#she is finally finished i hope u enjoy and that u find it romantic and fulfilling
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the notebook theory (tsukishima kei x reader)
masterlist | ao3
Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x Reader
Summary: Kei has a cynical and jaded outlook on love. When his friend Tadashi figures out that Kei has feelings for you, Kei isn’t sure how to react. After all, love is not something he does but rather, something that happens to him.
"There’s a notebook that Kei likes on his desk. No matter what he does, nothing is good enough to put a permanent mark into the thing. Even if he used a pencil, Kei feels like the evidence of the mark would still be there even after erasing it, a molecular change that can’t be seen with the naked eye. Kei calls it the notebook theory.
He thinks that might be what’s happening to him. A molecular change, imperceivable to someone not looking at him under a microscope. It’s like his DNA is being rewritten and stitched together with bright pink yarn. He feels himself steadily come apart and come together. It’s uncomfortable, like trying to dream when he has a fever. Kei is nearly certain that you’re the reason."
Content Warnings: fem!reader (gender neutral pronouns), no real manga spoilers, slow burn, one-sided pining, angst, mentions of divorce and broken homes, toxic relationship (kei's parents), smut, fingering, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), pinching, mentions of mark making, overstimulation (m!receiving), multiple orgasms, hair-pulling
Word Count: 24.8k
A/N: i know i spent forever working on this but it's finally done and while i have a lot of thoughts about it, idk rly what to say. anyway, here's my first attempt at a tsukishima long fic. also i already know that im not beating the tsukkiyama allegations, okay? i tried and failed to beat them okay i just think there is no way to put them in a situation without it being a little homoerotic bc.. they r them okay? anyway, i hope u enjoy and would love to hear ur thoughts <3
The morning comes without warning. Kei thinks he’s read that somewhere, though he’s just sure just where he saw it. He also thinks that whoever said that is right. Morning is always a harsh assault and never as gentle as people describe it to be.
Kei’s room, the one he rents at university, faces toward the east. In the mornings, when the sun peeks over the horizon, it shines directly into his room and onto his bed before creeping across the light wood floors. His blinds, as useful as they are, always let some through the cracks and the light cuts the ground like butter to a knife. Kei doesn’t think it feels half as romantic as it sounds.
The light works better than his alarm. No matter how set he is on sleeping in, he never fails to wake up as soon as those slats of light make their way across his bedspread. It wakes him like fever and he’s never quite as comfortable as he felt falling asleep. This morning is no different.
He rises like he always has, running a hand over his blonde hair and dragging it down his face after sitting up. Then, he stands once in an attempt to gather his bearings before sitting right back down on the edge of the bed. He fights the lingering remnants of sleep, feeling the ray of sunlight beat down on his back. Then, he reaches towards his glasses on the nightstand and slides them up the bridge of his long nose before standing up again once and for all.
Yamaguchi lives in the other room. His best friend since high school, perhaps his only real friend. They’d miraculously attended the same college and decided to room together, though his other friends from his youth aren’t too far. The arrangement managed to make it all the way until their fourth and final year. Living with each other has become par for the course.
Tadashi wakes up later than Kei does on most days, except for Tuesdays and Thursdays. On those days, he has an 8 am and is usually in the kitchen before Kei has even stood up for the first time. Today is a Wednesday, so Yamaguchi is asleep in his room. The morning light doesn’t wake him the same way it does Kei. His room faces west, so it isn’t until the mid-afternoon, when Tadashi is chased from his room by the afternoon rays and heat, that he notices the sun on its blinding conquest across the sky.
Kei’s room is clean and neat. There’s no clutter, no collection of items that don’t have a proper place. Everything is itemized and stored exactly where he intends for them to be. His floor is void of stray clothes, of socks he’d discarded the night before, his nightstand is bare and his desk is surprisingly empty save for one notebook sitting in its center. It’s a room that he could leave at any time, despite living here for nearly two years. If Kei chose to do so, he could pack his things and be gone in a day.
Yamaguchi’s room is different. It’s lived in and well worn. There’s clutter on the floor, socks and pants he’d taken and tossed away to be dealt with later. Certain things don’t have a place and end up living on semi-crowded surfaces filled with things he likes to put down as quickly as he’d picked them up. Kei envies that way of living. A non-temporary way. He envies the rug in Yamaguchi’s room and the way he fills the space with himself. Kei thinks that even after they’re long gone, future tenants would still be able to feel Tadashi’s presence.
To say that Kei is cynical would be accurate. He tends to lean more towards paranoia in his own strange way. He keeps things in order to quell the anxiety in it. Things stay where they are meant to be. As a result, he’s earned himself somewhat of an uptight attitude that makes Kei feel more awkward than relaxed even when he’s in his own spaces. Not that he minds it.
Tadashi’s dish from last night is sitting next to the sink. Kei moves around it as he fixes a tea, making an effort not to drag his feet across the floor because he hates the scuffing sound. Every now and then, the glass of his mug will clink against the cheap kitchen tile and Kei will cringe in some paranoid worry that it will wake his friend.
As he gathers his things to leave the quiet apartment, Kei wonders where his cynicism comes from. He’s sure he could pinpoint it if he tried. His parents divorce, his previous experiences with dating that have left him jaded, the holes that wore even in his most sturdy of sweaters. Inconsequential nothings that piled up until Kei had developed an undeniably cautious outlook on the world. To him, all of these things are the same. Like the morning, they’re intrusive and unsightly, but none is less important than the other.
Kei does have things he likes. Art, for one. He likes paintings, sculptures, little pieces of history, and all of the things people make with their hands that he could never do. Kei is hopeless at crafts. His fingers are lithe and long, but they’re clumsy and hard to control. Despite his need for order, Kei has trouble controlling his urges. The subtle twitches of his fingers always mess up whatever it is he’s trying to craft.
He likes writing best of all, specifically curatorial writing. It’s easy for him to pick which pieces belong together and how to organize them in a space, it suits his talent for compartmentalizing. Kei gets to tell a story that way, be it historical or artistic, sometimes both. The essays that his classmates find tedious, he finds relaxing despite the stress. For him, writing about art and history is a pleasure much like sipping tea that is the perfect temperature, unintrusive and natural.
