to the bait.

Anything.

You need to start putting your fiance before other men, Y/N.

After a moment of silence that ensured you really weren’t going to lash out at him, he continues, this time stepping forward until he has you backed up into the adjacent brick wall in the little hidden alley besides the doors.

“And,” his saccharine words penetrate your dizzy head as his arm stretches out towards you, and for the third time that day you were essentially pinned verbally and physically as his hand toys with the hem of your collar, “from now on you’ll be eating with me and Hawks too if he’s around. You’re also gonna stop being such a teasing little prude and let me touch any part of you without backing away or saying any bitchy comments. It’s your duty as a good little wife anyways, right Y/N?”

You squeeze your eyes shut as you feel one hand make its way to circle around your neck in a snug noose and the other slip up your shirt, fingers punctuated with cold little stitches spreading across the expanse of your stomach, causing goosebumps to erupt across your skin.

“Come on,” He whispers in his gravelly voice, leaning into the crook of your neck, “where’s that little attitude now, huh?”

For Tenko. This is all only for Tenko.

“Okay Touya. I’ll do it. Just...please, please give him a break.” You muster up the last of your courage to face him, and you finally feel a single tear treacherously escape the confines of your eye and slide down your face. You feel humiliated, having put up such false pretenses of being cool, calm and collected when he first approached you and now...now you were an emotional mess. In just a few sentences and unwanted physical contact, he had you right where he wanted.

And the worst part was, you both knew you couldn’t even tell anyone. If you told Tenko, he’d immediately reprimand you and try to brave it by hanging out with you just so you didn’t have to endure the plight he himself was always in. You couldn’t confide in any of your girlfriends, no doubt Hawks would somehow spin it with his honeyed words to make you seem like the crazy, overreacting one. Your parents were a no-go either, having been telling you from the start that they weren’t to hear any criticism of their perfect, levelheaded future son-in-law.

You wonder how your parents would feel about their dear son-in-law licking the tears off your flushed cheeks with a condescending chuckle.

“Oh come on doll, having lunch with me isn’t so bad now, is it?” He cooes at you with faux sympathy. He does nothing to hide the twitching muscle in his jaw that prevents him from bursting out laughing when you furiously brush the tears and his saliva off your face.

No, I don’t want to have lunch with you, you sick freak. I want to see my friends and not feel my heart pounding up my throat when I’m with you.

“No, it’s not bad,” you whisper dejectedly, hanging your head and waiting for his next move.

“Attagirl,” he says lowly, one finger ghosting over the waistband of your pants before retreating out of your shirt and to his side. The other hand wrapped around your neck squeezes once, relishing in your panicked gasp and frantic scrabbling at the back of his hand before also coming down.

He finally deems your disheveled state a good enough reason to stop tormenting you, and he backs away with a little smile on his face that does nothing to calm your nerves.

Turning the corner and opening the doors, he doesn’t look at your pathetic shaking body sliding down the wall when he says, “I’d get to class if I were you. Wouldn’t want to get in trouble for hanging out with people you shouldn't be with in the first place.

Something tells you he’s not referring to himself as the doors bang shut.

**************

8 New Messages

Rumi: Hey girl, you okay? Dabi seemed kinda off, I wanted to ask you what happened but I figured you two needed space and Hawks said not to bother you abt it:/ Did you guys get into a fight?

Yuu: Ummm since when did you and Dabi talk? And since when did he get mad at you? Text back ASAP!!!

Moe: If you’re still alive, you def owe us an explanation, hello? What did that absolute hunk want from you? I didn’t even know you two knew each other!

Ten-ten: Y/N please text me back as soon as possible

Ten-ten: Are you okay? Did he hurt you?

Ten-ten: What did he even want from you?

Ten-ten: If you’re mad that I left, I’m so sorry, I just thought me being there wouldn’t be much help to you

Ten-ten: Please tell me you’re okay

2:10: I’m fine, just walk around the back and meet me by the gate when the bell rings. Keep your head down, too.

**********

Dabi doesn’t feel any shame jerking off in the bathroom.

Hawks doesn’t feel embarrassed either, listening through Dabi’s grunts and shaky breaths as he recounts the entirety of what happened between you and him after the group left, babes hanging off Hawks’ arms.

“So, what, you two just boned and you told Shimura to piss off? That’s what got your dick hard as a diamond?” Hawks chuckles, folding his arms and leaning against the white tile wall.

“Yeah,” Dabi grunts as his hand works vigorously up his shaft, his piercings clinking harmoniously at his ministrations, “But fuck, man, she felt so soft and hot down there. Her stomach was so smooth too, I couldn't keep my hands to mys-ahh-self.” He groans as he climaxes, watching his precious seed erupt and drop into the toilet below him. What a waste.

He wishes it went into your mouth instead.

“Her stomach?” Hawks’s avian eyes practically bulge out of his head as he roars with laughter, dodging weak blue flames aimed straight at his hair. “God, you sound like a virgin, man. Who the fuck gets turned on by a stomach?”

“Shut the hell up you overgrown chicken. I don’t fucking know, okay? She just- argh, I don’t know, when I saw her from a distance I didn’t really think much of her but when I got all close up with her I felt like I was going crazy. I mean, my body started heating up more than normal and I just wanted to touch her.”

The blond was quiet, continuing to listen to his friend’s rant as Dabi washed his hands and inspected his spiky hair in the dirty mirror.

“And her attitude? My god, hearing every bitchy word come out of her mouth was worth the look on her face when I held her down. Priceless,” he chuckles, shaking his head as he begins tightening a loose stitch under his eyebag.

“She smelled pretty fuckin’ good too, maybe thats what got me going in the first place. I just wanted to be closer to her, regardless of how she saw me. It was just so satisfying seeing her break down, and all because of me, yknow?”

He finally finishes checking his reflection and picks up his bag from the ground, Hawks following pursuit as they make their way outside the bathroom. They were currently skipping their last class, Quirk Training because they could actually afford to. Their teacher knew that both of them surprisingly had the highest grades in the class and continuously kicked every other student into the dust, the rest of their peers not having the right quirks to even hope to make it to the two delinquent’s level of strength and skill. It wouldn’t hurt to skip a few times, they would just pick up right where they left off, pummeling every other kid aside until they made their way to the top again.

Plus, with all the testosterone raging through Dabi’s blood after lunch, he decided it would be better to take all the energy out in more relieving ways in the bathroom rather than using the adrenaline to accidentally blast some poor chump’s face off in the heat of the moment, pun intended.

Not that he would mind, don’t get him wrong. It would be pretty funny seeing the look of horror on everyone’s face when the smell of a burning body hit their nostrils. But it wasn’t worth a suspension, or worse, an earful from his dad.

“Oh, and by the way, she’s gonna have lunch with us from now on. I told her if she didn’t want me beating Shimura into a pulp she was gonna stop eating with him and come join us instead.”

At this, Hawks gives Dabi a smirk and says dryly, “How romantic of you. If you wanted her to spoon feed and baby you at lunch so you could have a boner the entire period, you should’ve just told her straight up.”

Dabi opens his mouth to argue with half of his statement before he’s interrupted.

“Where is Shimura by the way? Did you see him leave the locker room? Training’s done, he should be out any minute now, why don’t we pay him a little visit and relay the same message you gave your little bitch to him as well?”

Both boys smirk at each other as they make their way down to the locker rooms. Unfortunately for Tenko and fortunately for the devious duo , all three of them shared the same last class of Quirk Training. The frail, quiet boy tried his best to stay out of their way, but he might as well have had a sign up on his head that said MAKE MY LIFE HELL, PLEASE from the way he scratched himself raw, earning occasional disgusted looks from girls and snickers from a majority of the guys. His hair was almost always unkempt and in his face, prompting Dabi to yank his overgrown bangs up and out of his face as he snarled and spat venom into his victim’s wincing expression. When they sparred, Dabi held absolutely nothing back as he relished in the difference in their fighting styles: Tenko with close combat techniques and Dabi excelling in long distance. It was a recipe for disaster on Tenko’s side, and almost a cruel joke to the flame user as he easily sent wave after wave of burning hot hellfire towards the yelping boy. It came to a point where Dabi would openly and very loudly question why Tenko would even try, why he would even attend this class when he was beaten in under a minute-not nearly enough time to utilize his quirk.

Their teacher would scold Dabi very lightly, but the damage was done and doubt was already planted into everyone’s mind as the seeds of disdain germinated and grew into ponderings of, has he ever beaten anyone before? He’s always out of the ring so fast, I didn’t even understand what his quirk was. Is he failing, how is he even passing this class?

Only you were the one who knew it was his lifelong dream of working in the Rescue and Search unit, his quirk of decaying proving to be so deadly and harmful that he never had the courage to use it against anyone, no matter how bad they had it out for him. He could never live with himself if he ever caused anyone permanent damage that could end up in paralyzation, or worse.

But that was the difference between poor Tenko and Dabi. Only one of them acted out in an eat or be eaten way.

Hawks was more subtle in his torment, having less of a grudge towards the sulking grey mass of limbs. Sure, it was amusing watching him squirm and flinch and hear him plead raspingly to move your feathers, please, they’re covering my nose I can’t bREATHE I CAN’T BREATHE PLEASE I’LL DIE-

But unlike Dabi, he didn’t get that big of a high from drawing blood and whimpering. That was all for fun and jokes to indulge in Dabi’s selfish and ruthless desires, sure, but the real rush he got was from the overall power imbalance from everyone else he received. It was knowing that he was at the top of the food chain, that no one could surpass him, even his brooding patchwork friend who he considered to be beside him if anything, but not above him in any sense. Tenko was just another cog in the grand machine that reinforced that idea every time he wilted and withered under Hawks’ sickeningly sweet, fake smile.

You can’t blame him, either. He never originally asked for any of the attention the school practically spoon-fed him with when he was younger. No, he didn’t seek out any of the multitudes of guys that asked him to hang out every other weekend at the beach or park, and he was always indifferent to the girls begging him to spend the night and exchange numbers on the regular. They were all idiots anyways, what did they know? Sex, fame, money, drugs, all that bullshit that every young adult craves. He was better than that, he had a goal, he had ulterior motives, but he soon began to realize that the mind-numbingly brain dead people who circled him like their god could very well improve his chances of achieving said goal.

And so Hawks began to painstakingly take time out to meet some tools dudes at the beach or catch a movie with them, he started opening up to sluts and bimbos girls via their legs more often and eventually he became a name revered around school, a reputation told and passed around the halls in whispers that traveled through notes and texts exchanged throughout classes.

It just so happened to be in his luck that he was able to one day put a face to another name that floated through the halls in his passing classes: Dabi.

They had been paired up to sparr, both sets of ears alert and open when their teacher read aloud each other’s quirks. Fire and feathers, huh? What a joke.

At least, that's what the both of them thought about each other until they actually started fighting.

Columns of cobalt flames rained above and around Hawks, and he was surrounded mere seconds after the match started. But nevertheless, his feathers detected a breeze from an open air pocket through the wall of fire, and he used his great wings to propel him through the slim opening to safety.

That was the first time Dabi had ever been bested by anyone before, having every single one of his limbs pinned down by multiple heavy feathers tearing through his clothes, and similarly, it was the first time Hawks had even been surrounded so quickly by anyone else either.

Thus was the start of their begrudging comradeship, which quickly evolved into something akin to a friendship when less training commenced and more grunted words and short phrases thrown to each other formed into gruff sentences, and bitter rants about shitty parents, being surrounded by painfully stupid peers, and how everyone else but them two saw the world for what it really was: a playground where they could topple everyone else down and somehow still manage to win those same hearts over as they used them as stepping stones to their own advantages.

Dabi’s lust for blood and pain went hand in hand with Hawk’s craving for power. It was disgusting how the school worshipped them, taking any instance of abuse from either of them with a grain of salt, having already submitted to their superior auras. They truly were stepping stones, eagerly ready and oblivious to be used.

And Tenko was just that, another meek, fragile little stepping stone that seemed so easy to crack...but somehow, instead of shattering into hundreds of pieces, he managed to retain his brittle shape and morph into a thorn in Dabi’s side. When he would be shoved into lockers for seemingly hours on end with burning feathers taped over his mouth (courtesy of Hawks to supply some material) that accentuated the scars on the lower half of his face, he wouldn’t tattle to any head authority or teacher. When they would tear and burn his clothes off in the locker room after their training sessions and force him to walk home in sweaty gym clothes, Tenko never lifted a finger to decay a hand or turn a feather into dust. He would simply sulk off and try to remain invisible and out of their way.

It drove Dabi crazy; he wanted the translucent skinned boy to scream for his fucking life, he wanted to see him lash out and fight, he wanted him to squeal like the pig he was. He wanted more reasons to beat him down and feel an ounce of joy in himself that he never received elsewhere. Seeing people shake and cower before him gave him the same rush as any heavy drug would do-it was addicting, and left him craving for more. It reinforced the idea that he was better than anyone else, and if his dad wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction or assurance that there was a purpose to his miserable life, then he would have to relish in the emotions he felt within others, even if it meant at the expense of his peers.

And although he would never admit it, it secretly was hilarious as fuck for Hawks to watch Dabi lose his mind slowly but surely over the most trivial of things, like Tenko’s lack of reaction to their abuse. He knew it only came from the neglect Dabi felt at home, Endeavor’s blatant disappointment embedded its manifestation in the eldest son’s whole being, even if he would always deny that's the case. The lack of direction and emotion Enji showed to his lost cause of a son caused Dabi to lash out in increasingly aggressive ways at school. It just proved that even though Dabi thought he was better than everyone else, he truly was just another sheep like the rest of these idiots milling around. The brooding, aloof face he put up at school wasn’t enough to fool the sharp-witted avian; he was just an average spoiled elitist brat that threw tantrums when he didn’t get what he wanted, how stupid could he be? He thought too much of what others thought, even if he sought validation through his parents, who gives a fuck? It’s just another useless miserable factor of his life to ponder on, in Hawks’ opinion.

If you asked Dabi what he thought of Hawks, he would give you a similar answer but with different facets. Sure, it was nice to have another god of the school walk around by his side, enforcing their reputations, and yes, both of them connected on negligent parents... but Hawks gave in too much into materialistic things. Sex and popularity were deterrents from the real world, and Dabi would be damned if he were to follow pursuit. Hawks was slowly proving himself to also be another pawn in their life’s game of chess, but for the time being he knew that making friends with him was looking at the bigger picture if he wanted to make a name for himself, no matter how painful that process was at times. Why the fuck would he waste time going to parties just to socialize and bang a bunch of slutty whores when he could be proving himself to the yakuza? While Hawks would be schmoozing with some busty bimbo and playing beer pong on a Saturday, Dabi would be making his own types of friends in hidden alleyways and getting acquainted with shady figures like Kai Chisaki, a boy around their age with connections that ran around the city and underneath the city lines. The scarred boy was dedicated to his eventual goal to rid this rotten society of all the superficial heroes and scum, so naturally he hadn’t the need or want to indulge in his own selfish desires.

Up until this point, that is.

Which brings him and his winged partner-in-crime to now, waiting in the shadows outside the entrance to the locker room. Waiting for a certain spindly, greasy-haired freak to make his appearance so he could beat the shit out of him and release some still pent-up energy that was not relinquished in the bathroom.

So that he could tell him to stay the fuck away from what rightfully belonged to him, for the first time in his life.

He reached down to pick up some gravel, hand-picking the rocks that seemed the sharpest as he heated up his palm. Without saying a word, Hawks’ feathers floated towards Dabi’s hand, embedding their bristles between the rocks.

It took about 5 more minutes of aimlessly lounging against the wall and burning other various thrown-out papers scattered around the ground, until the man of the hour made his appearance.

It was pathetic, really, the way the door slowly creaked open as his matted pigeon colored head peeked out, swiveling around to take his surroundings. The second his head turned right, his eyes widened as he saw the hellraisers, and Tenko frantically tried to retreat back inside and slam the door shut.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t beat the too-fast quills that snatched him by the collar and practically threw him forward. He flailed his limbs, trying to regain his balance and flee his inevitable beating. The panic that rose in his throat grew exponentially as he was dragged further towards Hawks and Dabi, who was juggling burning blue rocks in his hand along with familiar red plumage.

He knew the drill all too well, becoming dreadfully acquainted with the makeshift missiles over the years.

“Hey, Shit-mura, catch!” Dabi lobbed a pierced feather at his bony abdomen, and Tenko flinched violently as a glowing blue pebble ricocheted off his body, hitting against a barely-fading bruise from a similar routine performed merely weeks ago.

Albeit for a different reason, one that didn’t have to do with a not-so-lucky girl like you.

Tenko fell backwards as a volley of feathers jabbed under the soles of his feet, and watched in horror as the perpetrators advanced towards him, Hawks with his wings so leisurely ruffling in the breeze with a laid-back smile on his face, hands tucked in his jacket pockets contrasting with the demonic grin etched on Dabi’s face as they leer down on him.

“What do you want now?” The fallen boy barely mutters, not bothering to look up at them.

“Don’t address me like that you little shit,” Dabi hisses, flames flaring up in his palms just to show off how much ammo was still burning and waiting to be used...all for him, of course.

“Stop hanging out with Y/N. The next time I see you talking with her, or even looking in her direction I’ll burn your sorry ass alive. Though I doubt anyone would care, anyways.” He speaks curtly, and it kills him internally to almost admit how frustrated he is seeing you two cross paths, even after a sole day.

Tenko raises his eyebrows, looking between Dabi and Hawks, who, for the meantime, doesn't feel a need to waste his breath on such a petty matter.

“We’re just friends, that's all we are. If you’re so concerned about me getting in the way, I promise I won't-”

“-You think I’m actually worried about losing you to her?” The inky head draws closer, his voice low and raspy as he laughs. “Let me tell you something, and listen to me very clearly, because the next time I repeat myself is the day I’ll fuck you both up- I don’t give a shit who wants her, or who doesn’t. I’m not concerned about losing her either, you know why?” He grabs the frayed collar of Tenko’s shirt, and the latter chokes as his air is squeezed out of his frail throat, hands frantically grabbling at the purple-scarred constraints.

He can feel flecks of spit on his face, the hands around his neck heating up suffocatingly as Dabi nails the final lid in his coffin.

“Because that little tease was practically sold to me, get it? I didn’t even want her in the first place, which essentially makes her nothing short of a playtoy for me to fuck and fuck with whenever the hell I want, without you in the picture. I don’t need some weepy moron like your sorry ass getting her all teary-eyed when her eyes should be on me and me only.”

He releases the weakling’s throat, wishing it was your smooth one instead. He almost would’ve had a boner if Tenko’s big, gulping breaths were a little bit more feminine sounding, like yours.

“Okay, okay, whatever man, I’ll do what I can to stay away from her. Just…” and his voice trailed off into a whisper, hoping he could muster any more sincerity in his words, “...please don’t break her heart, or be too rough with her.” The mere thought of you being bruised and banged up like he was made him gag.

It was sickening how similar his words mirrored your own.

Dabi scoffs as Hawks finally decides to speak up, spreading his hands in a faux show of good gesture.

“I gotta admit though, Shimura, you got good taste in girls. I’m almost impressed you managed to get a cute little thing like her to even touch you.” Tenko blanches, noting the way Dabi’s jaw clenches as the instigator’s mouth curves into a smirk, all of them knowing full well that the carefully chosen words were meant to rile the situation up even further.

But after a tense moment of everyone glancing at each other, the patchwork figure relents and exhales through his nostrils, deciding to grant the mess of fallen limbs a rare chance of mercy.

“Shut the fuck up bird brain. Let’s go, I don’t wanna hear my dad bitchin’ if I come home late again,” He kicks Hawk’s boot with his own and turns around towards the entrance of the school, not sparing Tomura a second glance. Hawks laughs handsomely and gives the rattled boy a mock salute and a fluff of his grand wings before trailing after his counterpart.

Shimura finally lets out a shaky breath, slowly picking his scattered belongings off the ground, snapping his head back up frequently as if the two were bound to come back and mess with him further.

While he was picking his remaining binders and gym clothes off the ground, unbeknownst to him, about 50 feet up and out the school Hawks was fishing an object out of his plush wings.

“What’re you doing?” Dabi asks lazily as they walk the streets of Musutafu, kicking sake bottles out of the way.

“Hol’ on-” Hawks grunts, yanking the object loose from his tight confines of his feathers before placing it in Dabi’s open palm.

“Huh? The hell’s this?” He raises an eyebrow, gingerly holding up the beaten screen in front of his face.

“That right there is extra material to hold against your little wifey. Seems like he had more pressing things on his mind rather than to check for all his belongings,” The quick-witted avian pats his elusive wings proudly, basking in the benefits his stealthy quirk allows him.

And sure enough, as Dabi gleefully cackles with laughter at his good fortune, Tenko Shimura is desperately patting down his pockets, looking for his phone while you chatter on cluelessly next to him.

****************

“So? How was your first day?”

“Did you see Y/N? I heard from some upperclassmen that you got classes with her.”

“You should walk her home after school!”

Touya is immediately bombarded with questions from his siblings the second he makes his presence known by slamming the front door shut.

He growls under his breath at all the clammer around him, and he barks at them to shut the hell up before he burns the house down.

It doesn’t faze the rest of them who are blessed with their ice quirks, and they continue to pester him until he spills the most meager, unsatisfactory answers to them.

“Yeah, I had a class and lunch with her. Happy? Now seriously back off.”

Fuyumi and Natuso cheer as Shoto gives a slight smile.

He heads off into the dining table, munching on carb-infested snacks as he scrolls through Tenko’s phone.

The messages between you and him are long, dating back years that he has to swipe for minutes before getting to the first words of your conversations.

A majority of the speech bubbles hold nothing but dorky back and forth’s of new movies that came out, hanging out here and there, and school help. Sometimes he’d come across you asking for advice for your parents, or ranting about having to keep a frustratingly posh look in public, and he realizes surprisingly you two might have more in common than he thought.

He hadn’t even bothered to look at most of Tenko’s messages, nothing holding too much leverage on potential blackmail or more fuel against him, but suddenly his thumbs stilled as his eyes rove over a conversation from a couple months ago.

Y/N: Ugh, it’s just one of those days, y’know? Idk if its PMS but i’ve literally been watching porn for like 2 hours now

Touya’s eyes widen and he brings the screen mere inches from his eyes, just to ensure he’s not imagining his good luck...as well as disbelief.

The next messages however, grab his elation by the balls and twist them into a cloud of red-filled rage.

11:57 pm: I could give you something better than porn if you want:)

It takes all he has not to throw up his munchies on the table at the pure inexperience Tenko’s words so evidently hold.

Can this bastard be more cringe?

Apparently it didn’t matter to you, because not even a full minute later you had responded to past-Tenko.

Y/N: Oh yeah, like what?

Touya excuses himself from the table, ignoring Natsuo’s raised eyebrow directed at him from the kitchen.

He stalks to his room, closing the door behind him and locking it for good measure. Thankfully the questionnaire was over the moment he walked in, and his parents were gone until the evening, so he was set for privacy. It’s not like anyone would willingly want to come into his room unannounced anyways, unless they were looking for a death wish.

The gloomy black decor around his man-cave suited his mood well, only the dim light of his computer and phone providing him access to witness your whore antics.

Picture after picture filled the conversation, lacy white lingerie and red silk complimenting your figure well, and his heart speeds up when he sees the slutty expression on your face.

You were wearing makeup in some pictures, and completely bare-faced in others. Some photos didn’t do justice to your beauty with the naive angles you positioned yourself in, and others quite literally made him gape at your junk in the right places and slender bits along your silhouette.

In his eyes, it was innocence at its finest. Your honesty at showing all parts of you was mouth watering to Touya, the way you didn’t hide any side of you in such an intimate exchange made him want to sink his teeth into your helpless being and never let go.

It also made him want to melt Tenko’s skin off his very breakable bones.

We’re just friends.

Some friends they were, alright. A slut and a grade-A fuckin’ incel. How the hell did Shimura get a taste of you before he did? He’s your fiance for gods’ sake, that's his right and no one else’s.

Honestly, he’s disappointed in you right now. For all that talk you gave him earlier today, he didn’t take you as some easy hoe that’d put out for such a creep like Tenko, with just a few sweet words thrown here and there along with some bad pickup lines.

He crosses his arms behind his head and leans back into the plush mattress, frowning in thought. The sounds of his father banging open the door and his siblings chiming in to greet the old bastard float in and out of his ears as he thinks of what to do with you and Tenko.

Obviously your guys’ friendship surpassed normal boundaries, regardless of what you both pleaded or believed. Just the fact that Touya fucking Todoroki, son of the Number Two hero, eldest child and heir to a powerful elite family lost first claim of his wife-to-be’s body to some...some withering degenerate is making his heels expel smoke.

He’s not going to be second place again, not outside his own home too.

There’s no doubt in his mind that if you truly are all bark and no bite, you’ll find a way to meet up with Tenko behind his back. The pictures he’s seen tonight just proves it's going to take something bigger than a copped feel and a verbal warning to pull you both apart, and Touya is more than ready to take on that challenge.

A plan begins to form in his mind, one that ensures his fiance and the dirtbag will stay away from each other, even if he needs to push them to interact more initially. Even if he needs to make you desperate to reach out for someone, anyone who’ll come to your aid after he’s through twisting and welding your nerves together.

Touya falls asleep with one hand in his pants, one hand holding his phone screen up showing your white lingerie.

Tenko falls asleep for the first time in months without his bony hand down his sweats furiously working his shaft at those pictures you sent months ago. The cum that usually spills out and stains his abdomen is replaced with dread that embeds itself in the pit of his stomach. He knows either Hawks or Dabi has his phone, and he knows what he’s hiding in there isn’t something that would help his claim of being your friend.

You send a message to Tenko before you sleep, telling him to wait for you in the adjacent empty hallway to the cafeteria after you finish lunch with Touya.

*************

“Where the hell were you yesterday? I tried calling and texting you!”

You indignantly demand, making no effort to move out of Tenko’s way as he tries to gently brush past you to make room for himself on the sidewalk.

“I, uh, lost my phone and forgot to tell you after school. Sorry.” He says lamely, and you squint your eyes and grip the straps of your backpack even tighter at his half-assed excuse.

Begrudgingly shifting to accommodate him in the narrow walkway, you both begin to walk to school. The butterflies have risen from the grave of your stomach again, butterflies of dread and gross anticipation at meeting your inky-headed match.

“Well, did you report it missing?” He scratches his neck softly and grunts in denial. You frown, thinking if it were you then you’d be throwing a racket at your missing phone. Guys are weird.

“Okay...well, anyways, I texted you about meeting me outside the caf’ when the bell rings for class. I have a feeling Touya’s gonna be stingy about me staying put like the perfect, brainless doll he wants me to be, ugh. So just keep your head down as usual obviously, and I should be out in no time hopefully if I can manage to slip through the crowd. I’m thinking we meet up in the General Studies hall? It’s right there-”

“-Wait, you texted me all this?” Tenko stops abruptly, red eyes wide with panic.

You turn to face him, eyebrows raised at his composure. “I mean, yeah? I didn’t know you didn’t have your phone with you, so I’m just telling you now I guess. Why? Do you know if someone took it?”

He hesitates, unsure of how to cover this up. He already knows either Dumb and/or Dumber has his phone, so no doubt if you truly did text him anything about your plan to meet up with him against Dabi’s specific instructions not to, one of them would already know by now. But he can’t tell you why your plan is now faulty and extremely dangerous.

Because then he’d have to explain how they got his phone in the first place. One question would lead to another, and then he would have to spill about what they threatened him with, and you would somehow end up getting even more hurt if you found out what went on behind closed curtains.

“Look,” He finally decides to speak, and rejoins you on your walk to campus, “I don’t want you putting yourself at risk to still hang around me at school if Dabi told you not to. He’s just gonna find out and get even more pissed. I’m used to it, but if you’re gonna be marrying that douche then it’s just gonna screw things up for you even more. We can just meet up after school like always and hang out at your place or something.”

You pout at his proposition, annoyed that your oh-so-loving finance is weeding his way into your private life...more quickly than you’re comfortable with. Why should you have to sacrifice time away from one of your oldest friends just because of some overgrown, spoiled man-child?

“Ten, you can’t let them dictate your life forever, okay? Like, I get it, they’re scary as hell and you were right-they’re not afraid to get physical. But it's only the first week of school back, are we really just gonna let them walk all over us? I’m not gonna be some stupid fucking bimbo thats gonna cower every time he flashes his fist at me.” You stamp the ground in frustration, and Tenko keeps quiet, growing more irritated by the second. You might now care about keeping your limbs intact, but he’s already as frail as can be. No sense in begging to get snapped like a twig just because of your suicidal intent.

“So what exactly do you wanna do? I get how you feel, really I do, but Y/N they’re not talked about around school for no reason. I don’t know how else to explain this to you, no matter how much you want him to know how independent you are, he’s not gonna care.”

Biting your lip in contemplation, you think on his words. He’s got a point, unfortunately. There’s not much you can actually do apart from run your mouth. Touya’s got the upper hand in every sense.

But still. You’ll be damned if you wait for him to make the first move like a sitting duck.

“Whatever,” you bite out. “We’ll just have to be smart about skirting around him. Just try to meet me in an empty hall outside the lunchroom if you can, and we’ll just make sure to stay out of open areas when we walk to class. No biggie. And of course we can still walk together home, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says, as you two near the school entrance.

You try not to notice the delay in his answer as you walk through the gates.

***********

Immediately when they spot you in the halls on the way to your homeroom, the trio of girls swarm and bombard you with questions...questions that you already answered with some half-assed, bullshit excuses about how Dabi needed help on homework.

You guessed they weren’t as airheaded as they all let on.

“It’s fine, its okay, it was just some stupid misunderstanding we had. We’re okay now, really,” you wave them off while Tenko worries his bottom lip in an attempt to subdue his itching.

It takes some convincing for your concerned friends to finally leave with a warning of “If you hide anything from us, you’re getting your ass kicked!” and a casual laugh from you before you can head to class.

“God, I don’t know how I’m supposed to hide the whole arranged marriage thing from them if they’re always gonna be so nosy. Especially when Tou-I mean, Dabi, isn’t exactly hiding his asshole-ness”.

Tenko mutters in agreement to you, his head low as you both turn the corner into your classroom. He merely takes a step inside before looking up and hissing in panic, tripping backwards over his own feet.

“Ten, what the hell?” You yelp, narrowly avoiding his skinny frame about to collide into you.

“Shit, I forgot we changed rooms. And I’m not supposed to be seen with you, they already saw-!” He cowers at the side of the door, eyes wide with panic.

And you realize too late that he’s right, that his sparse appearance in the doorframe must not have gone unnoticed by the dreaded duo already in class. You can see your seat from the window in the door, and an inky blob of black hair and blond locks not too far from your seat as well.

“Oh god, fuck, just-just get to class before the bell rings, I’m sure they didn’t see you come in. But go, you’re gonna be late!” You swat him off and he dashes down the hall, throwing you a worried glance as he goes.

You take a deep breath, preparing yourself for whatever might happen if they indeed saw your figure with Tenko’s. Turning the handle with sweaty palms, you gulp and enter the room.

“You were almost late, L/N! Let’s try to hurry it up next time and not idly stand outside the classroom with friends, shall we?” Vlad King barks from the front of the room, and you cringe as you internally wonder if the entire school was against you today.

The room has quieted down significantly as your teacher starts to prepare the whiteboard for today’s lesson. You imitate Tenko’s earlier demeanor by keeping your head low and trying to avoid eye contact with everyone as you make your way to your seat.

Except, that proves to be quite difficult as you pass by Hawks’ seat, a lean leg casually stretching in a mockery to make you trip. You try to step over it, but unbeknownst to you, a lone red feather darts under your feet as you take a step and lifts you up, causing you to lose your balance and fall drastically to the ground, the contents of your bag strewn across the floor.

You can barely hear the scattered laughter filling the room, can hardly make out your teacher growling at you to take a seat and stop causing distractions, because the ringing in your ears drowns everything else out. The underside of your arms are prickling as you frantically adjust your skewen skirt and try to simultaneously pick up your displaced belongings. Your hands are shaking as they reach for a binder that slid under Dabi’s seat.

Bile rises to your throat as a studded black combat boot carefully places itself right on top of the binder. Your violently trembling hands pause midway to reaching for it, and you slowly raise your glassy eyes to meet your tormentor’s.

You wish you didn’t.

The way he looks down at your disheveled figure causes your heart to seize and create a giant lump in your throat. His piercing-decorated mouth is pulled back in a jeering grin, thoroughly enjoying the mess his friend created, just for both of their sick amusement.

Your pleading look does nothing to deter his firm hold on your binder, and you grow increasingly panicked as you hear the lesson start.

“Let go!” You whisper, eyebrows scrunched together, bottom lip trembling like a baby.

“Mmmh. Only if you beg like a little bitch.” He doesn’t even look at you straight in the eyes as he murmurs in his gravelly voice, his purple patched hand lazily writing down a few scribbles here and there to take notes.

It's cruel, almost. The bravado you held up in front of Tenko this morning is completely gone now, a mere facade to show you weren’t going to simply roll over on your back and show your stomach for Dabi. But it seems that’s exactly what he reduces you to, in just a manner of a few simple movements.

Just like yesterday, when he had you pinned twice at lunch.

Lunch.

Oh god.

You quickly shake your head from its treacherous wanderings, opting to focus on the imminent problem right now instead of combusting from future ones as well.

“Please, Touya,” you say almost under your breath, leaning in painfully just to make sure your plea fell only on his ears only.

His lowered lids rove over up and down your body in acknowledgement, letting them settle on your thighs clenched together, hands balled in your lap to prevent from ripping yours and his hair out.

Leaning back further and lower into his seat, he keeps his lustful gaze trained on your wary, kneeling figure as he subtly starts to palm himself through his jeans. Your jaw drops at his audacity, your mind completely forgetting to try and snatch the binder from his hold as he lightly thrusts up into his open hand. You scuttle backwards in disgust, your face feeling like it's on fire as you do.

But another trusty red feather slips underneath your skirt as you flail back, and grounds the flat side of its bristles against your clothed clit.

It's all too much, your hyper awareness and sensitivity to the whole humiliating situation reaching its peak, and you gasp loudly as the scarlet plumage circles itself once around your clit once more and retreats back into its large red home.

Dabi isn’t the only one palming himself now.

Once again, the class attention has been brought back to you, pages stopping their movements mid-flip.

“Y/N L/N, what is going on back there?” Your peeved teacher’s voice booms across the silent room.

You flinch and try to speak but Dabi beats you to it.

“She’s distracting me sir, I tried to give her back her binder but she wouldn’t take it for some reason.” He speaks monotony, a hint of feigned confusion so strategically accenting his words.

“No, no, that’s not what-”

“-It’s true Mr. King. I saw her get on her knees in front of Dabi while he was trying to take notes.” You’re interrupted again as Hawk’s smooth voice floats above yours, and your face burns with shame at his choice of words as your peers titter around you.

“If these two men miss today’s notes because of your shenanigans, you will personally be in charge of catching them up and tutoring them on whatever need be.” And with that, he turns around and continues to write nonsense formulas on the board.

The black binder that caused so much trouble is shoved towards you carelessly, papers slipping out onto the floor as it comes your way. The two demons share a knowing smirk at their fruitful teamwork.

It’s not even nine in the morning yet, and you want to scream.

*****

It takes less than two minutes to gather everything off the floor and to slink yourself into your seat, cursing the placement of Dumb and Dumber in front and behind you. Brimming with rage, you clench your pen tightly as it skims back and forth across the page, making up for 10 minutes worth of missed notes.

Not even a full beat of peace is passed before you feel a cool breath against your neck, and you slap a hand against your nape as goosebumps erupt across your skin.

“So who came into the room with you before class, huh?”

You honestly should’ve been more scared of his question, but you couldn’t even find the energy to turn around fully and refute his accusation. You merely exhale loudly through your nose, letting him know you were done talking in defense. He chuckles lowly and you can feel the vibrations from the rumble of his throat in such proximity to you.

“Better keep your pretty little mouth shut, unless you really are into getting degraded by Vlad,” he leans forward, his mouth right next to your ears. You can’t stop the shiver that passes through your body as his tongue slips out to caress the shell of your lobe at the same time his hand reaches down and around your seat, just to pinch the flesh of your ass.

You jump slightly at the onslaught of sensations and harshly bite your lip to prevent a yelp leaving your mouth. Clenching your pen tighter in your hands is the only thing you can do his touch wanders underneath your skirt, feeling the flesh of your thighs clench together again to ward off his offensive advances, elatedly letting his coarse fingers run in between your cheeks and dip into the crevice of your mound.

The sound of your quiet whimpers and the sight of your rigid back is enough to send him over the edge.

He suddenly digs his dull nails into your soft skin, and leans further towards you. You can feel his mouth press against the shell of your ear as he hisses.

¨I asked you a question you quirkless whore. Who the fuck came into the classroom before you? Was it that freak again?¨

¨L/N, can you answer the question up on the board please?¨ Your teacher´s voice rings out from the front of the room, and you and your bully both jump at the intrusion.

The board in question has a jumble of words and numbers written on it, and in your frantic stupor none of it makes sense to you. But you know if you’r

e caught slacking off again, you might get written up.

¨Uh, l-let me check my notes really quick, sorry,” you mutter as you desperately flip through your notebook pages.

¨Actually sir, I think I can help Y/N out.¨ Unexpectedly, Hawkś buttery voice chimes in, much to your relief. He answers the question flawlessly, and even your teacher nods his head impressively.

You might´ve even said a thank you to him if he hadn't turned his head at the side just for you to see him lick a long stripe up a certain feather, the corners of his lips turning up into a sickly sweet smile.

You feel queasy.

Dabiś fingers strategically resume their ministrations again to gain your attention as they trail down into the junction of your mound, lower and lower until the pads of his stitched fingers rest on top of your clothed clit.

You jerk slightly and shoot a hand down underneath your desk to stop him from moving, but the second your palm wraps around his wrist his fingers press deeper against your nub.

Fuck.

You know what he wants, so you answer him just to end this torture.

¨I don't know who you saw walking with me, but if you're referring to Tenko, then he went to his class. Try not to make it so obvious that you´re jealous or insecure of him, it's pretty pathetic. I mean damn, you´re even starting to see visions of him around the school? Maybe you like him more than I do!¨ He scoffs under his breath but you can feel the temperature around you both rise up.

Successfully managing to yank his paused hand away from you, you throw his wrist backwards toward him, savagely relishing in his stunned silence, no doubt.

Without turning around, you end him on a good note.

¨Didn't realize you were into ‘weak nobodies’, Touya. Who's the freak now?¨ You don't personally believe such a vile notion, but you hope know itĺl be enough to shut his fragile ego up for now.

It does.

He doesn't touch or talk to you the rest of class, much to your satisfaction.

You don't smell the burning of a certain someone's foot in youropen bag, all your hard work from notes to projects going up in literal tiny flames.

***********************

The bell dings, and you waste no time shoving your binder into your bag, failing to notice little flecks of ashes billowing in the air when the belongings go into the scorched fabric. You yank both straps onto your shoulders and immediately start to get up, but are promptly stopped when two figures swarm you and force you back into your seat.

¨Where you runnin’ off to cutie? Don´t tell me you forgot to have lunch with your fiance?¨ Hawks shakes his head mockingly, tutting in disapproval.

¨Yeah, I mean, she obviously thinks I´m into her little boyfriend, so I guess I'll just have to sit with her to demonstrate how I'm into women.¨ Dabi sneers, towering over your seated figure.

You blanch, regretting your outburst from earlier, knowing that he was going to make you pay for it.

***********

Tenko slinks off into the courtyard to look for any possible signs of his phone around the same time Hawks and Dabi are leading you through the more deserted halls towards the cafeteria, their arms thrown over both sides of your shoulder, vile words and innuendos bordering on threats hissed into your ears.

He knows it wouldn´t do any good for your safety if he went off trying to spot you amongst the crowds, and frankly, he didn't really want to. Especially not when he knew who you were probably with.

Sitting with Miruko, Takeyama and Kamiji was a no-go, they would all be uncomfortable with his unsettling appearance there without you as everyone´s middleman. Maybe he could find Atsuhiro? Or even Iguchi? Surely he could find them and they could all converse about the latest game that came out, as they usually did.

Somehow he manages to make his way into the crowded commons being invisible to most had its benefits sometimes, especially when being shoved forwards as if he's not there gets him forwards faster and looks around the massive room for the other two social outcasts.

Lo and behold, he spots them towards the back of the mess hall, where most of the trash cans were placed.

Typical.

Iguchi unsurprisingly has his reptilian snout pressed into his console, his long talons clacking away at the buttons. It's a miracle he doesn’t rip the thing to shreds with how fast his fingers move. Atsuhiro is fiddling with his precious marbles on the stained table, shooting them at each other just to frantically put them back in their original place before they can fall off the table.

Tenko clears his throat, moves his hood slightly off his head and makes his way to them.

¨Hey guys,¨ he mutters as he reaches their table. They both look up and squint at him, breaking out of their dazes as they try to register him. Feigning a roll of his eyes, Tenko brushes the wiry bangs away from his face so they can get a good look at him.

¨Aahh, Tenko Shimura! Our old friend, have a seat, have a seat!¨ Atsuhiro claps his hands loudly, and Tenko cringes as people from other tables turn around to glare at the commotion. He can understand why the brunette was an outcast like him- he talked weird, like he was from olden times, and he thought life was a grand play. Minor criticisms, but it was enough to be deemed offensive in their school, enough for his ass to be kicked all the way to the back of the cafeteria, marinating in the dumpster stenches.

Quickly trying to avoid a bigger scene, the pale glaucous haired boy slides into a seat across from the two and nods at the lizard boy.

¨Iguchi,¨ He acknowledges, and the hybrid lifts his eyes for a second from the screen and curls his lips in his own greeting.

¨How´ve you been Shimura? Haven't seen you in a while, usually you´re hanging out with L/N, right?¨

Tenko scratches his neck and feels skin pile up under his nails.

¨Yeah, she um...I think she wanted to sit with some of her own friends today.¨

¨I thought you two hung out with the same people-¨ ¨So what game´re you playing? Is that the one that just came out?¨ He interrupts Iguchi, trying to avert the conversation away from you. The less eyebrows raised, the safer you both would be.