By the time he arrives at the library, it’s nearly 9 am. He works better here, in the quiet section at a table hidden by three tall shelves of books. It’s almost never occupied and there are hardly ever people seated in the immediate area. Kei doesn’t go out of his way to avoid others, but he finds that if he doesn’t approach people, they often won’t approach him. He prefers things this way, it makes the good and bad people easier to weed out.
From this spot in the library, Kei can see where you usually set up shop for the day. You arrive after him by about 45 minutes and he convinces himself that it is always coincidental.
Strictly speaking, you’re Tadashi’s friend, not his. You’ve known each other for a little under a year and have been by the apartment a few times, but yours and his conversations are limited entirely to pleasantries. How are you? What are you working on? We’re graduating soon, huh? Casual conversation that Kei can weasel his way out of at any time. Like his room, it’s impermanent.
Kei has had the idea that nothing stays stuck in his head since middle school. The house he lived in when his parents were together, weekdays with his mother and weekends with his father, graduating seniors, the apartment he lives in now. To Kei, all of it is so temporary that he finds it difficult to get attached to it, not that he’s devoid of emotion. He quite loves the little things he has, but his grip on them is loose and half-hearted. Whatever leaves, Kei thinks is meant to leave, so he makes no effort to hold on.
It’s probably unfair to think of you that way, but Kei can’t really help it. He can’t change what he is. Besides, it’s not as if he doesn’t have a reason to think so. He’s often approached by people for his looks, people who want to get close because they think he’s tall and handsome, people who collect others like trophies. He’s not heartless, so he’s been hurt more than a few times. Kei thinks he owes it to himself to be cautious, not that you’ve done anything to earn that type of subtle hostility.
“Thought you might be here,” someone’s hand lands on his shoulder.
“Shit,” he groans, “is it that late already?”
Kei glances down at the watch on his wrist, reading the time as just past 10:45 am. He’s been here for an hour and 45 minutes and hasn’t gotten anything done. Tadashi pulls the chair next to him out and sits down, resting his chin on his hand.
“Spacing out?”
“A little,” Kei responds, tapping his pen against the table and turning back toward his book.
“Got something due?”
“Yeah, on Friday,” he exhales. “Haven’t started it yet though. You?”
“Nah,” Tadashi smiles. “I’m just chasing you around.”
“You’re like a girl with a crush.”
Tadashi shrugs and lets out a good natured laugh. It’s a little too loud for this part of the library, but Kei lets it slide, smiling with his friend.
Tadashi is the opposite of him, he thinks. He smiles often and says exactly what’s on his mind when it crosses it, even if it's a little mean. Tadashi used to be a follower, but in his final year of high school and university years, grew into someone befitting of his somewhat sunny and sarcastic personality. Thoughts and words come easily to him and he has no trouble vocalizing his joy or his disappointment.
Yamaguchi has freckles covering the entirety of his body. Kei knows this because he’s seen far more of Tadashi than he thinks he should have. His skin is tawny and warm like him. Kei finds himself looking at the ones on his hands as Yamaguchi begins to write in his notebook. Kei can’t read his handwriting because it’s terrible and he doesn’t much feel like working on his own project, so he watches his friend’s hand mark the page. Then, his gaze slinks across the library to you.
You’ve got your head down and look like you’re falling asleep despite it only being 11 in the morning. Your hand moves lazily across your computer keypad. By the time Kei realizes that you’ve spotted him staring, it’s too late to look away. His gaze was too intentional, so he smiles at you instead, nodding his head a little.
You smile and wave, standing from where you sit and collecting your things. They fill up your arms because you don’t bother to put them in your bag, making your way clumsily across the room and setting your stuff down across from him.
“Hi, Tsukishima,” you smile. “Hi, Tadashi.”
You use his friend’s given name and Kei feels a pang of jealousy hit his chest.
“How long have you been here? I didn’t see you,” you ask, settling into the seat across from Kei.
“I just got here,” Tadashi smiles, looking up from his notes. “He’s been here for a while though.”
Tadashi motions towards him.
“Aw, why didn’t you say hi?”
“You seemed busy,” Kei lies.
You pout, filling your mouth with air. “Next time just come say hi, ‘kay?”
“Sure,” Kei nods.
Tadashi tosses him a sideways glance and Kei shrugs it off. He’s not interested in being teased this morning, though when is he ever.
Kei doesn’t like the way you make him feel. When you’re around, he becomes prickly. It sets Kei on edge in a way that he hates. His world, previously so rigid and organized, quickly begins to feel cluttered and structureless.
You make his heart pound. You make it hammer against his chest so hard that he can feel it in his ears and behind his eyes. It goes all the way down to his already-hard-to-control fingertips and the tops of his thighs. A previously pastel colored world goes vibrantly candy-colored like it’s been plunged in saturating liquid. He nevers knows how to hold himself, never knows how to act natural. What does it mean to act natural, anyway? How should he rest his hands on the desk? Would it be weird to lace them together? Does he look as stiff as he feels? It’s entirely possible that he is suffering a massive heart attack.
You whisper across the table to Tadashi, leaning forward and laughing at something he’s written in his notebook. You can read his handwriting, something Kei is equally jealous about as he is angry. Kei just watches your conversation, unable to really listen into it on account of the stroke that he thinks he’s having.
The three of you stay like this for a while, earning the occasional irritated whisper or dirty look from some of the more studious people in the library. Kei pretends to ignore them, remaining quiet throughout the duration of your study session with Tadashi. His quiet corner is invaded and painted bright pink with your presence and he doesn’t know whether to feel giddy or irrationally angry. Maybe it’s both.
“Crap, is that the time?” Tadashi exclaims, hunching over himself when someone nearby shushes him. “I’ve got class across campus in 10 minutes.”
He hurriedly collects his things. Tadashi does it so fast, in fact, that Kei hardly has time to beg him not to leave him alone with you. So he just watches as Tadashi throws his things clumsily into his bag and tosses it over his shoulder.
“Bye, ___,” he says in a rushed whisper. “I’ll see you at home, Kei!”
“Sure,” is all that Kei can muster. His voice cracks when he says it and he immediately avoids looking at you and stares at nothing in particular in his textbook.
It’s quiet for a while. Kei pretends to busy himself by glancing between his textbook and his computer and you sit with your head bowed as you take notes on a lecture you’re listening to through the single earbud in your right ear. Then, you tap the end of your pen lightly on Kei’s notebook to get his attention.
It’s only been about 10 minutes since Tadashi left, but the library now feels like an entirely different place. His heart pounds as he struggles to keep a straight face.
When he looks up, you’re looking at him with a tilted head. Your expression is soft and unintrusive, friendly but a bit guarded. You smile softly at him.
“You don’t like me very much, do you?” You ask gently. It doesn’t sound accusatory, but rather a casual statement tinged with friendliness.
“Huh?” Blood rushes into his ears.
“I just kinda get the impression that you’re uncomfortable around me,” you say. “Am I wrong?”
“Uh, no- it’s not that I don’t like you.”
He’s quick to correct you and he feels heat rush to his cheeks.
“Then what?” you question lightly. There’s no ulterior motive behind your smile, Kei can tell, but your openness makes him uneasy.
“I dunno,” he calms himself a little. “I don’t really know how to act around you, I guess.”
You laugh, leaning back into your chair. “Is that all?”
“Well, yeah…” he feels awkward and his palms are sweaty. He drops them below the table to wipe them. “You’re Tadashi’s friend and I’m pretty different from him so I just…” He trails off, shrugging his shoulders.
“I was worried you hated me,” you smile, chuckling to yourself.
“That’s definitely not it,” he loosens a little, smiling lightly despite the thudding of his heart. It slows down steadily.
“I’m your friend too, ya know?”
“That so?”
“Well, yeah,” you shrug and lean all the way back, crossing your arms. “I just kinda figured that we would be.”
“Friends?” His tongue feels heavy in his mouth. His word placement is awkward.
“Duh,” you laugh a little. “You know, you don’t have to speak formally with me.”
“That’s just the way I am,” he huffs at being read.
“Well, you can drop them with me. I don’t mind.”
“Tall order,” he snorts.
You tilt your head to the side. “Did you just make a joke?”
“Uh, yeah…”
“Funny,” you smile. “What are you studying?”
“It’s not really studying…” he says, glancing down at the near empty document. “I’m supposed to be writing an essay I have due on Friday. Not going well.”
He looks up at you through his lashes. You’re leaning forward across the table now, your chin angled upward as you try and peek at what’s on his screen. He turns it so that you can see better.
“Baroque art?” You read aloud. “Oh yeah, Tadashi mentioned that you’re an art history major. Do you draw too?”
“No,” he scoffs. “I’m hopeless at it, but I like art. It’s nice to look at.”
“Huh, you look like you’d be good at drawing,” you say.
“What’s that mean?”
“I dunno, like a manga author or something,” you shrug. “You’ve got nice hands too. Like an artist.”
“Manga?” He laughs a little, trying to play off the color he feels rushing to his face from the compliment.
“Yeah, you look like the manga type.”
“Is it the glasses?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Maybe,” you laugh.
Kei looks down at his hands. They’re big, like the rest of him, and his knuckles are thin. He’s hyper-aware of them now that you’ve complimented them. He studies them briefly, following the barely visible veins up the back of them, following the line of his fingers to his nails. They’re trimmed and somewhat well kept, save for the spots that he tends to bite at when he lays in bed at night. His hands look nothing like Tadashi’s. Tadashi’s fingers are thick and his nails are short on account of him biting them. Kei wonders if you prefer them to his.
—
There’s a notebook that Kei likes on his desk. It’s only a bit bigger than his fist—a little thing, really—and it’s completely blank. Kei’s never written anything down in it, nothing has ever really been worth sullying the thing. It’s got brown fabric binding and a semi-thick cover. It’s malleable, but not so flimsy that he’d need a desk to write in it.
Kei’s not too sure why he bought it in the first place. Maybe he liked the size of it, small enough to fit in his pocket, but not so small as to be ridiculous. It’s practical, much like he is. He’s considered turning it into a daily planner and putting to-do lists in it, but Kei isn’t much of a list guy, it’s Tadashi that likes making lists. Nothing has ever really felt like it suits the book. He’s considered journaling in it, but his life is one big routine and he doesn’t think there’s anything worth writing about.
No matter what he does, nothing is good enough to put a permanent mark into the thing. Even if he used a pencil, Kei feels like the evidence of the mark would still be there even after erasing it, a molecular change that can’t be seen with the naked eye. Kei calls it the notebook theory.
He thinks that might be what’s happening to him. A molecular change, imperceivable to someone not looking at him under a microscope. It’s like his DNA is being rewritten and stitched together with bright pink yarn. He feels himself steadily come apart and come together. It’s uncomfortable, like trying to dream when he has a fever.
Kei is nearly certain that you’re the reason, not that he’s about to admit to anyone else that he likes you. Tadashi managed to weasel it out of him, though he didn’t really have to ask. In fact, it was less of an admittance to Kei than it was confirmation of his own feelings. If Tadashi can tell that he likes you, then he must.
People seem to know things about Kei before he even knows them himself. At least, that’s how it seems. He’s always confronted with his own feelings by other people, not that they’re really ever wrong, but it seems everyone catches onto what he’s feeling rather quickly. He’s not too sure why that is, maybe he’s just obvious and hasn’t realized it.
Come to think of it, when Tadashi had confronted Kei about his feelings for you, he’d been deeply annoying about it. Kei couldn’t even try to deny it because Tadashi had come out with his guns blazing, cornering him in the living room and throwing facts about you at him until his face was beet red with embarrassment. Then, with a serious frown on his face, he’d simply stated you like them and that was the end of it. Kei couldn’t even deny it. Even he knew that it read plainly in his expression.
To be frank, it sucks being told in plain speech how he feels about someone. Whenever that happens, it makes Kei feel like he’ll never be able to keep another secret in his life. Sometimes, he wishes that he was able to make the decision to tell someone else on his own, but even Kei knows that that is a little beyond him. Kei can think the feelings just fine, but when it comes to speaking them aloud, he seems to have a padlock around his throat.
Tadashi knows this about him and if it weren’t for him, Kei would have agonized far longer and far worse over certain situations of emotional turmoil. Most of the time, Tadashi gets it without needing to ask or say anything. It’s nice to have someone understand him in that way, even if it does mean he can’t keep a secret to save his life.
Feelings lately make Kei a little angry. He’s always known that he’s had somewhat of a sour personality. Kei doesn’t need to be told that he’s smug to know that he is. He’s snarky and usually touchy, picky about the people that he hangs out with. It’s not really a secret that Kei is a hard person to get along with, but lately, he feels like it’s been worse.