They talk about the latest games and consoles, grades and classes. It feels nice, honestly. Even if he's not as well known and presentable as you, he gets to bask in things he actually is passionate about. Not that you ignore his own hobbies, but it gets tiring after a while to talk about facials and hero work, girl stuff that he just never really understands. You act like a protector to him, and he appreciates it, he really does, but...sometimes it feels like he's more of a show dog, and not the cute kind. A kicked puppy-no, charity work is a more accurate representation of what he feels like when he sees the not-so-subtle sympathetic looks your friends throw at you when they think he's not looking.

Tenko loves you a lot, and he knows you do too. But sometimes it's hard to see past that aged love when, as Iguchi basically stated, his friends are your friends.

Funny thing is, he has no real friends apart from you.

Tenko loves you a lot, and he knows you know.

It's been hard to remember that constant love when Dabi and Hawks have been making his life a living hell, especially now when they know you´re so protective of him.

It´s hard to remember that love when you insist on putting the two of you in actual danger, just to walk down a stupid hallway together.

But he supposes he can't blame you all the way. He guesses maybe it's mommy issues from a younger age around the time he met you. It's the way he could cry into your shoulder after his father would beat him black and blue, it's the way you would rub his back soothingly and shush his cries, never really understanding why he was so upset in the first place but still doing your best to be there for him.

His father had sent his sister away overseas to some private school to better her education, so he truly was alone with his batshit crazy family situation. You provided him with unrequited love from an early age on, you were his safe haven, his sanctuary of sorts. It was true, you really were the only one who understood why he acted the way he did and you accepted him for it.

He supposes he should feel more grateful to you, but like how every child is supposed to fly the coop and become independent, you had unknowingly trimmed his already-deteriorating wings and tethered him back to your welcoming, warm embrace.

You had ruined him

Almost a half hour went by between the three boys, discussing a wide range of topics, and for the first time in a while, Tenko was actually comforted by another guys’ presence. He wasn't worrying about shielding his body from ammunition, or keeping his greasy bangs in front of his eyes so he wouldn't have to meet anyone´s judgemental gaze.

¨Hey man, you should come over one day. I got a couple of GTA discs we can try out, or COD if that's more your thing,¨ Iguchi offers, reaching his clawed hand out. ¨Why don't we all exchange numbers?¨

¨Y-yeah, that sounds great! Hold on, lemme get my ph-¨

But his excitement was cut short, when his hand patted empty pockets.

Oh.

He almost forgot.

¨Uhm, sorry, I kinda lost my phone yesterday. Maybe you guys could just write your numbers down here or something,¨ And he fished around his bag for an empty paper, pushing it across the dirty table to them. They didn't seem to mind-they promptly wrote down their digits in chicken scratch writing.

¨Got any trash?¨ He stands up, plucking a few plastic wrappers off his seat and extending his courtesy to them. They wave him off and he shrugs, making his way behind them towards the giant dumpsters.

The second he drops the scraps into the bin, some force shoves him face first into the reeking cesspool of school lunches. He grabs the edge of the bin in a split second, ignoring the slimy substances he feels underneath his palms and whips around for the source of the assault.

All he sees behind him is a retreating figure, with blond locks swaying with every sauntered step he takes away from the frazzled target.

His phone wasn't as far as he thought it was.

In fact, if he had the balls to follow the winged boy back to his table, he would've surely discovered his beat up phone case held captive in Hawks´s open bag. He would´ve also seen both boys keeping a miserable girl sandwiched between them.

Tenko would´ve seen all of that from a distance, but you were there in your own skin, fighting the urge to rip out a certain purple-burned aggravator´s staples, and preventing yourself from diving into your burned backpack, pulling out a nasty pair of scissors and giving a special birdbrain´s wings a well-needed cut.

¨Why so quiet sweetheart? Nothing bitchy to say now?¨ Dabi seethes in your ear as he busies a hand in pinching the soft flesh of your thighs, a 2.0 to your torment in the classroom.

¨No,¨ you gripe, trying to finish your spring rolls. A feather plucks the roll from midair as you lift it towards your mouth, and redirects it into its owner's mouth.

¨Mmm, Dabi, your bitch can cook right. You should've told me my sister-in-law was such a domestic homebody, I would´ve defended her from your evil clutches sooner,¨ Hawks chuckles with a mouth full of food. His arm is draped over your shoulders, fingers dangling oh-so-close to your chest. Shoving them off even in the hallway proved to be futile after they both used their respective quirks into silencing you every time a teacher walked by and you attempted to open your mouth in a plea of help.

¨I´m not his fucking bitch, you brainless pigeon,¨ and even though you know you can´t fully move with how close their proximity is, you still try and push them off.

But Dabi is having none of it, igniting his fingers on your thighs as his counterpart cooes at your irate state. Ignoring your gasps and writhes, he doesn't give a moment to prep you as he fully shoves his hand down your panties, your skirt bunching up further up your legs when he does.

You give him a desperate look, and he merely gives you a sneer in retaliation.

¨Where did you learn to talk like that? That shit´s not gonna fly with me when I put a ring on it, bitch. If I hear you mouthing off like that again I'll personally make sure there's a better use for that slutty hole,¨ and at that his fingers start moving and heating up again, Hawk´s arm forearm tightening around you to prevent you from making a scene while the ravanette circles calloused digits around your wet nub.

He leans closer to your ear, and the rings adorning his lips feel cold against your skin. On the other side of you, the blond is smiling knowingly down at you, brushing his thumb against your neck.

You jerk as Dabi breathes into your ear, ¨But something tells me you wouldn't mind that too much. I mean if you´re not exactly screaming for help right now then I guess you must want this as much as I do. Fucking whore.¨

You shake visibly at the strength Hawks is using to counter your escape attempts, Dabi´s fingers tweaking your clit hard every time you jerk your body to the side.

¨No, no, what the hell? I don't want this, I don't want anyone to see me like this-!¨

¨Oh, is that what it is? Even so, I'm sure you remember our little talk the day before, right? About me laying off your friend, if you just take it like a good slut. Don´t think I haven´t forgotten about him, Y/N.¨

And then you still. Because of all the emotions running through your frantic head right now, you keep Tenko above all the other bullshit. He doesn't deserve your share of hell, he's already gotten his fill.

Red silk and lace cloud Touya´s mind.

¨We´re just friends¨.

¨That's a good girl,” your fiance whispers, kissing your outer ear and laving his tongue across the rim of it. You whine quietly and try to draw further into yourself-which is miraculously allowed by the blond as Dabi tugs you closer into his black shirt, his fingers down your skirt and teasing your slick entrance.

The Hawks watches you shamelessly, playing with a stray feather between his hands as Dabi descends his mouth to your neck, nipping you lightly and then harder when you squirm.

Your seating position is most unfortunate, the boys having picked an area that most teachers don't pass through on account of other delinquents settling in as well. No one would bother them here, just passing it off as PDA that the rest of them have no shame in showing either.

¨Oh! I haven't asked about your family yet. That's what good fiances do, right Keigo?¨ Dabi exclaims suddenly, lifting his head to give the amused blond a knowing look. Hawks hums in assent, eager to see how much more you could take of their special attention.

¨So did your mom ask how her beloved son-in-law is doing? You told her all about our quality time together?¨ His other hand creeps beneath your shirt, your stomach muscles clenching painfully tight at his unwanted contact.

¨Did daddy ask how I’m treating his precious little girl?¨

You bite your lip hard and squeeze your eyes shut as your bra is moved up, fingers trailing upwards towards your nipple. Hawks´ eyes are glinting as he watches in silence, his pupils dilated at the scene in front of him.

¨Or, actually, maybe save that nickname for me. I'd love to be the first to break it to him that his princess has a new daddy, a better one who broke her faster than he ever could.¨

A sob builds up in your throat. There´s 15 minutes left of lunch.

¨Maybe after we get married, we can just crash at your place,¨ he hides his mouth behind your hair, but you and Hawks can hear his low gravelly voice as he murmurs, ¨So they can hear me fuck the living daylights out of their precious baby girl...make sure you´re loud too, ´wanna let them know you´re a woman now. A married woman who´s gonna slave away for her husband, down on her hands and knees like she's supposed to-

Ding ding ding

His phone goes off, pausing him from his vile monologue.

You exhale in relief when he growls under his breath at the interruption, reaching for the offensive device.

But instead of pressing the decline button after seeing the screen, his face goes slack and pales tremendously.

His hands retreat from their perverse activities underneath your clothes, and you turn to him fully surprised now. You try to lean over to see the caller ID, but your less-than-pleased fiance actually shoves you off of him, right into Hawks (who thankfully catches you).

You look up at him who seems equally bewildered, and then at Dabi who holds the phone to his ear.

He gulps and clears his throat before he speaks.

¨Hello?¨ It still holds his raspy tone, but you can't detect his usual snarkiness.

There´s a pause as he listens, and then he gets up from the table and walks away without so much as a second glance to the both of you.

Hawks, being a guy who's too fast and too smart for his own good, already has an inkling as to who could emit such a reaction from the arsonist.

A wandering feather that brushes against your leg jerks you out of your stupor, and you flinch away from the warm body that caught you.

He laughs a real laugh this time, not one with any malice or with undertones of perverseness in it as you scuttle back to the other side of the short table. You glower at the floor as he rests his elbow on the table, cheek in his hand. He tilts his head at you, very birdlike and for a moment in his open eyes, you can understand why Mirko likes him so much.

But fuck if he wasn´t a total scumbag on the inside.

¨Aw come on sweetheart, you know I don´t bite. We just wanna mess with ya´, it's cute seeing you get all nervous and shy. I gotta admit, it's a nice change from your, ah, colorful language.¨

Your head whips up to face him, and you let out a short, humorless laugh at his audacity.

¨Mess with me? Hawks, you guys are fucking assaulting me. It's not funny or cute, and I know your little innocent act is complete bullshit. I know what you guys do to Tenko, and the fact that you don't even stop Tou- I mean, Dabi from it shows you´re just as bad as him!¨ You bang your fist on the table, acting out now since the worst one out of the duo is out of commission for the time being.

But instead of narrowing his eyes and shooting feathers at you to shut you up, he merely smiles wider and shrugs in indifference, never taking his eyes off of you.

It's hard not to gape at him. What kind of world was he living in, where none of this had any effect on him? All this-this bullying and torment was just fun jests for him.

But you know it's less pure with your betrothed. You know with him, it's some fucked up power-play, a show of dominance that you want no part in.

You can't help but toss a glance to where he was now, 20 feet away and speaking intensely into the speaker.

¨You know, if you stopped fighting him and just gave in it would be a lot easier for you. He likes putting you down and getting a reaction out of you.¨

You don't tear your gaze away from Dabi, so you don't see Hawks lean in and take advantage of your distracted focus.

¨He gets off on it.¨

His velvety voice rumbles right next to you, and you whip around and slap a hand over your ear as a shiver simultaneously passes through your body. He doesn't move, however, but merely leans back and throws an arm over the back of your seat, grinning like a madman.

¨See, this is exactly why I´m not giving in yet. What the fuck is wrong with you both? How could you think something so fucked up is funny? No wonder you both give Tenko hell-¨

You clamp a hand over your mouth, forgetting in your rage not to mention the taboo name. Your eyes search gold ones for any sign of similar hate that you find in cerulean orbs, but there is none.

All he does is raise an eyebrow and strain his smile a little.

¨Between you and me, sweet thing, it really is in your best interest not to mention Shimura´s name around Dabi. I don't really know why he's got it out for that dude, but it doesn't really help Dabi calm down when his wife-to-be is prancing hand-in-hand around school with him.¨ Your lip curls in discontentment, and you feign a scowl at Hawks´ words.

¨Why does he even care? It shouldn't matter who I hang out with, it's not like I'm cheating on Dabi or anything. Besides, he doesn't even like me, he just wants some girl he can ruin.¨

A few moments of silence pass, and then he speaks. What he says makes your heart seize up, and the butterflies kick in again, much to your disappointment.

¨Is that what you think? Man, you both have a long way to go, then.¨ You want to ask what he means, but you´re unfortunately interrupted when a very unwanted lanky figure plops next to you, jostling you to move over.

¨ ´Just had something to take care of,¨ is all Dabi offers as he starts packing up his stuff from the table.

¨Who was it? Was that your dad?¨ Hawks presses.

Dabi´s eye twitches.

¨Yeah. ‘Was calling about some stupid assignment I failed, giving me shit about it.¨

¨He usually doesn't call you at school,¨ is followed by a raised gold eyebrow.

¨I know. I was actually almost excited for once-¨ Dabi laughs bitterly, and you just listen with your head down, utterly confused. What was the deal between him and his dad?

And just in time, the bell for dismissal rings.

Thank god.

You silently pack your belongings as well, hoping that this time you could slip out and actually see Tenko for a couple of minutes if he was waiting for you like you told him to, but as usual, your beloved fiance intervened.

¨You´re always rushing off when the bell rings, doll. Where are you going in such a hurry? I hope our company didn´t make you uncomfortable or anything,¨ he snakes a hand around your waist and pulls you in tight, leering at you.

¨I just don't want you guys getting me late for class,¨ you mutter, avoiding his lecherous gaze.

¨You sure no one's waiting for you out there? Maybe we could both go and say hi to whoever´s taking up all your time-¨

¨Uh, no no! That's okay, I really was just making sure I wasn't late. We can go to class together though, no worries.¨ You quickly grab onto his jacket sleeve and look at him with big eyes and a little smile in a shameless, desperate attempt to deter an inevitable bloodbath.

He raises his eyebrows at your volume and the way you clutch at him while simultaneously quelling the blush that creeps onto his face and the smoke that was comically coming out of his ears. If his fiance was throwing herself at him for the first time, then who was he to reject her?

¨Alright, let's go then,¨ he steers you out towards the entrance of the cafeteria, and you force your legs from grounding themselves and running in the opposite direction of where he was taking you.

You feel him squeeze you tighter, and you raise your head at him, startled to find him already looking you over with a strangely soft expression. It wasn't anything deemed romantic for sure, but it was a lot different than his usual sneers and scowls. Your stomach does somersaults at this new expression that was privy for your eyes only, his piercing blue eyes rendering you speechless.

He looks so much better when his mouth is closed, and his eyes do the talking instead.

However, Dabi does in fact open his mouth, not to spew venom, but to say something that makes your heart beat even faster.

¨Yḱnow, all jokes aside, you weren't too annoying at lunch. Maybe it's ´cause you kept your fat mouth shut with a shit ton of food, but you were pretty tolerable.¨ you quietly scoff at his backhanded compliment as you both exit the hall, Hawks trailing a couple feet behind you, both sides of his shoulders clutched by fangirls who seemingly spawned out of nowhere.

¨I´d say the same to you if you weren't feeling me up every five seconds and mouthing off like a-¨

¨-But, yeah, thanks for actually sitting with me. I really would like it if we did this more often,¨ he murmurs so quietly that you´d think he was talking to himself. He isn’t looking at you anymore, his gaze squinted as he navigates through the crowded and loud hallway.

You want to point out that technically he wasn't really giving you a choice of where to sit when he threatened you like earlier, but something in you tells you to stay quiet as he maneuveres your body around so that no other student would bump into you by accident.

A sense of whiplash comes over you at that moment. Only a mere couple of minutes before he was calling you his bitch and terrorizing you, but now with that soft gleam in his eyes and the confession he was giving you, it feels like it was only you two at the moment regardless of the massive crowd swarming around.

If Hawks was a little closer within earshot, you have a feeling that Dabi would be acting very differently, no doubt. But nevertheless, you swallow your apprehension and acknowledge his different aura.

¨Sure, Touya. We can sit together more often...as long as you lay off the handsy part, we haven't gotten there yet. We've barely been able to have decent conversations, but I´ll try if you try too.¨ While you say that, you subtly try to look around for Tenko but find it hard as Dabi maintains eye contact with you and pulls you along the school. You glumly give up as you both turn the corner to where the classes were.

He ignores everything else you say, solely cherry picking where you said his real name, again. Dabi didn't particularly care for all the other bullshit you uttered, but he shuddered when you stroked a thumb against his hand. He was glad that their plus one had opted to not be in their faces at the moment, because it was nice for once to say something relatively normal to you. Because in the end, he might be a menace but he wasn't delusional. He really could see you as his wife, not just on her hands and knees like he had purred about earlier, but actually as someone who could offer him a new, better life than the one he had at his own home.

He saw it in the way you gazed so softly at Tenko, saw it in the way your voice lilted higher and in the way you softly pull his scratching hand away from his marred skin

The way your lips puckered as your mouth invited another bite of food made his chest ache with a weird feeling he couldn't quite place a stitched finger on. The scowl you gave him and Hawks both when you sensed they were about to fuck with you more made him want you in a way that he had never wanted anyone so close before. He wanted to be the reason your scowl would eventually turn into a smile, but for the meantime he knew he couldn't refrain from seeing fear and panic in your eyes. You were cute, with a body and a smart mouth to match. Dabi guessed that you were also taken aback by his sudden intimate gestures, and he couldn't help himself to hope that you had a slight inkling of what your presence was slowly starting to do to him.

But if you thought that you had newfound leverage on him, or thought that he was wrapped around your finger by a small sentence he said, then you were more stupid than he was givng you credit for.

Because the second you bit your lip and looked away after touching his hand lightly, he turned his head back and made eye contact with Hawks, giving him a knowing look.

Hawks´ wings flex as he gives a cheshire grin to his counterpart, letting him know he already knew what to do.

¨Sorry girls, ´gotta head to class, can´t let my grades fall. I´ll catch you two later, yeah?¨

He is met with simpering ¨yeah, sure!¨´s and ¨of course, text me though!¨ as they sashay away.

¨Definitely,¨ He chuckles, running a hand through his floppy hair.

As if he would be caught dead texting Tweedledum and Tweedledee.

But anyways, back to business.

He cracks his knuckles and stretches above his head, letting out a satisfied groan as he leisurely pulls out a phone. It takes some scrolling before finding the message, and bingo, he finds the right hallway adjacent to the cafeteria after backtracking his steps a bit.

Lo and behold, who was already there? That's right, none other than Tenko Shit-mura. Hawks´ eyebrow raises as he sends a quick message from Tenko´s phone, and pockets the device.

¨You´ve got balls, I´ll give you that.¨ Tenko whips around in horror as he puts the voice together with the person. His thumbs overlap each other and alternate to scratch at his scabbed arms and neck. It's something near a miracle to Hawks as he can't fathom why a girl of your stature would hang around with this degenerate. Sure, he himself had girls sucking his dick in every crevice of the school and outside, but at least he had a name for himself, and a reputation befitting of a god´s.

This thing?

¨Oh, h-hey Hawks,¨ and the unamused blond curls his lip in disgust as Tenko´s wavering words were almost drowned out by the sound of vigorous scratching. ¨I was just waiting for Iguchi-¨

¨-And Atsuhiro, right? Funny, they left the caf´ at the same time you did, so why exactly are you here?¨ He smirks and folds his arms, leaning on the lockers.

It was borderline hysterical how white Tenko´s face went, and Hawks distantly wonders how much whiter could his face go before real blood and veins were visible behind the mess of scarred facial features.

Poor Tenko stammers and stutters over his words trying to find a good enough reason as to why he was lingering there, but he needn't worry so much, because unfortunately for him, Hawks knows exactly why.

He holds up Tenko´s phone casually and grins at his ashen face as if they were old buddies.

¨Didn't anyone ever tell you not to play with other people´s toys?¨ Tenko makes a quick swipe at the phone suspended in midair, but only succeeds in getting sliced by a few directed feathers.

He groans and clutches his now bleeding stomach, holding up a hand to see a thin line of red adorning his cracked skin.

Hawks shrugs as if nothing had happened, and cocks his head at his victim. ¨I decided, if you can't learn to keep your nose out of other people's things then I have every right to keep yours.¨

¨Give it back man, I don´t know what your deal is, but if this is about Y/N then I swear I haven't been anywhere near her.¨ Tenko looks at him desperately and Hawks chuckles lightly, making the other´s heart sink.

¨Yeah, you have. You might be just as gross and sly as Dabi is, but you´re not smarter than me.¨ He waves the device in his snug hand. ¨She might just see you as her friend, but we both know you want her more than that.¨ Tenko loves you.

¨In my opinion, she looked better in red.¨ His steel colored head snaps to see his phone screen showing the messages he was so afraid of them finding out about.

¨That's not fair, that was so long ago, way before Y/N even knew Dabi.¨ ¨You think that's gonna matter to him?¨ He pushes himself off the wall and advances with his hands in his pockets towards Tenko, who is now frantically scrabbling back on all fours like a mutt.

¨The fact that it even happened is a given that you´re a dead fucker now, Shimura. And don't think I don't see you two running around in the hallways trying to avoid me and Dabi, he sees all that too, y´know. We've both got eyes around the school.¨ He crouches in front of Tenko, and his grin turns ugly into a sneer when the shit-stain on the floor flinches and raises his hands up as if he were about to be hit.

¨Why does Dabi care so much about me and her? She´s gonna be married to him, not me. He gets her officially, not me.¨ Tenko says rather bitterly, in Hawks´ opinion.

¨He hates how close you are to her. He's jealous, simply put, at how well you know her, how you make her smile and put her at ease. It drives him crazy that some social reject like you has seen her body and the best and worst parts of her before he has, and that's why he lashes out at her. These pictures just prove to him that you need to be removed from the scene. Permanently.¨

¨Okay, I get that, but then why are you so involved with it? What are you even getting out of snitching for him?¨ Hawks´s eyes glint and darken, sending a sinister shiver down Tenko´s back. He licks his lips and leans close, giving a confession of his own.

¨´Cause if your guys´ shared whore screws up again, I might get a taste of her too. Personally, I couldn't care less about Dabi´s heart, but I wanna see why this girl is worth all this trouble.¨ The fallen soldier recoils slightly at his implication.

Tenko forces himself to take deep breaths and to stop his shaking. He needs to get his phone back and go to the nurse before anyone sees this scene.

¨Just give me my phone back dude, please,¨ He hisses desperately, outstretching a gnarled hand.

Hawks studies him for a moment. He was almost disappointed in Dabi that the flame user was so butt-hurt about this pathetic sack of bones being closer to his girl than he was.

But that's what he gets when he holds onto a shred of hope that someone could be a candle to his everlasting flames.

¨Here,¨ and he takes momentary mercy on Tenko, tossing his phone on the ground in front of him.

He starts walking away, wings ruffling with foreboding anticipation as he pulls out his own phone to send a message to the man of the hour.

But before he does, he calls out over his shoulder a warning to the boy on the ground.

¨If you see her again, you won't be the only one getting buried that day¨.

Tenko scratches his neck.

*************

Ashtray: Was he there?

2:00 pm: Yup, you were right. Guess they never learn, huh?

Ashtray: Whatever, I have her phone and I just sent him the message. Send me a feather so I can send it back to her class

2:01 pm: You deleted the message right?

Ashtray: Obviously. You too?

2:01 pm: Yeah, did it as soon as I saw him standing there

Ashtray: Good. Make sure the area is clear after school

Call Kai over too, I'm gonna need him when I'm preoccupied

And unbeknownst to you, a velvet feather was indeed carrying a small cellular device on its back, weaving in and out of empty hallways to find your designated classroom.

The silent plumage floats stealthily through the slightly ajar door and makes sure to stay low to the ground as it approaches your desk. Luckily there's an opening in your bag, so it quietly drops your phone inside while you tediously take notes.

It can't help itself when your legs cross over themselves; you look so unassuming and innocent that it just has to get a quick taste. The feather travels up the expanse of your leg up to your inner thigh, and gently brushes against you, laying some pressure on it as well.

From his own classroom, Hawks shivers in sickening pleasure when he senses the vibration of your gasp and the quickening of your heartbeat as you jolt and look underneath your desk.

But you find nothing, the feather already having been directed to whizz out of the room and back to its owner.

¨What the hell,¨ you mutter to yourself as you brush the crawling feeling off your skin. You glance at your bag for a second, and then do a double take when you see the screen of your phone glowing.

After taking a quick glance at your preoccupied teacher, you reach for the device and squint at the notification that shows on your lockscreen.

One new message from Ten-ten.

Ten-ten: Meet me behind the training grounds outside after school, its urgent

Your brows crease in concern and you tap a message back to him.

2:05: Are you okay? What happened?

2:07: Where were you today after lunch? I didn't see you outside the lunchroom

2:06: And when did you get your phone back?

2:10: Hello?

And from across the school, Tenko is trudging away from the nurse's office back to his own classroom, frowning at your message as well.

Y/N: Meet me behind the training grounds outside after school, its urgent

He sighs and drags a gnarled hand down his weary face, stopping his fingers under his jaw to dig his nails into the thin flesh.

2:06: We can't meet up again at school, Dabi and Hawks are gonna kill both of us

2:08: I´m serious

He's in his classroom now, and his unease has merely grown. You were usually so good at texting him back promptly, what´s wrong now?

Biting a fingernail, he hesitates before using his other free hand to type some more.

2:10: You okay?

Almost 30 minutes pass, and Dabi is counting each second in anticipation.

*********************

The sounding chime of the school bell causes Shimura to stop his periodic scratching and leg-bouncing, instead opting to shoot up out of his seat and bound out the classroom to where you said you were.

Anxiety clouds over and erases all rational thought from his disturbed mind when he thinks of your lack of response.

Were you mad at him? Were you safe?

A stronger man with more self control would have resisted from going to check up on the girl that caused so much trouble for him, but Tenko was not a strong man. He was weak, and soft-willed, and if he was already getting the life beat out of him any other day because of his weakness, then what would one more catalyst be?

His bony figure is ricocheted off various bodies as he bolts down the halls towards the back of the school, looks of disgust thrown his way and noses scrunched as he mutters occasionally, ¨Sorry, excuse me¨ and ¨My bad, I´m sorry¨. It doesn't deter him, he's used to the disdain by now and with the thought of you in mind he finally reaches the back of the Quirk Training facility, shoving through the double doors.

Muted sunlight peeks through the large trees that loom over the area, the sky already turning a russet color in the beginning of its descent. He looks around wildly for you, and then he finally spots you in all your oblivious glory standing at the edge of the fence, your face slightly covered from the large sakura branches winding over the mesh.

Tenko releases a breath he didn't know he was holding, and starts approaching you.

You´re playing with the vines growing on the fence, but you turn around when you hear footsteps coming near.

¨Hey! What´s up?¨

¨I could ask you the same thing,¨ he says warily, looking you up and down to make sure you seemed unscathed. ¨What's going on? Why haven't you been answering any of my texts?¨

You raise an eyebrow and laugh a little, thinking that he was messing with you.

¨Huh? You´re the one who called me here. And you didn't send any messages to me, look.¨ He grabs the phone that you thrust in his face, scratching lighty at his collarbones.

You gently swat his hand away and watch as he thumbs through your chat log.

His own brows furrow and he looks at you weirdly as he produces his own device, flipping the screen around and showing you the many messages he sent not too long ago.

You squint at the blue light and look back up at him, mouth agape.

¨Wait, so you didn't call me here? I tried texting you too, but I didn't get an answer. I just thought you were busy or something.¨

¨Look, I don't know what's going on here, but we need to leave,¨ He says anxiously as he grabs your arm and starts to pull you around the corner. ¨This is weird, I don't like it-¨

¨Hold it you two.¨

You both freeze, ice flooding through both your systems as you recognize the lazy voice.

Slowly, you turn your head to face the last person you wanted to see in this state.

Hawks is leaning casually against the brick wall, wings flared out to their fullest extent. Next to him is a new guy you´ve never seen before, a brunette with gold eyes like Hawks´ and a black beak mask to match. His hands are clad in white gloves, and he periodically keeps checking the watch on his pale wrist as if he has somewhere to be.

He's surrounded by cronies, tattoos covering the expanse of their bulky arms and baseball bats along with guns strapped over their heads or twiddling through their fingers.

You think you´re going to throw up.

Dabi is the first to speak, his guttural voice cutting through the thick, tense air like a serrated rusted knife.

¨Well, shit doll. I didn't think I'd have to break my future house slut so quickly.¨

¨Dabi, wait, there's been a misunderstanding-¨ ¨-And you,¨ he draws on as if you hadn't spoken. You tried to catch his eye but it seemed like he was purposely avoiding you, instead going for drilling invisible holes through Tenko´s head.

If you had asked him, he was granting you mercy and your last shred of dignity by not letting you continue speaking, before he viciously strips it away from you. He feels as though if he hears your voice right now, the entire pavilion will go up in flames, including the chicken bastard and the Shie Hassaiki members.

He stuffs his inflamed palms into his fire-deterrent pants to quell his unbridled rage. To anyone else he seemed at sick ease in having the upper hand, but in all honesty, Dabi would be lying if he said he really did wish you would have passed his test and not met with Tenko.

¨You´ve got a lot of balls to be talking to my bitch for such a dickless wonder. I thought after beating it into your skull for a couple of years that you'd understand where your place is.¨

Out of the corner of your eye, a massive wooden bat swings towards Tenko and smashes against his head with a sickening thud.

They must have surrounded you from the other side of the building too when you both were distracted.

You scream so loudly you can feel your vocal cords vibrating in your throat. Everything seems to move ten times faster as you´re suddenly yanked back by invisible feathers, and dragged almost 15 feet away from Tenko´s unmoving body right into Dabi´s cruel embrace.

He harshly spins you around and shakes you like a ragdoll, staring you straight in your horrified eyes.

¨I told you not to hang around him, right? Well, if you don´t wanna listen to me, then at least listen to the beautiful sounds of your precious boy toy getting his skull bashed in.¨

And with that he spins you around again, a vice-like grip on your arms as he traps you against his hard body. You´re faced with front-row seats to watch the nauseating scene of Tenko indeed getting beaten to a pulp.

¨I´m going to make you fucking regret it,¨ He hisses in your ear, but you´re so dizzy with blood and teeth littering the ground filling your vision that you can´t even move.

You vaguely hear Hawks tsk next to you, leaning against the wall and stretching his wings as if he had better places to be. As if watching a kid getting beaten half to death was something he saw every day.

Grunts and jeering comments come from the large tattooed boys while they rain blow after blow on Tenko´s shuddering body. You can't even comprehend what kind of pain he´s in from the inhumane shrieks that come out of him. It was mesmerizingly terrifying how a human being could make sounds like the ones he was making, ranging from low wails of pleading mercy to high pitched cries of pain when they began kicking him.

Feet pound on his back, crushing his paper-thin skin against the gravel, causing it to rip and tear,allowing rivers of blood to pool around his form. Now-cracked baseball bats become dented as they explode down on his head, and you distantly wonder how he's still alive with bits of hair and membrane clinging to the wood.

Your best friend flinches every time contact is made with his body; his fingers are curled and raised above his head to protect himself, and you think you can make out his chest puffing in and out a mile a minute. He might be having a panic attack, you´re not sure and you want to run to him, but the loud ringing in your head and the tears that cascade down your face are indications that you know you´re utterly trapped right now. You couldn't move even if you wanted to.

¨Stop,¨ you croak from the confines of Dabi´s arms, clawing at his jacket. ¨Please, stop, you're killing him.¨

Dabi releases an arm to tap on his chin in mocking contemplation. ¨Hmm...tempting, but no thanks doll. This is supposed to be a lesson, not a freebie.¨ ¨Are we done from here?¨ A nasaly bored voice emerges from the background laughs and screams. The brunette with the beak-mask is standing a little away from Hawks, sighing and rolling his eyes.

Is everyone here excluding you and Tenko a psychopath? How does Dabi even know them?

Not that you could say you were surprised, however. A man cruel enough to execute something like this surely has a heart blacker than coal.

¨Dabi, please!¨ you sob hysterically now, the pained noises coming from Tenko are coming out softer and less frequently now, you think he might die soon if one more bat slams into his ribcage. ¨I´ve learned my lesson, please, please don't do this to him.¨ you cry and beat your fists against his arms, which only squeeze painfully around your middle.

¨Nah, I don't think you have, actually. You said that last time, and look what's happening because of your lies,¨ he jeers at you, exchanging a smirk with Hawks.

¨I´ll do anything,¨ you whisper in desperation, looking at him full in his poker face.

¨Anything?¨ His brows raise gleefully, and you nod vigorously, not caring what that means for you, only concerned that the assault on the motionless body mere feet away from you stops.

Dabi regards you for a moment, taking in your tears and wobbling lip, before he finally turns to the masked man, and gives him a curt nod. ¨Alright, we´re done here Kai. Take your guys and leave.¨

The man named Kai dusts off his purple jacket and calls out for his boys to stop.

¨That's enough. We´re going.¨ He wrinkles his nose in afterthought. ¨And make sure you clean your stuff off, I don't wanna deal with bloody bats...god knows how many diseases that thing is carrying, ´looks like it has mange.¨

That thing is currently groaning in difficulty to lift his face out of a puddle of his own blood, tears, and snot, almost choking on the mixed liquids invading his mouth and nostrils

He blearily lifts his head ever so slightly, and sees you writhing in Dabi´s embrace, one of his forearms wrapped around the front of her throat and evidently choking you from the way you frantically gulp in air.

He hoarsley whispers out your name, and you heave out another dry sob when you see his lips form your name in them. He painfully and slowly starts to rise up to his hands and knees, and it's like looking at a baby stand up for the first time from the amount of visible shaking you can see in his broken limbs.

Dabi, you, Hawks, and Kai as well as the groupies all watch in awe as the stick-thin figure manages to elbow his way up, and Hawks scoffs in disbelief at Tenko´s grit. A man in his state shouldn't even be able to blink.

Meanwhile, you can feel your fiance's arms tremble in barely concealed rage from watching the blatant act of disrespect.

You want to tell Tenko to just stay the fuck down, and don´t piss them off further, but part of you takes savage pride in his perserverance.

Is he just used to this? Is that why it's so easy for him to disregard the volumes of blood that come vomiting out of his mouth? How long has he been accustomed to places other than his heart being broken?

It's hard not to cringe as he places his bloodied palms against the sharp concrete; you can see tiny pebbles embed themselves in his open wounds, and his fingers bend in unnatural ways as he elevates himself and maintains eye contact with just you.

You think he's crying, but it's hard to tell when your own vision is blurry.

It´s quiet for a moment after everyone witnesses Tenko´s own version of a fuck you, until Kai turns on his heels, his boys immediatley scrambling towards their leader as he makes to leave.

He walks towards Hawks, and you can hear him murmur, ``You owe me.¨ He gives a curt nod to Dabi who merely grunts.

Hawks, ever the optimist, laughs joyfully and reaches out a hand towards the beaked boy. ¨Of course man! We'll be in touch soon.¨

Kai merely waves his hand in a resemblance of a farewell, crinkling his nose at Hawks´ outreached one. He rounds the corner, his boys smirking in tow, and then they´re gone. As if nothing has happened.

The silence grows louder, deafening your ears. The only reprieve you get from feeling mounting terror of being vulnerable without anyone around is when Tenko starts hacking, his arms buckling underneath his weight in an effort to keep upright.

And then they surround you.

****

¨What's with the tears baby? You knew this was gonna happen, we warned you-¨

¨-Scared you´re gonna end up like him? Good, but I´ll be honest, I think cum would look better coating your face-¨

¨-You didn't actually think I was gonna let you get away with this shit again, did you? God you´re such a spoiled slut, I´m gonna enjoy breaking you down like your parents never did-¨

Shoving you around and into each other, groping you, leering right in your personal space, advancing towards you so that you stumbled backwards closer to Tenko.

¨No, stop, leave me-us alone, stay away from me!¨ You scream, and Dabi wraps an inflamed hand around your upper arm, racking up the volume of your cries.

¨Shut the fuck up. You don't get to complain anymore, you're gonna finish your punishment you little brat.¨

You wail as you wrench yourself out of his grip, fueled by pure adrenaline. Ignoring your searing flesh, you try running around them but with a lazy flick of Hawk´s wrist, numerous feathers catch you around your collar and feet, pulling you back. Your thrashing only serves in getting cut up more, and they deposit you less-than-gently right next to Tenko.

He watches with wide eyes and shakes his head with urgency for you to leave, to run again, but his head is forcefully slammed to the ground by the blond´s boot. You hear a crunch from his nose and bile rises from your throat as you try scrambling towards him out of instinct.

¨Do you have a death wish? Stop worrying about him, and worry about yourself for a second doll, you´re gonna want to.¨ A scarred hand grabs your chin and yanks it to face him. His lips are curled back, his lids lowered and his eyebrows are raised.

You jerk your head back and spit in his face. ¨You´re not gonna get away with this Touya.¨ You don't even care about using his other moniker anymore. ¨How the fuck can I not worry about him? Look at him! You´re the crazy one!¨

He snickers and crouches to your level, moving forward until your rapid crab-walk backwards results in your back hitting the brick wall.

¨You hear that Keigo? I´m gonna pay for this, oh no, however will I recover?¨ He simpers, joining in Keigo´s boisterous cackles.

You risk a panicked glance at Tenko. At least there wasn't a boot on the back of his head anymore, but you didn't gain any comfort when he was roughly grabbed by his shirt and lifted up to a sitting position facing you, Hawks smugly holding his head up from rolling around in its socket.

His face was a mess. You could barely recognize his thin, narrow features anymore when his whole head was caked with splotches of liquid red, mud, and gravel piercing his cheeks. His mouth was gaping, filled with yet even more blood, and where his teeth used to be was instead gaping holes and vermillion-stained cracked bone

Now that he's sitting somewhat upright, you can clearly see protrusions where his ribs are, clearly indicating breaks and torn ligaments.

But your attention is directed to the monster in front of you. He rests a burning hand on your calf, and you whimper as you try to pull back from the unbearable pain. You were certain that if when you got out of here, you´d need to go to an infirmary immediately.

Touya stops your leg from retreating, holding it down while simultaneously trailing his digits up your leg, crawling forward even closer to you with the most disgusting shit-eating grin on his face while doing so. All your pleas of ¨Stay back¨ and ¨Don't come any closer Touya, I swear-!¨ does nothing to deter him, rather goading him on while your audience of two watches in horror from one man and perverted amusement with the other.

¨Yeah? Or what, huh? You gonna hit me with your quirk? Oh wait, you don't have one.¨

He straddles you, pressing his chest against yours and shamelessly looking down when your breasts swell from the pressure. You bite your lip and turn your head, taking in quick inhales to avoid breathing in too much of the smell of smoke.

¨Nuh-uh princess, I want your eyes on me now when I fuck you. I’m gonna show you who daddy is today.¨

You don’t know what kind of adrenaline rush you experience when the words slip out, “That’s rich from the guy who practically creamed his pants when he talked to his own daddy. Why don’t you solve your own daddy issues before starting mine, huh?”

He slaps you so hard you see stars within the setting sun.

It's hard to tell who hates who more at the moment, but regardless, it doesn’t stop Dabi from grabbing your cunt and squeezing hard.

Your lids fly open and your head snaps forward to face him in sheer panic, the moment of bravado gone as the chemicals pumping through your brain catch up to your heart.

¨Wait, no-¨

In one fluid movement, he clenches his thighs on either side of yours, and uses his legs to flip you over. With the same momentum, he grabs your arms and yanks you to the new switched position; him against the wall and you in between his legs, back to his chest.

In another time, Touya would have been secretly overjoyed being pressed against you so intimately like this. It almost felt domestic, not that he knew anything about that word, but it was the closest feeling he could pinpoint to it. His heart was pounding, and he wondered if you could feel it against your back.

He hoped you could.

The vague sounds of Shit-mura noisily inhaling through his broken nose only bothered him slightly, the feeling of his counterpart´s greedy eyes scanning your body and his hold on you barely registered. He was in a zone of his own at that moment, just the two of you, regardless of the circumstances.

Touya didn´t actually think of this as a punishment, no, he thought of this simply as an opportunity to unapologetically make love fuck you and show you how much he wants you who´s boss. Nothing personal, just business. You have to learn how to please your husband eventually right? Might as well let him show you how a woman is supposed to act in front of a man.

It was just pure bad luck for you that you got saddled with a man who wants you to act like a whore for him.

¨Yo, Keigo, help me out here, the bitch won't stop moving.¨ He grunts out, struggling to subdue your flailing limbs. Despite him amping up the temperature in his palms against your stomach and arms, you still continued to try and escape him.

He couldn't bear to do any worse, the tears rolling down your face already made his heart feel funny and he didn't want to feel anything anymore.

Hawks sighed dramatically and unleashed a few of his feathers to aid Dabi. Immediately your wrists were pinned to your sides, your feet weighed down by the sheer force of the plumage. You break down and sob to your heart's content, knowing that you were done for.

Touya feels your body slacken, and he quickly put out the fire in his fists.

¨Watch the show, Tenko. I know you´ve been dying for a piece of this ass for a while, anyways.¨

Hawks jerks Tenko´s chin forwards, ensuring that his attention was on you as Dabi began feeling you up, relishing in how your rib cage shook with heaves as you shook in his arms. He shoved his hands underneath your shirt and lifted the hem up all the way over you, the feather pulling your arms above you for easier access.

A sudden breeze rattled you to your core, but it wasn´t just the weather that made your teeth chatter.

It was the sick desperation and rapt attention in Tenko´s eyes. It was Keigo was looking you over with lowered lids, palming himself and hissing when Dabi took a mismatched finger and pulled your bra cups down ever so slightly, teasing the boys with cleavage and a hint of areola.

¨Touya, please,¨ you squint your eyes shut and turn your head away from salacious gazes. ¨If-if you´re gonna do this, please don't let them watch.¨

¨Nah sweetheart,¨ he simpers as he burns the straps off your undergarment, allowing the sheer protection to fall to the gravel. ¨You wanted to whore yourself out, right? Well, this is what happens to little whores who don´t wanna keep their legs closed.¨ His voice is right at your ear, nipping and suckling the senstivie flesh while his ruthless hands take handfuls of your tits and squeeze them, rub them together, weigh them appreciatively in his scratchy flesh.

¨Fuck, flick her nipples a bit, I wanna see them get hard,¨ Keigo groans out, yanking Tenko´s bleeding head. ¨You like this, you little perv? You like watching your best friend get raped?¨

¨N-no, no I don't! Leave her alone!¨ And even if it wasn´t from Keigo shoving him down and wrestling for his zipper to pull his hard dick out, you would've already known he's lying from the way his bloody mouth opens slightly and drools watching Dabi pinch and roll your nipples.

You keen and whimper as Dabi leans his head down past your neck and lifts a breast up, darting his tongue out and swirling the appendage over your hardening buds. The feathers prove to be useful when they hold your wrists down and prevent you from escaping him.

¨Holy shit, he's actually hard from this. You´re even more fucked up than I thought, Shimura, I´m almost impressed.¨ The beaten boy cries out and pathetically tries to remove his member from Keigo´s tight fist, but obviously is no match for the way the blond fucks the skinny dick in his hand, squeezing almost painfully at his tip. With the help of his other feathers, he frees his own length and teases himself, the red turning white at the tips as they collect his precum.

Dabi says nothing, but keeps his eyes on Tenko as he moves your body up into his lap, settling your ass right on top of his erection. You inhale shakily as he too fumbles to release his aching cock from his jeans, your nose clogged from crying and your voice hoarse from screaming. He lifts your skirt up and hisses in appreciation at the direct contact your panty-clad ass gives, suffocating his dick in your warmth.

The experimentally thrusts lightly a couple times, jostling you up and down and making your tits bounce. Keigo and Tenko look in awe, the feathers and hands moving rapidly in time with Dabi´s thrusting. You try to avoid eye contact with either of them or their leaking dicks.

You feel like your heart is a runny mess, you´re a mess, your hair is fucked up, your clothes are being strewn on the ground and burned away, your skin is being molested, you don´t know what the fuck is going on or what to do.

So instead of pleading, you decide to relent and get this over with quickly. The less resistance you show, the faster you can get Tenko to an E.R.

And speaking of faster, Dabi has stopped grinding against your ass in favor of snaking a hand around and toying with the hem of your panties, holding your skirt up.

You bite your lip and your eye twitches, but you stay silent save for shuddering inhales through your nose.

Taken slightly aback by your lack of complaint, Dabi hesitates for a moment before shaking it off, delving his fingers into your panties, the cloth moving and bulging out from his hand sliding in and out of your folds.

You whimper and jerk your hips minutely in instinct, and he feels it, much to your horror. He grins and takes it as encouragement, circling his digits through your little-more-than folds until he finds the clit by the way you jump at contact.

He presses down, flicks it, circles it, gathering lube from your mutinously throbbing cunt to slick yourself up, thoroughly enjoying your sharp inhales and the way you can´t help moving against the invading actions.

It's only when Keigo calls out that Dabi remembers he's not doing this to please you, he´s doing this to fuck you over just like how you did to him.

¨Pull her panties off, I think our little vouyer here is gonna come soon,¨ he positively purrs as he presses a thumb against Tenko´s jerking hips.

More blood has covered Shimura´s head and body, but even amongst the mess of flesh that was once his face you can clearly see his eyes wide open, pupils blown black with lust, bones actually audibly rattling in their broken sockets as he breathes heavily at your corruption.

He looks insane, more insane than the ones actually raping you. You wonder if you feel more violated by the obvious monsters who told you straight up what they were going to do to you, or the one who swore to be your friend, who swore to never relish in your pain.

You´re brought out of your empty contemplation when Dabi neglects fingering your clit to yank your skirt off your shaking legs. He doesn't even bother with slowly stripping the panties off, impatience overriding better judgement. You again offer little to no resistance as he does so, which riles up the squeamish feeling in his heart.

Now fully exposed to him, his cock stretches another couple of millimeters, looking like it's going to burst from the angry red and purple swelling it adorns.

Keigo whistles and licks his lips, lecherously looking over your tits and exposed pussy all for the taking.

He pulls your hips back and forces you to hover right above his standing cock, causing your knees to shake in exertion. You feel like you´re going to faint any second.

¨You ready doll? Ready to take your husband´s cock for the first time?¨ He cooes, bringing you lower and swiping the weeping slit of his prick against the wetness of your folds. You mewl and try to shift, but it only serves in him pulling you down even more, your labia ever so slightly enveloping the top of his tip.

Your cunt is pounding with rushing blood, and he almost gasps as the sensation flows into both of your sensitive bits.

Leaning forward, he conceals his mouth behind your hair as he mutters, ¨Try to relax for me, it´ll hurt less.¨

You can't care less for his consideration, not when his jerky thrusts feel like they're splitting you in two. All your poor pussy is aware of is the blinding white-hot pain felt on every wall as Touya takes from you what you would not willingly give.

The sounds of your squelching hole-whether from blood, precum, your own tears, who knows-fill the air obscenely. You mistake a glance upwards in your blurry vision and you nearly vomit when you see Hawk´s hand furiously bobbing up and down Tenko´s flushed red dick, and his own being caressed with lust. They look like fucking dogs drooling over your state.

You´re brought out of your horrified reverie when Dabi hisses. He fully sheathes himself inside you and you mewl at the sensation of being filled. Liquid trails down where you two connect, and it feels disgusting as he pulls out only to slam back into you, the cooling wetness of said liquids splashing everywhere and onto the concrete below you.

Your tits bounce up and down as Dabi takes his sweet time pulling out all the way only to give you a moment's reprieve before diving back into the wet cavern. Eyes rolling back into your head at the feeling of his veiny dick thrusting in and out of you, mouth open when he remembers to heat up his hands and play with your nipples, your legs shaking when he alternates to play with your clit, you look like a real slut.

Tenko cums suddenly, crying out and jerking his hips up into Hawks hand when you let out an especially pornographic moan. Ropes of white shoot up like a fountain from his tip and splatter Keigo´s hand and the pavement.

Keigo cries out and laughs in disgust, wiping his soiled hand into Tenko´s hair.

¨You see that? Look how perfect and sweet your little friend is now, Y/N,¨ Dabi pants into your ear, yanking your hair back and forcing you to look at your ex best friend.

¨No, d-don´t wanna look, please let go,¨ you babble as he fucks you stupid.

¨Shut up. Whores don't get to beg for mercy,¨ He sneers as he slaps a bouncing tit, hard.

¨The same should apply for cucks like him,¨ Keigo speaks up and slaps the back of Tenko´s head, sending blood and hair flying off his face.

Dabi stops pounding into you, allowing you to take a merciful breath despite what he said.

¨Yeah? You think so?¨ Shimura snaps out of his daze when he realizes they´re talking about him. He shakes his head frantically and tries to tuck his softening cock into his pants but a red feather is quick to restrain him.

¨Uh-uh, pathetic bastards like you need to get their dues too. We let you off easy with the Shie Hassaiki,¨ He snickers.

¨Come one. Lick this mess up. I'm sure you dreamt about it before, closet perv.¨ Dabi sneers as the blond´s boot sends Tenko flying forwards, almost colliding with your stomach.

You squeeze your eyes shut, inhaling shakily as he gets back up on his hands and knees. You can't bear to look at him right now.

They all disgust you.

¨What did I just say, slut? Eyes open.¨ A patched hand slaps you and your head is snapped forwards mere inches from Tenko´s.

Your gazes meet, but you can't recognize the eyes anymore. They used to belong to a man´s but now they reflect that of a monster´ s.

¨Clean this mess up. Any time this little pussy drools you´re going to eat it up like the roach you are. And if by the time she's done riding and I see a single patch of slick on her I'll knock the rest of your teeth out, got that?¨ Dabi reaches his arm around and pulls the weak boy´s hair forwards until his nose nestles where your filled pussy is.

All you can do is watch as he hesitantly darts his tongue out and licks from Dabi´s engorged dick up to your clit.

¨Fuck you,¨ you whisper to no one and everyone as you let your head fall back, signaling to your finance that you were in enough pain to start up again.

¨You´ve had enough rest. Ride my fucking dick until I say stop.¨ He doesn't need to threaten you this time. You shakily rise up on your knees and twitch when he slaps your ass suddenly. The entire time you lift yourself up, Tenko´s tongue follows up Dabi´s exposed length until it swirls around your clit again.

You feel numb.

Sinking back down onto him is even more excruciating because you can vividly feel every inch of him scraping up against your walls. It doesn't help that a certain tongue is lapping away at you too.

But nonetheless you don´t waste any time bouncing up and down like your life depended on it, which it probably did.

You can hear him panting behind you, his mouth letting out ragged breaths against your ear, his mouth desperately trying to suck galaxy colored hickies into your naked torso as you envelope him.

The feeling of Dabi and Tenko´s breaths puffing onto your clit and nipples would´ve caused the start of a climax if it weren't for Keigo´s unnecessary commentary.

¨Holy fucking shit that´s so messed up. Wait no, move down a bit, lick the base of his dick. Yeahhh, just like that.¨ He walks around the scene with his phone out, obviously recording as he leans in toward some anatomy and pulls away to get the bigger picture at other angles.

And Tenko actually listens. He follows through every salacious order Keigo gives, he even does it a little bit better than someone who's supposed to at least pretend they're not enjoying your ordeal.

You can tell Dabi is reaching his peak when he suddenly grabs your hips in a bruising grip and slams you down on his length, emitting a broken scream from you. He quickly slaps a hand over your mouth and spews filth in your ear as he uses you like a fleshlight.

¨You like bouncing on my dick like a whore? Huh, Y/N? Answer me you little bitch, or are you too cock hungry to say anything else? Not enough dicks here to satisfy you, princess? Keigo, get over here, she looks like she needs more.¨ You wail and scream behind his hand as Keigo eagerly stands over you, his member already being pumped in a hand.

¨That's right slut, you already know what to do, don´t you? I bet a slut like you has practice, ´bet you and the degenerate licking the cum from your pussy did it all the time.¨ You look imploringly at his head ducked between your thighs and even clench them around his head to get his attention. But he refuses to refute the accusations hissed at you in favor of eating your own slick off your puffy folds.

Keigo waits no longer as he seizes your hand and slaps it against his base, silently urging you to stroke him. You wearily look up at him and are faced with a bright camera light trained on your fucked-out face and trembling hand. Knowing that you were stuck, you started stroking, accepting whatever pace he made you take as he lifted his hips up into your cupped palm, his balls smacking against your wrist while you jacked him off.

Dabi´s pants grew louder and more choked as every part of you became occupied with cocks. He still kept a hand over your mouth, bringing it up to his mouth every couple of seconds to taste the tears that slid down from your eyes down to his digits.

¨´Gonna cum, and you´re gonna take it all in that sloppy hole of yours. ´M gonna fill you up with cum and make you fat with my kids, you´re gonna be on your fucking hands and knees for me like a good little housewife aren´t you-¨

The third time he brings his hand away to taste your tears you frantically gasp out, ¨Don´t do it inside Touya, please don´t, not inside I'm begging you to-¨

But you´re cut off suddenly when Tenko teeths at your slicked clit, and you mewl, unconsciously rolling your hips into his mouth even more.

His tongue travels around your stretched labia and around Dabi´ś balls, causing you both to hiss in unison.

¨I'll do whatever the fuck I want. You´re lucky I´m not fucking you up the ass, you ungrateful bitch.¨

His dick starts twitching in your pussy, and you know he's about to burst.

¨I´ll never forgive you.¨ You whisper in defeat, for the umpteenth time.

¨I don't need you to,¨ he merely grunts as he cums inside you with a loud groan.

His body shakes and he pulls your naked back against his torso, hugging you tightly and filling you up. At the same time, Keigo also lets out a string of curses as your hand is doused with milky white substance from his own.

Dabi grabs your jaw and turns you to face him. ¨Who do you love?¨ he purrs, nuzzling your cheek with faux affection.

You force yourself to make it sound faux, because you hate the way he looks so deeply into your eyes.

¨Y-you.¨ ¨That´s a good girl,¨ he whispers and kisses you, hard.

You´re slumped. There´s mixed cum from all four people coating your body, various fluids and anatomy strewn on the concrete around you, and clothes shuffling in place as they regroup themselves.

Tenko slowly crawls back up from his position in front of your cunt, rearing back on his knees and wiping streaming blood from his head. Keigo tucks his dick back in his pants and cruelly wipes the cum that flew on his clothes into your hair, while Dabi dumps you off his lap onto the grating ground.

¨Well, I hope you two learned your lesson today,¨ Keigo simpered with scrunched eyebrows, pouting at you both.

By now the inky haired man has gotten to his feet, brushing his hands off excess grime.

¨That was fun, I should've done this a lot sooner, honestly,¨ he leers at both the figures on the ground, and you refrain from looking anyone in the eyes. ¨I´m gonna take her home. Keigo, deal with this fuckwad while I'm gone. And get him an ice pack, he looks like pure shit.¨ He snorts to himself.

¨How considerate of you Touya. And here I was thinking you didn't have a heart.¨

You and Tenko don´t join in their vicious laughter.

¨Aw come on sweetheart, the worst is over. I doubt you´ll go through that again, since you know what'll happen if you continue to act out.¨ Your fiance crouches down and starts shoving your limbs back into their clothes, ignoring the way you weakly try to evade his callous touch.

Everyone stares in silence as you´re dressed like a child, unable to properly move from the shock and trauma you just endured. It was weird seeing you so quiet. They thought you would´ve still been crying, or at least fighting back now that they no longer had a hold on you.

But you were so, so accommodating as Touya pulled you up to your feet, keeping a firm grasp around your waist to keep your knees from buckling. You kept your head down as he grabbed your backpack from a helping feather´s elevation and slung it over his own shoulder.

¨I´ll catch you later Kei. Keep me updated on our little experiment,¨ he winks before steering you around the corner.

That was the last time you saw Tenko Shimura, your best friend of years.

¨E-experiment?¨ His hoarse voice questions, nasally from the buildup in his broken nose.

¨Yeah, you heard right. You´re our little experiment, Shimura. Truth be told, I always saw the potential in you. After Touya showed me those texts between you and Y/N it just confirmed my suspicion.¨ Keigo plucked a feather out and tossed it to Tenko´s gnarled hand. ¨Here, use this to wipe that shit off your face. I´m not in the mood to drag you to a nurse right now so this´ll have to do.¨

¨Potential? Suspicion? I don't get it,¨ he brings the feather up painfully down the sides of his cheeks, collecting the grime and gore onto the victimized plumage.

The blond grimaces at the disgusting sight and looks away. ¨I mean, I see the potential in you to be one of us. I knew you weren't this goody-two shoes, quiet loser that everyone made you out to be. And you really proved it today, too. I didn´t know you had it in you all the way to eat her cunt like that while she was getting raped, shit was pretty erotic if I´m being honest.¨

Tenko cringes at the brutal choice of words but doesn´t refute them. He stays quiet before Keigo realizes he needs some more coaxing out of his cautious state.

¨Hey, look man, none of that stuff earlier was personal, alright? Touya just needed to prove a point to his bitch, that's all.¨ He shrugs so easily, as if everyone was as delusional as him to believe that.

But maybe Tenko really had snapped, because he turned to Keigo with a glimmer of hope in his eyes, taking in his words.

¨Really? I thought you guys hated me,¨ he mutters, looking down at the soiled feather in his hand.

¨Nah, it's nothing like that. Just gotta prove to us how you´re different, y´know?¨ Hawks slings an arm and wing around Tenko´s bruised shoulder as if to offer him some security.

¨You don´t wanna be a loser anymore, right? Consider this a new chapter in your life, the next big steps.¨ ¨Yeah.¨ ¨Good.¨ They stay like that for a couple moments of silence, drinking in the setting sun.

And then Tenko can´t hold his curiosity any longer.

¨But how do I do that? There´s nothing really about me that´s special...I mean, except for...however the hell I was acting like earlier,¨ he shifts uncomfortably, recalling the thirst he felt when he saw your sopping cunt getting fucked stupid. It was strange, really. The itch in his body had never felt more satiated when he felt like the oppressor once, rather than the oppressed when watching your eyes fill up with tears, knowing that he was the one who caused it. He had never felt that calm and pleased even when the itch was satisfied by your soothing fingers over his scratched-raw skin.

¨That's what I'm thinkin´ too,¨ Keigo thoughtfully holds a hand to his chin, his wings flapping lazily with the cool breeze. ¨I´d say the first step to a new chapter with us is to change that dopey schoolboy name. Tenko Shimura? That sounds like a dog´s name. And you don´t wanna be a kicked around puppy anymore, do you?¨

Tenko vigorously shakes his head.

A new chapter with us.

Us.

He swallows hard, unable to think of a cool name that would be good enough as a new group member. The shock on his body was catching up, so he forfeited his pride and sought help from his recruiter.

“Did you have anything in mind?”

Hawks hums thoughtfully. “Yeah...how ‘bout Tomura? Tomura Shigaraki?” He looks over ex-Tenko’s broken body and nods in confirmation.

“Tomura...Shigaraki,” the new Tomura says slowly, letting his tongue run over his missing and broken teeth in the midst of testing out the new name.

“The kanji for it has to do with change and mourning, something like that I think. It’s pretty fitting, especially since you’re letting go of your past and moving on with your life...right?” Keigo side eyes Tomura mischievously, knowing he was in no place to defy him.

Shigaraki merely looks to the horizon, silently acknowledging the new chapter of his life. Another cold breeze swirls around the two men, but it's not the sting of the wind that brings newfound tears to Tenko Tomura’s eyes.

He shakily rises to his feet with a grunt, clutching his ribs and tilting his head back to avoid breathing in anymore drying blood. Keigo gets up with him, outstretching a hand towards him to steady him on his feet, which Tomura takes.

“I think I need to see a nurse.”

The blond laughs, his wings fluttering with the waves of his voice.

“Almost forgot about that. But y’know, you should be more careful next time you train with us. I don’t think your body can take any more damage than it already has.”

******************

You haven’t returned any of Touya’s calls.

You haven’t received any messages from Tenko.

You didn’t get out of bed when you saw a red feather zooming past your window in the morning.

You’ve been home for three days now, huddled under the comforters and only getting up to drink some water like a zombie. Showers are a no-go, it’s unbearable to look at your own naked body anymore. The school kept ringing your parents for your attendance, but the image of you stumbling home and bursting into tears is fresh in their minds; they let the calls go to voicemail.

Tenko’s broken body. His screams of agony. Dabi’s hands all over you, Hawk’s feather holding you down, your body shifted and positioned like a ragdoll-it’s all too much, you can’t face anyone yet. You’re absolutely terrified.

A knock at the door jolts you out of your catatonic state.

“Honey? You want something to eat? We haven’t seen you come out today…” Your father’s voice trails off unsuredly, and after some harsh whispers coming from behind the door and scuffling sounds, your mother speaks.

“You need to move around sweetheart-”

Your body jolts violently when she says that cursed nickname.

“Ahh come on sweetheart, the worst is over.”

“-did something happen with you and Tenko? You two haven’t talked in so long, you usually never argue like this.”

A burning comes up in your chest as your stomach rumbles, bile rising up your throat. You want them to leave. Now.

“I’ll-” you cough and clear your raspy voice from disuse. “I’ll be out in a bit, ‘head hurts.”

“Are you sure? We can come get it for you, we don’t mind-”

“-No, I’m fine. Please just...just give me some time.” You grit your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut, silently willing them to go away.

It’s only until the sound of their footsteps padding away from your door that you rigidly rise out of bed, reaching for your phone on your nightstand.

2 missed calls from Rumi, 3 text messages from Touya, and nothing from Tenko.

Was he alive?

With trembling hands, you punch in his contact and pull up your messages.

3:04 pm: We need to talk.

You sigh and throw the phone back on the table, running your hands down your face. You just wanted things to go back to normal, when you and him were okay, when you werent engaged to Touya, when they didn’t turn him into a monster who ate you out while you bounced up and down and up and fucking down on your rapist’s-

No. You can’t think like that. You can’t. That wasn’t him, they made him do that.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself in order for your sanity to remain on its barest of threads.

Time moves at a snail’s pace as you find things to do that distract you from checking your messages every five minutes. Soggy leftovers are pushed through your throat, the t.v blares while you watch without actually seeing, your bedsheets are made and remade into perfection...but nothing prevents you in the end from snatching up the device and checking for his text.

Nothing. Absolutely nada.

Just a “read” sign that makes you see red.

Who the fuck did he think he was? He wasn’t the fucking vitcim, you were-

Oh. But he was, just as much as you were.

Anger curls into anxiety as you nibble your lip in contemplation. Was he mad at you?

It was your fault in a way.

You try calling him, no one picks up.

If he was going to flat out ignore you, then you knew there was only one way to corner him for talking.

And corner him you did, when on a bright Wednesday morning you decide to go to school, for nothing else if not hounding Tenko down and seeing if he was okay. You didn’t know if he deserved it, but you just had to see him once.

You wait outside his front gate, idly watching the sky turn from a deep purple to mix in with hues of orange and blue. After a few minutes, the door creaks open and you whip around to face him.

It’s only been a few days since you two last saw each other, but at that moment when he turns and his eyes go wide from seeing you, you feel as though you’ve never known him before. Not his tangly hair that hangs in front of his face, not the new bruises and bandages on various parts of his body, and not the sneer his mouth curls into, that is oh so reminiscent of-

“Where have you been? You didn’t answer your phone…” You trail off confusedly as he practically shoves past you through the gate, ignoring the way you stumble from the impact of his bony shoulder.

“Hey, wait up!”

You do a light jog after him but your heart is pumping at light speed, uncertainty creeping up your spine at his behavior.

“Tenko, stop!”

“It’s Tomura, now, Tomura. Don’t call me by that dopey ass name anymore.” He stops in his tracks and looks down at you as you pant and stare at him.

“T-Tomura? What’s that? And answer my question, where have you been?”

“Yeah, fucking Tomura Shigaraki to you. And I’ve been doing my own thing now. I’m not wagging my tail behind you like a fucking lapdog anymore, got it?” He shoulders his bag and continues to walk past you.

“What the hell are you talking about? Why are you so upset at me, I didn’t even do anything!” You walk backwards side by side with him, desperately trying keep up with his curt pace.

“Oh right, you’re just so innocent aren’t you? I should’ve left you from the start, honestly. Keigo was right.” “Keigo? When did you talk to him? He assaulted you! How could you even face him? “You say that as if he’s the one who made me like this.” He gestures to his barely healing body, and your breath catches in your throat.

“Wait...you’re blaming me?”

“Finally got it Einstein?” He sneers at you. “You did this to me, you made Keigo and Touya beat the shit out of me. If you had just listened to them and left me the fuck alone, I wouldn’t have suffered half as much as I already have.”

You ball your fists and try to swallow the growing bulge in your throat. You thought your sanity would be kept intact for a while longer, but you feel the last threads barely hanging on.

“Tenk-Tomura, please just wait a second,” You say desperately, not even thinking before grabbing onto his shirt sleeve. You want to hold him here forever, you want to go back, you want things to be the way they were before, he can’t leave you alone with Touya-

“I’m glad they showed me how selfish you’ve always been. You never thought of my safety when you kept hanging around me knowing full well that they’d beat the shit out of me if they caught us. And they did! You happy now?” He’s laughing, but he can’t hide the rage from his balled shaking fists.

“No, no please-” you whisper horrified.

But he turns around, barely glancing back at you before bidding his adieu.

“I’m saying goodbye to you as Tenko, and saying hello as Tomura now. Forget we were ever friends, it means nothing to me now. I used to feel like a burden to you, but it’s funny, you seem to be weighing me down more than ever now.”

“But don’t worry. You’ll still see me around. After all, Keigo and Touya seem to be pretty solid guys. And hey, maybe I’ll even be the best man at your wedding coming up.”

Your head is swimming. The sky is almost a clear blue now, the purple having faded away a long time ago. The sounds of strings stretching are brought to a climax.

He’s so close, yet so far away from you that you barely catch the words that come tumbling out of his mouth so easily, so effortlessly you'd think he’d either rehearsed saying them all his life or that he’s had a lifetime of saying it.

“I fucking hate you.”

And the threads snap.

1K notes · View notes

writingsbychlo · 3 years

Text

mistletoe magic | stiles stilinski

word count; 10,490

summary; stiles learns that his cute neighbour might be a witch after accidentally getting her spellbooks delivered to him instead.

notes; I know a witch!au isn’t a huge au for stiles, because he’s had evident races of magic throughout the series anyway, but just enjoy it!

warnings; smut, unprotected sex, use of magic

It had been a pretty regular Monday morning for Stiles.

At six sharp, he’d been up and awake, barely functional but stumbling through his apartment and clicking on the coffee machine, before hopping into the shower for a quick wash. When he’d emerged, the machine had just finished grinding, as always, his routine functioning like a well-oiled machine now, and he’d moved it all across into a to-go cup and left it on the counter before going to get dressed.

He’d stumbled around to find his school books and shove them into a bag, eaten two cinnamon pop tarts that had burned the tips of his fingers when he’d grabbed them straight from the toaster, and had still been chewing as he shoved his keys in his pocket and sipped at his coffee, straight into the elevator at twenty to seven.

It was a fifteen-minute walk across campus to his early morning lecture on a Monday, leaving him with a few minutes to spare, in case he saw the sweet older lady from two floors down and wanted to say ‘hi’, or the cute neighbour who lived across the hall that always made him fall over his own feet, or maybe even the kid who delivers newspapers and is always falling off of his bike. He made it on time, took some great notes, and was feeling a little more alive and welcome into his day.

At exactly ten past one, he’d been home, having gone to the library to get some study in and find his new books, and get lunch at the diner he always ate at after classes, a cheeseburger and curly fries, and grabbed his letters and a parcel from the mail slot with his housing number printed on, tucking the package under his arm and heading upstairs and back to his flat, ready to flick through his bills.

All according to plan. One year and four months away at university and he knew every day like he’d been doing it for a decade, so he was only half-way to the kitchen when he remembered the package he was clutching under his arm, coming to a complete halt, throwing the usual assortment of envelopes away to the counter, and producing the neatly wrapped bundle.

He didn’t question it, not even bothering to look at the front, figuring it was just an early delivery on the textbooks that he wasn’t expecting to get here for another three weeks, finger slipping under the folds of the brown paper and tearing it away, fingers dancing over the covers of the books, before his brows were furrowing once again.

These were definitely not his ‘intro to psychological profiling’ textbooks.

Beautiful swirls in gold, carved into dark leather across the front, Latin words he didn’t understand before he was opening the cover, brushing off a layer of dust and letting one brow arch up. The text inside was English - though, no modern - and paper that he was cautious to take care of, simply from what appeared to be the age of it, stained and worn, finger marks clear on the corner from being passed down through generations. It was handwritten, drawings in old ink that had leaked onto the paper a little, rough and coarse, and labelled doodles with names he had never heard of before.

At a glance, he would assume it to be some kind of witchcraft.

He felt on edge, suddenly. He’d left Beacon Hills to come to somewhere that no supernatural would follow, where things like werewolves were still a myth, something to be laughed at, and he swallowed thickly, looking around his apartment as though someone was going to jump out. He loved his friends, he really did, and he didn’t so much mind the supernatural when he was with them all because they protected him, but alone out here, he and his bat didn’t stand a chance.

Now, it was Christmas, he knew this from the poor excuse of a tree up in his living room, and the snow outside, and the fact that for the last six weeks, his usual mochas had been a gingerbread-spiced mocha, on the insistence of the barista who served him whenever he ventured into the little coffee shop joint, and he was growing find of it. So, he tried to be optimistic, in the spirit of festivities and all that, and texted the group chat, waiting to see if any of them had sent him the books as a present, maybe even his father or Melissa. He even texted Parrish.

Except, they all said no, and now, he was stumped. Then, as he was being extra nosey and flicking through the book, he came across a page marked with a small slip of card, the item falling out, and he cursed, having no idea which page it came from, but as he picked up the piece of paper, one of the questions in his puzzle finally gained another piece towards the jigsaw.

‘(Y/N), the spell you’re looking for is here, but be careful, it’s a strong one.’

So, the books are for his hot neighbour, the next number up from his, and it now made sense as to why he had these books - they were a mistake. It opened a new question, however, as to why you would be getting them.

He had absolutely no patience, barley remembering to flick the catch on his door so that he’d be able to get back inside, before he was striding across the hall in one, two steps, and knocking on the wood. He could hear you shuffling around inside, the soft and muffled notes of the classic rock music you’d been listening to getting turned right down to low. It only took you a further few seconds until you were opening the door, but it felt like years to him with his impatience, fingers tapping against the books agitatedly, biting the nail of the other thumb, and his foot was tapping against the floor.

When you opened the door, though, he felt like it was too soon, like he wasn’t prepared for what to say, his breath hitching in his throat as his heart leapt in his chest, eyes sweeping down along your body and widening at your bare legs, only a t-shirt hanging on your frame, rising up to reveal the edge of a pair of white lace panties as you opened the door, and he forced his eyes back up to yours, wincing as he bit down a little too harshly on his nail, and pulled it from his mouth, shaking it as his dropped to his side.

“Hey, neighbour.”

“H-Hi. Hello. Yes, hi.” He already wanted to die a little bit, he hadn't stuttered this much in front of a pretty girl since junior year in high school, even Lydia had lost this effect on him, and college really had been a growing experience for him. He’d had a fair few hook-ups, and experimented, and he wasn’t shy about flirting when he wanted to, but you always through hi right back through loops, like he was still that kid with a buzzcut.

“What can I do for you, four-A?”

“Stiles. My name is Stiles.” He waited for the usual reaction, the cringe, the eyebrows shooting up, the scowl, something to indicate that you had actually heard the pronunciation, but you only smiled a little wider.

“I know. After I introduced myself and you fell over and didn’t give me your name, I checked the mail in your post-slot. I was curious. There was a lot addressed to Mieczysłav, but then one with a handwritten address to Stiles.” You shrugged, leaning against the doorframe, and crossing your arms, and while you might seem casual, at least his degree was coming in useful for something, as your body language read an entirely different reaction, insecurity and worry rolling off of you in invisible waves of tells.

He rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand, laughing slightly. “That sounds like something I would do.”

Silence fell between you both for a second, and he couldn't help but stare, taking in every detail of your face, the way your lower lip was a little reddened, and he figured you must have been nibbling on it while working, and your hair was messy, an attempt to pin it back that seemed to have come loose and entirely ineffective, presumably from dancing, because you looked a little flushed. When you raised your brows at him a little, he realised you were waiting for him to explain himself, why he was on your doorstep, and he flushed with embarrassment shaking his head clear.

“I got your spellbooks by mistake.” He held them out, eyes widening even more, before his jaw was dropping open. “Book. Regular books. Not spell books, because that would imply magic, right? And, that’s dumb. Just regular books. I didn’t look at them, at all, not even a little bit, I promise.”

“You don’t believe in magic, then?” You took them from him, a coy smile on your lips, and you placed them down on the counter beside the door, pushing a bowl of potpourri getting pushed aside, along with your car keys and what looked like an incense burner.

“Do you?”

He was testing the water, seeing where your mind was at, and as a whistling came from your kitchen, you glanced back over to the kettle on the hob, and he thought this conversation might be about to come to an end. “Well, I think there’s always a little magic in life, even if people don’t notice it. You have to believe in magic to be able to see it. It’s like the supernatural that way.”

“And, you believe in the supernatural, huh?” He felt bad for the way he said it, because it was mocking, but he had to be sure that you weren’t messing with him, or spying on him, he had to try and find out who you were, but you only looked away as the whistling got louder, opening the door a little more and waving him inside as you walked away, and he stumbled after you and closed the door before his mind had even caught up with the movement of his feet.

Your apartment was littered with plants. The windowsills were lined with them, all brought green and blooming, even though he was sure it wasn’t the right season, and there was even a set of cactuses along a shelf near the corridor. There was a homey feel to your place, almost earthy, neutral tones and soft accents, a smell that was so calming he felt his own muscles begin to relax, and the music had changed from classic rock to some country song he was sure he’d heard in a movie somewhere but couldn't quite place it, and he followed you to the kitchen.

Rows of cookbooks and recipe folders stacked up on top of a lower cupboard, and he swallowed thickly, averting his gaze from the way your lace panties hugged your ass deliciously as you reached up for a mug, bringing back two, and pouring them both full of the herbal concoction you’d been making. On a mismatching saucer, you offered it to him, and he sniffed it carefully, but remembered his manners, mumbling a ‘thank you’, because his mother raised his right, even if he was a little suspicious of you.

“Relax, Stiles, if I was going to poison you, I wouldn’t be giving you tea made of Valerian and Lemon Balm. Do you want any honey, honey?” You grinned a little at your joke, but he shook his head, watching as you stirred a spoonful of the sticky sweetener into your own, and taking a tentative sip after blowing on the surface. It wasn’t all that bad, he had to admit, and he found his tensions slipping away a little. “It’s for relaxing, and helping with sleep.”

“It’s good.” You smiled, blowing lightly on your own, and he decided that he could busy himself by checking out your posters. An interesting arrangement, one was a band poster, the other was a chart with the phases of the moon, a third with diagrams of plants and little facts underneath, and the fourth, with symbols and drawing he didn’t quite understand. “So, you’re really embracing that whole witch thing, then?”

“Well, seeing as I am a witch, I would think it’s only appropriate.” He tried to hide his grin behind his mug, shaking his head a little, not believing that they really existed, and you didn’t miss the glint in his eyes, clearly, because there was a playful kind of offence flashing across your face. “You can’t tell me you think I’m insane, not when there’s so much of the supernatural all over you, Stiles.”

“The supernatural? Really?”

“So, you’re not the emissary to a pack of werewolves?” You challenged, his jaw dropping at the accuracy of it, and it was your turn to laugh at him. “It’s literally stitched into your aura, I sensed another supernatural the second you walked into the building.”

“I just associate with a lot of ‘em, but I’m not supernatural myself.”

“You sure about that?” He stilled, memories flashing behind his eyes of a time when he once was, and you seemed to pick up on the slightly sour mood he’d taken on, then again, he wasn’t really sure where your abilities lay, being that Scott or Derek would have simply sniffed it out on him. Your hand on his arm snapped him back to the moment, fingers squeezing lightly at his bicep. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“There was a possibility, once, but it’s gone. There’s a dark chapter in my past, and the spark I was told I once had disappeared when I got through it.”

It went quiet again after that, your fingers slipping down from his arm to take his, and you placed your cup down, the steaming brew barely touched, but he followed suit, letting himself be pulled along as you directed him back to the living room. You were distracting him, it was an obvious ploy, but he was excited to learn, and he let the sadness of remembering his possession fade away as the thrill of new knowledge took over. “I can tell you have a lot of questions, so, what do you want to know first?”

He rubbed at his chin, settling down onto the couch at the edge of the room, finding it surprisingly comfortable, and you were busying yourself around him, a little water jug in your hand as you nurtured the abundance of houseplants you owned. “How did you know about my pack? And how much do you know about them?”

“It’s in your aura, I suppose. I can just pick up hints of different things when you’re around. The wolves are obvious, I’ve been around a lot of wolves. I also get death, and I've never met a banshee, but I assume that’s what it is. I knew you were the emissary because you’re the only magic in there, I would sense other traces on you, and there’s something else I can’t quite place.” Your face screwed up a little bit as you thought about it, nose wrinkling adorably before shrugging. “Like a werewolf, but not quite. I can’t get it.”

“She’s a werecoyote.”

You paused your pouring, turning to look at him, eyes flicking lightly around his being, before smiling slightly to yourself, and going back to your task. “Huh. Interesting.”

“Have you been a witch your whole life?”

“Since the day I was born, but I didn’t know or start practising until I was older. It just kinda’ happens, comes out of nowhere at a certain age, you start to realise you have abilities.” You had moved onto using a dropper to give little drips of water to cacti and succulents, standing on a small step stool as you did.

“Do you have to go to a school, like Harry Potter? Do you have a wand?”

You laughed at that, a genuine and hearty laugh, and you finished up your tasks, legs folding underneath yourself and you smirked a little at him as you sat down and got comfortable. “You wish, Stilinski. It’s not like that, it's more of an earthly connection than magic. It’s why my plants are so healthy. I can brew stuff, make little potions-” You motioned a hand over the jars lining the shelves on the walls, his eyes scanning over each one, picking out the neatly written titles across the fronts. “-I can cast very light spells, but it’s not the sort of thing where you can curse people, or teleport.”

“So, you can’t curse people to turn into frogs?”

“No, unfortunately not.” He was sure your giggle was the sweetest he’d ever heard, and he dared to twist himself around a little more, inching slightly closer to you across the couch. “I can do some stuff, like make your skin break out or give you a rash that won’t go away until I let it, and I can even give you headaches and such, but I don’t like to dabble in that sort of stuff. I much prefer protection charms.”

“Protection charms?” His heart skipped a little beat at the way your face lit up as you nodded, and he was intrigued, interest piqued. “I could use one of those, y’know, I’m incredibly clumsy and often get into supernatural trouble when I’m home. Hasn’t been so bad since I got here. Will you make me one?”

Your eyes left him, bottom lip nibbled between your teeth, and for a second he had worried he’d messed up, unsure on how witch spellcasting etiquette worked, but then you were moving across the room, opening up the cabinet on the other side of the room, and inside the doors and wooden frame hung what must be close to a thirty different decorative charms. Some were dreamcatchers or garlands hanging on the inside of the door, others were handcrafted little ornaments sitting on the shelves and filling them up, and your fingers were flittering over them all.

When you found what you were looking for, you lifted it out, a dream catcher that was bright and colourful and a little odd-looking, before bringing it back over to him, and presenting him with it cautiously. “You already made me one?”

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t let the cute guy from across the hall get any more injuries. I watched you fall over five times in your first week living here. You’re really clumsy.”

He felt heat rush to his cheeks, and yet he couldn't help the goofy grin that travelled across his features, not mentioning the fact that he noticed you sitting considerably closer to home when you took your seat once again. He was embarrassed for two reasons, the first being that you had noticed his innate penchant for ridiculous injuries, but more overwhelmingly, the second being that you still thought he was cute. College might have helped him bloom a little, but when he had a crush, he was still a bumbling mess, and he didn’t know quite how to respond.

He busied himself with taking in the details of the dreamcatcher. Somehow, despite this being the first real conversation that the two of you had ever had, passing and fleeting chats in the halls and elevator not counting, you had managed to capture his entire essence, he could already tell. The strings were made of wool, chunky and all different colours, a mix of yellows and blues, woven in together and tangled in strange patterns, but beautiful nonetheless, and the little accents were what made it complete.

A button that had fallen off of one of his flannels, he recognised the distinctive wooden piece, and it was woven into the design, along with a blue ribbon in the same colour of the jeep that was tied in a bow, and a wooden twig tangled in it. Dangling on more pieces of wool from the bottom was a keyring he was sure he’d lost after leaving it downstairs overnight, the Yoda on it looking cleaner than he remembered, and you must've cleaned it. There was also a black feather, and a sprig of some kind of dried herb that he didn't recognise, but enjoyed the smell anyway.

It was intricate and personal, and he felt chuffed just to know that you’d made one for him, a little security and peace washing over him to know that someone was out here looking after him, completely unmaliciously, simply because you wanted to.

“This is incredible.” You let out a breath of relief, he recognised it in the way your body slumped a little, and he placed it down carefully on the coffee table beside you both, reaching out to take your hand in his, and daring to lace your fingers together and squeeze in gratitude, and you held onto him yourself, gaze dropping down to your connected hands. In a bold move of your own, you lifted your other hand, holding onto his with both of yours, and his thumb lifted out to brush lightly over your skin. “You’re the reason I don’t get papercuts and splinters anymore.”

“And you are very welcome for that.” You teased him back, and an easy kind of harmony fell between you both, your presence being more comfortable simply having only just really begun to meet you than he ever had been with someone new. It was strange, to feel so relaxed and at home with you, the way you put his fears at ease and soothed every worry without even trying, making him feel welcome and accepted, like he’d known you for years, not just shy of an hour. “Will you tell me about your pack?”

“You really want to know?” He couldn’t mask his surprise, and you nodded, excitement gleaming in your eyes, and he felt a surge of pride swell up in his system at the idea of getting to boast about his friends completely honestly for the first time in his life. There was no threat, he wasn’t showing off their skills as a way to try and ward off a threat or intimidate someone, but he simply wanted everyone else to be as awed by them as he was, and he didn’t have to hide any supernatural secrets from you. “Shall I start at the beginning?”

“Is it a long story?”

“Very long.” He confirmed, a shy laugh leaving you, before you were shifting again.

“How about I go and make us some fresh tea, then?” You were on your feet, wandering away to the kitchen as soon as he’d offered his affirmations of the idea, and he decided to follow after you, already beginning to blather about Peter Hale.

Hours seemed to pass by, as he spoke to you, two more pots of tea being made, and you’d broken out your snack-store for him, before the two of you had ordered pizza. He’d made himself at home, too, keys and phone sitting abandoned on the table, shoes kicked off on the floor, and feet stretched out along the couch. You were sitting at the opposite end, your legs stretched out in his direction, and one of his hands was sitting on your ankle, fingers drawing patterns on the soft skin there absentmindedly as his other hand was used to gesture wildly around himself.

He told you it all, confessing right from the beginning as he encountered Derek Hale, who liked to lurk in the woods, which had made you crack up as he told you about how the man was basically now the alpha, even if Scott was officially the alpha, and he’d told you about Jackson’s kanima phase, which had made you crack up even more as you claimed he deserved it.

You’d been shocked by his homicidal English teacher, and comforted him when he spilled his heart to you over the nogitsune incident he hated to think about, accepting your hush happily, and revelling in the smell of your hair when you’d pressed in close to him, before retreating to your seat.

He told you all about the benefactor and the dread doctors, and about Allison’s death, which he still blamed himself for when he was on a low day, and you’d used your thumb to clear away the tear that had fallen from his cheek, leaving him blushing and breathless for a second when you’d pressed a light kiss to his cheekbone just after.

You had scooted closer to him and stayed there near the end of his tales, tucked under his arm, playing with his fingers over your shoulders as he rambled about how alone he’d felt while taken by the Wild Hunt, thoughts that he’d always kept locked up in his own mind, never having shared with another person before.

“You really got the short end of the ‘supernatural encounters’ stick then, huh?”

“Oh, sweetheart, that is the understatement of the century.” You lifted your head from his shoulder, your feet nudging together on the coffee table, the reindeer themed fluffy socks on your feet playing with the patchy and worn door knitted socks he’d had for years, worn to keep warm during the winter, even though your apartment was nice and toasty, the heaters running and the radiators on, and it was much cosier than his place had ever been.

The Christmas lights on a timer had come on, flickering around the place once the light had started fading, hours flashing by in the blink of an eye, a hazy glow cast over the apartment and creating a whole new range of shadows. “Do you want me to make charms for your friends?”

He watched you for a moment longer, trying to discern whether you were serious, and when he caught no gesture of ill-will, or hesitation, or hidden-motives, he smiled. “You’d do that?”

“Seems like you all need it.”

He shrugged a little, smiling when you rested your forehead against his, fingers playing together still, but feet stilling in their game of footsie. “I can’t believe I waited this long to get to know you. You’re, like, the coolest chick I’ve ever met.”