Maybe it’s because this is new territory to him. As conceited as it sounds, Kei has never liked someone first. It’s not because he doesn’t think anyone is worthy, but rather, because there are very few people he doesn’t find grating. Despite how he seems, Kei is incredibly sensitive about things, so naturally, it’s easier to get on his nerves.
He’s dated before, though not for long, and all of his relationships have started the same way. Kei is approached by them, usually on the premise of looks, and he accepts. He’s not sure why he does. Sometimes it’s because he thinks they’re pretty, other times it’s because the romantic in him hopes that it will actually work out. It never has.
Most of the time, Kei turns out to be different than they expected. He’s too touchy, too sarcastic, too awkward in his way of trying to love. To Kei, it has always felt like it’s ended just as he was beginning to develop real feelings.
If he’s being honest, it’s given him a twisted inferiority complex. He’s worried that somehow, on a fundamental level, he’s not enough. Sometimes, it even goes so far as for Kei to think that he’s just generally disappointing. He tries not to be. Kei wants to be relied on. He wants to be someone his friends can go to when they need something sturdy.
Despite his personality, Kei considers himself sturdy. Well, maybe stubborn is a better word. Kei considers himself stubborn enough to be made sturdy. He’s just a little awkward. That’s all. People seem to mistake that for being unreliable. It’s a peeve of Kei’s.
Tadashi isn’t like that. Tadashi is bright and warm, reliable in every sense of the word. Kei actually looks up to him a lot, not that he’d ever say anything like that to his face. Sure, Tadashi’s not perfect, but at least people rely on him. At least Kei relies on him.
Tadashi is more easy going than Kei is. He has an easier time going with the flow, which makes him more personable. Kei thinks that Tadashi is the closest thing that he’s had to a better half. In truth, without Tadashi around, Kei isn’t exactly sure what would have become of him.
It’s pointless thinking about these sorts of things though. Kei realized a long time ago that thinking about being better won’t automatically make him better. This is just the way he is and Kei’s learned to accept that, whatever it means. Still, none of this changes the fact that he likes you.
Kei could mull over thought after thought and he doesn’t think it would have any effect on the fact that he’s definitely developed a crush. He’s positive it will go away. In fact, he’s not even sure if it’s real. Maybe Kei is just jealous of you the same way he’s jealous of Tadashi. You’re bright and warm like he is. You and Tadashi are cut from the same cloth, so maybe that’s why the two of you get along so well.
In all honesty, Kei wishes he could be a little more like Tadashi for that reason. Maybe if he were more like Tadashi, he’d have the courage to fully accept these new and uncertain feelings for what they are. But he doesn’t have that kind of courage, not right now at least. He doesn’t have the courage to solidify and lean into his feelings. Kei doesn’t want to risk what little comfort and security he has. If the relationship between you both is a blank page, Kei doesn’t have anything important to write. What if it ruins the paper? What if when he erases it, it changes the thing on a molecular level for the worse? The notebook theory.
—
Despite everything, Kei is rather self-aware. At least in his own head he is. Kei knows that when he pretends he doesn’t like you, he really ends up liking you more. He knows that he’s touchy, that he’s awkward, that he comes across more crass than he intends to. Kei is clumsy, not stupid. That doesn’t mean that he has to acknowledge it.
You’ve been coming around more often since the conversation Kei had with you in the library. Maybe you’re more comfortable now knowing that he doesn’t hate you, so you’re happier to join Tadashi in their shared apartment.
Kei feels bad about making you think that he hates you. Actually, he feels really bad about it. Like, astronomically bad about it. Embarrassingly enough, it actually keeps him up at night. So he goes out of his way to be a little nicer to you. The only other person he’s ever done that for is Tadashi.
He greets you properly when you pass, despite the flare up of a medical condition he’s yet to fully diagnose brought on by your presence. He asks you questions about your studies, partially because he is genuinely curious and partially because he doesn’t want you to hate him. He thinks he’d die if you hated him. Kei’s being brave in his own way. It’s little, but he’s doing it.
As a result, the two of you have grown a little closer. Kei has your phone number now, though he rarely has any reason to text you. Typing out a message to you makes him nervous. It makes him red in the face when you’re not even there. Somehow, having your phone number feels vulnerable to him, like he has access to you whenever he wants and you him. It means that if you wanted, you could make him nervous without even being nearby. That’s a lot for Kei to think about.
Kei sees you in the library sometimes too, but he never takes the initiative to speak to you. You always come up to him first, clumsily gathering your things the way you did the day you and him sorted out your friendship and plopping them down in front of him.
Sometimes, you both go several hours without saying anything to each other. Other times, you’ll chat away about something while leaning forward on the desk and Kei has to pretend that he’s not wildly nervous at your proximity. You’re so friendly. So genuinely warm that Kei can physically feel it when you talk. Despite his nerves, Kei would describe you as comfortable. You’re a comfortable person to him, as alarming as that is.
His crush is out of hand. It scares him, not that he’s actively thought about that. What started as him noticing you has quickly ballooned into him being painfully aware of you at all times. He kind of feels bad about it. You don’t seem to think that he’s anything more than a friend and it makes Kei feel bad that he thinks of you as anything but that. He doesn’t want you to be just a crush to him. Kei wants you to be like Tadashi, someone he can rely on and be comfortable with. He almost feels like he’s reversed what’s been done to him his whole life, like somehow he’s only become your friend because he wants something more.
Truth is though, he doesn’t want anything more. Kei wants to stay exactly where he is. He doesn’t want his crush to develop any further. He doesn’t want to confess, he wants to forget. Even now, sitting on a couch in the library, he wants to imagine he doesn’t feel anything at all for you.
“Hey, are you okay?” You tilt your head at him.
“Huh? Me?” He questions. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You seem a little distracted,” you smile. “You’ve been staring at your computer for like… 10 minutes with this blank look on your face.”
“You’ve been staring at me for 10 minutes?” He raises an eyebrow, trying to play off the embarrassment of being caught like that.
“Not staring at you,” you huff, “but I definitely noticed.”
“Ha, creep,” he tilts his head up a little, blowing air out of his nose.
“You’re twisted, you know?”