His eyes fluttered closed, he couldn't’ help it, noses bumping together as you both simply drowned in the moment, in what the moment was leading up to, where you both knew this was going but were revelling in the simple but exhilarating tension that was crackling with electricity in the millimetres of space between your lips and his. You were so close to him that he could feel it more than hear it when you whispered some words he didn’t quite understand, your breath fanning over his face in a dreamy sigh, and it took his hazed brain a second to catch up, before he was pulling back just enough to catch your eyes, one hand coming up to rest over your cheek as he turned to face you fully.

“Oh, my God. Did you just cast a spell?”

“Look up.” He was hesitant to pull back much further, but did so anyway, and he chuckled slightly as he spotted the little green plant beginning to sprout from the ceiling. Vines were still strengthening along the beam, and the leaves were beginning to form right before his eyes, white berries hanging between the green stems, and Stiles shook his head, in complete awe as he looked at it.

You were staring up to, eyes focused on the plant as it bloomed and he assumed you were concentrating on its development, but he couldn't hold back anymore, two hands on your cheeks, pulling your face back to his, and your lips barely parted to speak before his mouth was colliding with your own. A squeak left you, and he wanted to grin at being able illicit such a sound from you, but the temptation to kiss was just enough for him to contain himself. When your mind finally caught up, you were kissing him back just as eagerly, a soft sigh leaving you. “You are fucking adorable.”

The words were whispered into your mouth, he felt you shake with a soft laugh under his hold, before you were holding onto him just as tightly in return. One of your hands wrapped around his wrists, the other sliding over his bicep to his shoulder, before slipping down underneath, and smoothing over the front of his chest. He puffed out a little under your touch, pulling away for a quick breath, groaning slightly at the way your nails dug into his skin as he did, and then, he was diving right back into you.

Your hand slipped down to rest over his heart, the organ thudding under your hand, and he felt like it was going to burst right out of his chest, but as he pressed a little further into you, a shock like an electrocution was racing right through his body, a kind of jolt that was thoroughly exhilarating, and he pulled away, eyes wide as he stared at you.

You looked just as shocked as he expected he did too, his hands dropped down as he watched sparks and electricity crackle between your fingers and his, your brows raising at him. “Thought you said you had no magic left after.. y’know..”

He couldn’t drag his eyes away from it, your fingers weaving with his, a loud snapping sounding as a particularly bright flare went off, and he flinched a little, jaw dropping and a whine slipping from him as you contained it all the sight disappeared before his eyes. “So, there really are sparks flying between us, huh?”

He regretted the words the moment he’d said them, expecting to see on your face the same kind he’d always gotten from Malia or Lydia when he made those kinds of cheesy puns that only he enjoyed, even Scott daring to fix him with a bored or blank look, and Derek would simply glare, but much to his surprise, you laughed. It was fond, with a roll of your eyes and a huff to preempt it, but you laughed nonetheless, and he felt himself somehow manage to brighten even further. “That was cheesy.”

“I know.” He beamed, shifting a little, hands sinking down to your hips to pull you closer to himself as he settled back into the couch, and your hand pressed to the cushions beside his head, the other one coming up to weave into his hair lightly.

“I loved it. I am quite a fan of puns.”

“That’s good, because I usually have a lot of them.” He leaned up, daring himself to be bold enough to close that gap once again, and he could feel your lashes tickling his cheeks as you nuzzled into him a little more. “If I kiss you again, will those sparks happen this time, too?”

“If I stop controlling it, they will.”

“Stop controlling it, sweetheart.” He felt you move to nod your affirmations, but dipped his head in time, proud of his own reflexes as he caught your lips, feeling the hand in his hair tighten, and he was so glad he’d decided to grow it out all those years ago, because right now, he was losing all sense of himself in the way your nails would scratch across his scalp, or the delicious burning that flared over his skin for a split second when you pulled on his hair, before you were rubbing it softly, fingers working in tandem timing with your lips, teasing over his own.

That same feeling took up, a sparking that felt like fireworks, like energy surging through him, escaping at his fingertips in every place that he touched you, one palm smoothing along your back to somewhere that was definitely too lose to be respectable, as the other held onto your cheek still. You were taking control, your tongue darting out to trace over his lower lip, bribing him to part them but he needed no convincing, letting your tongue meet his own only a second after you’d made the request, equally breathy and needy noises escaping you both at the slow and wet drag of the muscles over one another.

His lungs were burning, lips beginning to sting as his assault on your mouth continued, his neck straining to hold this angle, and yet the more you kissed him, the more that the hazy feeling of getting to be with you like this raced through his body was the more he became addicted to needing more, chasing a high that he didn’t even know he wanted until now, like an addict finding his next hit.

You seemed to pick up on it all, as though you’d read all of his thoughts, because the second he’d had the lingering thoughts, you were settling yourself across his lap, a leg on either side of his own as you seated yourself down, and he couldn't help the way his hips bucked up a little to meet you, or the way his hand slid down fully to rest on your ass.

After all, as much as he’d gone through the make him grow up emotionally, physically he was still a horny-teen college boy, and you were one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, sitting half-naked in his lap and sucking on his lower lap while doing something with your tongue that was making him feel like he couldn't even breathe properly for how aroused he was.

Maybe you could feel the growing erection underneath of you, maybe you couldn't, but he’d stopped caring about being embarrassed around you about three hours ago when he’d had to tell you all about the time he’d once dropped a condom in Coach’s class in front of the entire classroom, and you’d laughed so much your face had gone red and you’d hidden it form him by pressing into his shoulder.

You were something he felt like he was dreaming up, like any moment now he’d wake up in a small puddle of his own drool with his face pressed into the desk of his lecture hall, the lights turned out and another note left by his kind professor to get more sleep at home, and to lock up when he left, before you were giggling a little at him, pulling away and stealing a few more pecks as you did, and he wondered if you really could read his mind, heat flushing his cheeks.

“Are you reading my mind or something?”

He felt stupid even as he mumbled te words, especially when it only seemed to heighten your entertainment, but you shook your head. “I can’t read your mind, I can just kinda’ sense your mood, I guess. It’s the connection, you were clearly thinking something funny, and I don’t know what it was, but I got a sudden rush of amusement.”

“That’s pretty fucking incredible.” He whispered, letting you peck his mouth a few more times, simply sitting there with puckered lips as he tried not to smile too much, before he was tucking hair away behind your ears and finally you were opening your eyes, and at this point, he really should learn to stop being surprised by new developments with you. “Holy shit, your eyes are glowing!”

“So are yours.” You winked, the bright purple being a shade that was so captivating and beautiful on you that he couldn’t look away, even when you leaned away from him to grab his phone, raising it up to snap a picture for him, and forcing his gaze down to it. Much like you’d said, his eyes were beginning to hint in with a faint purple, the neon shading beginning to drip into his irises and take over from the usual golden-brown that resided there. “You never made out with another witch before?”

He pinched at your ass for your cheeky comment, taking his phone and throwing it away to the side, grinning when you yelped at his painless attack. “I didn’t even know witches really existed before today. Besides, what makes you think I'm one? I had a spark once, but as I said, that died out. Nothing truly magical.”

“I don’t know, you’re having a pretty strong connection with me right now, aren’t you?” Your arms looped around his neck, snuggling in a little closer to him, and he bit back a groan as you shuffled in his lap. “I think you’re underestimating yourself, you just don’t know how to tap into your magic, you have to believe in it to see it.”

“You really think so?”

He was vulnerable and he knew it showed, he’d gone his entire life being unsure as to where all his energy and twitching came from, as to why he’d always felt a draw to the earth; the preserve and the woods, and justice and balance, and why he’d somehow fit into a supernatural world with far more elegance and ease than he ever had the normal one, and maybe this was the explanation. “I really do, Stiles.”

“Will you teach me?”

“I would love to.” He pressed a kiss to your jaw, and then to the spot below your ear, before flicking his tongue out a little to drag over the sensitive patch that lay there, before moving down your neck. He didn’t want to mark you without your consent, he wasn’t sure what was going to come of all of this and where it would go, but he was more than happy to lick and bite lightly at your skin, finding the sweet spot that made your hips roll down into his own and a sound of need and desperation to leave you that was like music to his ears, before his hips were bucking up to meet you once again.

“Y’know when you said that you could feel what I was feeling?”

“Uh-huh?” You were distracted, your reply seeming somewhat faded and distant, and he chuckled lightly, before making his way back up to your mouth now that you’d both had a chance to catch your breaths once again.

“Does that mean everything?”

“Are you asking if I know just how much you want to fuck me right now? Because yes, I do know.” He choked a little on his breath, your hand in his hair pulling his head back so that you could meet his gaze, your lower lip held between you teeth, flesh going a darker pink, and he longed to be the one biting that lip for you. “Trust me, the sentiment is returned.”

“It is?”

“Oh, yeah.” He wasn’t used to women being so confident with wanting him, being so unashamed of it, or of even wanting him at all. Most of his hook-ups had been slightly drunk make-outs and sloppy grinding, or booty calls and meetings in closets at parties. He got more action than he ever did in high school, he’d finally grown into his limbs and his looks, but that didn’t take away the surprise that still happened every time someone as pretty as you even offered him the time of day.

“Like, right here? Right now?”

“Been thinking about how much I want to ride you on my couch for like an hour and a half, now.” Stiles couldn’t stop the moan that bubbled up in his throat, lips parting as you ran a finger over his swollen lips, a cheeky glint flashing over purple eyes as you looked at him.

“You might just be perfect for me.”

“I like the sound of that.”

A toothy smile was offered to you, before he was pulling you back in towards him, hands slipping down to lay resting on your thighs as soon as your lips had found his once again. The heat seemed to have passed, and while the kiss was still completely intoxicating, there was something a little more tender about it, too. It wasn’t nearly as rushed and frantic, the sloppy kisses you’d shared as you learned one another’s ticks had passed, and as your lips worked slowly with his own, Stiles found that he much preferred this kind of kiss.

This was the kind of kiss that he could picture himself sharing with you in many settings. A sleepy, early morning kiss, when you were still between the land of consciousness and the realm of unconsciousness. Or, late nights, when he’d fall asleep while studying, and he would let you drag him to his feet and to bed. Or, simply when he would finish a lecture, or get you coffee, or meet you for dinner. The point was, Stiles already knew he wanted to kiss you at all times of the day, and to hold onto you, and to watch you brew little spells at the stove while holding onto you from behind.

Your lips were wet when you pulled away, eyes sparkling as you looked at him, a bright shade of royal purple, like silk and rich violet on flower petals, and you looked utterly ethereal. “Do you have any idea just how beautiful you are?”

“You’re sweet-talking me.” You teased, bumping the tip of your nose against his, and he shook his head.

“No, I’m not, I’m just being honest with you. I’ve been into you for a long time, even if I didn’t quite have my mind in the right place to actually say it.” You huffed out a little laugh, your eyes averting from his own so that you could try and hide your bashful little expression, but he didn’t miss it.

“Well, I’ve been admiring you a little, too. I should’ve had my deliveries sent to you sooner, if I knew it was going to end like this.” As if to punctuate your words, you rolled your hips down into his, reminding him of the solid erection pressing into his jeans, his fingers digging a little firmer into your skin, and he pushed your shirt up higher, the soft cotton of your panties revealed to him.

“These are just fucking sinful. Do you normally wander around your house in underwear and band-tees?” He tugged at it a little, before daring to tuck his hand underneath the fabric, trailing up, and a poorly-concealed groan left him as he found no further obstructions, fingers closing over one of your breasts, squeezing lightly as he palmed at your chest. “Well, clearly not all of your underwear.”

“I tend to, I keep it warm in here, for all the plants.” Your back arched up into his hand, one of your own closing over his outside of your shirt, as your other held onto his shoulder, fingers leaving crescent-moon shaped marks he was sure, and the rocking of your hips into his own only seemed to increase.

“I’d love to see you in one of my flannels sometime, just like this.”

“Give me your shirt and you’ll see it sooner than you think.” You teased, his brows raising, before he was pulling his hands back just long enough to lean into you, stripping the garment off as best as he could, leaving him in a thin black t-shirt as you took the item from him. He wanted to whine out as you stood up, choosing instead to replace the pressure of your core over his with his hand instead, palming at his cock through the thick denim, and you grinned as you watched him, yet he didn’t feel the slightest bit embarrassed.

You stood before him, draping his shirt across his spread knees as he slumped further into the cushions, getting himself comfortable and popping the button on his jeans, swollen lower lip being nibbled as you played with the hem of your shirt. Your hips were swinging to the beat of the song, and then, you raised the garment up and over your head, letting it drop away to the carpet, his jaw dropping as he looked at you.

You picked up his flannel, pulling it up your arms, and leaving it open at the front, just barely covering your tits. You were an angel and also the devil, tempting him to do so many wrong things. Stretching his hands out toward you, he beckoned you back into his lap, an act you were more than happy to take as you bounded over to him, a pep on your few short steps, before you were settling back into his lap.

“Perfect.”

He let his hands find the flaps of the flannel, pulling it open wide enough to be able to admire your tits fully, letting you push your hair back away from your shoulders for his unobstructed view. Sealing one hand around your waist, he dragged you up closer, until you were almost pressed to him fully, before dipping his head down. His tongue dragged over a hardened nipple, taking the taut peak into his mouth and sucking harshly, as your hand wound into his hair. You tugged, roughly, a groan that vibrated along your entire body leaving him and making you shiver, and you made the prettiest little noises above him.

He switches sides, making sure to give the other half of your chest that same kind of attention, leaving wet marks and stinging watches along your skin that would become bright purple marks in the morning to match the colour of your eyes, and he just hoped you kept him around long enough to see them when they did become beautiful and prominent. He wanted to see his good work, he wanted to see the way he got to mark you up and leave his touch all over your body.

“Stiles..”

“I do love how you sound moaning my name, princess, but I’m not sure how much longer I can last when you're making noises like that and grinding yourself all over my cock like this.” You grinned, letting him kiss his way back up your chest and throat until he was taking your lips with his own. Your hands were moving down, tugging at his zipper as far as it would go, hid hips bucking up into his hand as he felt you drag a nail along his covered erection, breathy sounds between you both when you pulled away.

He only had to lift himself up for a moment, before you were tugging at his jeans, helping him to get them just far enough down his thighs for his boxers to be able to follow. His cock was throbbing, painfully hard and desperate for you, leaking precum along his skin, and he gave himself some form of relief. You were watching him, eyes wide as he pumped his length in one hand, the other dipping under your skirt rubbing over your core, and you bundled up your shirt for him.

“Y’know, all those times I thought about us, a quick fuck on your couch wasn’t how I had wanted our first time to be, but then again, I didn’t expect the cute chick across the hall to be a witch, wither, so..”

He used his thumb to drag your panties to the side, your sodden folds revealed to him, and he slipped two fingers into your dripping core with ease. “I’ll let you take it slow next time, I swear, but right now, I’d really like it if you’d fuck me.”

He could only nod, heart skipping a beat at the promise of another time. Your legs shifted, muscles clenching as he forced himself to take his touch away from your core and bringing his fingers up to his mouth, sucking your sweet essence from the thin digits. As you leaned over him, he was sure to line himself up, and then, you were sinking down onto him, your forehead flailing to his as your mouth fell open, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“You’re so fucking big.”

“You’re so fucking tight.” He whispered the words, a little breathless and hanging on the edge of his orgasm already, and you seemed just as close, because as you finally sank all the way down and settled into his lap again, he could feel every pulse within your walls as you hugged around him.

It took him a moment, staving off his climax so that he didn’t come just from getting to feel you like this, and you looped your arms around his neck gently to find your purchase. Your nails were scratching lightly at the hairs at the base of his neck, his flannel once again flapping around you, panties pushed to the side to let him have access to your centre, and it was deliciously filthy.

Once you were settled, you circled your hips, a test movement, pleasure spiking in both of your systems and it felt like the temperature in the room was shooting upwards. Stiles could already feel sweat beginning to bead along his skin in a thin layer, and you pressed yourself in closer to him. Each time you shifted your hips you were moving a little more, every rock of your body into his, you were pulling yourself up just a little higher to be able to drop yourself back down onto his cock, stretching and squeezing around him.

You felt like velvet, slick and warm as you sheathed around him. You were precise and deliberate, and he couldn't help the wonton sounds that were leaving you with every drop down onto his cock, before you were taking him up to see stars every time, leaving the both of you resting in the clouds. Panted breaths, a scream in the back of your throat that tried to break out each time as you gave him broken moans of his name, picking up your pace further and further each time.

Once you were stable above him, you were moving with purpose, fast and quick as you rode him, gaining more confidence each time, and he was gripping you so tightly that there would be fingerprints all over your hips in the morning. He helped you go, lifting you up each time, only to pull you back down into his lap, thrusting up with a weak effort to meet you, but feeling you go wild each time. That same energy was back, crackling with more force, surging through him like nothing he had ever felt.

Stiles was in college, he was away from home and the weight of being the Sheriff’s kid for the first time, and he had experimented. He’d gotten drunk, and high, and hungover, but this was a whole new kind of thrill; it was like lighting up with fireworks and adrenaline all at once, like creating a bond with another person, and a tingling spread throughout his entire body as your magic bonded with his own. He hadn't felt this kind of singing in his blood since the day he’d managed to finish the circle with the mountain ash back when he was only sixteen, or breaking through the wild hunt barrier at almost eighteen.

These kind of thrills were rare for him, but they’d never been this strong, and as the two of you moved as one in the most intimate way that two people could, your mouth coming up to claim his as you silenced yourself and him, growing louder and more desperate as you went, he felt that final high beginning to build.

“‘M so close, honey.” His voice had taken on that same kind of scratchy rasp that he had in the mornings before he even broke into his day, “Oh, God, keep goin’.”

He knew his words were beginning to grow slurred, and he could barely buck his hips up into you. As everything within his body began to light up, he felt like all of his muscles were going lifeless, his body going boneless, because the heat was consuming him. He couldn't hold it back, he’d been waiting for so long to feel you this way, and his lips could barely even move back against your own as he went slack-jawed, exploding within your tight heat.

The send that he was shooting over the edge, you were following right after him, crying out his name into his mouth as you kept going against him, until you couldn't clumping down into his body as you trembled, and Stiles felt as though you’d milked absolutely everything from him that he had to offer. There was a crackling along his skin from everywhere that your fingertips smoothed over, sliding down from his shoulders so that you could press your cheek to the spot instead, fanning breaths rushing over his neck as you tried to catch your breath, racing heart just like his was.

You didn’t even bother to move from him, letting him throb within your walls with each flutter you made and each shift, and if you kept it up, he was sure he’d be ready for a second round, but he wasn’t entirely sure that he had that in him. Resting his head back against the edge of the couch, he let you lift yourself up and off of him finally, your legs shaking as you stood, offering him a weak smile as he took in your through fucked out state, before taking wobbly steps away from him, and disappearing down the hall.

He heard a door close, assuming you’d gone to the bathroom, and he leaned over to the coffee table to snatch up a few tissues, to clean himself up with, before sorting himself out too. He did the bare minimum, not even bothering to do up his jeans once he had them pulled back up, but he stretched out along the length of the couch to lay down, an arm popped under his head, and a little laugh on his lips as he did.

He took a moment to glance around, not missing the way that the plants all seemed to be blooming particularly beautifully, seeming more alive than ever. As he lifted up a hand before his face, rubbing his forefinger and thumb together, a spark travelled between the tips, and he felt a little in awe just at the sight of it.

“It's pretty incredible, right?”

He startled, jumping a little, before turning to look at you and propping himself up on his elbows as you lingered in the doorway. You had changed, your hair pulled back and out of your face, missing a few odd strands and you’d buttoned up his flannel along your body, mismatched and hanging unevenly, but still adorable. You took slower steps over to him, waiting for a second as you stood beside him, before he was lifting his arms and making it clear to you that you could lay with him, a smile gracing both of your faces as you flattened yourself along him, cheek pressed over his chest as his arms wrapped around your waist.

“You like feeling your magic, then?”

He lifted his palm, holding it to yours and admiring the final dying flares he saw, as the energy began to dissipate and absorb into his body and yours fully. “I’m not used to feeling special myself. I’ve always been a behind the scenes, research, kinda’ guy. I’m not used to being one of the main players.”

“Oh, hush. You told me your story, you were most definitely a key player, Stiles.” He shrugged under you, letting you cross your arms over his chest and prop your chin on them.

“Yeah, but I never really felt that way, and now I feel like I have something to offer.”

You leaned in, brushing your lips over his jaw with a sweet kiss, and he felt like he could most definitely get used to this feeling. Can I meet them?”

“My pack?”

You nodded, seeming a little shy now, and joy raced through him at the fact that you saw enough of a future with him to want to meet his friends an get to know them, and to once again be able to be completely open and honest with everyone, never having to hide anything from anyone, and being able to let you fully and wholly into his life. It was a surprise, because the more he’d thought about his future late at night when lying alone in his bed, he was so sure he’d never be able to really settle down, because he could never let someone in on his life in every single way, but with you, that wasn’t a problem.

“I would absolutely love that.”

“Really?” You were studying him carefully, trying to ensure that he was telling the truth, and he gave you the most honey look that he possibly could, before lifting his head to meet your lips as he leaned in.

Soft and delicate, like a kiss that was shared between deep romance and longtime lovers, and he rested a hand on your cheek, holding you to him, and rolling you to the side, to sandwich you between the couch and his body Your thigh came up to rest over his legs, his palm slipping from your face to rest on your leg, drawing patterns on the skin until you pulled away to breathe, lips detaching from his as you whined a little. You stayed close, though, a soft look etched onto your features;

“I just want to meet a few more supernatural people, and get to know others who I don’t have to hide from.”

“Well, you definitely don’t have to hide from them, and you’ll love them, just as much as they’ll love you. We’re a pretty odd group, you’ll fit right in.”

“You’re right about that ‘odd bunch’ thing. I’ve never met a banshee, or a - what did you call it? - werecoyote.” That was an undeniable truth, your head coming back down to rest on his chest as he shrugged, unable to deny that you were right. “Your wolves sound nice, too. All the other wolves I’ve met have been overly territorial and closed off.”

“Well, Derek used to be like that, but we’ve pulled him around a little. He is still broody, though.” You laughed at his joke, a sound that made his heart burst open slightly and bleed with affection, all for you, as you continued to take more and more pieces of his heart with every act, and he was falling in love with you faster than he’d ever known was possible. “Don’t take notice of any of his lurking, by the way, it’s his twisted way of showing concern and care.”

“I’ll remember that, and if I ever catch him hiding behind a tree, I’ll know that it’s real friendship.”

“He does that, I’m serious, don’t underestimate him. I think my dad arrested him for stalking, once.”

“I think your dad would be who I am most scared to meet.” A fond tone in your voice, before he was pressing a kiss to your forehead, humming under his breath.

“He’ll love you the most, don’t worry.”

Silence fell between you both then, and he busied himself with tracing illegible drawings into your skin, simply enjoying feeling so close to you. It was irrationally domestic, and you were the final piece in his college life and college experience that was missing. Despite not being a wolf, he was unequivocally part of a wolf pack, and being surrounded so closely by such a tight-knit group of friends for those years had made him dependent on company and reliability, and he had been feeling so alone since leaving for college.

Scott had Malia, Lydia had rekindled things with Jordan, and even Derek had been (begrudgingly, to begin) hooked up with a deputy by his father, and they’d been on a few dates.

The last time he’d been home, he’d felt like a fifth, seventh, or was it ninth wheel, when Liam and Hayden were taken into account? He had been feeling awfully lonely lately, and he was glad to finally find someone that fit him perfectly, matching him like a glove.

“When I do introduce you to my friends, my pack, y’know, and my dad..”

You lifted your head, a little crease across your cheek from the fold in his shirt, and he rubbed the spot with his thumb gently, an attempt to remove the mark. “Yeah?”

“What should I introduce you as?”

“A witch.” You deadpanned, and he knew immediately that you’d clearly know exactly what he meant, but were playing with him, and he pouted, fixing you with a mock glare, before you were laughing to yourself over your joke, something so undeniably cute that he couldn't even pretend to be mad about it. “What do you want to introduce me as?”

Nudging your jaw a little with his, he puckered his lips, tempting you down to kiss him, and you were more than happy to press a series of sweet and short kisses to his lips. “I’d really like to formally claim you to be my girlfriend?”

He mumbled the words into your mouth, feeling your lips flick up at the edges in a smile as you gave him a kiss that was a little more firm, a little more loving and powerful, before whispering your reply; “Then we’re on the same page, because I’d like to introduce you to my coven back home as my boyfriend.”

“You have a coven?” He pulled back, a gasp of shock, and you giggled at him.

“That I do. Maybe I should tell you about them?”

“You absolutely should.” He insisted, his craving for knowledge taking over, and he couldn't have been more glad to whatever deity was watching over benevolently that he’d taken the choice to stay the first time knowledge had been offered, because it had led him to where he was now.

“It might take all night, maybe you should go and get a change of clothes. Get comfortable.”

“Is that an invitation to stay the night?” You only nodded, letting him roll you back over onto your back as he kissed at your neck. “I’ll buy you take out if you cuddle me later?”

“Cuddling and dinner? Glad I get to call you my boyfriend, now.”

“Not nearly as glad as I am to call you my girlfriend. My little witch.” His lips sealed over yours, silencing your laughs against his mouth as you teased him for the nickname, and he pinched a little at your sides. The mistletoe overhead grew a little more, a few of the berries dropping away and bouncing off of his back as the plant became bolder, just like the rest, that energy beginning to grow once again, as you got lost in each other’s touch.

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x reader smut #stiles stilinski/reader #stiles stilinski/reader smut #stiles stilinski teen wolf #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader smut #dylan obrien teen wolf #dylan obrien stiles stilinski #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien

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dreamescapeswriting · 3 years

Text

Rent An Oppa ~ HHJ [Request]

WORD COUNT: 4.5K

PAIRING: Hyunjin x Reader

GENRE: non idol AU, strangers to lovers, rent an oppa, fluffy, a little angst but nothing too major, pining for one another, first kiss,

A/N: I made this one a fluffy one without smut hunny, I hope that this is okay hunny

Moving to South Korea was one of the best decisions you'd ever made. It had been your dream for years to move somewhere that wasn’t where you were from. You’d finally made it happen, you were here. Sitting in your new apartment staring out at all of the sights that you could see. The apartment you’d gotten was a loft apartment which was something you’d never thought of having before, but it was perfect. The ground floor was open plan, besides the bathroom of course and you had large floor to ceiling windows that looked out at the city of Seoul. Your bedroom was just up a flight of stairs and it looked out at the ground floor, it was unbelievably perfect for your first home in Seoul. There was only one thing wrong with everything and that was that you didn’t know your way around. Sure there were maps and people you could ask for help but you wanted a tour guide.

You’d seen an app being advertised on your plane ride over which you were tempted to use. “Rent an Oppa.” It sounded like it was straight out of a K-Drama but it was real and monitored wonderfully. Everyone had a screening test, background test and everything is done before they were allowed to become an “Oppa” for the app.

“Let’s see what this is then,” You mumbled to yourself as you sat down on your sofa, pulling your knees up to your chest as you began to scroll through the app. Everyone had profiles set up with verification photos to prove that they were who they said they were, then there were some small descriptions about the boys or girls there.

Endlessly scrolling and swiping through profiles you couldn’t find anyone you thought you would get along well with. You wanted someone that you had things in common with, if you were going to be paying them for their time you might as well do something you both enjoy doing it.

About to give up hope and go at it alone a profile popped up. A new profile that caught your eye. The photo was of a boy around 21-years-old standing on top of a rooftop, dressed in a smart shirt and tie aiming a camera at whoever was taking the photo of him. Photography-nut was written in his profile making you giggle a little as you flicked through his images. In each of them, it began to reveal his face and mid-length blonde hair. He looked as though he was really sweet and kind, the kind of boy you took to meet your parents.

“Hyunjin,” You smiled as you said his name, swiping onto his profile to see what rates he was charging. It wasn’t expensive and just in your budget range so you messaged him. There was no harm in seeing if he was free that day.

[12:03] Y/n:

Hi there, I’m not entirely sure how this thing works 😅😅 but could we arrange a meetup? I’m new in Seoul and need a tour guide 🥰

Staring at the phone you debated with yourself if that was the right way to start a conversation with someone on the app. There was no tutorial on how to message them or if you had to wait for them to message you first.

[12:07] Hyunjin 🍀

Hey! I would love to arrange a meetup. I can meet you anywhere you feel comfortable! Welcome to Seoul! 💞🌺

Smiling to yourself you gave him the address to the shop right beside your apartment building. It was the only play you really knew so far and you wanted to meet him somewhere you knew the exact location of. Rather than wandering around lost trying to find somewhere to meet him you didn’t know yet.

Dressed in a long-sleeved Beige shirt-dress and some black leggings you waited outside the shop, acting as though you were busy on your phone so you didn’t look as though you were staring out for Hyunjin. It was already going to be awkward enough without you looking around gormlessly for him.

“Hey,” A voice called out making you jump a little as you looked up from your phone to see him. He was identical to his photos though his hair was a little longer now.

“Hi, I’m Y/n.” You shook his hand and he smiled nodding his head,

“I’m Hyunjin and I know this is probably going to be awkward for a while so I hope we can become friends throughout it,” He smiled as he let go of your hand. This time you looked at him you took in his whole appearance, he was wearing a black and white striped turtle neck and some black jeans.

“I’m new to the app so we’re both doing firsts here,” He smiled as he looked around you both, taking in everything around him as he tried to figure out what you could do for the day.

“It’s still quite early in the afternoon...I can show you around, show you all of the shops, shopping mall and just around Seoul itself if you like?” You were completely taken by his voice, appearance and how sweet he was being with you.

“I would love that, the only place I know is the shop and my apartment.” You laughed weakly as he nodded his head.

“Would you mind if I linked our arms?” You shook your head and you linked arms with one another as he began to lead you down the road.

“So what brings you to Seoul?” He questioned as he tried to break the ice. It was nice that he was trying, you had rented him for the rest of the day and you were going to have to get to know each other.

“I fancied a change in pace. I’ve always loved South Korea and the culture,” You admitted as your eyes glanced around at all of the people you were pacing. Everyone in their own worlds as they went about their daily lives. Each person you saw looked as though they had been plucked out of a fashion magazine, their outfits were so effortless yet stood out in the large crowds.

“When did you get here?” He asked as he waited at the side of the road for lights to change and you could cross without being in any kind of danger.

“About two days ago...I’ve been locked up in my apartment eating Ramen. I was so worried I’d get lost.” You groaned thinking back on it while Hyunjin laughed a little, shaking his head.

“I’ll add a shopping trip on our list of things to do. I can’t have you living off only ramen.” He chuckled and your whole heart seemed to swell up when you saw the smile on his face. It was honestly one of the prettiest smiles you’d seen and his dimples were so deep you wanted to reach up and poke them. But you didn’t.

The rules of the app were very simple. No inappropriate touching, no exchange of social media or phone numbers. Once the dates were over that was it unless you rented another one but only through the app.

“I should take you to see Cheonggyecheon River, a small walk down and we’ll be at the nicest cafes,” Hyunjin explained as he seemed to be enjoying this almost as much as you were,

“So why did you join the app?” You questioned as you looked at him, it had been a question on your mind since seeing him on the app.

“I needed the extra cash for art supplies...I’m studying at the moment so this seemed to be the perfect side job.” He explained as he began heading down some stairs towards a small river that ran through the city.

“Cheonggyecheon River,” You whispered as you looked around, it had only been something you’d seen in photos but now it was real.

“So you do art?” You questioned as you went back to looking up at Hyunjin while you walked.

“Yeah. I try to, I’m learning to draw, I thought it would be fun.” You smiled wanting to know more about it.

“Do you have any pictures?” He nodded as he sat down on an empty bench with you, pulling out his phone to show you photos of the drawings he’d been doing in his spare time.

“These are amazing! You did these?” You were truly shocked to see someone who was just learning to draw create amazing pieces as he had done. Some were anime characters, others were drawings of himself and another was a drawing of a dog.

“This is my favourite,” You told him as you looked at the Chihuhaha drawing he’d done,

“My little Kkami, I missed him so I drew him from a photo.” You smiled at the drawing again,

“Do you not get to see him much?” He shook his head as he looked out at the water.

“I live in a dorm with seven guys who are studying, Kkami is at home with my family.” Your heart clenched at the thought of him not getting to see his dog much,

“I’m sorry.” He shook his head at you, you had nothing to be sorry for.

“Don’t be, it makes the time I have with him all the more special. Shall we start to go?” You nodded getting up from the bench once more and heading in the direction he was leading you in.

The two of you had gotten to know each other more on your walk over to the supermarket, getting to know about him and all his roommates that seemed adventurous.

“Felix came here at 2 am once just to get baking ingredients.” He laughed as he pushed the trolley around the store, adding things he thought you would enjoy as well as ingredients to make Kimchi with.

“Why was he baking at 2 in the morning?” You laughed adding some pasta products into the trolley, looking around at everything in shock. It was so much larger than any other supermarket you had been in and it was empty. Hardly anyone besides you and Hyunjin was around and there was soft music playing through some speakers.

“It’s Felix, who knows why he does what he does,” He laughed as he watched you. You were standing in front of ramen packets and he smirked a little,

“You could get the cups. They’ll be better for you and cheaper in price.” Thanking him you added a bunch into the trolley and smiled a little,

“Noodles are the only thing I can successfully cook.” You chuckled while Hyunjin shook his head at you,

“I need to give you cooking lessons but we’re almost out of the day...I can send you some cooking books if you like.” The thought of the day almost being over made you sad to think you’d never see him again.

“I could book you for another day? I would love to learn to cook from someone who’s lived here their whole life,” Yes. That was the reason. Totally not because every time he smiled or laughed your heart fluttered. Hyunjin’s heart seemed to flutter at the thought of getting to meet you again, although he was getting paid to hang out with you it didn’t feel forced. It felt natural to be around you as though he had known you for years and he couldn’t wait to do it all over again.

“Sure! We should get some ingredients to cook with tomorrow. Your Kimchi will stay good for three to six months if you keep it in the fridge and once you know-how. You’re pretty much great for everything,” You smiled before nodding. Both of you grabbing more and more ingredients for recipes you could freeze and add to the freezer.

Laying in bed that night you couldn’t help but smile to yourself at the day you had. Hyunjin bought you home in a cab, helping you in with the bags before he helped you put everything away. You’d already paid him before he got home and booked another day together but none of it felt like a job or obligation to either of you. Hyunjin went home with a giant smile on his face having enjoyed the day much more than he had expected to.

“I told you that you’d have fun,” Chan said as he walked into the kitchen later that night to see Hyunjin couldn’t stop smiling.

“I had a lot, she’s amazing Hyung.” He explained as he began to pour himself some hot chocolate and get ready for a few hours of studying before bed.

“Just don’t get attached. The rules were simple Hyunjin.” He nodded as he headed back to his dorm room to find Felix sitting there waiting for everything that had happened that day.

“Felix made cookies.” Was the first thing Hyunjin said to you as you opened the door to see him standing there. Today he was wearing a white t-shirt, a grey jacket and some shorts. It was the hottest day of the year.

“His famous ones?!” You asked a little too excitedly as you saw the Tupperware box filled to the brim with cookies all of different shapes and sizes.

“He was baking last night and he thought I could share them.” It was a lie. Hyunjin had practically begged Felix to bake you some the night before. He’d told you so much about them and he’d seen the look on your face when he mentioned them. He wanted you to try them.

“Tell him I said thanks,” You hummed as bit down into one of the cookies, instantly rolling your head back at the taste of them.

"He could run his own bakery, oh my goodness," Hyunjin smiled as he walked into the kitchen pulling out an apron he'd brought from the dorms and getting ready to help you cook.

"We'll start with the Kimchi, it'll be the best thing to start with and then whatever you're planning for your dinner." You nodded at him, finishing off the cookie before you washed up and pulled on an apron you'd gotten from the store yesterday.

While you were chopping and washing up the ingredients Hyunjin was telling you everything you needed to do.

"You know you should be a chef...Or give out cooking classes." You told him as you began adding all of the ingredients together.

"I would give you five stars," He laughed softly as he looked at you,

"Like a Michelin chef?" You nodded at him as you continued to add everything together. Hyunjin laughing a little as he began to stir some of the stew he'd been making, scooping some up for you.

"You've reached the peak of taste, you'll never go back to normal food I promise." He laughed as you hummed at the taste of the stew.

"You'll have to take some home with you, there's no way I'll eat all this to myself." You mentioned as you stared at the huge stew pot he was cooking with.

"I'm sure the guys would love it," Hyunjin said before adding a little more spice to the stew and leaving it.

The two of you camped out on your sofa for hours just spending time getting to know one another. He told you all about his life at the dorms while you told him about life back at home.

"Do you miss it?" He asked as he bit into one of the cookies and looked at you,

"Sometimes. I miss the people more than the place but it's home." You frowned thinking back on your time, it wasn't as though you were never going to go back again, but this was your life now.

"I suppose that's how it is with many people." He smiled weakly putting down his plate and looking at the time, he only had an hour left with you before he had to head home for the night.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" You shrugged your shoulders as you thought about it. Nothing was planned for at least a month, your job was waiting for some final paperwork to be done.

"Nothing that I know of,"

"Do you want to go to Seoul Tower, it's one of the best tourist spots. I think you'll enjoy it there," You smiled while nodding your head, wanting to spend all of the time in the world with Hyunjin. For as long as you could at least.

"Sure!" You smiled at him before going over to the stew to get everything put into smaller tubs for him to take home. The subject of payment was growing closer and neither of you wanted to feel awkward about talking about it again.

"Hyunjin. You're growing attached," Chan warned as soon as Hyunjin stepped through the door that night. All eight of the boys were on the app to earn some extra cash and for them, it had been routine days out. A cafe, a shopping spree here and there but that was it. None of them ever spent so much time getting to know their clients or even cook with them.

"I'm not. She's just being a nice friend Hyung," He complained as he placed the stew down onto the counter. Calling out to the boys that there was food if anybody was hungry for it.

"She's a client Hyunjin. Nothing more." He rolled his eyes as he listened to Chan bring up the subject of the rules again.

"No exchanging numbers, social media or inappropriate touching. I know Hyung, Gosh what do you think we're doing? Fucking in some park?" He grumbled taking a cookie and heading for his bedroom. He didn't want to hear the same speech over and over again reminding him that he couldn't have you the way that he wanted. There were feelings growing between you and he knew he was never going to be able to act on them and it killed him inside.

The days you spent together began to grow more and more and you forgot that this wasn't just friends hanging out together. That you were paying him for spending time with you. That was until the end of the night when you would wire transfer him the cash when he left leaving you both feeling awkward the next morning. Only for that to fade whenever you got on with the day that you had planned together. You'd seen almost every tourist attraction there. Hyunjin took you to Nami Island, ice cream dates, cafe dates, Seoul Tower and today you were going to Gyeongbokgung Palace.

"Everything okay? You seem quiet." He chuckled as you waited in line together to get tickets for the palace. Your eyes wandered up to him as you smiled weakly.

"Fine...I just can't wait to get in there." You lied not wanting to make anything between you more awkward than it had to be.

The palace was beautiful and filled with history Hyunjin couldn't wait to tell you about it. Explaining everything and tell you all of the facts he knew about the palace.

"Did you come here a lot?" You asked as you both sat down on some grass patches by one of the lakes. He'd brought along a picnic basket and a blanket for the two of you. The basket was filled with food he’d cooked and baked goods Felix had been forced to make once again,

“When I was a kid. I love history so I used to beg mum into taking me.” He laughed as he remembered all of the weekends he would spend there, learning about everything that he could.

“That’s amazing,” You smiled as he held up a spoon to your lips, spoon-feeding you some yoghurt he had bought along with him. You hummed letting him feed you when you looked around at different people around you. Lots of couples were doing the same thing as you both. Sitting together on the grass as they fed one another.

“Hey I was-” Hyunjin stopped speaking when you turned to look at him, neither of you realising how close you were to one another until your lips almost touched. Neither of you moved. You just stared at him, eyes flicking from his lips to his mouth your whole body aching to lean in and kiss him. But you didn’t. You sat there looking at him as he looked at you.

No one would have to know, he could just lean down and kiss you right now and no one would know about it. It wasn’t as though there were guards on the apps that tracked their every move. Placing down the spoon he looked at you, scooting closer to you as he watched to see if your facial expression changed at all. His right hand slowly rose to your face and he cupped your face in his hand, running his thumb along your bottom lip as you let out a small whimper.

“If I do this, there’s no going back.” You shrugged your shoulder. You didn’t want to go back. You wanted his lips on yours, you didn’t care about anything else.

Hyunjin pressed his lips against yours and instantly it was sweet yet filled with passion, your arms wrapped around the back of his neck as you kissed him back. Lips moving in sync with one another as he pulled you closer to him. The world around you faded away as you made out on the small patch of grass together, forgetting that he was paid to be there and you were renting him for the day. None of that mattered when you felt the way you did. Your whole body prickling with tingles as he kissed you. Lips parting and tongues touching. Everything around you was gone. All you cared about was this moment.

After taking you home Hyunjin came in to have hot chocolate with you, well over his intended time limit and continued to kiss you. Cuddle you. Only making you yearn for him to stay longer but he had to go home. He had classes the next day.

“I don’t know when I’ll see you again,” You admitted as you stood by the front door of your apartment. Neither of you moving as you stared up at him. It was your last week before work and you could no longer afford to pay him. Though the subjects of paying for dates had gotten too weird for you and Hyunjin to talk about.

“I’m sure we’ll see each other around,” He sighed knowing he couldn’t give you his number or any way of contacting him outside of the app. He’d hoped he’d told you enough about his personal life for you to accidentally bump into one another somewhere.

“Hyunjin I think-” He kissed you softly not wanting you to finish the sentence. He was getting feelings for you too but admitting them out loud would make him stay and he couldn’t.

“I will see you around,” He whispered putting an emphasis on the “will” before he leant down to kiss you one last time. His hands on your waist as he smiled against your lips, pulling away and leaving you alone.

Weeks passed by and Hyunjin saw no sign of you in any of the spots he had told you about, he even made an effort to walk by your apartment building every night home from classes but there was no sign of you.

“You’ve been so weird lately. Why haven’t you been going to see Y/n?” Felix grumbled as he rolled over in bed one night to see Hyunjin laying wide awake at almost 1 am. Just sitting there and staring at the top of the bunk bed he was under.

“I can’t...I have feelings for her and I didn’t want to keep taking her money.” Crawling down from the top bunk Felix came to see Hyunjin. He was fully dressed and staring at the ceiling still.

“It’s creepy. Stop staring like that. Just go and “accidentally” bump into her...What’s the problem?” Hyunjin sat up and shook his head,

“You don’t think I’ve been trying that? I’ve been walking by her apartment building almost every night. Sitting in cafes...Maybe I was reading into it wrong.” Hyunjin’s phone flashed up and he darted toward it only to see it was an email from the Rent an Oppa app telling him that his account was deactivated.

“You quit?”

“I didn’t want to do it anymore.” He mumbled before getting up from the bed and grabbing a jacket,

“Where are you going? It’s almost 1:30?” Hyunjin said nothing as he left the bedroom.

The account was gone and all that was left was a stupid message telling you that Hyunjin has left the account. Staring down at your phone you hated yourself for not messaging him sooner to arrange something. You had to see him again. For the last two weeks, you had been going to what he said was his favourite cafe and waiting for him. You’d do the paperwork for work there, read books. You’d been in there so much the owner knew you by name.

“I’ll make you some goodnight tea,” The elderly owner whispered as she walked over to your table. They were open 24 hours which was nice at times like this when you couldn’t get to sleep.

“Thank you,” You whispered as you went back to looking through the paperwork you had to finish. The job wasn’t what you expected it to be so you were trying to file paperwork whilst look for something else to do there.

“Nightcap for you too?” The elderly woman called out to someone who had just walked through the door. Frowning to yourself you glanced up to see a hoodied boy walk through the shop and stand at the counter.

“You’re not alone tonight. Someone else who can’t sleep,” The hoodied boy began to turn and as soon as you locked eyes your heart lept to your throat.

“Hyunjin?” You whispered to yourself as he began heading over to your table, eyes wide as he saw you sitting there.

“Fancy meeting you here,” He laughed as he sat down beside you, both of you just as happy to see each other.

“I-I’ve been coming here almost every day,” You admitted as he looked at you, hands finding yours and holding onto them as tightly as he could. He never would have thought you would come here, he’d only mentioned it once and how much it meant to him.

“I only told you about this place once,”

“I could see how much it meant to you...I thought I might catch you here and then we could...Go on a normal date.” He let out a breathy chuckle as he nodded his head.

“Sounds good to me. I’m paying.” He told you as he kissed your lips softly. All of a sudden all of those weeks away from one another melted into nothingness. It was just the two of you together once again giving you the freedom to date, exchange numbers and hang out without some pesky app or their rules in the way.

Tagline: @minholuvs @taestannie @sw33tnight @acciocriativity @mwitsmejk @taeechwitaa @justbangtanthingz @stillwithlix

#skz #skz x reader #skz x you #skz imagine #skz imagines #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin imagine #hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin imagine #hwang hyunjin imagines

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shemarmooresfedora · 3 years

Text

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warning: swearing

Masterlist

Chapter 1

“Thank you for agreeing to guest lecture this semester. My students are really looking forward to hearing stories from a real life FBI agent,” Professor Walker was giving Spencer a tour of Georgetown University.

Spencer had agreed to guest lecture once a week in Professor Walker’s Criminology course following the return of the very much alive Emily Prentiss to the BAU. Spencer had snapped quite a few times at his co-workers and was still adjusting to the sudden development so Hotch signed off on this as a little break for Spencer.

Professor Walker was explaining faculty parking when Spencer heard that voice. It was so nostalgic and comforting, filling him with a sense of warmth that he desperately craved. He thought he would never hear it again.

“My office hours are Tuesdays and Thursdays from three to six. Can you make the lab up one of those days?” the voice asked.

Spencer was desperately looking around, trying to find the owner of voice so he could prove it wasn’t all in his head and you were actually really here.

Then, Spencer saw you. You looked as gorgeous as ever. You were in a black pencil skirt and a dark green blouse with pale pink high heels which was a far cry from the crewnecks, leggings, and converse that Spencer had known you to wear most of the time in college. You looked very mature and that is not to say you didn’t seven years ago but you had this sense of confidence about you now.

“Okay perfect, see you then,” you hung up the phone and made eye contact with Spencer.

Your jaw went slack, eyes widening in what appeared to be horror, and you ceased all your movement.

“Dr. Reid? Do you have any questions?” Professor Walker asked, forcing Spencer’s gaze to drift back to him.

“Uh no, I-I’m all set,” Spencer stuttered.

In reality, he had not listened to a single word he had just said but he took the metro so he didn’t have to worry about faculty parking. He was still trying to process the brief eye contact he had just made with you and figure out if it was a dream or not.

“Perfect, then you are free to go! I’ll see you Monday morning, bright and early!” Professor Walker chuckled.

Spencer waved as Professor Walker strolled off to his office and his eyes scanned the campus for you once again. However, you were long gone. Maybe it was a figment of his imagination.

“What the fuck!” you whispered to yourself as you were in a full-on sprint in your heels.

You were trying to locate your car keys in your purse while maintaining your speed. You simply could not handle seeing him ever again. You didn’t even know why he was here. He chose the FBI over you so shouldn’t he be on a private jet or something flying across the country?

Once you made it to your car and slumped into the driver’s seat, you knew you were safe. He didn’t know what car you drove and there were way too many cars to go around looking in the windows of each one.

You took a moment to collect yourself before pulling out of the parking lot. You drove your normal route to Wesley Elementary School and turned off the ignition, hopping out the car.

The kindergarteners were all lined up in a not-so-straight line behind their teacher with their little coats and colorful backpacks on.

“Hi Mrs. Flynn!” you greeted, heading to the back of her line.

You saw a flash of purple before you felt two little arms wrapping around your knees.

“Mommy, I missed you so much,” she exclaimed as you picked her up.

“How much?” you asked.

“This much,” the girl outreached her arms, creating a gap the size of her arm span between them.

“I missed you even more than that, Josephine,” you kissed her cheek, carrying her back to the car.

You placed her in her car seat and got her all buckled up as she talked to you about her day.

Yes, Jo was Spencer’s, that much was obvious from her big brown eyes and curly brown hair. She looked just like her dad but he didn’t even know she existed.

You and Spencer had dated for a little over a year at Cal-Tech. He was already on his third PhD and you were in your second year of undergrad but you both were twenty.

You thought he was the one but looking back on it now, what did you know. You were young, dumb, and in love. As soon as he was recruited for the FBI, you were swiftly dumped as he gallivanted across the country to be a badass and save lives. Fuck Spencer Reid is all you could think as you moped around your apartment for the first two weeks, absolutely miserable.

Then, you realized your period was late and you were never late. When you found out you were pregnant, your friends and family were very supportive, your parents especially, they said they would support your decision either way.

You decided to keep the baby even though you were still very young. You knew it would be hard but you knew this was something you wanted. You knew ever since you were a child playing with baby dolls and then growing up and babysitting your neighbor’s kids that being a mom would make you happy.

You never reached out to Spencer though. He broke up with you and then moved across the country. You weren’t really up for a “hey listen, I know you live thousands of miles away now and don’t want anything to do with me anymore but I’m having your child” phone call so you simply never made it. Sure, some help may be nice but you had your parents. You certainly didn’t need any help from the asshole.

It had been hours since Spencer had seen Y/N but he still couldn’t wrap his head around it.

He went to his old dusty computer on his desk and typed in “Y/N Y/L/N”. He wasn’t proud of this but he wanted to know what you were up to.

He found your section on the Georgetown University website. You were an Associate Professor in biology. Spencer smiled, remembering all the night you would come over to his apartment with a bundle of flashcards and have him quiz you until you got every single one right.

Your instagram profile was private and Spencer didn’t even have an account to request to follow you on. Not that he would, an ex seeing you in public after seven years and then requesting to follow you on an account that he just made would definitely come off as creepy.

He could ask Penelope to do further digging but you weren’t a bad guy so that would be an invasion of your privacy and he didn’t really want to deal with all of Garcia’s questions.

Spencer sighed. He missed you. He thought about you very often. Spencer thought it would be selfish to keep you tied down to him when he wouldn’t be able to see you very often. He thought it would just make you miserable so he broke up with you in order to save you from the future pain. But it hurt him so much that he actually cried the entire plane ride to Virginia, the poor woman next to him handing him tissues occasionally. You were way out of his league to begin with, you would find someone new and better in no time, he thought.

In the seven years that had passed, he had a few occasional flings but never even close to what he had with you. You were his first love and undoubtedly his last because he had realized too late that you were it for him.

AO3 link

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer x reader #reid x reader #cm fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 3 years

Text

Distraction

Summary: Meeting a single Dad on the plane back to the states was maybe just the distraction you needed to get over your fear of flying.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!reader

Wordcount: 3k

Warnings: reader is afraid of flying, one panic attack

A/N: First time writing for Frankie. I don’t know about fear of flying or about babies, so of course I decided to write about both 🙈 Let me know if you like it 😂

Masterlist

taglist in reblog

Maybe it was time to find a new job. A job that didn’t require traveling to other continents at least once a year. You could be a barista. Or… any work that would require you staying on the ground where you belonged. Not in a tiny capsule that traveled way too fast and way too high.

You felt anxious throughout the whole day when you knew you had to go on a plane. It wasn’t even the height you were scared of. You couldn’t describe it. You always were very independent. Maybe it was the fact that you had to trust a stranger not to fuck up and make the plane crash. You didn’t know who would be the pilot. Of course, you knew that they were all trained professionals, they have to be but… ugh. Overthinking. You were overthinking again. Handing the stewardess your boarding pass she smiled kindly at you and you tried to smile back before you sighed and slowly walked down towards the plane.

As soon as your nose smelled the engine (yes you could smell it) you felt like your stomach wouldn’t make it. Closing your eyes you breathed in deep, trying to remember that millions of people did this every day. Opening your eyes you looked at the plane door where a man was just climbing in, a baseball cap on his head. He was carrying a baby that was sleeping on his shoulder as if nothing else mattered. You smiled softly. If a baby could do it, you could too.

Nope. No you couldn’t.

You felt your throat getting dryer the further you walked into the plane in search of your seat. You never sat at the window, always in the middle. You read that it was more safe once. When you arrived in the row you would be sitting you couldn’t help but smile, finding the man with the baby sitting on the window seat, the baby carrier in the middle seat. He looked up and you were met with warm brown eyes. His hand was on the baby’s back, almost covering it entirely. He gave you a tired smile and you nodded.

“Hi,” you whispered, not wanting to wake the baby.

“Hey,” he nodded quietly. You took your coat off, putting it in the cabinet over the seat, and sat down. You intended to work on your way back to the states so you brought your laptop. Pushing your bag under your seat you got out your phone, putting it in flight mode before you secured the seat belt. People were still coming into the plane and you felt yourself getting more nervous. Sucking your bottom lip in, you took out the card with the safety instructions in front of your seat, reading it carefully. Your assigned security exit was just two rows behind that was good to know. You were unaware of the man sitting two seats next to you watching you. You crossed your legs, your sweaty hands on your thigh when they closed the doors. You turned your head as you heard the man next to you mumble in Spanish and noticed that the baby had woken up and was now looking at you with big eyes. She was still lying against the man’s chest, her head just under his chin, his lips kissing her head. You looked at him then, noticing how attractive he was, his eyes closed as he gently rubbed circles on the baby’s back. His base cap sat deep on his head, dark wild curls underneath that peaked out. You never thought a mustache could be attractive but maybe he was the exception.

People were finally settled in their seats and you felt the plane move as the announcement from the boarding crew came for the safety instructions. You heard a tiny whimper and looked at the man. The baby was clearly not happy with the loud voices from the speaker. You wondered why he was alone on a plane on a seven-hour flight back to the states with a baby that couldn’t be much older than maybe four months. A noise made you jump and he looked at you.

“Sorry,” you mumbled embarrassed.

“First flight?” he asked. You shook your head.

“I wish it was. That wouldn’t make me being scared so embarrassing,” you sighed, your eyes wandering between him and the baby on his chest. He smiled a little.

“You can’t choose your fears,” he shrugged. He was right you couldn’t.

“I wish I could though. I feel like I’m gonna faint every time I have to fly.”

He looked at you before he began to open a bag that was laying in the baby carrier.

“You probably already heard all kinds of solutions for going over your fear but as a pilot let me assure you, that it’s perfectly safe.” He seemed to have found what he was searching for, a baby bottle with milk in his hands.

“You’re a pilot?” you asked fascinated.

“Was. Military. But can’t with this one needing me around,” he kissed the baby’s head.

You smiled. “She’s adorable.”

“She’s my whole world,” he put her in the crook of his left arm, his right hand checking the bottle.

“Gotta make sure the entire plane doesn’t hate me for bringing you on here, baby girl,” he said quietly. She looked up at him with big eyes, her little arms going up as he brought the bottle in her line of view and you chuckled. He looked at you, giving you a soft smile.

“It’s our second flight but she’s a trooper,” he explained. “Feeding her during take-off and landing helps with the ear pressure,” he explained.

“Are we taking off already?” you asked, feeling the nervous flutter inside your belly.

“I can talk you through it, if you want to?” he offered as he brought the bottle down and the baby began to suck eagerly just when the plane seemed to be in starting position.

“I don’t want to bother you,” you shook your head.

“I wouldn’t have offered, if it would bother me,” there it was again, that shy smile that made your heart seem to stop for a second.

“Okay. Thank you…”

“Frankie,” he offered.

“Thank you, Frankie,” you smiled.

You still felt nervous after an hour in the air but now you weren’t sure if it was the flight or the man sitting next to you. Finding an attractive and, as you found out, single Dad that looked at his baby girl like it was his whole world, didn’t help to settle your nerves or ovaries. But you would take this kind of nervousness in a heart beat instead of your fear of flying. He had talked you through every little step on what the pilot would be doing. It may vary from flying a helicopter as he did, but the steps were the same. He had squeezed your hand that was grabbing the seat like a lifeline an hour ago. You swore you could still feel the warmth of his hand.

Sofia, the 3 ½-month-old girl that was his daughter was now laying in the baby carrier in the middle seat, her hand squeezing your finger as she slept. Every thought of working on your project was gone as you looked down at the sleeping baby.

“She’s got a pretty hard grasp,” you said looking down at her.

“Yeah. She’s so big already. I can’t believe it,” Frankie said. You looked up, seeing him lift his hat, his hand running through his hair before he put his cap back on. You smiled at him.

“What brought you over here?” you asked. He made a face.

“One of my military friends was wounded.”

“Oh. Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. Thank you for asking.”

“I wish I had friends like that. Flying for me over the globe in a heartbeat,” you sighed, trying to overplay the sadness in your face.

“Oh I’m sure you have someone,” he mused.

“I used to. But I moved across the country after my father died and I never really got settled in where I live now if that makes sense?”

“Well, why don’t you hang out with me… uh us?” Frankie suggested. You looked up at him.

“Careful with an offer like that. I might just say yes to hang out with Sofia,” you teased. As if she could hear you, she squeezed your finger and you just about melted.

“She’s great to hang out with, I’ll give her that,” Frankie said “But can she hold an hour-long conversation with a beautiful woman?”

You looked up then, seeing him look at you and you felt your cheeks getting warm.

“Guess I’ll have to talk to you until she can, huh?” you teased.

“Guess so,” he shrugged, a small smirk on his lips.

Frankie had just left to use the bathroom, leaving Sofia under your watchful eyes when her eyes blinked open. She seemed to look for her Dad until she looked at you. You could see her small lips pouting, her face frowning and your heart broke before she had even whimpered for the first time. Carefully you took her out of the baby carrier, hoping Frankie would be okay with you taking her out and took her into your arms. She was fully crying now.

“Shh…” you mumbled, propping her up so she was lying in the crook of your arm.

“Dad’s gonna be here any minute now, sweet Sofia,” you said soothingly. She didn’t stop. Sighing you changed so she was with her head on your shoulder as you got up from your seat. Maybe taking a little walk with her would help. You run your hand over her back like you had seen Frankie did before as you walked down the aisle and her cries got quieter until they stopped when you were close to the cockpit.

“There you go. You just wanted to see something different, huh, baby girl?” you asked whispering soothingly.

“Where’s your papa? What’s taking him so long?” you ask, beginning to walk back towards the seat. Frankie’s wasn’t back so you took Sofia down to the other side of the plane. You giggled as you found Sofia grab your hair and pulling lightly.

“Hey… Do you do that with your Dad’s hair too?” you asked, knowing you wouldn’t get an answer. You pulled her from your shoulder and she looked at you with big eyes as you put her in your arm so she could look up at you. Passing an older lady you smiled.

“She looks just like you,” the woman smiled softly as she looked down at Sofia who was still looking at you. You felt your cheeks getting warm again.

“Oh... I’m not…” you began but she only nodded at you and walked back to her seat. Confused you walked further until you saw Frankie walking towards you. He had an unreadable expression on his face as he looked at you and you hoped you didn’t overstep.

“I’m sorry. She was crying and…”

“She likes you,” he said, his hand brushing over her cheek and she smiled, clearly noticing her Dad was back.

“You want her back?” you ask, secretly hoping he didn’t.

“I think she looks very comfortable where she is,” he said. You looked up, finding him looking at you. He was taller than you but he was close. So close. You didn’t notice the spot on his jaw that was beard free before and you found yourself wanting to kiss him there. Kiss him everywhere. You gulped, looking down again.

“Let’s get back to our seat, huh, little lady?” you asked and walked back.

Sofia was sleeping again and you were trying to read your book. And not think about the man sitting two seats next to you. You looked at him from the side and found him always already looking at you. You felt like a teenager. You had to smile to yourself, thinking that must have been the longest date you had ever been on. You chuckled to yourself which made Frankie look at you, an eyebrow raised. You just shook your head embarrassed.

“I was thinking…” he began.

“Yes?” you asked.

“Can I invite you for a drink?”

You blinked at him, sucking your bottom lip in. You were about to answer when the whole plane shook with a turbulence and you sucked your breath in harshly. For a moment you had forgotten where you were.

“Shit…” you whispered to yourself, leaning with your head against the seat, closing your eyes, while your fingernails grabbed into the seat. The plane shook again and you breathed in and out to control your rising panic.

“Hey…” you felt someone grab your hand. You were too scared to open your eyes.

“It’s just some minor turbulence. We gonna be out of it in no time,” it was Frankie. He felt how your hand was shaking and didn’t let go.

“Just breathe. Can you open your eyes for me?” he asked. You shook your head, squeezing his hand harder.

“I know you can, look at me Hermosa,” you could sense that he was closer. Turning your head towards his side you opened your eyes.

“There you are, now breathe with me,” he looked at you and you got lost in his eyes as he breathed with you and you felt yourself calm down.

“That’s better. You made it,” he smiled. He was still holding your hand.

“Thank you, Frankie,” you said quietly. He leaned down, kissing the back of your hand he was still holding and you shivered when his lips connected with your skin.

“You’re very welcome,” he mumbled.

He didn’t let your hand go until Sofia woke up and demanded very loudly for her bottle.

It was you who gave Sofia her bottle as the plane landed and it made you forget about your fear of flying. Frankie watched you the whole time and it made your heart flutter. You wanted this. Only 7 hours ago you were on another continent and alone and now you had the baby of a man you met on a plane in your arms you didn’t want to let go.

You never even thought about children. There never was someone you could imagine having children with. It was always you. Just you.

But Frankie had shown you more attention in the last hours than any other person ever since your father died. You were lonely, you knew that. But you had made your peace with it. You were enough. But maybe you didn’t have to be just enough. Maybe you wanted to be more. Maybe Frankie wanted to be more.

The plane stopped and you smiled sadly down at Sofia in your arms. Slowly you put her in the baby carrier and she wasn’t happy about it. You almost cried.

“Come on you were so good the whole time…” Frankie whined and you giggled. He looked at you with a playful pout.

“I think she misses you already,” he said and you sighed.

“I’ll miss her too,” you smiled down at her, your hand brushing over her head and she took hold of one of your fingers again, making you chuckle.

You helped let Frankie out to get his stuff first, staying seated with Sofia. He gave you your coat and you reached for your bag under the seat before you got out of your seat. He had a backpack on and reached for the baby carrier. You were the last people on the plane. You waited until he had everything before you slowly walked towards the exit of the plane. Thanking the stewardess who was standing near the cockpit with a smile you got out of the plane, thankful to finally be on solid ground. You were about to turn around to look where Frankie was when you felt him grab your hand, squeezing it once. There it was, the nervous flutter in your belly again as you looked up at him and saw his small smile.

You were standing together waiting for your suitcase. Frankie had put Sofia in her stroller where she was sleeping peacefully. He already had his suitcase and was waiting for you.

“So…” you began, looking at him. He turned, now facing you fully.

“So?” he asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

“I was wondering about that drink you offered?” you asked. He nodded.

“How would you feel about dinner on Saturday? I’ll come and visit you in the big city?” he smiled. You felt your heart almost jumping out of your chest. You couldn’t wait.

“What about Sofia?” you asked.

“My friend can watch her. He owes me and… I want to be alone with you,” he stepped closer and you sucked your bottom lip in as you looked up.

“It’s only an hour drive, please say yes…” he whispered.

“Yes,” you breathed.

“Great. You have to get a table I have no idea what’s good over there. I’m more of a country guy…” he brought his hand up, cupping your cheek and you leaned into his touch.

“How about I cook dinner?” you offered, “So we truly are alone,” you clarified.

He leaned down, his lips brushing over yours softly and you closed your eyes, your hand clutching his soft shirt. He leaned his forehead against yours when he parted from your lips, breathing deeply.

“Yeah. Alone. I like to be alone with you,” he whispered, his nose brushing over yours. You nodded before you took a step back.

“Saturday?” you asked as you walked out.

“Saturday,” he replied and kissed you again.

#my writing #frankie morales #francisco morales #frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #Pedro pascal #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fic

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laketaj24 · 3 years

Text

Single in Staten Island: Tattoos & Kisses

Author’s Note: This is a three-part series I am going to do on Pete!! I am going to use the prompts I got in the second part! I talked with a friend about him—he does truly deserve a good girl or someone who won’t fuck him over. Taglist is here! Reqs are open, but I’m slow, no lie.

Warnings: None, just language.- Smut in the following parts.

Pairings:Pete Davidson x Reader

Masterlist

“What’s your order?” The chipper attitude they were supposed to have had left the day you turned in your two-week notice. This coffee shop had been the bain of your assistance. Fuck this place. Fuck these people and fuck their fancy, overdone ass orders. You leaned on the counter, giving the man in front of you a stern look.

He looked around. Clearly, you didn’t have an attitude with him. He’d just walked in the fucking place. “Uhm—,” his eyes found the menu, but there was an aloofness in him that triggered you.

“You’ve been in line ten minutes, and you don’t know what you want?”

“Yep.” He nodded and shot a smile. “Ten whole minutes. Still a fuck up.” His finger tapped on the counter, and he looked up at the menu. Nothing here looked worth seven dollars, especially not a coffee. “What’s good here?”

“Look, I don’t know. ”You sighed. “I’m about to go lunch, and you’re the last order.” You flourished the lack of customers behind him.

“You from around here?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Your attitude is pretty fucked up; I figured you lived up the block.” He took a pregnant pause and chuckled. “An Everything Bagel, jalapeño cream cheese, and a grande black coffee.”

“What’s the name?”

“Pete.”

“Spell that.”

“You can’t spell Pete?”

“You from around here?” You quipped.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I figured your name is probably spelled all fucked up and shit.”

He laughed, which was not what you expected; you just knew this was the gasoline added to a shitty fire. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Kinda weird.” He shrugged. “You wanna go somewhere better than this on your lunch break?”

“Unless you have a gram and a beer, no.”

“I have a gram and some black coffee if the barista doesnt quit before she puts my order in.”

You snickered. “That’ll do. Where are we going?”

“Anywhere but fucking Staten Island.”

The ferry. It hadn’t been in the plans, but you were happy you said yes to the lean stranger. He leaned against the railing, a cigarette in one hand a flask in the other. It wasn’t precisely beer, but you had no complaints. “You want a sip?”

“Sure,” You took the flask without hesitation and chugged down three gulps before passing it back to him. It was gin, dry grade A gin. “That’s the kind of shit you bring on a ferry?”

“I thought I grabbed my tequila, but I must’ve drunk it all.”

“Drunk at 2pm on a Tuesday?”

“I’m not drunk; I’m enjoying a drink. Judge much?”

You shrugged and turned, resting your back on the railing beside him, feeling the cool breeze run through your hair. “So why did you invite me out here?’

“You looked like you needed saving, and I’ve been there. Shitty job with shitty people.” He flicked his cigarette ashes into the water below him. “Plus, you cussed me out on the job, which means your kinda badass.”

“I like to think I am.” You admit and nod your head. “You ever get tired of doing the same old shit?”

“yep, that’s why I get tatted.”

Then you noticed the tattoos spackled across his body in random places, and they were once more in a random fashion. Yet, you liked them; they matched him, odd and somehow insanely attractive. “Pete, I want a tattoo. Take me to your guy.”

“What do you mean to take me to my guy? Does it look like I have a guy?” Pete laughs. “I’m like a god damn coloring book; let’s find the first shop and just do it. I pick yours… you pick mine. Stranger tats.”

“Why not?”

“Your boyfriend won’t appear and try to beat my ass?”

“Unless you’re imaginary, too, I think you’re good.”

‘Fucking Brickhouse like you, single in Staten Island?”

“Single in Staten island is not a rarity.”

“Well, you’re not wrong. It’s the only way to be.” He said with a bit of sarcasm.

The conversation was random the entire ferry trip; you made wisecracks and rebutted, flirting with you but keeping his distance. “Tell me three weird facts about yourself.” You twiddled with your fingers and looked up to meet his brown eyes. “I’m sure you have more than three, but spare me the rest.”

“I like to be alone.” Pete looked back. “But I love a good party, but when I go, I hang out alone and watch people. People are interesting as fuck.”

“I find them to be boring.”

“That’s because you’re not looking for the right things.” He pointed to the woman about fifty feet away from the two of you. The older lady sat tired, sunglasses covered her face while the gray hair blew wild in the wind. “See Gladys there; she’s about to go home to a man she’s been with for thirty-five years. The best dick she ever had.”

Your face radiated with heat as you suppressed a chuckle. “Has to be to stay with it thirty-five years.”

“You haven’t had someone dick you down that makes you want to stay thirty-five years?”

“Not even make me want to stay a week,” You answered.

“That’s fucked up.” Pete smiled.

“That’s life, Pete. Unfortunately, people don’t always get good dick like Gladys.”

“Yeah, lucky bitch.” His phone rang, and he shifted, digging in his light denim jeans to retrieve his iPhone and answer the call. “It’s Pete.”

You turned, giving him some privacy and taking it all in. You didn’t plan to return to work, fuck that place and everything it entailed. You started a new job in three days; you’d take these three days to not give a fuck. That feeling started today; it started with your new friend Pete and this tattoo. The call ended after a few minutes; he didn’t talk about much, just a conversation with a friend and plans he had for a party later tonight.

“The shop is about five blocks from where we get off. Have you decided what I’m getting?”

“I want to see the designs first; I want it to be memorable.”

“Make it your number.”

“Is that your coded way in asking for it?”

“Not coded, I swear.” Pete leaned closer to you. “I kinda think if we are gonna get stranger tattoos, we should have each other’s number.’

“We won’t be strangers then.”

“Call them something else then.”

“I’ll let you know if you can have this number later… I haven't got an invite to this party yet.”

“You're totally invited.” Pete tossed his hands up. “Give me three digits.”

“847.” You snickered.

“Good, I guess I can work for the next seven.”

The shop was grimy, with dark walls and low lights. The smell of weed and liquor hit your nose, and you felt at home for some reason. Your legs ached; the walking didn’t bother you usually but pairing it with walking didn’t do much good for you. You sat in the chair across from Pete. “Don’t make this a dumb tattoo.”

“You’re talking to the king of dumb shit.” He pointed to the small elephant; it wasn’t dumb, though. It had a feminine line design, and it was petite, adorable even. “I’m sparing you today. You’re getting this,” He smiled. “An elephant, not dumbo but a distant hot cousin.”

“I like it.”

“Good.” His smile was sincere. “I hoped you would. When is she up?” He asked the artist.

“I can get her now.” He answered as he started to sketch the elephant onto the transfer paper. “Hop up, sweet cheeks, and it’ll be about ten minutes.”

Pete extended his hand like a gentleman and led you to the red leather chair. ‘Ever had one before?”

“I have three.” You admitted.

“I see none.” He looked you over quizzically. “Not a one.”

“They are hidden….” You answered, choosing not to tell him they were down your chest and down your thigh.

“Secret tattoos. I like it. I can dig it.”

“Sure. Where is this party tonight?” You asked.

“Back in Staten Island.”

‘Can I trust you, Pete?”

“I hope so; I feel trustworthy?”

“You answered that like you didn't know the answer.” You shifted in the seat and pulled your shirt over your head. You revealed the tattoo of the moon phases going down your chest. “Just because you can't see something does not mean it isn’t there.”

“They're fucking awesome, like the person they are on.”

“You only think I’m awesome because you don’t know me.”

“I know enough.”

It was not like you to kiss a stranger because instead, you wanted to admit it or not, Pete was a stranger to you; you didn’t care. You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, and he responded immediately, kissing you back eagerly. His lips were soft, full, and applying just the perfect amount of pressure to yours.

“You two want to fuck or get this tattoo.”

You exhaled, pulling away from him. “Can we do both?”

To be Continued.

@honestsycrets @pyschiccreationtaco @opalsandlacemain @battbeans @placeoffreedom @daddyavesxx @niamandthings @honeyel @locht3ssmonster @itslovengie

#pete davidson #pete davidson x reader #pete davidson x you #pete davidson x black!reader #laketa j writes

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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Text

Both of You

Tony x Reader based on this request!

Warnings: mention of nightmares

Word Count: 1803

a/n: This one makes me feel warm inside. We're just pretending Pepper does not exist because any mention of killing her off is too sad for me to deal with right now. Tony deserves happiness. Featuring The Best Day by Taylor Swift.

Also, I'm currently working on a Reid request, two Steve fics, and an idea I had for Bucky, but somehow this one was the one that got me motivated.

Masterlist

You were relaxing, aka being forced to recover from a gunshot wound before going on any more missions, on the couch in the living room for the third night in a row. To say you were absolutely bored would be underselling it.

You spent the past few days alone roaming the compound because everyone else was out on missions. Typically this would mean hanging out with Morgan, but Happy's been monopolizing her time.

You were just about to start another movie when your phone started ringing.

"Where are you?" The voice was desperate.

"Nice to hear from you Happy. How are you, today?" You sassed him back.

"Y/N, I'm serious." His tone put you on high alert.

"I'm in the main living room, what happened?" You sat up from the couch, ready to come to him at a moments notice.

"I'm in the elevator, I'll explain in a minute." He hung up before you could ask any follow up questions.

You were up and standing at the elevator in no time, anxiously awaiting Happy's arrival.

After what felt like an eternity, he emerged from the elevator carrying a sleeping Morgan in his arms. He walked past you to set her on the couch before explaining.

"May had a bit of an emergency, I need to go pick her up. She's fine, just a little shaken up. Can you watch Morgan?" You could see the lingering fear in his eyes.

"Of course. Please, let me know if there's anything else I can do!" You spoke in a fast whisper, getting the words out quickly but quietly to account for Happy already boarding the elevator and Morgan still asleep in the living room.

"I'll call you if anything else happens."

And with that he was gone.

You made your way back into the living room while trying to decide if you should bring Morgan back up to her bed. She would sleep better there, but you might wake her up on the way.

You were just about to pick her up when she let out a strangled sob.

"Morgan?" She still appeared to be asleep, but her face showed fear. "Morgan, honey, wake up."

You spoke gently while running a hand soothingly through her hair. Despite your best efforts, she woke with a start. Her little fingers balled into fists, tears pooling in her eyes before you could say anything.

"Morgan, it's okay! You're okay. I'm here." You gathered her in your arms to rock her back and forth. "You're okay. Everything's okay."

You continued rocking her back and forth while whispering words of affirmation until her crying stopped.

"I- I want my- my dad." She hiccuped.

"Oh sweetheart, he's not home right now." It broke your heart to disappoint her. "Do you wanna tell me when you dreamed about?"

She nodded slowly, but clung to your arms.

"I had a bad dream." You could tell she was till scared. "There was a monster and he took Peter away!" She was getting worked up again.

"Peter's fine, baby. Do you want me to call him?" You spoke softly while reaching into your pocket for your phone.

She nodded solemnly. "With video, please."

"Of course, honey."

It didn't take long for you to facetime Peter. You could only hope that he would answer on the first try. While it rung, you angled the phone against a candle on the table to include you and Morgan in the frame.

"Hi Ms. Y/N- oh! Hi Morgan!" Peter's cheerful voice rung through the living room.

"Hi Pete!" Morgan's voice matched Peter's cheerfulness, but you could still tell she was shaken up.

"See, baby. Peter's okay." You gently prodded her mind to accept that the dream was just that, a dream.

"Petey, I'm so glad you're okay! I was so scared." She ignored your comment, but you could tell the call was helping her.

"Oh Morgan, did you have another nightmare? I'm sorry! You can always call me whenever you need to. I promise." He did well to cheer up the young girl.

You sat back against the couch, just listening to Morgan and Peter conversing for the next hour or so.

"Alright, I think we've got to try to go back to bed now. Say goodbye to Peter."

Morgan pouted, but didn't put up much of a fight.

"Bye Petey! I love you!" She called happily, the nightmare all but forgotten.

"Bye Morgan, I love you too. Bye, Ms. Y/N!" Peter called out.

"Bye, Peter." You smiled as you hung up the phone. "Let's get you up to bed."

"Nooo!" She whined. "Can I just lay down here with you?"

You knew you were a goner the minute she started pouting. With a sigh, you easily gave in to her demands. "Yes, but you still have to sleep."

"Yay! Can you sing to me?" She laid down on the couch, putting her head in your lap.

"Sure, sweetheart. What song?" You began running your hand over her hair in an attempt to calm her down.

"The one about being 5 and having a good day!"

You let out a small chuckle at her description, but you knew the song she meant.

"I'm five years old, it's getting cold. I've got my big coat on. I hear your laugh and look up smiling at you, and run and run."

As soon as you started singing, she closed her eyes and stopped moving around. You didn't really believe her, but she's always said your voice makes her feel calm inside.

"Past the pumpkin patch and the tractor rides, look now, the sky is gold. I hug your legs and fall asleep on the way home."

You were so intently focused on Morgan, that you didn't hear the elevator doors opening and closing just down the hall.

*In the elevator*

"Someone's singing?" Steve phrased it as a question, but he knew he could hear it as the elevator moved up a few floors.

"Who?" Tony, although uninterested, asked.

"I hear it too!" Bucky chimed in, feeling weirdly at peace just from hearing the melody.

Everyone else in the elevator strained their ears to hear the voice, but came up empty until the elevator doors opened.

Slowly, Tony, Steve, Bucky, Nat, Sam, and Wanda piled out of the elevator.

"I don't know why all the trees change in the fall, but I know you're not scared of anything at all."

"Y/N..." Tony whispered, so as not to disturb you.

"Why would she be singing?" Wanda questioned. You always refuse to sing karaoke with them, so it doesn't make sense to her that you would be singing to yourself in the middle of the compound.

Suddenly, a much younger voice joined in on the song.

"Don't know if Snow White's house is near or far away, but I know I had the best day with you today."

"Hey, missy. You promised me you'd try to sleep. That means no singing, just listening." Tony felt his smile grow as you playfully scolded his daughter.

"Sorry! Sorry, I'll be quiet." Morgan promised.

The group of Avengers listened as you began singing again. They slowly made their way toward the living room, moving silently so you wouldn't hear them and stop singing.

"There is a video I found from back when I was three. You set up a paint set in the kitchen and you're talking to me."

Tony was just far enough past the doorway to peak over the edge of the couch. The sight of Morgan curled up in your lap made his heart flutter.

"It's the age of princesses and pirate ships and the seven dwarfs. And Daddy's smart and you're the prettiest lady in the whole wide world."

The entire group of Earth's mightiest heroes wore matching expressions of complete and utter adoration watching you sing to Morgan.

Tony silently gestured for the rest of the group to leave, ultimately staring them down until they did so. He watched as you sang the rest of the song, stroking her hair until she fell into a restful sleep.

"I didn't know if you knew, so I'm taking this chance to say: that I had the best day with you today."

You hummed a bit to ensure Morgan was asleep before you stopped singing entirely.

Tony realized you were going to pick her up, so he softly cleared his throat to gain your attention as he walked around the couch.

The soft smile on his face warmed your heart.

"Hi Tony." You greeted him as he picked up his daughter. "She'll be glad you're home." You decided to leave out the heartbreaking detail of her tears and broken cries for her father.

"Where's Happy?" He questioned lightly.

"C'mon, I'll tell you on the way." You grabbed Morgan's stuffed Iron Man from the couch and started toward the elevator.

"Happy had to go pick up May. He said she was fine, but it was some sort of emergency." You spoke quietly so as not to disturb Morgan.

"Thank you for watching her." Tony couldn't hide the smile that grew on his face at the thought of you and Morgan being so close. "Even if you kept her up way past her bedtime." He added playfully.

"She was actually asleep when Happy brought her down. He was probably going to take her with him if he couldn't find me." You felt yourself start to smile just from looking at Morgan in Tony's arms.

"What happened?" Your smile fell at the memory of Morgan's tear stained face.

"She had a nightmare. Something about a monster hurting Peter." You couldn't stop your eyes from welling up at the memory of how scared and upset Morgan was. "She's okay now though. We talked to Peter for a while on facetime. Well, Morgan talked to Peter. I just rocked her back and forth so she'd stop crying."

"My poor baby." He pressed a kiss to Morgan's forehead, lingering close to her. "Thank you for helping her with that."

"Of course, Tony. She's a brilliant little girl. You're doing a great job raising her."

You let out a small chuckle when you suddenly realized neither of you pushed the button for the residential floor.

Tony laughed as well when you leaned forward to push the button.

You walked with him to Morgan's room, helping to tuck her and her stuffed toy into bed. Just as you gently closed the door, Tony cleared his throat again.

"Y/N, I really mean it. Thank you for being there for her. It means a lot to me." Tony's face show a rare vulnerable side as he spoke. "You mean a lot to me."

"Oh, Tony. You mean a lot to me too." You glanced back at Morgan's bedroom. "Both of you."

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner

@jesuswasnotawhiteman

@strawberryspence

@sebastnstn

#tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #tony stark x y/n #morgan stark x reader #morgan stark x you #morgan stark x y/n #morgan stark fic #tony stark fic

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tomtenadia · 3 years

Text

Remember us - part 3

Here we are with part 3.

This was a tough chapter to write.

Please do not hate Rowan, he is confused and scared and what is happening to him is scary.

-------

A slow tune played in the distance of the big garden.

Rowan took Aelin’s hand and walked away from the big crowd and near the bank of the lake where it was just the two of them.

“Did you drag me here to kill me?”

Rowan in response kissed her and Aelin could not read his expression. His arms went around her frame and pulled her closer for a slow dance on the spot.

His hand brushed her back and let her scent envelope him.

“Lys and Aedion look happy.” He whispered to her, enjoying the feeling of her in his arms. A presence he would never tire of.

“It was about time.” Aelin said kissing his chest.

“It’s our turn to be that happy, what do you think?” Rowan went down on one knee and gently grabbed her hand pulling it to his chest “Fireheart, I love you. You are my best friend, my soulmate and I want to walk the path of life at your side. I want to grow old with you and still watch silly movies on the sofa. Aelin Galathynius, will you do me the honour of marrying me and let me call you my wife?”

The smile on Aelin’s face became radiant “Yes,” a kiss on his lips “yes, buzzard, I will marry you.”

Rowan woke up panting hard. The memory had been very vivid and clear in his head. The colours, the smells, he felt as if he had been there. Aelin had told him about that memory, about the day he had proposed to her at a friend’s wedding.

The memory had felt so real and his hands were now shaking.

It had been a week since that conversation. Aelin had started visiting him on her way to work and sometimes during her breaks as well. They had been chatting and she had been telling more about their lives and answered all the questions he had. The topic he hadn’t had yet the courage to cover was the one about her being pregnant. He felt bad for snooping on the phone but that was his anyway and Aelin had given it to him with that exact intention. For him to read and discover more about who he had been and hopefully unlock more moments.

He was busy with his thoughts that he did nor notice a male nurse popping into his room.

“Time to go.”

The doctor had told him that now that he was awake it was time to finally start his rehab and to try have him walking again quite quickly.

The nurse helped him to shift onto the wheelchair and pushed him out.

“Can someone tell Aelin where I am gone? Sometimes she comes and visit on her break.”

“I am sure nurse Ytger will tell your wife that you went for physio.”

He had started to enjoy and wait eagerly for her visits. He wanted to tell her abut the flash of the day he proposed.

They finally arrived at the gym and a man was waiting for him “Hello Rowan and welcome to hell.” Said the man in front of him “You’ll probably will want to kill me after every session but I assure you I will make you walk again. I always do.” The man said quite smugly “my name is Dorian, by the way.”

For a half an hour Dorian massaged and warmed up and loosened his right leg. Every time he bent his knee Rowan was ready to cry. Until the man got him back on the wheelchair and they reached some parallel bars “now, we try walking.”

Rowan looked at him in disbelief. He could not be serious.

“Come on, hold on to the bars with your hands and pull yourself upright.”

He followed the directions and pulled himself up.

“Good. Now try to move a step.”

Rowan tried but almost fell on his face if it wasn’t that Dorian grabbed him “don’t put weight on the injured leg yet.”

He was about to try again when he spotted Aelin in her blue scrubs entering the gym. Dorian saw her as well “are you going to look good in front of your wife?”

Aelin joined him “Hi devil.” She greeted Dorian.

“Hi my darling. Your hubby and I just started.”

“Just go easy on him. I just got him back.” And Rowan saw Aelin give him a warm smile. He needed to tell her about his dream. He wanted to revive that day with her, to know how she felt. She had looked happy in the memory. Rowan was also curious to know why she called him buzzard.

For another good hour he did all Dorian told him and by the end of the first session he did manage to walk once the length on the walking bars. Aelin had given him the most stunning smile.

They were now back in his room and she was helping him climb back in bed.

“You must be exhausted. Dorian’s sessions are tough, but the man does miracles.”

“My leg hurts…” he said fully leaning back in bed in a seated position.

“I should let you rest.” Aelin made a move to leave but he stopped her, grabbing her hand for a fleeting moment “stay, please.”