“Whatever,” he shrugs his shoulders and looks back at his computer screen. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you shake your head and smile before looking down at your work.
Tadashi has said the same exact thing to him before. In highschool, after Kei had made a joke about his teammate Hinata’s height, Tadashi had given him a look and snorted that he’s so twisted. He’s been hearing that sort of thing his entire life.
“Hey, are you cool if I skip out of here early?” You ask a few moments later.
“Oh, yeah sure. I don’t mind,” he nods, hiding his disappointment. “I didn’t realize that we had like… set times to be here.”
You laugh lightly. “Well, we don’t, but we tend to come and go at the same time, no? I kinda look forward to it.”
Kei envies your honesty. You’re so honest all of the time. You say what you feel when it pops into your head. He wishes he could be like that, maybe then he would be able to say that he does too. Instead, he just nods and swallows his heart back down. You smile at him again and then gather your things.
“You’ll be home on Friday night, right?”
“Uhm, yeah? Why?”
“Tadashi invited me and a few friends over, did he tell you?”
“I think he mentioned it.” Kei has actually been thinking about it for the last couple days.
“Good, I’ll see you, right?”
“Yeah, you will.”
“Great, talk to you later then!” You smile and with that, you walk away.
You sounded so certain in that statement. Talk to you later. You said it like it was inevitable. Thinking about that, Kei can’t help but watch you go. He even likes looking at the back of you, though he wishes he could see your face too. It feels worse to be walked away from than walked towards.
Kei can’t tell anymore if what he feels is romance or jealousy. It’s probably both. It’s probably some mix of the two that he can’t quite sort out. He wishes it weren’t that way. Kei gets the feeling that he might be ruined.
So he just watched you leave the library. Someone is waiting for you at the top of the stairwell. Kei can tell they’re a guy and despite the reluctance of his feelings, his stomach drops anyway when you nudge his shoulder with yours and loop your arm around his. That’s something you haven’t done to Kei before. Touch him. You touch this other person so easily. It makes Kei jealous.
It makes sense that you might be seeing someone, that there might be someone else. After all, you’re you. Desirable. You look up at the stranger, leaning on him, smiling and flashing your teeth. Yeah, it makes sense.
Turns out, it’s easier to pretend that he doesn’t feel anything when he thinks you’re interested in someone else. He likes to think it will save him the time of wondering.
—
Kei has cleaned his room approximately four times today. Sure, it’s overboard, but every time he goes into it, he notices something else that needs to be spruced up. Like a pot with a leak, there is always something that he seemed to miss the last time he went through and cleaned up.
It’s not like you’ll be in his room tonight anyway, but you will be in his apartment and that’s close enough to his room that he, for whatever reason, needs to make it so spotless that it looks like a set. Kei knows though, that even when you’re here, he’ll be wondering if there’s something else that he missed beyond the closed door and he’ll think about it incessantly.
He’s been avoiding the thought of him liking you. Instead, Kei cleans and cleans and then cleans some more for good measure. It’s not like he has any sort of claim on you and he knows that it’s stupid to feel jealous over one interaction he witnessed by chance, but his mind is running away with him. Was that person your boyfriend? Has he been begrudgingly pining over a taken person all these months? Do you think that he’s creepy because of it?
He doesn’t get to be upset over the idea that you’re seeing someone else. Why wouldn’t you be? Kei’s done absolutely nothing to indicate his interest in you (or lack thereof), besides maybe telling you that he doesn’t hate you. He has no right to feel the way he does, but he spirals anyway. His insecurities, the ones that gnaw at him in the hours before he falls asleep, play in a constant loop in his head. His unreliability, his unpleasant personality, his cynicism, the baggage he carries with him like a badge. All of it piles up one by one.
Kei feels like a kid again, losing himself over such a simple interaction, over something so miniscule that it might not even be considered anything at all. There are a plethora of reasons for his feeling like this and Kei thinks he could draw one of his issues out of a hat and it would still somehow address the situation at hand, but all he really feels is hurt and he doesn’t want to explain it away. Kei finds that liking someone hurts. It hurts more than it feels good and the uncertainty chews at his patience and leaves it razor thin. It’s not your fault, nor is it the person Kei’s convinced himself you’re seeing, but he needs someone to blame and it can’t be himself.
The idea of you relying on someone else makes him nauseous. He’d never considered the thought before, that you find him as unreliable as others do. Kei wants to be relied on, most of all by you, and that fact makes him upset. He’s afraid of what you think of him and without the confidence to accept his feelings, it threatens to crush him.
Kei’s got this itch over it, so he tries to distract himself. Cleaning his space to prepare for you helps him delude himself that he doesn’t quite like you at all. It’s not your fault. He’s just confused, like his parents were when they married each other. It hurts. Like they were when they had him to try and fix their marriage, which had started to fall apart even when Akiteru was an only child. He’s confused. He’s jealous over your ability to live the way Kei has always wanted to. That’s all this is. Nothing more and nothing less. He feels like he’s being split in two, stretched thin between two modes of thinking.
Kei glances over his shoulder and into his room one last time. He’s forgotten to wipe the mirror. He goes back in and the cycle starts itself over.
—
He’s not proud of his behavior. Kei thinks only a seriously huge asshole would be proud of the kind of behavior he displayed tonight. He regrets it immensely, though some part of him is begrudgingly holding onto the idea that maybe he was right to be so short tempered. Of course, that’s a lunatic’s idea.
Tadashi is standing by the apartment door, mumbling something to you behind it. Over Tadashi’s shoulder, he sees you shake your head and in response, Tadashi gives a small bow before shutting the door to the shared apartment. Then, Tadashi turns and walks towards him.
Kei doesn’t want to look at him, but Tadashi, for some reason, commands his gaze.
“Is there a reason you were such a huge cunt tonight?” Tadashi sort of spits the words. They land at Kei’s feet and roll around before settling.
“What are you talking about? I was normal,” he answers, though the statement sounds like a lie the moment it leaves his lips.
“Bullshit,” Tadashi says. “You were being an asshole the second they walked through the door and you’ve been one to me all day.”
Kei scoffs, his cheeks burning, “I’ve just been tired, dude. Besides, what does it matter? You’re closer to all of them than I am.”
“What? You’re tired so you just get to be a huge asshole?”
“No,” Kei responds.
“So then what was that?”