Aelin nodded and sat back down on the chair. He noticed her hand gently move to her stomach in a protective gesture.

“I had a dream.” He told her and saw his wife turn her head to him “it was the day I proposed. You had a green dress and we were at Lys and Aedion’s wedding.” He continued and saw her face break and try to hold back the tears “you called me buzzard.”

Aelin started sobbing. It was just one memory. It was not their entire life but it was something. She nodded eagerly and restrained herself from the desire to kiss him. She missed the contact with him.

“It’s my nickname for you. You hover, like a bird of prey. I have been calling you like that since the beginnings.”

He smiled and decided to tackle the more pressing question he had for her, his heart started racing. He had found out from the phone and not from her. He took a deep breath “I know…” he whispered and she looked up at him with curiosity “I was going through the text messages we exchanged and I found the one where you sent me a picture of our baby.”

Aelin gasped “I didn’t tell you because it would have been too much and you already have enough to deal with.” She was trying to protect him. She had been dying to tell him but for a moment she had put her desires aside and thought about him, how he would react at the news.

“How far along are you?”

“12 weeks. I am just at the end of my first trimester.” And he saw her lift her scrub and could see the slight hint of a bump “peanut, this is dad. Dad, this is peanut.”

Rowan sighed heavily “what if…” how could he explain his fears to her without crushing her? “What if the person I become is not the husband you remember? I don’t know when I will get my memories back. And when I do? Will it still be me or a brand new person with some jumbled up memories? What if you realise you can’t live with a version of me that is just a bad copy of the original?” He was terrified at the idea.

“To whatever end.” She whispered “that’s the promise we shared on our wedding day. We will go through life together no matter what. Together.” Aelin sniffled loudly “we already went through a lot in seven years of marriage. Two miscarriages that shook us to the core. But we survived. Our marriage survived.” She took his hand feeling the need to a contact with him to dispel the fears in her heart “we will survive this as well.” She was now sobbing and Rowan had no idea how to console her. He had grabbed her hand briefly but still did not feel comfortable enough for contact with her.

“Sorry, it’s the hormones.”

“Aelin, you should move on. Find someone—” but Aelin did not let him finish “Rowan Whitethorn, please tell me you have not just suggested me to leave you.” She stood and shouted at him furious that he could even think about something so outrageous.

“I am not leaving you for another man. You are my husband.” She felt anger rising at the idea he might suggest such thing. It broke her heart that he would give up like that.

“What if I don’t want to be your husband? Have you thought about me? I am trapped in a life I don’t recognise.” His tone matched hers and at his words Aelin felt her heart break. She took a step away from him.

“You come here and tell me all those thing about our life. Am I supposed to accept them without question and jump back in my old life?”

She did not answer him. Aelin just ran out of the room, heavy tears streaming down her cheeks. And when nausea hit she ran for the toilets and emptied her stomach.

She sat on the floor for a time that felt endless until she got paged and had to force herself to go back to work.

***

Rowan closed his eyes and he collapsed back on the pillow. His soul ached at the words he had said to Aelin. Why did he tell her something he did not believe himself? He was confused and utterly overwhelmed. He had so many questions and he had reacted in the worst possible way. But he was scared of not being able to be enough for her, to transform into a copy she might not like. They had kids to think about too. What if he was going to destroy a family? They deserved better than him.

Waking up and not remembering anything of his life had been terrifying. But that woman, his wife, was willing to take him back no matter what. She was ready to show him a way to find himself again.

He took his mobile and texted her as soon as he figured out how to do it I am sorry for what I said. I am really scared.

Rowan placed the phone on the nightstand and lay down. He felt exhausted and when he closed his eyes, sleep caught him in his arms.

***

Rowan was standing in front of a crowd. He was in what looked like a ballroom inside and old building. The guests were all dressed up nicely and so was he. At his side there was a blonde man grinning happily.

As soon as the music started he turned his head and saw two dark-haired women entering the venue and slowly proceed along the aisle in his direction. His gazed drifted away from them as soon as he spotted Aelin at the entrance. She was dressed in the most amazing light blue dress and she looked stunning. He felt like the luckiest man alive. Aelin had chosen him.

She stopped in front of him and he mouthed the words I love you to her. The officiant proceeded with the ceremony until it was time to exchange their vows and he went first.

“Aelin, my heart, once we set our hate aside you became my best friend and then my soulmate and soon I will be able to call you my wife as well. I am ready to face this new adventure together and stay at your side, no matter what. To whatever end, fireheart.”

By the time he finished she was in tears and it took her a moment to compose herself.

“Rowan, my buzzard, life can be unpredictable and cruel, but as long as I have you at my side I know I can survive anything. You are my rock. I am looking forward to our new adventure together. I love you, to whatever end.”

Rowan kissed her not even waiting for the right moment.

“Rowan Whitethorn, do you take Aelin Galathynius as you wife. Promise to respect her and cherish the time you will have together? To love her for better for worse, in sickness and in health till death do you part?”

“I do.” Said Rowan never averting his green eyes from her.

“Aelin Galathynius, do you take Rowan Whitethorn as your husband and promise to walk the path of life at his side. To love him for better or for worse, in sickness and in health till death do you part?”

“I do.” Tears of joy streamed down her face.

A moment later the scent of flowers had gone and Rowan awoke abruptly and the smell of disinfectant hit him.

He had been dreaming again. Their wedding apparently. They had been so happy and he could not remove from his mind Aelin’s stunning smile.

Frantically he grabbed his phone and sadness hit him when he noticed there was no answer from Aelin.

What had he done?

***

That night when Aelin got back home she looked for comfort in her mother’s arms first. She had told her all that happened at the hospital and Rowan’s words. Evalin had let her cry until she was spent.

When bed time came she went for her bedroom and found her bed already occupied by her two terrors. She changed in her pyjama and climbed in bed. Gently she pulled Freyja to her chest and inhaled deeply her scent. As if on instinct, just like his father, Thomas adjusted and moved to her snuggling closer. A pair of green eyes set on her “go back to sleep my love.” She kissed his blonde hair.

“I miss dad.” He said moving even closer and Aelin wrapped her arms around her two children “I miss him too, Tom.”

“When is he coming back?”

“Soon.” She brushed his hair “now sleep, okay?”

“I love you, mum.”

Aelin barely stopped the tears “I love you too.”

She closed her eyes and cried herself to sleep.

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novelconcepts · 3 years

Note

The night Dani sees Peter Quint, a blackout happens during the storm. The officers say that it's not safe to stay there in the middle of a storm and without a way to talk to the police if necessary. Hannah and the kids go to Owen's house. Jamie offers a ride, her little flat, clothes and a bath (since crazy Dani decided to run after Peter during the storm).

There's just one bed prompt. Maybe a small couch or chair.

They listen, which is frankly more than Dani expected when Hannah insisted on calling the police. She suspects it has less to do with the Peter Quint of it all, and more to do with the lightning strike, the cataclysm of rain, an old house plunged into deep black. No phone lines, the officers point out with weary expressions that say they are not certain Peter Quint is truly a danger--but Lord Wingrave is not without a certain amount of authority around these parts, and if any further tragedy should befall his niece and nephew, these men would find themselves overloaded on unpleasant paperwork and worse press.

Bad reasons, Dani thinks with a scowl. They ought to have gone into this field to help people, not scoff at Hannah’s fear and Dani’s unease. They ought to be doing something, not simply waving them off the property for the night. It’s listening, sort of, but it isn’t hearing.

She glances at Jamie as the officers speak--directly, she notes, to Owen, as though as the only man among them, he has defaulted to de facto lord of the manor. He looks uncomfortable, rubbing a hand through wet hair; Dani remembers him saying, I was born in Bly, wonders if he went to school with either of the men in slick uniform.

Jamie doesn’t look uncomfortable. Jamie looks angry. There’s a fire burning in her Dani suspects never entirely went out after this afternoon’s rose debacle, one that might have been tempered if they’d been able to track Quint down outside. But he’s in the wind, the product of long legs and a better awareness of the terrain. Dani, giving chase into a fresh downpour before she could think better of her choices, is still itching at the memory of his long coat vanishing into the dark.

She’d run into Jamie, instead--full-force, a bone-rattling collision that had sent them both tumbling into the sopping grass. It might have been funny, if not for the echo of Quint’s footfalls dying away.

“If he’s here?” Jamie asks now. “Quint. If he’s still here? What then?”

The officer in charge gives her a brief look, barely long enough to register detail. “If he’s here,” he says boredly, “all the better that you aren’t.”

Jamie grinds her jaw. She seems barely to be containing herself, resisting the impulse to explain in no uncertain terms that this is their home, this place Quint is intruding upon. Their home--Hannah and the kids and Dani, at least--where Quint would be trailing slimy fingers. The idea of that smirking face going through the bedrooms makes Dani shudder. It seems to press Jamie toward an unwise argument.

Without thinking, Dani reaches out, lays a hand on her shoulder. Jamie’s hair is still dripping, her jacket sodden. Her eyes, catching on Dani’s face, widen a little, her teeth unclenching.

“You have somewhere to go?” the head officer reiterates, glancing back toward the door as though dreaming of a warm car, a comfortable house far from the manor. Owen nods in Hannah’s direction.

“Mum won’t mind. Can have a little sleepover.”

“Yes!” Flora perks up. She’s been uncharacteristically quiet, leaning against Miles’ side, but her whole face switches on like a lantern now. “A sleepover!”

“How’s about it, Miles?” Hannah taps him lightly on the head. “A little evening adventure.”

He looks uncertain, but when she ruffles his hair, a slow smile creeps across his face. Dani’s relieved to see it--she’s started to believe Miles is thirty-five in a ten-year-old frame, the weight of so much loss bearing him down like an anchor. He deserves a little fun.

“And you,” Hannah adds, looking to Dani as if reading her mind. “What do you say to a night off?”

Dani blinks. “Oh, I don’t think that’s necess--”

“Chased a man into the storm,” Hannah interrupts. “Not a decision I’d approve of twice, but it was quite brave. And, forgive me dear, but you look like you could use a proper rest in the aftermath.”

That might be, Dani thinks absently, the nicest way of saying you look like shit I’ve ever heard.

“I’ll just get cleaned up real quick,” she says, “and then I’ll be perfectly fine to--”

Hannah raises a hand. “I insist. Let Owen and I handle them for the evening.”

Dani opens and closes her mouth several times. What’s the alternative? Is Hannah expecting her to stay here? Here, in a house they’re all carefully not admitting feels much bigger in the dark, huddled around the glow of policeman flashlights?

“Can crash at my place,” Jamie says, almost gruffly. “If you don't mind the company.”

Hannah looks unsurprised by this offer. Dani feels a little light-headed at the idea.

“I--I’m all muddy.”

Jamie makes a show of looking down at her own clothes, caked in wet clods of grass, soaked nearly to the skin. She raises her eyebrows in Dani’s direction as if to say, Any more sterling arguments?

Dani has none.

Jamie doesn’t say a word as they load into her truck, Dani trying her best to shrink down to inhabit as limited a space as possible. Her legs ache with the effort of holding her feet aloft, her thighs pressed together to prevent staining the whole seat with grime. Jamie glances in her direction, pulling carefully out onto the road, and Dani could swear she’s trying not to smile.

“Know what I do for a living, don’t you?”

Dani nods. Jamie clears her throat.

“Then should go without saying you’re not the first to track mud into the truck. Relax.”

Embarrassed, Dani does as she’s bid. From the corner of her eye, she sees Jamie’s mouth twitch again--sees Jamie’s hands resting comfortably at ten and two, Jamie’s shoulders slightly rounded as though by holding her posture firm, she can punch a hole through the sheeting rain. She doesn’t seem nervous in the least to be driving through this mess with Dani huddled beside her.

Jamie, Dani is starting to think, doesn’t get nervous.

Well, that makes one of us.

She has nothing to be nervous about, is the thing. Chasing a strange man into a storm, racing after him with nothing but a fire poker and a hot protective impulse--that should have made her nervous. Should have scared the shit out of her. And it hadn’t. She’d felt bizarrely well-equipped for the decisions she was making, at the time. Peter Quint, she’d been certain, should have been the nervous one.

But now, sitting with wet hair and mussed clothes beside a woman she’s held barely three conversations with, Dani feels distinctly out of her element. No kids. No easy warmth of a carefully-sewn-together family opening its arms to let her in. Just a truck, rattling along a slick road on its way to a tiny town she’s never set foot in before.

And a woman with wet curls plastered to her forehead, stealing tiny glances at Dani like she’s not quite sure what to do with her.

“Flat’s small,” Jamie says, as if apologizing, as she parks outside a pub that looks older than any establishment in Dani’s hometown. “Don’t need much. But there are no screamin’ kids.”

Flora and Miles aren’t much for screaming without reason, but Dani thinks she takes Jamie’s point all the same. Quiet, Jamie is trying to say. Dani can properly rest here, Jamie is trying to say. Jamie doesn’t mind offering up her space.

“Ready?” The rain is still coming down in a torrent. Jamie’s hand is positioned at the doorhandle, Jamie’s posture strung tight. “Make a break for it on three. One--two--”

They run, damp clothes made soggy all over again, and Dani is surprised to hear herself make a whooping sound of joy as she splashes through puddles. Jamie, she thinks, could move faster--Jamie’s got a runner’s stamina when she puts her mind to it--but she’s jogging along at an easy pace, refusing to leave Dani behind. Her hand catches once on Dani’s sleeve, pulling her to the stairs behind the pub, guiding her up to a door at the top.

“Storms like these,” Jamie says when they’ve tumbled breathlessly into her home, “remind me of bein’ a kid. Sitting in school, hoping the power’d go so they’d send us home early.”

“Did it ever happen?” Dani wraps her arms around herself, trying not to shiver, trying not to drip too expansively across the scored floorboards. Jamie grins.

“Once. I was seven. Spent the whole day out in it anyway, caught the worst cold of my life. Best goddamn day a kid could want.”

She looks so at home here, as Dani watches her pull off her boots, drape her jacket lazily over a chair, stride around turning on lights. At the manor, Jamie is casual enough, rarely inclined to rush or worry, but here, it’s instantly clear she knows every creak in the floor, every stubborn lightswitch, every inch of a domain that is entirely Jamie.

A domain she has, for no reason at all, opened up to Dani tonight. The reality of it crashes home all at once, landing hard. Jamie barely knows her, and still is willing to give Dani a place to stay. Jamie barely knows her, and still is holding out a gray towel and a bundle of clothes, her smile crooked.

“Thought you might like to get out of those.”

A spike of warmth makes its way up Dani’s spine, settling somewhere around her ears. She crushes it down, forcing herself to accept the sweats and t-shirt with a grateful smile of her own.

“Thank you. Honestly, you didn’t have to do any of this--”

“The rain,” Jamie says easily, “is the fun part. The cold, not so much. Bath’s this way.”

Bathroom, Dani assumes she means--until Jamie gestures at the little tub, barely big enough for a woman her size. She looks marginally embarrassed for the first time, but it’s a resolute sort of embarrassment, as though Jamie has little patience for it.

“Not much,” she says. “But still better than catching ill. Take however long you like.”

Dani watches her back out of the room, a tumble of unfamiliar emotions in her chest. Someone offering up everything--home, clothes, bathtub--without asking for something in return is strange. Someone doing that much and then leaving, peaceable as the turn of a new day, is unheard of. She hesitates, waiting at the closed door for signs that Jamie will change her mind--or knock, having thought of something else Dani might need--and nothing comes. This room has become, so long as Dani wants it, her space. Jamie will take it back only when Dani’s finished.

Unwelcomely, she tries to imagine Eddie doing this very thing. Eddie, who only refrains from haunting her European adventures with postcard and phone call because he has no idea how to find her. Eddie, who would think the offer of clothes and a hot bath automatically come with other perks, and who would smile as he stepped in to collect like he couldn’t imagine her wanting to be left alone.

She shakes her head. Eddie is gone, and she is here, and Jamie isn’t him. Is so unlike him, in fact, it’s hard to imagine them standing in the same room.

And why, some little part of her pipes slyly up, are you comparing them in the first place?

She shivers, turning on the water, letting it run as hot as possible before sinking in. She leans her head back against a wadded-up washcloth, surveying the simplicity of the bathroom--single toothbrush, single cup for water, a minute assortment of hairbrush, hair ties, sunscreen. There is a dried rose framed beside the door, a small bunch of purple-and-white flowers she can’t name in a tiny windowsill vase.

It’s all very discreet, all very Jamie. To look at it with this much freedom, to be trusted alone in a space that has belonged to no one else, makes her heart pound.

She’s only being nice. And so what? What does it matter?

It matters. Even if she never says so, even if she never lets it out of her heart, Dani can’t deny that it matters. Like it mattered watching Jamie walk into the kitchen earlier this week, glancing at her with an easy raise of brows like she was thinking, Sure. You can stay. You’re one of us.

Jamie, calling her Poppins, telling her she’s doing great, offering her flat without a second’s pause. None of it warranted. None of it asked for. All of it so incredibly welcome.

She stays in the bath until the shivers ease out, carefully soaping her hair with the little bottle of shampoo on the windowsill. A different scent and brand than her own, and as she’s rinsing clean, she realizes she will smell like Jamie now. If for only a night, her hair--and the clothes Jamie gently pressed into her hands--will hold just a little bit of the gardener’s influence.

The warmth she’s beginning to attribute to Jamie sweeps through her again at the idea. That, and the awareness that these are Jamie’s things hugging her body. Jamie’s belongings, offered up like she feels not the least bit possessive about her living space. Sure. You can stay. You’re one of us.

“Warm?” Jamie asks when she finally steps back out of the bathroom. Her hair is still wet, though she’s changed into a clean white shirt and sweatpants of her own. Dani nods, confused when Jamie grins.

“What?”

“I think,” Jamie says placidly, “this is the first time I’ve seen you out of pastels. Suits you.”

Dani glances down. The threadbare black t-shirt bears a jagged white London Calling in peeling letters. She can’t help smiling.

“Maybe I’m a secret punk fan.”

“Are you?” Jamie sounds interested. Dani shakes her head.

“Sorry, no. Always open to learning, though.”

Here it is again: that funny, twisting feeling in her stomach that says she is at home with Jamie. That Jamie is easy and warm, despite the anger simmering somewhere deep down and a tendency toward cropping her sentences with swear words. That Jamie has opened her home to Dani only because Jamie has opened to her, on some level neither of them is entirely sure how to approach.

“Thank you,” she says, because it’s easier than putting this feeling into words. “For all of this. You didn’t have to.”

Jamie shrugs. “Wanted to. You haven’t had an easy couple of days. Sometimes, a little quiet goes a long way.”

She’s seated on the arm of the couch, bare feet dangling an inch off the floor. Looking at her, Dani can’t entirely wrap her mind around the idea that she’s only known this woman for a couple of days. That she doesn’t, in fact, know much of anything about her at all.

And still, when Jamie rises and begins arranging pillow and blanket on the couch, Dani’s stomach performs a backflip she’d never come close to feeling with Eddie.

“That’s really kind of you,” she says, the words a blind effort to distract from her trembling hands. “I really don’t need much, you don’t have to go to any trouble--”

Jamie glances over her shoulder. “No trouble. Bed’s just that way.”

Dani turns to look. Sure enough, behind a pulled-back curtain, she can just make out Jamie’s mattress and frame. “I--I mean, I won’t be bothering you, if that’s what you--”

“What?” Straightening, Jamie frowns. “No, I mean, it’s yours. Take it. I sleep on the couch half the goddamn time anyway, it’s no--”

“I am not,” Dani interrupts, “taking your bed, Jamie.”

Not since her last argument with Miles has she been engaged in such a standoff. Jamie, still holding a pillow, looks ready to chain herself to the couch. Dani, heady with the inescapable awareness of Jamie’s shampoo rinsed out of her own hair, can’t have that. It’s too much. Clothes and space and ride--all of that, she can accept. But foisting Jamie from her own bed?

“I’m not doing it,” she says. Her arms are folded, her mouth pulling into a smile she can’t for her life shake. “I’m told I'm very stubborn, so you might as well just let me have that couch now.”

“I--” For the first time all night, Jamie seems to be at a loss. “I’m--aiming for chivalry, here, Poppins.”

“You’ve been nothing less,” Dani assures her. “A white knight, really. But I’m afraid this is where I have to draw the line.”

“I sleep on it all the time.”

“So, it’s my turn.”

Jamie’s whole face seems on edge of some kind of collapse--though into laughter or upset, Dani can’t begin to guess. She has a brief flash of possibility, the two of them standing on either side of the couch all night, arguing well into daylight over who ought to take the proper night’s sleep.

“You’ve got kids to handle in the morning,” Jamie says reasonably, proving her point.

“You spent all day working in the sun,” Dani volleys in return. She thinks for a moment, then adds, “Also, I knocked you into a puddle earlier, and you didn’t get a nice warm bath.”

“Didn’t need one.” Jamie looks exasperated. “Poppins, come on. This doesn’t have to be a big bloody deal.”

It doesn’t, Dani agrees. It really doesn’t. All Jamie has to do is step out of the way, step behind that curtain, put herself to bed where she belongs.

Or, alternatively--

It’s coming out of her mouth before she can stop it. Before she can run through all the reasons not to suggest this very thing. Before she can pin down the butterflies having a dogfight in her stomach and make a decision based in good judgment.

“Look, if you’re that committed to making me sleep in the bed, come join me.”

Jamie nearly drops the pillow. Her calm has utterly vacated the flat, leaving behind a woman who looks--if Dani isn’t much mistaken--much nearer to frantic than she’s ever seen Jamie before. Much nearer to the kind of nervous Dani had been on the ride over.

“I,” she says. “That--I shouldn’t--”

“It’s the best compromise,” Dani says, trying to sound reasonable. Trying to sound as though the invitation to share Jamie’s bed isn’t making her entire body run with sudden electricity. “Neither of us is very big, I’m sure we can fit.”

“I’m--sure we can.” Jamie is grimacing. Jamie looks pained. If she had an elegant way out, Dani would take it back simply to erase that look from Jamie’s face, a look that says Jamie would rather sleep in her tiny bathtub than wherever Dani is.

Elegant way out, she can’t find, and she’s tired. Tired, and buzzing with nerves, and somehow, the au pair wins out over all possible variants of Dani Clayton. “It isn’t that bad an idea,” she says, her voice steady. “I don’t even snore.”

This breaks something open between them. She can’t put her finger on just what it is, or why, but suddenly Jamie is laughing, and Dani is grinning, and she knows the stalemate is at its end. It’s been too long a night. There’s just no point.

“Here,” she adds, settling at the edge of the bed, watching Jamie switch off the lights and creep closer as though trying not to startle a skittish animal. “I’ll lay right on the edge, you won’t even have to know I’m here--”

“Don’t be silly,” Jamie says. She hesitates; Dani wonders if she’s giving a final chance for Dani to shoo her away, to choose a night spent alone after all. She thumps the bedspread with a flat palm, staring meaningfully at Jamie until the mattress sinks beneath the weight of au pair and gardener alike.

“See?” she can’t stop herself saying. “We fit.”

Jamie stares at her, a lingering gaze Dani couldn’t decipher on her best day. She opts to ignore it, stretching out under the rumpled covers. Beside her, Jamie slides a hand beneath her head, staring up at the ceiling.

“Not so bad,” Dani says, wishing she could shut up, wishing she could stop thinking--about Jamie’s head on the pillow beside her, about Jamie’s scent sunk into this pillow, about the indent of Jamie’s body in this old mattress where maybe no one else has ever lain. Jamie makes a low sound in her chest.

“Long day.”

“So long.” Was it only this morning Dani was having a small panic attack, the strain of a new job on top of familiar guilt too heavy to bear? Was it only this afternoon she’d grabbed Jamie’s shoulder, pulled her back from storming off to skin Miles alive?

Was it really only this evening she’d stalked out after Peter Quint, crashed headlong into Jamie, listened to police officers warn them all away from the manor in a blackout?

Jamie clears her throat. Dani’s starting to think it’s a nervous habit--Jamie seems to do it only around her. Why on earth would I make her nervous? “Comfortable?” she asks the ceiling. Dani nods.

In the dark, the bed seems smaller. The pillows are touching, the blankets bridging the brief gap between Jamie’s right leg and Dani’s left. In the dark, Jamie’s breath is audible, the smell of rain and shampoo and clean clothes twisting together into a single knot.

In the dark, Dani thinks, they could be anyone. Not gardener and au pair, but anyone, bound by a single unpredictable night.

She wonders if they should talk--about Peter Quint, about the tension of the evening, about the kids, or the roses, or any number of little odd moments around the manor. She wonders if Jamie expects her to ask questions--who Quint is, what he was to Rebecca Jessel, what he might be doing skulking around the house.

She can’t quite find it in her. It’s too warm, too soft, the silence as inviting as the rustle of Jamie’s borrowed clothes against her skin. Laying in the dark, Jamie’s foot nearly touching her own, listening to the storm pound the windowpanes, Dani is breathing easier than she has in months.

“I’m glad,” she says quietly, “you’re here.”

Jamie’s head rustles the pillowcase, turning to look at her. “Yeah?”

Dani smiles. “Yeah. I can’t explain it, but I feel...safer.” Something sharpens behind her ribcage, something that begs her to add, With Hannah, with Owen, with the kids, too. She doesn’t. It’s true, but it’s also not really what she means.

“He doesn’t know where to find you,” Jamie says, and for a moment, Dani wonders how she could possibly be talking about Eddie. Then Jamie adds, “I hate that fucker. So does Owen. Everyone is safe tonight.”

Right. Peter Quint. Of course. “I’m glad,” Dani repeats. She feels the mattress shift as Jamie carefully settles in. “Jamie?”

“Mm?”

Too many things to say. Too many questions to ask. Too many of those butterflies winging around as Jamie’s elbow bumps her, as Jamie’s breath brushes her cheek. She shuts her eyes, the simple image of Jamie’s gaze inches away too much to handle.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, Poppins,” Jamie murmurs. And though Dani’s heart is racing, though her skin is hot, though the storm outside is brutal and Jamie’s bed is much smaller than she’d thought--she finds herself relaxing. Finds herself thoughtlessly shifting to a more comfortable position on her side. Finds herself, even, leaning in toward Jamie’s warmth as the sound of her breathing shallows.

For the first time in what feels like years, Dani Clayton sleeps.

#fanfiction #ficlet #the haunting of bly manor #dani x jamie #damie #clearly an AU all things considered--ghosts didn't feel like they suited this one

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gukyi · 4 years

Text

if i told you | jjk

summary: in order to pay for university, jeon jungkook decides to market his most valuable asset to the wealthy socialites of campus: himself. donning a suit and tie, tousled hair, and glasses (to look smarter), he becomes every rich daughter’s dream: the perfect boyfriend to bring to balls, dinners, and business gatherings. all while you watch from the sidelines, only able to dream of having that much money to buy yourself what you really want: him.

{friends to lovers!au, college!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff, comedy, angst, we’ve got it all folks word count: 22k warnings: slightly underage alcohol consumption, mention of words that could be spoken on an crime documentary series but nothing graphic, ravioli-stealing, idiots to lovers, as per usual a/n: finally! here is the long awaited jungkook fic that i have literally been slaving over since the beginning of january. was this fic supposed to be 10k? yes. did i somehow end up writing 22k anyway? of course! in any case, please enjoy my absolute baby who i love and cherish!

check out the post-script drabble here!

Jeon Jungkook loses his job at the university call center on the seventeenth day of the fall semester of his sophomore year.

You know this because on the seventeenth day of the fall semester of your sophomore year, he comes banging on the door of your apartment shared with three other girls at 2:07PM, seven minutes after he normally starts his job at the university call center.

He’s lucky that you’re the only one who doesn’t have class in the 2PM hour.

“Y/N!” He shouts through the thin wooden door, his voice probably echoing down the thin hallway of your apartment complex.

You open it before the second knock—you only rush to the door to get him to shut the fuck up, and not because you’re excited to see him, you swear—to see him standing on the other side, XXL university hoodie draped over his figure, down to his mid-thigh, baggy hood pulled over his head like a sad college-aged Star Wars character. He looks exactly like a jaded sophomore year college student would. He is beautiful.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the call center right now?” You ask in lieu of a normal “hello” or even a “what the fuck are you doing here, it’s 2PM”. Jungkook does not wait for you to invite him inside your apartment, immediately kicks off his shoes by the entrance and tugs on your apartment slippers that are a size-and-a-half too small for his feet, and marches over to your shared fridge to fish through the tupperware containers with your name written on Post-it notes for a mid-afternoon snack.

Jungkook waits until he’s got an entire piece of frozen supersized ravioli shoved into his mouth before he responds. “I was fired,” he says over a mouthful of pasta and cheese.

“What?” You ask, eyes widening as Jungkook shuffles through your kitchen drawers for a fork, which means that the first piece of ravioli that he ate he did so with his bare ass hands. Like a heathen. Like a ravioli-craving twenty-year-old heathen.

“I was fired,” Jungkook repeats. He stares at the microwave resting on your kitchen counter for a good ten seconds before he continues to eat the cold, unheated pasta. Every time he’s in your apartment (which is frequently), he tells you how it’s a fire, water, and explosive hazard to have your microwave on the counter like that. As if there is any other place in your apartment for it to go. Maybe out on the tiny balcony you have that overlooks the busiest street on campus.

“Care to offer an explanation as to why?” You ask, coming up next to him. Jungkook is nearly finished with your tupperware of ravioli, and normally you’d shout at him for it, but seeing as he was just fired from his only source of income as a money-starved college student, you’ll cut him some slack. Just a little.

“You remember that old, angry alumnus that told me that asking for donations in order to benefit low-income-slash-first generation students was selfish and rude of me, and that I wouldn’t be in college if it weren’t for what his generation accomplished?” Jungkook asks.

You remember that vividly. Jungkook spent an approximate two hours and thirty-seven minutes on FaceTime with you ranting about this one “old man bitch” who he had to speak to during his day at work, all while you did your economics problem set to the sweet, mellifluous sound of Jungkook’s shrill shrieks.

“The one you lost your temper at and shouted at for being ungrateful and elitist?” You ask pointedly. You have a feeling you already know where this conversation is going.

“Yeah,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes. He finishes the ravioli (goddamnit, now you’re going to have to find something else to eat for dinner at 11PM tonight) and turns around to place it in the sink. For once, it is not piled high with dishes from up to a week ago, so Jungkook even squirts a bit of Dawn onto a sponge and washes the plastic container for you. “Well, as it turns out, telling an old racist elitist that he’s old, racist, and elitist does not go down well with my boss.”

“Why does that not surprise me,” you muse. Jungkook sighs, walking over to where you’re taking it easy on the couch. “Oh no,” you say, eyes widening as he grins, plotting something. “Do not, Jungkook. Jungkook, do not!”

He jumps, catapulting himself onto the couch and landing on top of you with a thud. You let out a groan as the weight of his body hits you, foreheads nearly knocking into each other. Jungkook is a good foot-and-a-half too long for this dinky leather couch that’s always sort of smelled, feet and ankles hanging off the opposing arm rest just so he can nuzzle his face into the crook of your shoulder like he always does. You hate when he does this. Hate when he jumps onto the couch while you’re casually reclining just so he can collapse on top of you. Hate the feeling of his body resting against yours, soft breathes against the skin of your neck. Hate how it always makes you want more, how it will never be enough.

“Have you been working out?” You mumble against the fabric of his t-shirt. “You’re more muscle-y than usual.”

“I added weights to my routine,” Jungkook tells you mindlessly. If your roommates walked into your apartment right now and saw the both of you on the couch, you’d never hear the end of it. “Taehyung said it would make me more swole.”

“As if you need to be any more buff,” you say with a roll of your eyes. Jungkook’s the most athletic person you’ve ever met in your entire life. He could probably pick up your dinky couch with you sitting on it without batting an eyelash. Even Superman would tremble at the sight of him. “You’re perfect the way you are.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” Jungkook mutters into your skin. “God, what the fuck am I gonna do now? I need money to pay for everything in my life and my one source of income is now totally invalid because an old guy got what he deserved.”

“Are there any work-study positions still available?” You ask, hand reaching up to stroke at his hair, smoothing it down. Jungkook’s preferred cuddling position is big spoon, but he still demands that he be coddled as though he were the little spoon.

“No,” Jungkook says with a huff, “they’ve all been snagged by try-hard freshmen who need money like me.”

“I distinctly recall you being a try-hard freshman who also needed money,” you tell him. “That’s why you applied to work at the call center, isn’t it?”

Jungkook sits up, the weight of his figure crushing your legs as he rests on top of them. If you stayed like this forever, you’d probably lose feeling in your lower body, but you’d also get to stay with Jungkook forever, which is a trade-off you would genuinely consider. “Yeah, but the call center hires everybody. You just need to be like… decent at communication. And I’m pretty decent at communication.”

“You never text me back,” you tell him pointedly.

“That’s because I prefer showing up unannounced at your apartment or other places you frequent,” Jungkook reminds you excitedly. He’ll never let you forget about the time you were wrapping up a small seminar with your history professor and Jungkook burst through the doors with a whole thing of carrots and hummus because you had texted him that you were hungry. You could not look your history professor in the eye for the rest of the semester. “I’d say that’s pretty decent communication.”

“Well, you’re going to have to figure out another way to market your decent communication skills to get another job,” you tell him. “Have you considered the boba place on Oak? You could get me employee discounts.”

Jungkook leans over just to pinch at your cheek, fingers gripping onto your face and pulling like a grandmother. “You just want me for my money.”

“You’re my best friend, Jeon Jungkook,” you tell him. “Of course I do.”

This is what Jeon Jungkook’s obligatory university Facebook group introduction post read:

Hi, I’m Jungkook and I’m thinking of majoring in visual studies or computer science (really different lol I know)! I played soccer in high school but don’t think I’ll be continuing in college because I was pretty bad at it. I’m looking for a roommate and I’d really like to live in New East House, but anything works for me as long as it has a bed. Hit me up if you think we’d made a good match, but I like talking with everyone lol.

I’m really into music and can play the guitar, drums, and piano. I like listening to all types of music (yes, even country which slaps kinda hard sometimes) but my favorites are The 1975, Frank Ocean, Troye Sivan, and Khalid. Will bop to Justin Bieber on occasion as well.

I play Ultimate and am really interested in joining the club team here so hit me up and we can practice sometime because my skills are a little rusty. I also do a little skateboarding but I am definitely not a skater.

Hit me up if you think we can be friends lol I’m excited to meet you all!

It was accompanied by several pictures, a couple of which are selfies at that anime girl angle, one of him with his friends at prom all doing that Frat Boy pose, and a couple of him with his family. To an outsider doing a very quick glance, it pretty much reads the same as a rather extensive dating profile.

The truth of it all is, as you were scrolling through the hundreds of obligatory university Facebook group introduction posts in search of a freshman year roommate, you stumbled upon Jungkook’s intro post and you thought this: No. Way.

The moment you laid eyes on his first above-the-head angle selfie, you knew that it would be unlikely that you and Jeon Jungkook’s paths would ever cross. He played guitar and did Ultimate Frisbee, and you wanted to audition for your university’s symphony orchestra. He was beautiful but in that sort of college frat boy who can crush you at beer pong kind of way. Craziest of all, he was a computer science major, and you were walking in as an undecided humanities concentration.

Impossible. There was no way the two of you would ever meet, and you accepted that right off that bat. At a school your size, you would go through these four years not knowing a majority of your class. Jeon Jungkook was just one of the casualties.

On the very first day of orientation, Jeon Jungkook comes up to you on the sidewalk, wearing a white t-shirt, a backwards baseball cap, and shorts, and asks you if you’re here for orientation as well? He’s lost.

Jeon Jungkook is the type of guy you imagine getting eaten up by any girl who meets him almost immediately. He’s charming and endearing the same way a baby deer is, but has no problem wearing clothes that remind you of how fit he is. He is, for lack of a better term, extremely good looking.

“Yeah,” you had said on the sidewalk, squinting to look up at him since the sun was in your eyes. “I’m heading to the auditorium right now. Wanna walk with me?”

“Okay, sure,” Jungkook had replied, smiling with all of his teeth. Even in the sweaty summer heat, he looked even nicer in person. “Thanks, by the way. I’m Jungkook. What’s your name?”

You knew that already. How could you have forgotten?

You had grinned up at him. The universe has always worked in mysterious ways. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

When Jungkook doesn’t know what to do, he stress eats. Most often, you are the single witness to this action, which has literally no effect on his body mass whatsoever since he immediately burns off every calorie (and then some) at his next gym session.

That is precisely why you are sitting in the second-best dining hall on campus eating a pretty measly salad and french fries, while Jungkook returns from the serve-yourself cafeteria with his sixth plate of food. Next to you is your mutual friend Chaewon, a filthy rich international student from Korea who is probably the nicest person you’ve ever met.

“I think I’ve called every cafe, bubble tea shop, clothing store, and paid internship within a five-mile radius of this place and nothing,” Jungkook says with a sigh, keeping Chaewon updated with his job-search antics. It’s been several days since he was fired, and while being keenly cognizant of your bank account isn’t necessarily a bad thing, when it means that Jungkook refuses to leave campus because he is in hyper-saving mode, it sort of rustles your jimmies.

“Have you tried babysitting?” Chaewon supplies helpfully.

You laugh aloud at the mere thought of Jungkook stuck in some middle-aged parent’s house with their toddler for hours on a night where he could be living it up on campus. Jeon Jungkook? A babysitter?

“Wow, what the heck is wrong with me being a babysitter?” Jungkook questions, offended.

“First of all, you don’t even let me beat you in Mario Kart on your Switch and I am your best friend. If you ended up gaming with a four-year-old boy, your over-competitiveness would take over you and you’d crush the poor kid and his spirit,” you remind him pointedly. Not to mention the fact that the man cannot cook to save his life, and you can’t even entrust him with microwave dinners because of his irrational fear of modern oven technology.

Jungkook pouts. He knows you’re right.

“It’s not like you were going to look into babysitting, anyway,” you say with a shove, nudging his shoulder with your own.

Jungkook sighs, and despite all of the shit you give him on a daily basis (part of the responsibility of being his best friend), you do genuinely feel bad for him. Even if his job at the call center wasn’t the most intellectually stimulating nor morally rewarding, he didn’t absolutely hate it and he made a pretty decent earning off of it. He unzips his backpack and fumbles for his laptop, opening it up to reveal a Google Chrome window with approximately thirty-seven tabs open of places to work on and around campus. Meanwhile, Chaewon’s phone buzzes on the table, and she heaves out a great, exasperated exhale before picking up and immediately launching off into incredibly speedy Korean.

“If only the bubble tea place was hiring,” you lament, kissing goodbye all of the free bubble tea you had been dreaming about if Jungkook got hired.

“I’m glad I don’t work at the bubble tea place,” Jungkook tells you with his eyebrows raised, “otherwise I’d have to see you every day!”

“You already see me every day!” You should back, but it’s not like Jungkook doesn’t know that already. He’s the one always barging into your apartment or sitting down next to you in the library when you’re trying to study.

“But maybe you should try drinking less bubble tea, otherwise you’re gonna blow up like a tapioca pearl like that one girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory,” Jungkook warns, pinching your cheek as if to make your face round like a tapioca bubble.

“I can think of nothing I’d want more than to be a tapioca pearl for the rest of my life,” you state simply. It would be much less stressful than to be a college student.

“If you were a tapioca pearl, I’d eat you!” Jungkook says, and you, out of the security of both your head and your heart, choose not to think too much into it.

As Jungkook teases you about your slight obsession with bubble tea, Chaewon finally puts the phone down after what very well was several minutes of angry Korean. She lets out this deep, long sigh, like all of the pent-up rage within her is exiting through her exhale.

“You good, Chae?” You ask her, a little concerned. Even after knowing her since the beginning of your freshman year, you’ve never once seen her get mad, though she looks pretty close to it now.

“Yeah,” she says, exasperated. “My mom is having this stupid company ball here and she really, really wants me to attend.” It is obvious that Chaewon does not, in fact, want to attend. You’ve seen Chaewon nearly every day for over a year, and you’ve never even seen her wear a pantsuit. You couldn’t imagine her joy at having to dress up in a ballgown.

“But fancy free food,” you point out. Even if she does have to be trapped in a penthouse ballroom with her parents’ stuffy business friends, the catering company will probably be god-tier.

Chaewon pretty much bangs her head on the dining hall table.

“Wow, I didn’t know someone could hate catered food so much,” you say, a little alarmed.

“It’s not that,” Chaewon says, rubbing her forehead. The pasta on the plate in front of her has remained untouched for nearly ten minutes now. You wonder if she’s even hungry anymore. “My mom wants me to bring a plus-one.”

Your eyes widen. An excuse to dress nice and eat good food? Hell yeah.

“And it can’t be you, Y/N, it has to be a date,” Chaewon says. It’s pretty obvious she’s not interested in dating whatsoever, no matter the gender of the object of her affection. You pout. Damn. “My mom said, ‘he can be whoever you want!’ but that means that he has to be an attractive Korean guy who’s got a future job in finance.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jungkook says over a mouthful of broccoli.

“You will?” Chaewon asks. Jungkook just single-handedly saved Chaewon from a night of unbearable business talk with a boy she doesn’t know and cannot relate to.

You scoff. “You’re just a regular Korean dude, Jungkook,” you tell him.

Jungkook pouts, bottom lip turned out. “You don’t think I’m attractive?”

You refuse to answer that question. You’re afraid of what you might say if you open your mouth.

“Seriously, you’d do that for me?” Chaewon turns to Jungkook with platonic stars in her eyes.

Jungkook shrugs. “Sure. I’ve got a suit. I’ll ask my friend Jimin for a crash course in finance before the thing. When is it?”

And just like that, you and Jungkook’s weekly Friday Mario Kart night gets a rain check.

Jeon Jungkook is the sole best decision of your life.

And it’s funny and twisted and wonderful, because he is the one thing you had failed to account for in your life. He stands there on the sidewalk in the blazing sun, black baseball cap nestled safely onto his dark brown hair, and in the split second it takes for him to open his mouth and say hello, everything changes.

But no longer is the image you conjure in your mind when you think of him a picture of him on that very first day of orientation, lost and excited all at once. It is of him barging into your apartment and eating all of your leftover ravioli. It’s him laying on your dinky couch like it belongs to him, surfing through all of the Netflix shows available and eventually just settling on old Gilmore Girls episodes like he always does. It’s him standing in your closet to judge your latest clothing purchases and take back any items that you’ve stolen from him over the years.

It’s imagining him not as a guest but as a permanent fixture in your home, in the place that makes you feel safest. Because that’s who Jungkook is, now. He is that place. He stands in your apartment rattling off a list of why microwaves are a severely underestimated killer, and it takes every inch of your being not to ask him to stay. To spend night after night cuddling on the couch, or make a home-cooked meal together on a Sunday evening, or get lost underneath the sheets on your bed.

Jungkook stands in your apartment like he belongs there. And only in your wildest dreams could you ever imagine that coming true.

Such is the case of that Friday night, when he’s supposed to accompany Chaewon to her terrible, awful, brain-melting parents’ business gala. You haven’t seen him all day, too busy with your club meetings to make time for him after your classes are finished for the week. College is never-ending in that horrible, unstoppable way.

It’s nearing two in the morning when you hear the knock on your door. Two of your roommates are at a rush event for their sorority, and the other sleeps through your smoke alarm on a regular basis, so you are tasked with the job of opening the door.

On the other side is Jungkook, as he frequently is.

Your heart practically freezes in place, like his eyes have shot right through it. Instead of his usual baggy outfit and a bucket hat, he’s standing outside of your apartment in a crisp navy suit (complete with a pocket square), rings lining his fingers and hair tousled in that effortlessly-styled kind of way. He looks like a goddamn celebrity, like a young, successful CEO. Like the love of your whole fucking life.

Coughing to distract from the fact that you’re practically drooling, you say, “Wow, you clean up nicely.”

Jungkook looks down at himself, almost as if he had forgotten he’s wearing a full suit entirely. “The pocket square is Jimin’s,” he explains, “but yeah. I didn’t want to let Chaewon down by not dressing up to code.”

He’s got remnants of makeup left on his face, having faded and smudged throughout the night. There’s a bit of black underneath his eyes from the liner, a smoldering effect that makes the dark brown of his irises even deeper. “You look tired,” you comment. “Why are you here, why don’t you go home, Jungkook? Get some sleep.”

Jungkook shrugs, looking over your shoulder to see if his arrival has woken up any of your roommates. “Your place was closer,” he says like it’s nothing.

Like it doesn’t make your breath catch in your throat, stop in its tracks. He spends an evening dressed up in a stuffy suit and tie surrounded by old businessmen and their preppy daughters with whom he has nothing in common, and when it’s nearly two in the morning and he can finally relax, he drives to your place instead of his own. Like it means nothing. As if it means anything at all.

Jungkook runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair, and even knotted and messy it still looks flawless. “If I’m bothering you, just let me know. I know it’s late.”

It’s so hard to say no to him.

“Just come inside already before you wake up the neighbors,” you tell him, sighing to pretend like it’s a minor inconvenience. And even running on barely any sleep with makeup smudged underneath his eyes, Jungkook grins as you let him inside your apartment, caving in, just like you always do.

The first thing he does when he’s inside is take off his fancy loafers and peel off his suit jacket, resting it against the back of the couch. You fumble around in the kitchen for the kettle, instinctively starting to make two cups of tea. Routine.

Looking up, you watch as Jungkook loosens his tie and takes it off, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his white dress shirt. By the counter, you turn your back to him so he doesn’t see you mentally combust. It’s impossible that he doesn’t already know what he does to you.

The kettle finishes boiling the moment Jungkook settles onto your couch. He keeps the television off so he doesn’t wake your roommates, and scrolls on his phone with his knees tucked underneath his chin. Thirty seconds later, you’re joining him, handing him the cup of tea before sitting down next to him, severely underdressed in comparison.

“Did you at least have fun tonight?” You ask.

“The food totally slapped,” Jungkook tells you. “Chaewon’s parents really pulled out all the stops.”

“So I’ve heard,” you muse.

“We spent most of the time lounging by the catering table and distracting each other by making up stories about all of the rich people there.” Jungkook laughs.

“Please tell me you didn’t embarrass yourself, though,” you say. Perhaps Jungkook could withstand a few blows to his ego, but Chaewon’s future pretty much depends on her impressing her parents and their comrades.

“No!” Jungkook tells you defensively. “Jimin told me everything I needed to know, but all of Chaewon’s friends and their filthy rich CEO parents thought I was so handsome that I didn’t even need to speak.”

You roll your eyes. Of course Jungkook wouldn’t give up the chance to remind you of his hellishly good looks.

“You just stood there, looking pretty?” You ask. Not as if he doesn’t do that already.

“You think I’m pretty?” Jungkook teases, a greasy smile sent your way, like he doesn’t know the answer anyway.

You huff. “Dressed up like this? Anyone would.”

“Chaewon said I was like her fake trophy husband,” Jungkook jokes. “She did all of the schmoozing. It’s not like I could have contributed anything anyway. Unless everyone wants to hear about C++.”

“Ooh, I love it when you talk all tech to me,” you tease, nudging him with your arm. “So sexy, keep talking.”

He laughs. “If we keep talking about Python I might get a little too excited.” He wiggles his eyebrows just for good measure and you giggle, holding onto this moment for dear life as you let it etch itself into your brain permanently. Times like these, you know you can’t forget, saving them for a rainy day thirty years down the line when you’re in love with someone that’s not Jungkook. When you look out the window and think about what might have been, if only things back in college had been a little bit different.

Jungkook’s phone buzzes on the table. He’s got two notifications, one from Instagram of Chaewon tagging him in a post, and another from Venmo.

“Fuckin’ damnit,” Jungkook swears, letting his phone drop on the couch cushion.

“What?” You ask, turning to look at him.

“Chaewon just Venmo’ed me a hundred dollars,” Jungkook says with a sigh. And it’s not one of those times when you see your bank account balance go up and get happy because yay, money!, it’s when your friend pays you anything over what they actually owe you out of the goodness of your heart, and you refuse to accept it.

“She did?” You ask, eyes widening. A hundred dollars? That’s more than Jungkook would make in three shifts at the call center.

“‘Thanks for bailing me out tonight. You definitely deserve more than 100 but then you’d be mad at me. But please don’t be mad at me!’” Jungkook reads off his phone. “I just stood there looking like eye candy. I didn’t do a thing to help her, what the heck?”

You pull out your own phone to check Chaewon’s latest post.

It’s a picture of them together in the skyscraper penthouse the gala was held in, Jungkook looking dapper in his suit with a glass of champagne in his hand, and Chaewon in a dress worth more than a semester’s tuition throwing up a peace sign like the trendy Asian she is. They look like a K-drama couple. Like two celebrities basking in their fame and wealth.

Shoutout to my one and only Jeon Jungkook for being my fake date tonight! Thanks to your good looks and charming personality for impressing all of my parents’ rich friends and their daughters. Love you 3000 💕

“Wow, whoever took this picture of the both of you knows their shit,” you say, impressed. You had always thought it impossible for Jungkook to look better in pictures than in real life, but this photo is coming rather close. If you were any more shameless, you’d ask Chaewon if she has any more photos of him. Just him, preferably.

It’s not as if she doesn’t know about your gargantuan crush on him anyway.

“I don’t think I’ve ever looked that good in a photo in my life,” Jungkook says with a laugh. Impossible. He yawns, placing his empty mug on the little end table next to the couch.

“You should set it as your profile picture,” you suggest, leaning your head on him and pretending like this is normal. He yawns again, stretching out as he rests his body against yours. “Hey, we should go to sleep. Unless you want to go home?”

Jungkook groans, snuggling in closer. “No, your bed is big enough for the two of us.”

And who are you to resist?

You wake up to the sound of a phone buzzing furiously on your bedside table. You crack open one eye just a sliver to see who the culprit is and immediately eradicate it, when the sun filtering through your Venetian blinds hits your cornea. You groan, shutting your eyes once more as you smack your hand around to get it to shut off.

The movement, however, causes the bedsheets to shift beside you, and when you turn, you find Jungkook nestled up tightly beneath your duvet, an arm stretched over your side as he hums in his sleep.

You’re best friends.

This is normal.

(The feeling of your heart beating out of its chest has become rather normal, as well.)

He’s wearing a raggedy old t-shirt of yours that has always been too big on you but fits him just perfectly and a pair of joggers that he keeps at your place “just in case”. Just in case he stays the night. Just in case you ever need them. Selfishly, you will yourself to fall back asleep, shutting your eyes tightly and pretending that maybe, if you never wake up, this moment will freeze in time, locking the two of you together for eternity.

He mumbles to himself in his sleep, a murmur of nothing as he shifts over slightly, hand dragging up your side.

God.

Next to you, the phone begins to buzz erratically again, and wide-awake, you look over to realize that it’s Jungkook’s, and that it’s Chaewon on the other end.

This is at least the second time she’s called, which means that, despite how tempting it is, you probably shouldn’t silence his phone and go back to lying in bed with Jungkook and pretending the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

Sighing, you pick up.

“Jungkook!” Chaewon shouts on the other side. For a brief moment you wonder why on earth she’s so energetic so early, but it’s less that and more the fact that you are overwhelmingly lethargic rather late in the day. “All of my friends said you looked really good in those photos I posted of us. Do you think you’re free next Wednesday night? Seunghee wants you to accompany her to a double date her parents are forcing her to go on!”

“Chaewon—”

“Oh, Y/N! How’s it going?”

“I just woke up,” you mumble quietly as Jungkook stirs beside you.

“Of course you did,” Chaewon says, and you can see her rolling her eyes on the other side of the line. “Wait, why do you have Jungkook’s phone if you just woke up? Oh my God, don’t tell me—”

“Shh!” You hiss into the phone. Jungkook is slowly beginning to wake up, and you can only pray that he isn’t listening in to the conversation between you and Chaewon. “No, we did not. He got back after your thing and we promptly passed out in my bed, fully clothed,” you whisper loudly.

“Jungkook went to your place last night? He was so tired, I thought he was going straight back to his. We even got dropped off outside my apartment.”

What? Chaewon and Jungkook live within a three-minute walk of each other. Your apartment is ten minutes away from both of them.

“You did?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing.

“Who’s that?”

You turn around to see Jungkook lying on his back, head resting on a nearly-deflated pillow of yours as he looks up at you, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His hair is mussed, some parts styled and stiff with hair gel, and some parts tangled and unkempt. He looks like he’s been lying in that position for a while, hand resting behind his head as he gazes up at you.

“It’s Chaewon,” you tell him softly as she laughs on the other end. “She just called your phone. Are you free next Wednesday?”

“Hmm?” Jungkook, still half-asleep. “When?”

“Next Wednesday,” you repeat, a hand on the phone like it’s going to do anything to stop Chaewon from listening to you two. “Chaewon says she has a friend who wants you to accompany her to a double date she’s been set up to go on by her parents.”

“Mmmrph,” Jungkook mumbles. It’s clear he hasn’t even thought about his plans for the rest of the day, let alone next Wednesday.

“He’s not available right now,” you say into the phone. Chaewon snorts.

“Fine,” Chaewon says with a sigh. “Can you pass the message on when you guys are done pretending that you aren’t fucking behind my back?”

You suck in a breath. “Chaewon!” You hiss. “We are not—” you quickly turn back to Jungkook, who, by the looks of his hooded eyes and bewildered expression, isn’t listening in, “—fucking!” You whisper. “You know we’re not!”

Chaewon laughs. “Yeah, yeah. Call me later, Y/N, we should grab ice cream or something.” She hangs up.

“Who was that?” Jungkook asks sleepily, eyes still half-lidded as he sits up in your bed, soft skin, brown hair, pouted lips amongst a sea of white, bundled up in your thick duvet as if sitting on a cloud.

“Chaewon,” you tell him.

“Oh, why was she calling?”

“She wanted to ask if you were free next Wednesday.”

“To do what?”

Maybe you were worried about Jungkook listening in to Chaewon grill you about your relationship (or serious lack thereof) for nothing.

“She has a friend who wants you to go on a parent-mandated double date, trophy boyfriend style,” you explain. Jungkook groans.

“Pretending to know business is mentally, physically, and morally draining. It feels like I’m selling my soul to capitalism,” he says with a sigh, collapsing back against the mattress. “I just wanna stay here forever. It’s so cozy.”

“Come on, Kook,” you say, tugging the duvet off of him to reveal the rest of his body. He curls into himself at the exposure, refusing to budge. “You’ve encroached on my apartment long enough.”

“Y/N,” Jungkook whines, drawing out your name for good measure. “Noooooooo.” He reaches out to cling onto your wrist, which means that if you want him out of your bed, you’ll have to drag him out.

“Jungkook, you’re swole, you know I can’t tug you out of my bed,” you say with a pout. He knows every trick in the book to use against you, and worst of all, he knows you’re weak to all of them.

“Good,” Jungkook says with a loopy smile, pulling you back onto the bed like it’s nothing. You yelp as you come crashing on top of him, your body bumping into his as he wraps his arms around you and flops back onto your bed. You laugh and shout at the feeling as Jungkook cuddles up in the warmth of the sheets, pulling you in tightly to his body. “It’s so warm here, let’s stay like this forever.”

“What about food?”

“You keep a stash of Clif bars under your bed, we’ll eat those,” Jungkook suggests.

You attempt to wriggle out of his grip, hoping to escape before he holds you long enough to get addicted, hooked on the feeling of his arms around you, his body against yours. But Jungkook is nothing if not persistent and clingy, and he wraps his arms tightly around your torso like a koala, warm and soft. “Come on, Jungkook. It’s nearly noon. Let’s be productive today.”

“Gross.”

“Let’s not sit in bed all day.”

“Grosser. Let’s just stay in your bed all day and pretend that we don’t have any real responsibilities.”

“Given that we’re in college, that may be slightly difficult.”

“Fuck that, your GPA doesn’t matter anyway. Unless you have plans on going to grad school?” He asks with an eyebrow raise, turning to look at you.

“No way, I’m not paying for another four years of this shit,” you immediately declare. Let the capitalist system of higher education extort another two to four years worth of tuition out of you for the same degree? Absolutely not.

“Then why move?” Jungkook says with a grin.

“Because,” you say, stumbling for a real answer.

“Not good enough.” He grins cheekily. “I vote to stay in bed.”

“I vote to do my readings, your CS homework, and get back to Chaewon about Wednesday.”

“God,” Jungkook says with a sigh. “What’s Wednesday?”

“Oh my God, you need to call Chaewon. Right now. Before you ask me what you have on Wednesday one more time after losing all of your brain cells lounging around in my personal bed and refusing to leave,” you say, eyes wide as you worm your way out of his grip, dusting yourself off and heading to your closet.

“Noooooooo,” Jungkook says, reaching out a desperate hand. “Y/N, come back.”

“Call Chaewon. Call her!” You order, fishing around in your closet for some fresh clothes. You’ve been wearing the same one since Thursday night. You are disgusting.

Jungkook groans but obeys, picking up his phone and pressing her contact. “Hey Chae, it’s Jungkook. Listen, I’m literally going to Venmo you back what you paid me because you? Literally didn’t need to pay me at all? And I’m actually mad at you for it? Wait, what do you mean am I up to getting paid on Wednesday—”

The phone call presents the perfect opportunity for you to dash out of your bedroom and into the bathroom, where you splash yourself with cold tap water like a model in a face wash commercial (who already has perfect skin, so why does she need this new face wash, seriously?) to clear your head. It’s been a weird twelve hours. Even weirder knowing that across the hall, Jungkook is sitting in your room, on your bed, in your clothes, under your bed sheets. Knowing that maybe, in another universe, on another timeline, you would be in the exact same positions, only everything would be different.

You wash your face, hoping to wake yourself up. Convince your mind that the past twelve hours have been nothing but a dream, and that when you walk back into your room, Jungkook will have vanished. Or he would have never been there in the first place.

You leave the bathroom and return to your bedroom to see Jungkook tugging on his suit jacket, wearing the same clothes he had on when he knocked on your door at 2AM last night. He’s still on the phone, wrapping up the conversation with Chaewon.

“Yeah, yeah, tell her that I’m down. She can just text me, give her my number. I’m happy to do this for you and your friends, Chae. Plus, she’s gonna pay me and I feel less bad about it because it’s a service and she’s not a close friend like you are. Yeah, it’s all good,” he looks up to see you standing at the door, leaning against the frame. “Yeah, Y/N just got back so I’m gonna go. Maybe we can grab dinner or something tonight? Cool. Bye.”

“Dinner without me?” You ask with a pout.

“Never,” Jungkook says wickedly. “You’re always invited.”

“Have you figured out what’s going on on Wednesday?” You tease him as you walk him to the door.

“Chaewon has a friend, Soojin, who wants me to accompany her on a parent-mandated double date with a business partner’s daughter,” Jungkook explains. “Apparently all of Chaewon’s friends realized I make a pretty good fake trophy boyfriend.”

You rub his shoulder. He’d make a great real boyfriend too. Not that you think about that all of the time, or anything. “Gonna put that on your resume, big guy?”

“Of course.” Jungkook smiles. “Dinner tonight? We can go to the ramen place you really like.”

“Sure thing, is Chaewon coming?”

“If she wants to. Otherwise, it’ll just be us.”

“Sounds good,” you tell him. “See you then.”

“Hopefully before,” Jungkook says. “Thanks for letting me crash here last night, by the way.”

“Anytime,” you say. Maybe one day, it’ll be true.

Next Wednesday, there’s a knock on your door at midnight.

Who else could it be?

It was supposed to be a one-time thing. And then it was supposed to be just a two-time thing. And before you knew it, Jungkook’s number and his services were circling through the ring of wealthy international students, jumping from phone to phone as people crammed to get him to accompany them on their next double date, next business gala, next ballroom dance.

You had always had a feeling that his charming, charismatic personality would eventually draw everybody towards him, so electric and magnetic that you couldn’t help but want to know him, make friends with him, be close to him. From the moment you saw his Facebook introduction post, you knew it was only a matter of time before everyone on campus knew his name.

[October 17th, 4:12PM] You: do u want to get dinner tonight

Jungkook: would love to but have to go to kim family business dinner with dahyun sorry :(

You: ok next time then!

[October 23rd, 1:03PM]

You: yo what r u doing You: i have so many readings to do rip You: do u wanna come to greene w me and study

Jungkook: heejin is taking me shopping for a fancy suit for her family’s event tomorrow i can’t :/ Jungkook: but i am going to get macaroons for u at the mall so we can see each other later!

You: yummm sure thing!

[October 30th, 9:58AM]

You: hey ik you’re asleep rn but we are still on for tomorrow right? 🎃 You: can’t let our one (1) year long halloween tradition of buying last-minute candy and watching the nightmare before christmas together die

[October 30th, 11:13PM]

Jungkook: omg i just saw this now im so sorry Jungkook: uh yeonjoo wants me to go to her sister’s halloween party tm so idk if i can make it this year

[October 31st, 2:02AM]

You: ok You: thanks for telling me

It’s no fun watching The Nightmare Before Christmas by yourself, you realize this Halloween. All of your roommates are out frequenting one of the hundreds of parties being thrown on campus tonight, and although you’d normally be up for getting drunk and dropping it low, you just aren’t in the Halloween spirit this year. Wonder why.

Armed with the knowledge that your roommates probably won’t be back until three or four in the morning, you shut your laptop and decide to go to bed early. Early being midnight, but it’s early for you and that’s all that really matters.

You don’t know why you’re being such a stick in the mud this Halloween. It’s always been one of your favorite holidays, never one to pass up free candy nor the option to dress up, but this one has been particularly lame. You don’t have a costume, your local drugstore is out of mini Skittles packets, and you don’t have someone to spend it with.

Realistically, you have no reason to be sad that Jungkook isn’t available tonight. It’s not as if spending Halloween together is some ancient tradition from birth that binds the two of you together. You did it for the first time as freshmen, and you were foolishly hoping to do the same thing as sophomores. It’s not a tradition if it only happened once.

You look in the bathroom mirror, stained with nail polish and dry shampoo and old skincare, and you sigh. Jungkook has every right to prioritize his current and only source of income over a night spent lounging on the couch doing nothing. It’s not as if you haven’t seen your best friend in over a month and this was the only night you both had free. Jungkook drops by after every single event he goes on. Every single one. He stands outside your door dressed in a fancy suit, or a silk button down, leather shoes and expensive jewelry bought for him by the girls he goes out with.

No matter the time, he knocks on your door and says hello, steals a cup of tea and a bit of your heart along with it, before bouncing out of your living room and off to his own apartment. He doesn’t stay the night anymore, doesn’t worm his way underneath your duvet and refuse to move until morning comes. It’s hard to tell if you’re grateful about it or not.

Sluggishly, you peel off your clothes and wash your face, changing into some old sweatpants from the tenth grade and a t-shirt with an embarrassingly large hole in the armpit. This Halloween, you are dressing up as a lonely college student who is going to bed early on Halloween night because she has nothing better to do!

There’s a knock on your door.

Your first instinct is to freeze up. When there’s another knock, your second instinct is to grab the closest object to you (which happens to be your water bottle) for self-defense.

And then, you hear,

“You’re not watching The Nightmare before Christmas without me, are you?”

To spare yourself the shame, you won’t say that you practically leapt out of bed the moment you heard his voice. You calmly removed the covers, and casually walked to the front door. That is what you did.

When you open it, Jungkook is standing behind it, grinning, wearing the greasiest police officer outfit you’ve ever seen in your entire life. This flew at a marketing company’s heir’s Halloween party? He’s even got what looks to be a fully-loaded water gun in his holster.

“Don’t tell me this is what you wore to some fancy-shmancy Halloween party,” you say disapprovingly, eyebrows raised as you look him up and down and pretend that you aren’t just ogling his figure.

“It was fine, Yeonjoo’s sister just graduated college. If anything, she was more okay with it than Yeonjoo was,” Jungkook says with a shrug. You don’t even need to let him in at this point, just watch as he tugs off his shoes and steps inside your apartment like it belongs to him.

“What was Yeonjoo dressed as?”

“Princess Leia. We made for a very mismatched pair,” Jungkook says, chuckling to himself. “Ooh, did you guys get new tea?”

“You can have some if you want,” you tell him, shutting the door as he eagerly pulls out a box of teabags, turning on the electric kettle on the counter. “I think it’s Wild Berry Hibiscus.”

“Sounds good already,” Jungkook says, and he lets out a sigh that sounds so exhausted, so tired and aching, as he leans back against the countertop, head resting on the cupboards above it.

“You could have gone home, you know,” you tell him. Even from the couch you can see the droop in his shoulders, the bags under his eyes. He’s been going out several times every week for the past month, and he still has a truckload of CS assignments on top. He spends precious hours schmoozing with wealthy businessmen and women, shaking people’s hands and posing for pictures in the fanciest clothes he owns and then some. The selfish part of you wants him to stay. The part that loves him knows it would be better if he went home. “You still can.”

“No,” Jungkook insists, shaking his head. “We have a tradition to uphold, don’t we?”

Even though The Nightmare Before Christmas is seventy-six minutes long, the night ends long before that. You haven’t even reached “This Is Halloween” before you feel a head hit your shoulder, and crane your neck to find Jungkook having fallen fast asleep beside you, half-full cup of Wild Berry Hibiscus next to the laptop in front of you. He’s still wearing his stupid police officer costume, the navy blue uniform tight against his body. His lips are parted ever so softly, eyelashes fluttering as little non-sounds exit his mouth, hints, whispers of snores.

He hasn’t slept over since the first time. You’re not sure if you want the trend to continue, or if you just want to be a little bit selfish tonight, greedy, taking and taking and taking. He’s so beautiful like this, so innocent and gentle and soft. It would be such a shame if you had to wake him.

And so, gingerly, you rest your head against his own, breathe in the quiet little sounds that leave his parted lips, memorize the feeling. It’s not the first time Jungkook’s accidentally fallen asleep on you, but there is something about this moment, sitting on your couch a few minutes past midnight, as the rest of the world celebrates around you, that is so intimate. Like here, in your apartment, you and Jungkook have your own little bubble, tucked away in a corner of the universe far from the noise of the rest of the world. And it’s here that you wish you could stay forever, for once never wanting the feeling to end. Wanting time to freeze in its very steps, the clocks stop and the orbit halts, and it is just you and Jungkook, forever. Like characters in a movie, on pause for eternity.

The moment ends when Jungkook shifts beside you before eventually coming to, slowly opening his eyes as he turns to look at you. You smile at him, dazed and tired, as he sits up properly, staring down at your half-opened laptop and the half-full cup of tea next to it.

“Thought you’d end up sleeping here again tonight,” you joke, even though it isn’t really a joke. Maybe, somewhere deep down inside you, in the crevices between your bones and the dark corner of your heart, you had hoped that he would stay.

“Oh, did I fall asleep?” Jungkook asks, blinking away the sleep in his eyes. It’s nearly two-thirty in the morning.

“Just for a bit. I didn’t want to wake you, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to head back to your apartment or anything,” you tell him.

Jungkook nearly jumps up off the couch at that, like he’s got springs in his shoes. Suddenly he’s wide awake, brown eyes blown open as he scrambles to gather his belongings, taking the cup of tea and quickly dumping it out in your sink.

“Hey, don’t you want that?” You ask.

“No, no, it’s okay. I’ll come by some other time and have some, it was really good, I just fell asleep while drinking it,” Jungkook sputters, words moving a mile a minute as he tugs on his heavy black officer boots, scuffed at the tips from wear and tear. It’s as if he’s desperate to leave. Like your apartment has somehow offended him. Or worse, you.

“If you want to stay, Jungkook, you can,” you tell him, standing up to run to the door before he pulls the damn thing off his hinges with how fast he’s moving. “I don’t mind. My bed is big enough for the both of us.”

“No, I should—I should get going. My… plants need watering. Right now. I totally forgot.”

It’s not a completely bullshit excuse. Jungkook has a fair few pothos amongst his other worldly apartment belongings, hanging from his ceiling or potted in old mugs and janky shoes. But it’s still a pretty bullshit excuse. It’s dark. Jungkook waters his plants every Sunday, and it’s Friday. It’s obvious he wants to get the hell out of your apartment for whatever reason.

All you can do is hope and pray that it isn’t you who’s driving him away.

“Oh—okay,” you tell him, opening the door as he furiously laces up his other boot.

“Thanks for doing this. Next Halloween will be more fun, I swear. I won’t fall asleep on you. Or anything.”

“Okay, see you soon, then?” You ask, searching for a clue, a hint, anything that will tell you that it’s not you, that he hasn’t found you out yet. That you can still be friends, be best friends, because even if you want to kiss him, hold his hand, roll around in bed with him, loving him from afar is good enough.

“Yes, yes, definitely. Dinner? Uh… sometime this week? I’ll text you. I have to go. Plants. See you!”

He dashes down the hallway.

And you end your Halloween the same way you started it. Alone.

Jungkook ran out of your apartment the other day like it was infested with cockroaches. Or the Black Plague. Or your microwave had just beeped. It was as if simply being inside it was going to scar him for life.

Maybe your apartment is cursed. Jungkook does believe in ghosts. That’s another reason as to why he fears the microwave. Tiny ghosts could be living inside the microwave chamber and you’d never know. But Jungkook knows better. He knows that they’re there.

“He just… ran out?” Chaewon asks, clearly bewildered. The two of you have been working on the first floor of the library all day, obviously doing everything in your power to not actually complete any of your assignments.

“Yeah, something about his plants.” You sigh.

Chaewon narrows her eyes, the same way she does when she’s plotting something. “Interesting.”

“What?” You ask, nudging her to see if you can worm a less mysterious response out of her.

“Nothing,” Chaewon says with a nonchalant shrug. She clearly has something to say.

“What?” You repeat forcefully. Chaewon doesn’t get to go all cryptic on you just because Jungkook ran out of your apartment like it had set fire.

“I know I’ve only known you guys for, like, a year and a bit now, but you two have the strangest relationship I’ve ever seen,” Chaewon comments like it’s nobody’s business when it is, in fact, specifically two people’s business.

You scowl. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just…” She pauses, thinking. In the silence, she begins to pack up her belongings, shoving her laptop into her bag and gathering up the small pile of candy wrappers slowly amassing in front of her. “I’ve never seen two best friends have a relationship quite like yours.”

“Thanks?”

“What are you doing for dinner? I’m eating with Yoonji, but you’re welcome to join if you want,” Chaewon offers. Even though you have no idea who Yoonji is, Chaewon would never exclude you from eating with them.

“I’m getting Korean food with Jungkook, but thanks for the offer,” you say, only to be greeted with Chaewon rolling her eyes. He said he’d meet us outside?”

Sure enough, when you head out of the glass doors at the front of the library, Jungkook is waiting dutifully on a bench close by, headphones in as he nods his head and taps his feet to the beat of the music, lost in his own world. He doesn’t even realize that you’ve left the library until you’re two feet in front of him, when he recognizes your beat-up white sneakers and looks up at you in glee, eyes crinkled into crescents.

“Ready to go?” You ask happily. Your stomach has been rumbling ever since Jungkook suggested you go out to eat this morning.

“Hell yeah I am,” Jungkook says, putting his earbuds away as he stands up. “You coming, Chae?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m eating with a friend.” There’s nudge against your shoulder, and when you turn to face her, she winks. “But you two enjoy yourselves! Don’t have too much fun without me!”

Before you can publicly berate her for being so goddamn obvious, she’s rotating 180 degrees on her heel and speed-walking in the opposite direction, zooming off so you don’t get the chance.

“I feel like we haven’t seen each other in ages,” you comment mindlessly. Twenty-four hours away from Jungkook feels like a lifetime and a half. Forty-eight is a light year.

“I’ve been busy,” Jungkook says vaguely, shrugging his shoulders.

“Doing what, going out to fancy restaurants and galas?” You half-tease. It’s sad but true—Jungkook spends his nights living a life you could only dream of. And all of these rituals you share, from studying in the library until three in the morning to crashing at his place and taking naps on separate couches, get put on the backburner.

“Hey, it’s hard work pretending to be rich,” Jungkook pouts. “Besides, the craziest thing about going to those things is that rich Korean people don’t serve Korean food at their fancy gatherings. They serve shit like caviar.”

“Is that why you’re so desperate to get Korean?” You ask pointedly.

“Yes,” Jungkook emphasizes. “Man, I just want some tteokbokki.”

“Then we’ll go and eat all of the tteokbokki you can dream of,” you promise. You round the street corner and on the edge of the main road and an alleyway sits a tiny Korean restaurant the size of a bedroom, no more than six cramped tables inside. It’s run by a family who passes it down through each generation, dependent on the starving college students nearby to keep it alive.

It’s Jungkook’s favorite place. The owner gives him a discount every time he sees him.

(It’s impossible not to fall in love with Jungkook. Impossible to not be drawn to his presence, his personality. Like moths to a flame, you can’t help but come closer.)

“Ah, Jungkook!” The old man behind the counter greets as the bell above the entrance rings. “Sit! Sit!” He points to your favorite table, a round one in the far left corner that’s right next to the biggest window. “Usual?”

“Tteokbokki, too, please!” Jungkook shouts. The man gives you both a thumbs up and heads back into the kitchen.

“It’s been a while since we came here,” Jungkook notices. You both usually eat lunch on campus and Jungkook has been largely unavailable for dinner.

“Almost sounds like you missed it,” you poke fun.

“God, I missed it so much,” Jungkook exclaims, tilting his head back in exasperation. “I didn’t realize that it would be so much work to get dressed up in a suit and look hot.”

“Don’t make it sound like such a drag.” You frown. Jungkook needs to put in literally zero effort to look hot. Sitting across from him in this tiny Korean restaurant as he wears nothing but a massive hoodie and black joggers, he looks hot. When he wakes up in your bed in a raggedy t-shirt, he looks hot. When you catch him at three in the morning in the library after eighteen straight hours of studying, he looks hot.

Jungkook sits there and radiates light. Radiates warmth and joy and beauty. Laughter and hope. He’s the college version of a Disney prince. Perfectly imperfect and completely out of your reach.

“I wish I could take you with me, you might enjoy it,” Jungkook sighs. “Plus, I have literally never seen you wear something fancier than business casual. Imagine you in a ballgown!”

“In your dreams, Jeon,” you rebuke. “Free catered food sounds nice but having to mingle with the 1% does not.”

“Touché,” Jungkook concedes. “I don’t know how Chaewon does it.”

“She’s a goddess.”

“Indeed.”

Jungkook pours you a cup of water from the pitcher that the old man dropped off, and then pours one for himself. “Chaewon said that I did well, though.”

Not surprising. Jungkook excels at everything he does.

“Of course you did, you sexy beast,” you chide.

“She said I’d make a good boyfriend.”

You choke on your water as the man’s son brings out your food, and you desperately attempt to avoid eye contact as you sputter and cough into a napkin, gaze pointed away from both a surprised waiter and a concerned Jungkook, who awkwardly thanks the man and leans over to pat your back.

“You good?” He asks, brows furrowed.

Coughing, you say, “I’m okay, I’m okay. It just—it went down the wrong pipe, that’s all.” Jungkook doesn’t buy it, and the little coughs escaping your throat don’t do much to corroborate your claim. “Seriously, Jungkook. I’m okay. It’s just water.”

“You looked like you were on the verge of death,” Jungkook frowns.

“That’s just my face,” you fire back. “Just keep talking about what you were saying earlier. What was it?”

“Being a good boyfriend,” Jungkook says, and with no water near your lips to distract you this time, your mind bears the full force of his words, weighing down on your shoulders like a calculus textbook.

It’s not as if you aren’t already aware that Jungkook would be the best boyfriend in the entire world, bar none. Not as if you don’t sit in bed and dream of a parallel universe, a life other than the one you’re living in right now, where Jungkook is lovely and wonderful and yours. He knocks on your door at a random hour in the afternoon with Chinese takeout from the local restaurant. He remembers your homework assignments when you forget them. He sits in bed with you and judges the Instagrams of the guys on the latest Bachelorette season. It’s as if he was already yours.

“Believe me,” you scoff. “The people know how great of a boyfriend you are.”

“It’s fake, though,” Jungkook reminds you. “It’s only for a night. An evening, really.”

“Better than nothing,” you sigh. “If only I had enough money to rent myself a fake boyfriend for a night.”

“If only your parents were the CEOs of a multibillion dollar cooperation,” Jungkook adds on.

“Truth,” you say, and you and Jungkook toast to that. Toast to knowing that some people are born with a silver spoon in their mouths. Toast to knowing that some of those people can get for themselves something you can only imagine in your wildest dreams—a night with Jungkook. More than just a night. A night spent dressed up in your fanciest clothes, arms wrapped tightly around each other. A night spent as a couple, rather than you and Jungkook.

Toast to knowing that even if you’ll never get to have him like that, you get to have him like this, and you’d rather it be like this than nothing at all.

“You don’t need to rent a fake boyfriend for a night, Y/N,” Jungkook tells you once you’ve downed the water in your glasses (stay hydrated!). “You shouldn’t feel pressured to spend time with people you don’t want to spend time with.”

You don’t understand, you sigh. I’d give anything to spend time with you.

Jungkook pays. He says that he’s made more money accompanying wealthy socialites—even ones that don’t go to your school, because word gets around—than he would in a month’s worth of shifts at the call center. He says he’s never looking back. He’s probably not going to give up the gig for a while, either.

“Just because you have cash now doesn’t mean you get a free pass to pay for everything we do together,” you warn. You’ve always split the price of meals, split the price birthday cakes for your friends. In the beginning of freshman year, Jungkook ate a quarter of a bag of goldfish you had and paid you fifty-three cents to account for his consumption, which you immediately sent back to him. You still fight over it, finding surreptitious ways to incorporate it into the Venmo payments you make to each other.

“I’m rich, I can do whatever I want with my money,” Jungkook proclaims. “And if that means treating my best friend to a meal, then that means I’m gonna treat her to a meal.”

“That’s very rude of you,” you tell him pointedly. “Zero out of ten, worst best friend in the entire world. Will not accept my Venmo payments.”

Walking down the sidewalk, side by side, Jungkook wraps an arm around you and pulls you in for a side hug as you come to a stop at a traffic light. “You always do so much for me and Chaewon. You deserve to be treated once in a while, Y/N.”

“Why, ‘cause I go out to CVS at ten at night to get you Nyquil after you catch the common cold from some sweaty guy at the gym?”

“That,” Jungkook nods, conceding, “and also because you’re one of the best friends anyone could ever ask for. The people who know you are lucky to get to say your name.”

If only Jungkook knew that he was the exact same. It’s an honor to know him. It’s a blessing to love him.

“What fancy clothes do you own?” Chaewon’s lying on your bed, scrolling mindlessly on her phone.

“I don’t know,” you respond, brows furrowing. You get up from your desk chair to start fishing through your closet, “I have, like, some business casual stuff.”

“How about a dress?”

You whip around suspiciously, eyeing Chaewon as she lounges around in your room and acts like she isn’t plotting something nefarious. “Don’t you think you could tell me what you’re trying to convince me to do before you ask me if I have the appropriate clothing?”

Even lying on her back, Chaewon still manages to roll her eyes, sitting up to meet your gaze. “There’s a gala tonight to celebrate some big business deal being closed and I want you to come with me,” she says like it’s a chore, exasperated.

“Me?” You frown. “Why not Jungkook?”

“He said he had some thing to do for some other girl,” Chaewon says. The topic clearly is not at the forefront of her mind. It’s a little too obvious that it’s at the forefront of yours. “Besides, I was given no date restrictions and you deserve to have a little fun tonight. It’s a Friday!”

“I just want to stay in bed and play Legend of Zelda,” you tell her.

“You’re already out of bed,” Chaewon points out unhelpfully.

“Well, then I want to get into bed and play Legend of Zelda,” you rephrase.

Chaewon pouts. “Noooo, please? It’ll be fun, I swear,” Chaewon pleads. “It’s a huge party and hundreds of people are going to be there. Everybody gets to bring a plus one. You won’t be the only person who doesn’t know anything about business and has to cling onto their date in order to survive.”

“Gee, thanks. That makes me want to go so much,” you deadpan.

“Seriously, Y/N. When was the last time you went out on a Friday?”

A while ago. You and Jungkook started having Mario Kart nights on Friday in the middle of your freshman year after you both came to the conclusion that every frat party smells, sounds, and tastes like the same fifty shades of college regret. You haven’t gone out since.

“Not that long ago,” you lie. It’s been months.

“Yeah, right,” Chaewon scoffs. “Don’t think I don’t see your Bitmoji on the SnapMap sitting in your damn apartment on a Friday at 11PM,” she scolds.

“I’m gonna turn off my location,” you declare. You’ve had enough of Snapchat exposing you and your location. People can live in mystery about your whereabouts from now on. They don’t need to know. Chaewon certainly does not.

“No excuses, you’re coming with me to the gala! You must have something to wear in that closet of yours, don’t you?” She slides off of your bed with a thud and joins you as you stand in front of your clothes. None of them scream fancy. None of them even whisper it. You stand back as she shuffles through your clothes, hangers squeaking as she shoves them along the rail. Chaewon tears through your clothing faster than you skim through your economics readings. “Aha! What do we have here?”

She whips out a dress from the very back of your closet, right behind the blazer you never wear because you’d rather be caught dead than in business attire. It’s old—you don’t think you’ve worn it since the beginning of your freshman year when you thought you actually had to dress up for parties. Needless to say, you dry-cleaned it the following Monday and never wore it again. You don’t even recall bringing it to college this year.

“This is perfect!” Chaewon cries. “Really says ‘I can fucking dress myself’, don’t you think?”

“Are you implying that I can’t dress myself?”

“You should definitely wear this,” Chaewon decides, dodging the question. “Gucci and Louis Vuitton are overrated, anyway.”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I.” Chaewon thrusts the dress towards you.

Chaewon shakes her head. “Of course you don’t.”

Three hours later finds you one makeup and hair session later, standing in the lobby of a magnificent skyscraper wearing a dress that maybe could have done without the cup of frozen yogurt that you ate before you arrived. Now you remember why you haven’t really worn it since the beginning of last year. Has it shrunk?

“I feel like a loser, Chaewon,” you hiss as she bats her eyelashes and gets directed to the private elevator that will lead you both to the top floor. “A money-less, jobless loser.”

“At least you’re honest, Y/N,” Chaewon whispers back as you step into the elevator. Despite being nearly an hour and a half late (“Fashionably so!” Chaewon exclaims.) you are crowded into the back corner, several other couples stepping inside to join you, all of them wearing clothes that cost more than your tuition for all four years of college, combined. “That’s better than most of the people here.”

Nothing separates the rich from the poor like morality.

When the elevator doors open, you and Chaewon are the last group to step out, milling about in the corner until the path is free. And when you turn your gaze away from her, you realize just why Jungkook’s so keen on going to events like these, why he never turns down an offer when it lights up his phone screen.

In movies, rich people flaunt their wealth so extravagantly that it almost looks fake. From gigantic ice sculptures to ten-feet-tall chocolate fountains, entire orchestras and dresses worth thousands of dollars, it makes you wonder if rich people really do see those items as necessities when throwing a party. They rent out entire European castles and the press publicizes every one of their actions. To you, it looks contrived, unrealistic. Even if rich people have enough money to sustain the bottom 99% for hundreds of years, how could they spend their money on nonsense like this?

As it turns out, the ice sculptures and chocolate fountains are only half of the story.

At this gala, the hosts have spared no expense. The entire penthouse is made purely of glass, from the ceiling, to the floor, to the walls in between, giving you an absolutely breathtaking view of the city lights dozens of feet below you, of the stars millions of light years away. It’s as if you’re standing in a bubble, frozen in time, the world sparkling and twinkling and shimmering around you. You didn’t even know a place like this existed on Earth. The price to book it must be astronomical. The view, even more so.

“Holy fuck,” you murmur, mouth dropping open at the sight. It’s a movie come to life. It’s a picture straight out of a fairytale.

“Pretty sweet, right?” Chaewon says, clearly proud of herself for convincing you to join her. “The Parks and the Ohs really felt like celebrating.”

“No shit,” you say, dumbfounded. Chaewon wraps her arm around yours and leads you out of the elevator, her poise and grace akin to that of a princess. She’s been to this place before. She could do this in her sleep.

“Pictures first, then we eat, and then we mingle,” Chaewon instructs, and you nod diligently. She’s the only way you’re going to make it out of this night unscathed. Without her, you don’t know what you’d do.

On the average day of an average life of an average person, pictures means getting a stranger to take a single pic on your shitty iPhone at your worst angle, which you will begrudgingly post to your Instagram later after extensive editing.

But this is not your average day, and these are not average lives of not average people. Pictures means professional photographers with entire setups, standing with their cameras held up to their eyes, poised and ready for the next shot. It means couples, one by one, stepping in front of a gorgeous backdrop and posing, over and over, as five photographers at once cram to get their best angle, the cleanest photo.