Kei doesn’t really know. He doesn’t know what prompted him to act so cold or make such snide comments. It’s true, he’d been in a bad mood all day and he knows that Tadashi has borne the brunt of his misplaced emotions, but even Kei is confused as to why he’d acted the way he did. Still though, there is a part of him that knows that it was connected to his spiraling and what he saw in the library. He’d sound insane if he said it out loud, like somehow his growth was stunted in the third grade, but Kei is sure it had something to do with liking you and the hurt that comes with it.
It’s not as if he’d been outwardly mean, but he had been cold. There are parts of himself that Kei doesn’t want you to see, sections of his personality that he ropes off from you because despite not liking you, he wants you to see the best in him. Tonight, he managed to somehow show off the worst.
It started with the noise when everyone had arrived. You, Hinata, Kageyama, Tanaka, Kiyoko, and Yachi had all piled into the apartment in one large group. Kei’d been sitting on the couch and the sound of the door startled him right off the bat. He assumed that by the time they all had rounded the corner into the living room, his face was already sour, because everyone had greeted him cautiously.
It’s no surprise that everyone was so loud. Kei has known this particular group for many years and they, having all gone to school or work nearby, pile into his apartment often for events like these. You were really the only new factor in all of it and while Kei is known as a touchy person, he certainly was more touchy than usual tonight.
You’d been trying to talk to him all evening and Kei, in a desperate attempt to avoid whatever lingering feelings he had for you, had been shutting you down at every turn. Thinking back on it, he’s endlessly embarrassed. You didn’t deserve that. You’d been nothing but kind to him and there Kei was holding a grudge over you for something he had no right to be angry about whatsoever. He had been holding a grudge over something that he’d learned later that evening that wasn’t even true.
Kei thinks that what Tadashi is referring to, was deliberately picking a fight with Tanaka. Kei and Tanaka have never been particularly close. Even in high school, his boisterous and somewhat obnoxious personality has always rubbed Kei the wrong way. Despite that, Tanaka has somehow managed to maintain a connection to him through university and the two of them have established a tentative but honest friendship.
You had been sitting on the arm of the couch beside Tanaka, leaning over him to look at something he was showing you on his phone. Then, you laughed a little too hard and Kei felt that familiar sense of injustice rise to his throat, thick and heavy. It’s an ugly feeling, the kind that makes Kei feel sick when he’s in bed late at night. Bile rose in his throat in the form of harsh words. Jealousy in the form of the verbal venom Kei excels at.
For Kei, Tanaka was an easy target, someone he could poke at and get a satisfying rise out of. In the moment, the rise he’d gotten from Tanaka by making snide comments about the volume of his voice and his particular obsession with pretty girls had been exactly that, satisfying.
He’d picked a small fight. Nothing physical, but just enough to get him irritated. Kei’s not proud of it, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t done it deliberately. After all, Tanaka has never been the type to be the bigger person and turn his nose up.
Sometimes, when Kei is experiencing emotions he’d rather not deal with, he decides to obsess over one single thing. Usually, it’s cleaning or schoolwork. Tonight, it happened to be the volume of Tanaka’s voice, which he knows was a shitty thing to do. Despite wanting to be reliable, Kei can’t help but feel that he was endlessly immature, lashing out at someone completely unrelated to the situation just because he could.
Tadashi pulls him from his thoughts.
“I thought you liked them, dude,” his voice is even, letting up on the anger.
“Who?” Kei plays dumb.
Tadashi responds with your name and Kei stiffens slightly. “I thought you guys had gotten closer. What happened?”
“Nothing happened,” Kei says. It’s the truth. Absolutely nothing happened. Kei had spiraled all on his own.
“Why did you ignore them then?”
“I didn’t ignore them,” Kei says. Again, it’s not a lie. He may have shut conversations down and been a little cold, but Kei couldn’t ignore you if he tried, it’s sort of the whole problem he’s dealing with now.
“Maybe, but you were cold. Like… needlessly.”
“I was fucking normal, Tadashi. You should know me well enough by now to know that,” Kei spits.
“That’s the problem though, isn’t it? I know you and I know that shit wasn’t normal. You’re twisted, but you’re not an outright asshole, Kei. What’s going on?”
“I was normal, Tadashi. Just because I didn’t bounce around or get rowdy, doesn’t mean that something is wrong,” Kei answers.
“Yeah, but you were like… majorly fucking weird, Kei. You were being an asshole. Don’t you like them? Don’t you want to be nice to them?”
“I don’t.”
“You don’t want to be nice to them?” Tadashi scoffs, rolling his eyes.
“No, not that. I don’t like them like that anymore,” Kei lies.
“Oh please, that’s such horseshit,” Tadashi laughs bitterly.
“Get off my ass, Tadashi. I don’t fucking feel that way about them anymore,” Kei insists.
“Did something happen?”
“No, literally nothing happened! Why does something have to happen? I just don’t like them,” Kei feels himself getting indignant. Tadashi doesn’t deserve this either, but he seems to be indiscriminate with his poor behavior tonight.
Tadashi looks at Kei for a moment, studying him and calculating all of the things only Tadashi could know about him. Kei tries to hide it.
“Jesus, Kei, you’ve got to stop doing this shit,” Tadashi touches his hand to his forehead.
“Doing what?”
“Getting all in your head about every single connection you’ve ever had with a person,” Tadashi raises his voice.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’ve seen you do this a million times! You start to really feel something for a person and then you fucking back away like a dog with its tail between its legs!”
“I don’t do that!”
“Yes, you do! You sabotage yourself until the other person is forced to do something about it!” Tadashi exhales.
“I’ve never done that deliberately! What does someone else’s actions have to do with me?”
“It doesn’t have to do with you,” Tadashi says, “It has to do with your parents.”
The wind is knocked out of Kei, air sucked from his lungs. He furrows his eyebrows at Tadashi, his mouth slightly open.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” Tadashi pushes, angry and trying to make him listen. “Not every relationship is like your parents’, Kei.”
Tadashi knows he’s stepped over the line the moment he says it. If it hadn’t registered before, it registers clearly on his face now, regret settling over Tadashi’s usually bright features. Kei gapes at him for a moment, running through his thoughts and trying to pick out one that best verbalizes what it is he feels. Kei comes up empty.