You don’t know how to pose for photos. You barely remember what the proper formatting is for your essays, depending on the citation structure. And yet, Chaewon is ushering you over in front of the photographers, immediately striking one of her classic, perfect poses as you flail about, trying to figure out what to do with your hands.

“Just relax,” Chaewon advises. Even standing beside you, she can see you panicking in her periphery. “And smile. You’re beautiful, so show them that.”

Eventually, as the photographers switch positions to get different angles, you stop worrying about your hands, stop worrying about your bag, your feet, your head tilt, and just grin. You may not have millions of dollars to your name, but it’s a Friday night and you’re living the life of a billionaire with no responsibilities. You deserve to live a little.

When the next group comes up, Chaewon nudges you out of the way and whispers to one of the photographers, who nods dutifully in response. Wrapping her arm around yours once more, she guides you to the massive catering setup, tables and tables lined with delicacies from every country you could imagine. And of course, a gargantuan chocolate fountain in the middle of it all.

Your stomach rumbles. Clearly, the frozen yogurt was not enough to hold you off. Or maybe it’s just because you’ve been eating college dining hall food for weeks now, and are probably going to throw up if you have to have dry beef one more time.

“If you want to, you should try the caviar. It’s delicious. Avoid the eggplant, it tastes like foot, but the brussel sprouts are delicious. Kimchi’s good, too. Classic,” Chaewon instructs as you walk around the tables, placing servings the size of quarters onto your plate just so you can have a taste of everything. Chaewon sticks to some ribs, pan-seared salmon, and a vegetable so expensive you’ve never even heard of it before.

“Im Chaewon, is that you?”

“Mrs. Kim!”

A strange older woman comes up to the two of you as you’re dishing up, and Chaewon’s face immediately lights up. The woman goes in for a hug, a barely-touching pat of the shoulders and hands. Over her shoulder, you watch as Chaewon rolls her eyes and pulls a face.

“How are you, dear? You look so grown up,” Mrs. Kim says. You watch as the light slowly fades from Chaewon’s eyes with each second that passes.

“I’m very well, Mrs. Kim. Did you get your hair done? It makes you look so youthful.” Chaewon’s a master. She glares at you when Mrs. Kim isn’t looking, raising her eyebrows as if to say learn, young padawan. This is how it’s done. They go on for a couple minutes, showering fake compliments on each other as you slowly begin to eat. You scrunch your nose up. Chaewon’s right. The eggplant does taste like foot.

“And who is this?” Mrs. Kim asks, turning her focus onto you. You look up like a deer in headlights, a brussel sprout puffing your cheek. You were not meant to mingle and eat at the same time.

“This is one of my closest friends, Y/N,” Chaewon introduces for you. You nod your hello, chewing the brussel sprout in the most nondescript manner possible in an effort to save whatever is left of your dignity. “She’s pre-law.”

You are not pre-law.

“Oh, how wonderful! You must have a lot you want to accomplish in life,” Mrs. Kim says. God, you couldn’t care less about how Mrs. Kim feels about you.

“Yes, definitely,” you say awkwardly.

“We really must be going, Mrs. Kim. My parents will want me to make sure I do my rounds,” Chaewon says, a hand on your arm as she makes to get you both the fuck out of there.

“Of course, of course,” Mrs. Kim concedes, sending you and Chaewon one final goodbye before moving on to find her next victim.

When she leaves, Chaewon seems to let out the biggest exhale of her life. “Holy fucking shit, I thought she’d never leave,” she exclaims, grabbing a flute of champagne and downing it in a single go. “She’s an associate of my father’s, so she’s always trying to kiss my damn ass. Like, sorry that you need to brown-nose your boss and his daughter just so you bribe your idiot son’s way into college.”

“You like mingling, I take?” You joke.

“Just murder me.”

“Have any tips?”

“Flex as hard as possible without actually flexing. Try to speak to people your age because they are usually more bearable than people older than you. The best conversationalists are anybody under the age of ten,” Chaewon tells you. She picks up another glass of Prosecco. “Want some champagne?”

“You have it,” you tell her. “I think you need it more than I do.”

Chaewon shrugs. Not as if they’re running out any time soon. She gulps it down and places it on the tray of one of the caterers as they whiz by her.

The rest of the night passes by in the same way the beginning of it did. Chaewon drags you around the penthouse, talking with her father’s business partners and associates and their sons and daughters and husbands and wives for no more than two minutes each before moving on. She’s got her technique down pat. Greet, compliment, shade, flex, compliment, say goodbye. It’s foolproof, because you immediately notice that everyone else in the room has adopted the same approach.

Business gatherings like these are just one big game of who can be the most-liked and the least-liked at the same time. And the answer: everybody, all at once.

Halfway through the evening, Chaewon collapses against the back wall, totally unafraid of the possibility of the glass giving out behind her. She doesn’t care. If it breaks, it breaks.

“Tired?”

“I just need a break,” Chaewon declares. “Because everyone in here is so fucking fake, and you’re the only one I can talk to without wanting to rip out my eardrums.”

“I’m honored,” you say sarcastically.

“When I say you’re the only honest one here, I mean it,” Chaewon says. You lean back against the wall next to her, looking out into a sea of people in fancy clothes with fancy food and fancy friends. “Look at all these people, Y/N. All these fucking people, and you’re the only one who’s true.”

And then, you spot him.

He’s far away, standing in a group of people you don’t recognize, a hand on the small of another girl’s back. He’s wearing a navy blue suit, tight-fitting and tailored, a silver watch sparkling on his wrist as he adjusts his sleeves. One of the other young men in the group says something funny, and he tilts his head back to laugh, chuckling as the girl beside him curls into his arms.

You suppose it would have been ignorant of you to assume Jungkook was elsewhere on a night like this, at a gathering where everybody who knows anybody is here.

Jungkook must not know you’re here. He mustn't, otherwise he would have come over to find you. You must have entered at different times, spent the night wandering around different parts of the penthouse. Clinging onto Chaewon’s arms, you must have avoided his gaze, and he, yours.

Chaewon hasn’t spotted him either. Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’s better, if you’re the only one stuck with the knowledge that he’s here tonight. Chaewon would pity you. Other people would ask you how you knew such a worldly, experienced man like him. And you would spend the night wallowing in sadness, wondering why it’s never you that gets to spend the night next to him.

From this distance, you can see Jungkook perfectly. The light from the moon shines down on him like a goddamn spotlight, catching the sparkling on his wrist, leaving a silver gleam in his slicked back hair. You watch as he laughs, smiles, talks, grins and beams and socializes. Of course he’s here. Of course. He’s so good at this, so good at being real and genuine and happy.

Chaewon says the only person in the room who is true is you, but how can that be? How can that be when Jungkook, the most honest, wonderful, real person you know, is standing in front of you? You aren’t honest. You aren’t true and real and whole. You stand on the sidelines, a wallflower in a room of daisies and roses, and pine from afar. Watch as he pretends to date a girl that’s not you, wraps his arm around her waist and kisses her cheek, and you act like everything is alright.

It sucks, being trapped like this for fear of him seeing you. You know that would be worse—if he saw you standing alone and decided to take matters into his own hands. Seeing him up close in a penthouse like this, a movie set, shimmering and sparkling, it would be worse. Jungkook pulls the girl beside him in close to his side, smiling as he listens to someone else speak. She’s the perfect height in those heels, just tall enough to rest her head in the crook between his neck and his shoulder. You imagine them walking into the room together, hand in hand. Imagine them posing for the pictures like a real couple, a pair of celebrities.

You suppose you have no reason to be jealous of her, of him, of what they have. Jealousy is when resenting someone for having something that you once had. You never had a life like that with Jungkook. You’ll never have a life like that with him. Never get dressed up to go out, never get to be his date to an event. Never get pictures taken of you as a couple, never feed each other candies and strawberries dipped in chocolate. You can’t be jealous of her. You were never in the running to begin with.

“Ready to get back out there?” Chaewon asks, placing a firm hand on your shoulder.

A waiter comes by with a tray of champagne flutes, offering it to the both of you.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Chaewon tells you as she takes a glass for herself.

You sigh, casting another glance over at Jungkook. He and his date are moving around now, joining another social circle on the opposite side of the penthouse. He looks so at ease, so comfortable. He belongs there, in the middle of it all, talking and laughing and grinning. And you? You belong back at home, underneath your duvet covers playing a game of Mario Kart. Not here.

You shake your head. You could use a drink or two in this state. “I’d love one, actually. Thank you.”

That night, you stay at Chaewon’s place.

“You’ve been acting weird.”

“Hello to you, as well,” you say with a scowl as Chaewon sits down across from you at the local ramen place.

“Listen,” Chaewon begins, “I’ve been thinking. You need to confess to Jungkook.”

You nearly spit out the complimentary water you were served. “Excuse me?”

“You need to. You’ve been acting weird and that’s the only thing that’s going to fix it,” Chaewon declares.

“What do you mean I’ve been ‘acting weird’? Care to explain?” You ask, offended. You haven’t been acting weird. Well, that weird. Maybe a little weird.

“Jungkook told me you haven’t seen each other for the last eight days,” Chaewon points out. Eight days? It’s more like seven and a half. Not that you’ve been counting, or anything.

“So? We’re busy people,” you defend. It’s a good enough excuse. You’re sophomores in college. You have classes. Clubs. You have to meal prep.

“So? You guys are best friends. You make time to see each other at three in the fucking morning if you haven’t seen each other yet that day. And you haven’t seen each other for eight whole days? What’s wrong with you?” Chaewon demands.

“Nothing! What the heck, I invite you out to a best friend ramen date and you just blaspheme all over me like this?” You accuse. This is not how you imagined today to be going. This isn’t how you imagined this week to be going. “Besides, it’s only been seven and a half days. He’s over-exaggerating.”

“Seven and a—holy fuck, you are literally the worst. Can you just stop resisting? If you tell him, everything will be fine and go back to the way things were,” Chaewon says, blinking, flabbergasted.

“No, they will not,” you hiss. “Everything will change if I tell him. We’re best friends, Chae. Imagine if I told you that I loved you. What would you do?”

“I’d love you back, that’s what!” Chaewon tells you. “You deserve to be loved back, Y/N. Nothing would change between us. I already love you. You’re one of my most favorite people ever. I would never regret something if it was with you.”

“It’s different with him, though,” you try to explain. You don’t know why—you just know that it is. The way you’re friends with Chaewon and the way you’re friends with Jungkook are entirely separate. You love Chaewon. You’re not in love with Chaewon.

“Is it? How?” Chaewon says.

“I don’t know, I just—it’s different with him.” There’s no way to describe it. Jungkook appeared in your life and it was as if everything just clicked into place. There isn’t a single thing in your life that makes more sense to you than Jungkook. “It’s always been different with him. With you, I—I knew that we would become really close friends once we started talking a lot more in the beginning of freshman year. But with him—I don’t know. From the moment I met him, I knew that I would fall in love with him. When he said hello to me, I was fucked. There’s never been any hope for me, Chae. I just have to live like this forever.”

Chaewon rolls her eyes. “No, you don’t. You don’t even see what the fuck is right in front of you.”

“You?”

“God, I’m friends with idiots. Literal idiots. How you guys have made it through nearly a year and a half of college is beyond me,” Chaewon says to nobody in particular. “Seriously, tell me, Y/N. What do you think will happen if you tell him? Just out of curiosity.”

“I don’t know—” you pause. A lot of things. He tells you he just wants to stay friends. He rejects you because he’s not interested that way and you can’t really be friends anymore because it’s weird now. He’s already interested in somebody else. He’s already dating somebody else and you never even knew. He’s not looking for a relationship right now. Things get awkward because you confessed to your best friend that you’re in love with him and he doesn’t feel the same. You end up never speaking to each other. You never see each other. You go through the rest of university seeing each other on the Green by chance and not knowing what to do. You graduate and move on with your lives. And suddenly, he’s just a past friend you used to have. No longer a part of your life. No longer given the chance to. “He rejects me. We never speak again and have to avoid each other at all costs. He lets me down easy and I feel like a total loser for having confessed in the first place. There’s a lot.”

“Jesus, Y/N. Aren’t you forgetting a possibility?” Chaewon says, eyebrows raised high.

“I’m omitting a lot of them,” you tell her. Including the one where, in the next three years, you end up in a hellish dystopian wasteland and you have to band together to survive but it’s awkward and terrible because you love him still and he doesn’t feel the same, never has and never will, and now you have to fight off zombies and a corrupt autocratic government all while dealing with your own goddamn feelings. That may be the most unbearable one of them all.

“How about the one where he actually feels the same?”

“Too unrealistic,” you tell Chaewon. It’s the truth. Why else would Jungkook be traipsing around with beautiful, rich, worldly girls on his nights off? He does it for the money, sure, but he likes it. He loves the experience, loves living that sort of life. You’d never be able to provide that for him. “You know that’s never going to happen, Chae. We’re just friends.”

“Bullshit.”

“Well, he thinks that we’re just friends. And I’m not gonna fuck everything up by telling him that I’ve been madly in love with him for the past year and a half.” You can think of nothing worse.

“Have you ever considered the fact that maybe he thinks that the two of you are just friends because you refuse to actually show him how you feel?” Chaewon asks pointedly, eyebrows raised in disapproval. She looks about ready to walk out of the restaurant. “You never do things to give him a reason to think otherwise.”

“Why would I?”

When your ramen arrives, Chaewon takes a deep breath, downs the rest of her glass of water, and moves on. It’s clear that if she thinks about this any more, her head will explode.

Nothing’s ever going to change between you and Jungkook. You knew, when you first met him, that it was always going to hurt like this. That loving him was something you had to sacrifice to stay close to him. He lights up every fucking room he walks into, and it’s all you can do not to sit there and bask in his warmth. You would rather catch a single one of his rays than be in the darkness. And if being friends with him means that friends is all you’ll ever be, then so be it. You’re lucky to have him like this. Why take the plunge?

“Just—” Chaewon says as you begin to pull apart the noodles in your own bowl. “I know that you aren’t as happy as you could be right now. And you deserve to be happy, Y/N. You deprive yourself of all of these wonderful things, and I just want you to know that you deserve every single one of them. But telling him? That’s something that even I know would make you the happiest. You shouldn’t live like this, Y/N. You have no idea what you’re missing out on if you do.”

The streak of not seeing Jungkook ends the next day, when you come back from an evening grocery store run to find him standing outside your door, hand about to knock on the wood. He’s all dressed up again, button-down and slacks, hair styled and parted, and you watch as he takes a deep breath, almost as if he’s waiting for the best time to knock.

“Jungkook?”

He practically jumps out of his skin at the sound of your voice, nearly tripping over his own feet as he lays his eyes on you.

“Oh, Y/N!” He exclaims. “I was just about to see if you were home.”

“You could have just texted, you know,” you say jokingly, joining him at the front door as you fumble for your keys.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Jungkook admits sheepishly.

“Well, make it up to me by helping me unpack these,” you demand, kicking the door open as you reach down to grab your reusable canvas bags filled with groceries. Immediately, Jungkook is leaning down to grab all of them for you, hauling them inside like they weigh nothing. You stare as he heads over to your kitchen without breaking a sweat, biceps clenching as he lifts the groceries up onto the counter.

“What’d you get?” Jungkook asks, slowly beginning to take out the groceries. He’s in your apartment so often that he’s memorized where all of your food goes, from the correct shelf in the fridge for produce to the proper cabinet for cereal.

“Just like… groceries. I saw a box of peppermint chocolate bars that I thought you might like, they’re in there somewhere,” you say mindlessly, pointing to a random canvas bag. Immediately, Jungkook abandons his putting-away-groceries duty to fish through each of the bags, hunting for the box of goodies. “And I got some cheap Trader Joe’s wine. You know. Just for emergencies.”

“Trader Joe’s wine and peppermint chocolate bars,” Jungkook comments, nodding in approval. He finally finds the box and tears it open sideways. “Sounds like a perfect dessert if I’ve ever heard one.”

“What, did you eat already?” You ask, busting out the wine and a couple of mugs, because you don’t own any wine glasses. Nothing says cultured like drinking seven-dollar wine out of mugs with kitschy sayings like “don’t talk to me until this is empty” or “coffee is my first love” written on them.

Jungkook shrugs. He grabs the box and heads over to your couch, already kicking back and relaxing. “Yeah, I went to some restaurant for another double date,” Jungkook says. “It was one of those places where everything is so expensive but the portions are the size of my fist. Of your fist.”

“You sound hungry,” you note, filling up the mugs and joining him. “And mad.”

“I’m getting reimbursed for the money I spent tonight, so I suppose I could be angrier. But I’m starving. Let’s finish this entire box of chocolates and do nothing else.”

“Your words, not mine,” you say, although his proposal sounds more than appealing to you.

You turn the television on for some background noise, switching to a channel showing old reruns of unsolved serial killer cases, because nothing sets the mood better than the words “then, slowly, he took the knife with which he killed her and began to slice away at her body”. Jungkook doesn’t seem to pay the television any attention, though, instead focused entirely on the chocolate in front of him, calling his name.

He takes an enormous bite out of one before moaning far too sexually for your liking, tossing his head back in bliss. “Oh my God.”

“Good?”

Jungkook moans again in response.

“Please don’t orgasm on this couch. Who knows what other bodily fluids were on here before we bought it,” you ask calmly.

“I’d say that’s nasty, but you guys did cover this with one of those couch covers, so it’s not like my body is coming into contact with other people’s body stains,” Jungkook reasons. The couch cover is the single best purchase you’ve made this entire year. Possibly your entire life. “But they’re delicious. You made a good purchase.”

“I thought you would like them,” you say. “You’re the only person I know who actually likes the combination of mint and chocolate.”

“People who say that it tastes like toothpaste are brushing their teeth with the wrong kind of toothpaste,” he tells you pointedly. “I don’t understand. This is God’s combination. It’s perfect.”

“As long as you love it, that’s all that matters,” you tell him with a pat on his back, breaking off a square of the chocolate bar for yourself. It is pretty good, even if mint chocolate ice cream does sometimes taste like toothpaste. But you’d never tell Jungkook that, of course.

Jungkook takes a swig of the wine, picking up the mug and gulping down about half of it, the wine bitter on his tongue. “Goes great with this wine, too,” he jokes. You take a sip yourself. It’s… not very good. Actually, rather sticky. No wonder it was only seven dollars.

“You don’t have to lie to me, I know it tastes like ass,” you tell him honestly. To be fair, you and Jungkook have both had worse. Compared to the shit served at frat parties, this may as well be beautifully-aged Malbec.

“It only tastes a little bit like ass,” Jungkook compromises. “But it doesn’t not taste like ass.”

“Let’s finish it now so we don’t have to have any more of it later,” you decide. “You’ve probably had some of the best alcohol in your life this semester.”

Jungkook thinks back, tilting his head to the side as he begins to recall all of the instances in the past few months when he’s had anything to drink. “Soju’s still my favorite. But yeah, I’d say I’ve had wine that probably costs more than my textbooks for this semester if I hadn’t pirated them all.”

“The beauty of being a CS student,” you muse.

“You know it,” he says, holding his half-empty mug out as a toast to himself. “But seriously, even if this Trader Joe’s wine literally tasted like garbage, it would still be better than all of that other shit.”

You turn to him, skeptical. Even the single night you spent with Chaewon, in a penthouse amongst the stars, drinking champagne and eating strawberries dipped in chocolate, was more than you could ever dream of. You woke up the next day on an air mattress in her bedroom and wanted nothing more than to go back to basking in the luxury, desperate for another taste. It was addicting. How could Jungkook ever prefer what he has right now to what he had last night?

“Really? Don’t say that just to make me feel better,” you tell him. You can take it. Jungkook has every reason to prefer the fancy meals, the penthouses, the suits and ties to your janky little apartment and old clothes from high school. The two aren’t at all on the same level. They’re not even in the same goddamn game. If you could drop everything to have what Chaewon has, what the other girls and boys who pay for Jungkook’s company have, you would.

“I’m not,” Jungkook tells you seriously. “I mean it. I would rather sit in your room, hunched over your tiny Switch because you lost the HDMI cord to plug it into the television, playing Mario Kart than out there, pretending to be someone I’m not.”

“But it was fun in the beginning, wasn’t it? Getting to be rich without the moral ambiguity that comes along with being part of the upper class?” You ask. It must have been. Jungkook looked so happy when he first started doing these gigs, coming back to your apartment in a state of bliss, a little tipsy from the expensive champagne and steak. He’d knock on your door and tell you all about the night, from how older businessmen handed him their cards and offered him jobs, to the hundreds of ice cream flavors you could only ever dream of eating. Everything seemed so wonderful to him.

Jungkook shrugs, pouring himself more wine. “Yeah, I guess, but it gets so old after a while. Like, no wonder Chaewon was so desperate for me to go with her that first time. It sucks the damn life out of you. You walk around and mingle and pretend that you’re the greatest person on Earth, talking about yourself and kissing up to the other people for an entire night. Honestly, sometimes it’s worse than my CS homework. And I hate that shit.”

“Chaewon mentioned that the eggplant usually tastes like foot,” you add. Jungkook nods in agreement.

“Yeah, it does. She warned me about it the first night and I, like a fool, tried it because I usually like eggplant. And it still tasted like foot. Never again,” Jungkook says, shivering at the mere thought of it. It’s funny, actually, because you did the exact same thing. “But the food is like, the one thing I pretty much don’t have the right to complain about. It’s delicious and usually free.”

“But I hope that you’re having fun,” you tell him honestly, because you do. When you’re sitting in your room, eating two different pints of Ben & Jerry’s, you hope that Jungkook, wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, is enjoying himself more than you are. Because he deserves it. You never want there to be a time when he’s sad, when he’s unhappy or bored. Jungkook deserves to live the happiest version of life he possibly can. “I want you to enjoy yourself.”

“I do,” Jungkook says. There’s a second half to that sentence. “I do—it’s just that… It's so fake, you know? I feel like such a goddamn actor when I’m there. I get to live this extravagant lifestyle for a few hours but in return I don’t even know who I’m looking at when I look in the mirror.”

Oh?

“Like, I pretend to be this business student, when I’m not. I pretend to have millions of dollars to my name, when I don’t. I hold hands and pose for pictures with people Chaewon is vaguely familiar with and nothing, literally nothing, feels real. I don’t know.” Jungkook takes another swig from the mug. “Even the relationships I have when I’m there are fake.”

“Do you hate it that much, then?” You ask him. If it’s so awful and terrible, then why does he keep doing it? Keep dressing up and going out, holding hands with and wrapping his arm around them?

“No,” Jungkook says, sighing as he leans back into the couch. “I don’t hate it. I just—I wish I had something real afterwards to come back home to.”

Real? Like what? Like you? You aren’t real. You sit next to your best friend and pretend that everything is fine. That nothing hurts. You’ve had the biggest crush on him ever since you laid eyes on him, and you’re doing everything in your power to make sure that he’s the only one that doesn’t know.

“That’s why I’m always coming back to your apartment afterwards,” Jungkook says. He chuckles, but it isn’t his usual laugh. It sounds forced, contrived and fake. Jaded. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it almost immediately. Then, he breathes, long and slow. Thinks. The silence is almost unbearable. Waiting to hear what he has to say, even more so. “You’re the most genuine person I know. What we share—it’s real.”

Tonight is the least lonely you’ve felt in a long time.

Even though Jungkook has something tonight, you aren’t aching to be by his side, desperate to spend more time with him. He told you that he was really looking forward to this one, that it wasn’t going to be some stuffy gala or blind double date. He said something about going to karaoke with the girl and her friends, singing Britney Spears songs and taking shots of soju for hours on end, screaming his voice hoarse. And even if you aren’t there with him, you’re happy because you know that he’s happy, that he’s genuinely enjoying himself.

So, you aren’t that lonely.

Content with the state of your life as it is, you take the night off, ready to prepare yourself for a weekend that will almost certainly consist entirely of just work. Chaewon’s voice echoes in your mind (“I know that you aren’t as happy as you could be right now,” she had told you), but it’s different now. Because you are happy. You are happy, because Jungkook’s happy. The two of you see each other just as frequently as you used to. He texts you about his terrible CS homework and the Shiba Inu he just saw being walked across campus. It’s all gone back to the way it used to be. That’s what you had wanted.

You were prepared for this. You knew that it would eventually boil down to this, down to whether or not you could take Jungkook not knowing how you feel any longer. But right now, you don’t care. Jungkook not knowing has always been a part of your friendship. The love you hold for him, in the spaces between your bones and deep in the cracks of your heart, that has always been there. You see it, hear it, feel it, whenever you’re with him. Even when you’re not with him, it will remind you, appear in the silence, the emptiness. It will always make itself known, because it’s become a part of you. From the moment you met him, it had settled into your heart.

Staring out of the window by your living room, overlooking the ugliest parking garage on campus, you sigh. You can’t see the stars from here, not even in the dead of night, but that’s alright. There is something so peaceful about the navy blue sky. About how mysterious and unknown it is. It calms you. You put on a movie that you’ve genuinely been wanting to watch for a while, sit down in your bed, amongst your duvet and sheets, pillows and plushies, and enjoy yourself, for once. It’s a good night.

And then, much like most aspects of your terribly convoluted, over-complicated and confusing life, it all comes crashing down.

There’s a faint thud from outside, a soft little non-noise that you assume is coming from the street. Not wanting to interrupt your movie—she’s just about to confess, holy shit—you ignore it. It’ll go away eventually.

Then another thud. You pause, leaning towards your window to see if you can figure out the source. Silence. You’re just about to press play, when you hear it again. And again. It gets louder and louder, making up in volume what it lacks in rhythm and order, until you realize it’s someone knocking on your door. And not just knocking casually. It’s as if someone is shoving their whole body into it, shoulders and chest and feet hitting the wood as they bang on it.

“Y/N?”

Oh, God.

Pushing off your duvet, you tug on your slippers and wipe away the crust around your eyes as you rush towards the door. You know who’s on the other side. You’re not sure if answering it is the better or worse option.

You’ve always had an uncanny ability to pick the latter.

When you open the door, Jungkook, in a fancy sweater pulled over a white button down and black jeans that could almost pass for dressy slacks, is standing on the other side.

Correction: he’s sort of standing on the other side. He nearly topples over when you pull open the door, having clearly been leaning on it, and you barely have time to reach your arms out to catch him.

“Oh! Y/N!” Jungkook exclaims, as if he’s surprised to see you inside your own apartment. “I was hoping to see you.”

“I figured,” you tell him, laughing. You guide him inside, and even in his state he remembers to tug off his clean white sneakers, kicking them towards the shoe rack. “It’s so late, Jungkook, you should go home.”

“No,” Jungkook whines. “I wanted to see you. I missed you.”

“We saw each other this morning, Jungkook. And this afternoon, right before you went out,” you remind him. The words go in one ear and out the other, and he pulls you in close to him, wrapping his arms around you as he presses his body against yours in a sweaty hug. His grip is tight around you as he rests his head on your shoulder, breathing you in as if you’d been gone for years. Slowly, after a few seconds, you pull away from him, a hand on his shoulder to get him to look at you through his too-long bangs, hanging over his eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong? I’m right here, don’t worry. I never left.”

“I had a lot to drink tonight,” Jungkook tells you, blinking rapidly. “Like, a lot. They just kept ordering soju and I just kept drinking it. It was really good. Have you had strawberry soju? It’s delicious.”

“I might have had it once or twice,” you fib, not able to recall having it one way or another. “Come on, sit down,” you point him towards the couch, but he refuses, clinging onto you even as you make your way towards the kitchen. “Jungkook, please, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“But I missed you,” Jungkook repeats. “I missed you a lot. I thought about you the entire time I was there.”

You can’t say you didn’t do the same.

“Next time we’ll do something together then, hey? Something really fun, like going to an arcade or bowling,” you promise him with a pat on his shoulder. “But you need to drink some water, JK. Can you please sit down?”

“No, I want to be with you,” Jungkook says like it’s nothing. Like the feeling of him wrapped around you like this, holding onto you and telling you that he misses you, that he thinks about you, doesn’t mean anything. You don’t think your heart has beaten since you opened the door to see him standing on the other side.

(You don’t think it’s beaten since you met him. Since he came up to you on the pavement, asking you for directions. Since you told him your name, and he told you his.)

“Ah, fine, just be careful, I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” you concede, because it’s so easy to let him have his way, so easy to say yes to him. You manage to grab an empty water bottle and fill it up with what’s left in your Brita, too lazy to refill it after it’s left bone dry. Slowly, you make your way to your bedroom, out of view of the central living space, where your roommates could burst through the door at any moment and see you taking care of your drunk best friend on the sofa.

Slowly, you settle on your bed, sitting off of the edge of it as you cajole him into drinking some water, whispering soft nothings to make sure he finishes the whole thing.

“Does your head hurt or anything?” You ask him, already looking around for the stash of Advil you usually keep on your nightstand.

“No, no, I’m fine, Y/N, seriously,” he promises, even if you can see the glazed-over look in his eyes, the way his sweaty bangs stick to his forehead. “You’re too nice, you know? Always treating me when I show up at your place. Even when you don’t invite me.”

“You know I never mind seeing you,” you tell him. “You can come over whenever you want. I’m always here.”

“No, you’re not,” Jungkook says with a pout, and it makes you furrow your brows. When have you not been? Jungkook’s been going out to events ever since the beginning of the semester, and without fail, you’ve always been waiting for him at home, knowing he’ll turn up one way or another. Except, there was— “That one time a couple of weeks ago, I went to this crazy big gala with Eunha, there were so many people there, and I came back home afterwards and knocked on your door, and your roommates said they hadn’t seen you all day. Where were you that day?”

He had come? You didn’t know if he would.

(Or maybe, you did. You knew he would show up at your door once he got back from that night, and selfishly, not wanting to see him after the fact, the leftover version of him, the part he leaves behind when he goes out. You knew he would be there and you couldn’t bear the thought of being the second girl he spends the night with. The other option. Maybe, you’ve known all along that you’ll never quite stack up to the girls he goes out with, and that sometimes, when you see him all dressed up while you’re in your hoodie and sweats, it reminds you is nothing more than a casual friendship.)

“I must have been out late with Chaewon that day, I’m sorry,” you apologize, letting him rest his head on your shoulder. “I didn’t know you would come.”

“I always come after my events. You know that.”

“I didn’t know if you’d remember to,” you correct.

“I’d never forget about you,” Jungkook says, the alcohol erasing his filter. Making him honest. “I really missed you, that day. I had been waiting the entire night to see you.”

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” you promise, and this one is for real.

“You know, today?” Jungkook says, pulling his head back so he can get a good look at you, your eyes meeting his own. “Today, I was so sad on my way here. It was so terrible, because I was drunk and sad and I missed you.”

“You were sad? What happened?” You ask, leaning in. Jungkook? Sad? Who would do such a thing to him? Who would erase the smile on his face, his crescent eyes, and replace them with tears?

“This girl and I, she was a lot of fun. We sang a couple duets together and we were pretty good,” he hiccups, “kept winning. It was fun. She and I talked for a long time. I definitely liked her the most out of all of the girls I’ve gone out with. Besides Chaewon, of course.”

“What happened? Did she do something you didn’t want? You know you can tell me, Jungkook,” you ask, a hand on his arm.

“No.” Jungkook shakes his head. “I don’t know. She was fun and I was drunk. We were on our way back in the Lyft when she leaned over and kissed me. And I kissed her back, and it was kind of nice. I haven’t really kissed someone like that in a while,” Jungkook tells you. And even though you’re hearing these words from him, hearing how he had all of this fun with a girl who isn’t you, how he kissed her in the backseat of a car, you rally, blinking away the tears you can feel forming in your eyes. It’s none of your business, you tell yourself. You and Jungkook aren’t together. You don’t get to feel bad about him kissing someone else.

“Did you like it?” You ask, each word a pin in your chest.

“It was pretty nice,” Jungkook admits. “We, uh, we made out a bit in the back of the car until we got to her place. And then we got out of the car and she asked me if I wanted to go back with her, to her room. And—and I almost said yes.” Jungkook looks about ready to combust. At his side, his fists are clenched so hard you’re worried he’ll pop a vein.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” you tell him, looking him in the eyes so he knows that you don’t mind, that he can tell you these things without worry. Jungkook may be the love of your life, but he’s your best friend, first. He’s always been, before anything else, your best friend.

“But there is!” Jungkook cries, standing up in anguish. “There is, Y/N, you don’t understand! I almost had sex with her!”

“You’re allowed to, Jungkook!” You assure him, standing up to reach out to him.

“No, Y/N, you don’t get it,” he tells you coldly, pulling his hand away. “Why aren’t you mad? Aren’t you angry that I nearly had sex with her?”

“No, what the fuck, Jungkook, why would I be mad?” You shout back at him. “You can do whatever you want with your body, it’s not my job to police it! I’m your friend, not your mom!”

“But don’t you want to be more, Y/N?” He rounds on you. “Don’t you want to be the one kissing me, fucking me? Why aren’t you jealous?”

“Were you trying to make me jealous, Jungkook? Is that what you were trying to do? You wanted to get a reaction out of me because my best friend nearly fucked someone else and then didn’t? What the fuck, Jungkook? What do you want from me?”

“I just want you to tell me you fucking love me back!”

“Jungkook, what—”

Jungkook, eyes dark and furious, pushes you against your closet door as your lips part, feeling the breath get knocked out of your lungs. He’s so close. He’s right there, you can see him, watch as he looms over you, hands clenched in your hoodie as he presses you against the wall. And then, wordlessly, he’s leaning down, crashing your mouths together.

Suddenly, your heart starts. You gasp into the kiss, the feeling of his mouth on top of yours. It’s fervent, hot and angry and passionate, his body against your own as your hands reach out to press against his head. You seize up at the feeling, almost as if in shock, before melting into his touch, leaning into him, desperate. You can feel his breath mixing in with your own, feel the way his chapped lips meet your overly-moisturized ones, feel how his hands drift from where they’re bunched up in the front of your hoodie to your waist, your hips, your thighs. Jungkook kisses ruthlessly, kisses like he’s trying to prove a point. Holds onto you like he’s afraid to let go.

When you part, gasping for air, Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, blinking.

“Jungkook, you’re drunk—” you tell him firmly, refusing to let get your hopes up if what you have in front of you is really just an intoxicated best friend. Your heart is beating miles a minute, about ready to thump right out of you, chest heaving and mouth agape.

“That doesn’t matter,” Jungkook argues back. “Even when I’m sober I love you. Don’t tell me I’m confused because I’m drunk.”

“You show up at my place at one in the morning, tell me about how you made out with some other girl and almost slept with her just to get me angry, kiss me, and tell me not to tell you you’re confused?” You demand. “Jungkook, I’ve never been more confused in my life than right now, can you please just—”

“I love you, Y/N,” Jungkook says, and even though he’s angry, red in the face and sweaty, when he says it, it’s soft. It’s a whisper, a murmur. He says it not to convince you, but so you know. “I’ve been in love with you for so goddamn long, ever since I fucking met you. And I thought you might like me back but you never did anything about it, and so neither did I.”

“You need to go home, Jungkook,” you tell him, hiccuping. When you blink, you feel the warm tears streaming down your face. You hadn’t even noticed them. “You can’t just come into my apartment and tell me shit like that. How do you think it makes me feel?”

“Do you feel the same, Y/N?” Jungkook asks, looking you in the eyes. He’s angry, that’s for sure, but even underneath, you can see the desperation, see how he’s just waiting for an answer.

“Go home, Jungkook. Please. Let’s talk about this when you aren’t drunk, okay? I’m confused and I need to clear my head,” you plead, pushing him towards the door. “Please, okay? Be safe, too. I’ll call Chaewon to give you a ride,” you tell him, grabbing your phone.

Jungkook puts a hand on your wrist. “I’ll be okay, Y/N. I just… Please, tell me. Did that kiss mean anything to you?”

“Yes, it did, but Jungkook, I can’t—”

“It meant something to me, too,” he tells you firmly, lets the words sink into the air around you. He heads for the door, pulling on his shoes. He looks so sad. “Good night, Y/N.”

You place a hand on the doorknob. “Good night, Jungkook.”

It’s barely nine in the morning the next day when a knock wakes you up. It’s soft at first, one every couple of seconds, before it gets progressively louder. Slowly, you get out of bed, trying to tame your hair as you rub the sleep from your eyes.

“Y/N’s in her room. Is that for her? That’s so cute. Yeah, she’s probably awake. You can just knock.” It’s your roommate.

You scramble to make your bed, pouring some water from the water bottle by your nightstand into your hand and splashing your face, wiping it away with an old t-shirt as you run towards the door, pulling it open just in time.

On the other side is a much more tired, much less drunk Jungkook, one hand raised and about to knock, the other holding a bouquet of daisies.

“Hey,” he says shyly, mouth breaking into a smile the moment he sees you.

“Hey,” you say back. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, head hurts like hell, though,” Jungkook says. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, yeah, s-sure, of course,” you say, stepping aside to let him into your bedroom.

“These are for you.” Jungkook holds out the bouquet towards you, wrapped up neatly in cellophane and tied at the stems with a bow. “So you don’t have to keep Febreze-ing your room all of the time.”

“They’re beautiful, Jungkook,” you tell him, grinning as you take them from his hands. Today feels different from yesterday. It feels lighter, fresher. New. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“I—” He pauses, taking a second to think, “I meant what I said, yesterday. Maybe not all of it, but. Most of it, yeah. I meant it.”

“Why did you try to make me jealous, Jungkook?” You ask him. “Why did you think that would work?”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook admits. “I shouldn’t have, and I fucked up. I just got so… so tired of waiting to see if you’d ever come around. I just wanted you to tell me. And then I guess I got so fed up that I told you instead.”

You place the bouquet on your dresser before walking towards him, reaching a hand out. “Yeah, that was a pretty big asshole move of you,” you chide, grinning to yourself.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He sighs.

“But I’m happy you’re here,” you tell him. “And happy that you meant what you said. Maybe it could have been said in a less angry way, but hearing it made me happy.”

“I’m happy that you’re happy.” Jungkook grins. “You’re my favorite person, Y/N.”

“When you asked me, yesterday, if that kiss meant anything to me? And I said it did?” You begin, Jungkook nodding in front of you. He’s positively beaming. “It still does. I want to do that every day, Jungkook. Every hour. Every single second for the rest of my goddamn life.”

“You do?” Jungkook asks.

“I love you, Jeon Jungkook. From day one, it’s always been you.” You smile, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. Feels like you’re fucking flying. Like you’re weightless.

“I love you, too, Y/N. I never want to be away from your side,” he declares, and like a cheesy, rom-com movie, like the shitty novels you used to read in eighth grade, he pulls you in close and presses a kiss against your lips. Wraps his arms around your waist as he holds you tight, kisses you in the middle of your bedroom, in your hoodie and sweatpants, a bouquet of daisies on your dresser. He kisses you because he can, because for every second of every day for the rest of your goddamn life, he can kiss you, over and over and over.

“We owe Chaewon an apology,” you tell him when you’re parted, sitting on your bed, wrapped up in each other’s arms.

“Hell yeah we do,” Jungkook agrees. “She’s been on my ass for ages about telling you.”

“Mine too.”

“She’s such a great best friend,” Jungkook comments. “Knew all this time that her two friends were madly in love with each other and didn’t say a damn word to either of us. That’s loyalty.”

“We should do something for her, to make up for it all,” you suggest.

“You know,” Jungkook says, grinning, “I know this guy who made bank this semester by going on fake dates with a bunch of really rich girls. Maybe he could help.”

“I know him, too,” you joke. “He’s the love of my fucking life.”

Jeon Jungkook quits his job on the ninety-eighth day of the fall semester of his sophomore year.

You know this because on the ninety-eighth day of the fall semester of your sophomore year, he comes banging on the door of your apartment shared with three other girls at 7:18PM, eighteen minutes after he normally heads out on one of his many dates.

“Y/N!” He shouts, banging wildly on your door. You rush over to open it, letting the pasta water on the stove boil over and sizzle on the heat. He’s barely gotten in a second knock when you turn the doorknob to reveal your smiling boyfriend in his oversized hoodie.

“Don’t tell me you’re blowing someone off for me,” you say, inviting him inside. He places a kiss on your cheek on the way in, taking off his shoes and coat as you rush over to take care of the pasta.

“Me? Blowing someone off? Never,” Jungkook says, mock offended. “I actually quit the dating thing, this afternoon. A girl asked if I was free and I said that I wasn’t, because I have to go home to my girlfriend making me a meal. Don’t you love the sound of that?” He asks, pleased with himself.

“You quit? I thought you liked doing that stuff,” you say, using the spaghetti fork to move around the linguine. “Hope you’re cool with boring old pasta for your meal tonight. You could have had caviar if you hadn’t quit.”

“I don’t care, it smells so good,” Jungkook tells you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he stands behind you, watching you cook from over your shoulder. “Look at you, being all domestic and shit. It’s very cute.”

“Stop rubbing in the fact that you’re the better cook, I get it. Pasta is all I got right now.” You pout, turning down the heat as you move to pour yourselves two cups of tea. Jungkook follows you the entire way to the kettle, grip on your waist never faltering. “You can keep going on those dates, you know. I don’t mind. I get to see you in a suit when you get back, and then I get to take it off of you. It’s a win-win.”

Jungkook pinches your waist in response. “If you have a thing for suits, you can just tell me, you know. I won’t be mad.”

You turn around to whack him with the spaghetti fork. “I do not!”

“Alright, Y/N, guess I won’t wear a suit next time you call me at two in the morning—”

“I never said you couldn’t,” you interrupt, making Jungkook laugh.

“You’re so cute, Y/N,” Jungkook coos as you begin to dish up the pasta, making sure to add peas because Jungkook loves peas with his spaghetti. “But I quit because I have enough money to sustain me for the rest of the semester. I’ll work over break and get a new job next semester when the new work-study positions open. Don’t worry about me,” he assures you.

“But didn’t you like going out and everything? Getting dressed up and drinking fancy champagne?” You ask, setting the plates down at your dinky kitchen table, a single scented candle lit in the center.

Jungkook thinks about it for a split second, and then he shakes his head. “Nah. I like hanging out with my girlfriend more.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” you reason with a grin.

Jungkook laughs, leaning over the table to plop a kiss on your lips. “I love you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, you pea-eating loser,” you chide, “I love you too.”

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#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts au #jungkook au #w: if i told you #god this fic.... i cant believe i wrote this.... how did i do it

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