“Shit-” Tadashi starts towards him. “Kei, I’m sorry I didn’t mean that. I’m just pissed off I didn’t mean to-”
Kei pushes past him. “Tadashi, I know you mean well, but don’t try to tell me about my fucking parents.”
Tadashi doesn’t try to stop him when Kei flings the front door open and walks outside.
—
Kei remembers it like it was yesterday. He remembers all of it.
He can clearly recall the way shattered glass looked on the marble tiles of his childhood home. White porcelain, broken up into multitudes by his mother and father. They never laid hands on each other, but everything else in the house was fair game. Kei’s lost count of the amount of broken glass dishes and picture frames he’d swept from the floor.
Kei’s parents had always been on and off in their affection for each other. One minute, they were deeply in love and the next, they were at each other’s throats. Neither of them were bad people, but they made each other bad people. The two of them brought out the worst in each other, maybe on account of knowing the other so well.
Akiteru was an accident. His brother knows this because when his parents argued, they never let him forget it. In their spats, leverage was whatever they could get their hands on, and that just happened to be Akiteru and the unfortunate circumstances of an accidental pregnancy.
His parents got married at 19, thinking that they’d be able to handle a child, that their marriage was anything but rushed. They convinced themselves that it was love, when the reality was that Akiteru came because they were too young and stupid to prevent it. At least, that’s what Kei and Akiteru had settled on in the evenings after the yelling had died down and they were left to make sense of it in their shared bedroom.
They had Kei to fix the marriage. Kei knows this because, like Akiteru, his father’s marital “solution” in the form of a second child was constant leverage to his mother. Kei grew up asking Akiteru why his mother and father even had children in the first place.
Their relationship was rocky and unstable, predictable and toxic. They, like Kei, would do things to get rises out of each other. They’d make digs, do things to get under the other’s skin. They did it for attention, for affection, or out of loathing for the person they’d decided to make their life partner. When things settled, they got bored. His parents often mistakened calmness for complacency in their relationship. His parents loved each other, but they hated each other just as much, and it was he and Akiteru who paid the price.
They got divorced when he was fourteen and any chance of Kei having a normal family went to the courthouse with the divorce papers. Akiteru was 20 at the time and managed to avoid the brunt of the custody battle. Kei still gets unexplainably angry with Akiteru for leaving him alone, though he knows that it’s not his fault. The only way Kei could make sense of it was through blame and it was easier to blame Akiteru for lying about volleyball or leaving him alone than it was to blame himself. Both Kei’s father and mother tried for full custody, not because they loved him that much, but because they knew that it would destroy the other. In the end, Kei spent his weekdays with his mother because she lived closer to his school, and weekends with his father just because.
It happens all the time. People grow together, then grow apart, and grow to loathe each other. Kei watched it happen to his parents, he watched it happen to his friends, he watched it happen to himself with his own reflection. That’s just the way it goes.
The air outside of his apartment is cool and breezy. He can feel the wind through his sweater, cutting through the gaps in the stitching and into his skin. Kei feels like he can think a little better out here, sitting on the short concrete wall with his back to the apartment building. He stares at his feet, outstretched in front of him. He's still wearing his house slippers.
Kei did this once when he was younger. The fight that night had been particularly bad and his parents had resulted to throwing things across their bedroom. Kei could hear picture frames shatter through two walls and he wondered which memories they’d decided to trash. A particularly loud shout had sent Kei out of the front door and onto the curb in front of the house.
He remembers crying, staring at his house slippers on the pavement, afraid because he could hear the shouting even from the lawn. Akiteru had come out to get him, sitting down beside him on the curb and putting his arm around him.
“Are mom and dad gonna get divorced?” Kei had asked through sniffles.
“Divorced? No, no,” Akiteru answered. “It’s just a rough patch. It happens to all couples. Mommy and Daddy will be fine.”
“It’s normal?” Kei sniffled.
Akiteru paused for a moment. Looking back, Kei realizes that Akiteru was debating on whether or not to lie to protect him. Kei wishes he hadn’t.
“Yeah, it’s normal.”
Normal. Kei realizes that he doesn’t exactly know what a normal relationship looks like. He is his parents' son. What they had in them, he has in him. Kei knows that those habits, the digs, the sour statements, the passive aggressiveness, are all things he’s picked up from watching them. Some role models they were.
He needs to apologize to Tadashi. He may have overstepped, but Kei knows that he’d been an asshole tonight. He’ll need to apologize to Tanaka as well. And to you, which is perhaps the scariest part of this. He wants to apologize for his behavior, but apologizing means that he has to admit that he’d acted the way his parents did, out of jealousy and a pull for attention. Yup, he’s his parents’ son alright.
Kei tilts his head up toward the sky. Only half of it is visible, the other half blocked by the three story apartment complex directly behind him. It’s a clear night, but he can’t see any stars and the moon is nowhere to be found. Kei wonders when the morning will come. It’s a few hours off, but he thinks about how the sky will look when the sun begins to rise.
“Kei,” a familiar voice calls from in front of him.
You’re a few feet away, your hands clasped in front of you.
“Thought you went home,” he says.
“Yeah well, I had intended to,” you start, “but you seemed off and I felt weird going back without checking on you. Can I sit?”
Kei shrugs his shoulders, mortified and angry at being caught like this. He appreciates the thought, but you’re the last person he wants to see right now. It just means he needs to face his shortcomings sooner.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Kei answers automatically.
“Just decided on some fresh air?” You smile a little and Kei blows air out of his nose.
“Yup, that’s exactly it.”
You sit next to him with your legs outstretched the same way his are, your hands are laced together in front of you, hanging down between your thighs. Kei doesn’t make an effort to say anything and neither do you. Instead, he just trains his head back up towards the sky and attempts to collect his thoughts, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
Strangely, tonight he doesn’t feel nervous. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t have the energy to. Maybe he’s too preoccupied with being sorry to pay any mind to the heart palpitations he gets when you’re around. Maybe it’s because even though he showed you the worst of him tonight, you still came back. It’s a small hope, but it’s there.
“Hey,” your voice comes quietly, “I don’t know what’s going on, but if you need- I mean- if you want to talk about it, I’m a pretty good ear.”
Kei nods a little.
“I’m sorry,” he says, “about tonight.”
“I didn’t come here for an apology, you know?” You exhale a little.
“Yeah, but you deserve one,” he says. “I was pretty shitty to you.”
“Yeah, you were,” you agree, catching Kei off guard, “but it happens to all of us. Sometimes we feel things and just can’t keep them inside, you know?”
“Yeah,” he agrees, swallowing down his shame.
There’s another long silence. You don’t move to touch him or talk to him, instead, you provide steady company. Kei, as strange as it is, is comforted by your presence.
“I fought with Tadashi,” Kei says after a few minutes.
“Today?”
“Yeah, tonight. After everyone left,” he says. “I deserved it though. I’ve been pretty shitty to him all day.”
You hum, leaning back on your hands.
“I did the same shit in high school too, you know?” Kei starts. “We’ve uhm- we’ve known each other for a while, the group that was over tonight. Around the end of middle school some shit happened and I uh- I took out a lot of what I was feeling on Tadashi and the others, but mostly Tadashi because he was the only one who knew.”
Kei isn’t sure why he’s telling you this. Maybe Tadashi was right. Maybe this is another attempt at self sabotage.
“You bullied him?” You ask, a little surprised.
Kei shakes his head. “No, but I wasn’t very nice either. Anyone could tell you that. I thought I was past it, though,” he admits, a little defeated.
“Did you ever apologize?”
Kei looks up at you in surprise. Your eyes are full of something, curiosity, maybe pity.
“For what you did in school?”
He nods. “Countless times, and not just to Tadashi either, to everyone.”
“You know, stuff like this happens,” you say. “When I was little, I used to hate sharing. Toys, food, friends. I’d hate it when my friends were friends with other people. It made me insecure and I’d get mad at them for it. I grew out of it, but sometimes I still get that way and I have to apologize later.”
Kei laughs. It’s strikingly similar to what’s happening now, not that you’d have any way of knowing.
“I can’t imagine you doing that,” he says.
“I’m serious,” you say. “I still get weird over it sometimes.”
Kei shakes his head a little, smiling.
“All that I’m saying is that sometimes we slip up, that’s all. It’s normal,” you continue. “Not that I’m condoning it. Just saying that it doesn’t make you a horrible person. It makes you human.”
“Thanks,” he says softly.
“No problem,” you respond.
“So why’d you fight with him tonight?”
“He was angry with me because I was an asshole,” Kei shrugs.
“And you’re mad that he called you out?” You give a quiet and somewhat incredulous laugh.
Kei shakes his head. “No, I’m angry about what he said after.”
“What’d he say?”
Kei debates on telling you. He doesn’t want to make himself out to be a victim. After all, Tadashi meant no harm, even if his comment did exactly that.
“The argument kind of switched subjects,” Kei tiptoes around the fact that the subject was you. “He brought up a bad habit of mine and I got defensive.”
“Okay,” you say, waiting for him to say more.
“Remember when I said that something happened at the end of middle school and only Tadashi knew about it?” When you nod, Kei continues. “My parents got divorced. They were a bad match and it was messy. He brought it up.”
You nod again, your eyes wide.
“He didn’t mean any harm, I know that,” Kei inhales. “But uh- that stuff kind of sticks with you. Well, it’s stuck with me and I didn’t like having it used to explain my behaviors, even if he was right. I’m not deflecting or anything though. I know I was the problem tonight.”
“Sure,” you say. “I’m sorry about your parents.”
Kei shrugs. “It’s in the past. They’re both remarried now with new kids.”
The last sentence leaves Kei with a sour taste in his mouth. His parents are good people, but after his childhood, he doesn’t think they have any business having more children. Maybe they’re capable of being good for them, but Kei doesn’t like to imagine that. It makes him feel like their marriage wasn’t the problem, but he and Akiteru were.
“You say that like they got a new pet,” you smile a little. “Are you still in touch with them?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I visit whenever I go back home, though they’re really not too far from here.”
“That’s good of you.”
“Well, they are my parents,” Kei says plainly.
You’re the only other person he’s divulged this to by choice and your reactions, understanding and level-headed, make him feel better. It’s like getting a weight off of his chest. This is the worst of him. This little bit of information, his history of being unable to fully confront his feelings, of taking anger out on others when he was young, is where his problems originate.
“Yeah, but you’re allowed to feel what you feel about it,” you say. “My mom died when I was eleven. Texting and driving. I’m still angry at her for it.”
“I’m sorry,” he says.
You shrug and offer him a wry smile. “It’s in the past, but I’m still angry even though I shouldn’t be.”
“At her?”
“Yeah,” you nod. “She made a stupid mistake that we’re constantly warned about and left my dad and me behind. I was so angry with her, still am. I love her though, perceived faults and all.”
Kei thinks about whether or not he loves his parents. He thinks he does, even if he resents them. Kei can’t imagine what he’d do without them. Even though his childhood had few emotional comforts, he still can’t think about a world where he doesn’t visit home to have his mother’s cooking. That’s a world that you live in.
“That’s hard.” It’s all Kei can think to offer.
“It was,” you say. “Got easier though as soon as I started accepting things. Now I just miss her more than I hate her.”
Another bout of silence follows this. It must be close to two in the morning and he’s been outside so long that he can no longer feel the tip of his nose.
“Anyway, about tonight,” you say, “it’s not a crime to feel what you feel, but if you need help, that’s what we’re here for. It’s easier to accept feelings and get hurt than to ignore them, don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” Kei says, looking to face you. “Thank you.”
You’re so pretty. It’s striking. The curvature and angles of your face, the gentle look in your eyes, softened by the conversation. Kei finds himself thinking that despite not wanting to face you a few hours earlier, he’s grateful that you showed up. You’re good in ways that Kei can hardly fathom.
“You should go inside. Tadashi is probably wondering where you are,” you say, standing up. “Plus,” you pinch the tip of his nose between your middle and pointer knuckles, “your nose looks like a cherry tomato.”
“Rude,” he says, startled by the sudden touch.
“Payback,” you shrug your shoulders and Kei rolls his eyes.
“Do you need me to walk you home?” Kei offers, a bit nervous about you walking home on your own.
“I’d love to take you up on that, but you seem tired and I don’t live very far,” you respond. “I’ll call you when I get home though, okay? Since you’re so worried.”
Kei laughs a little and then nods, standing up. “Yeah, I am.”
His honesty surprises even him, but you just tilt your head and give him a small smile.
“I’ll see you on Monday,” you say. “Thanks for the apology”
“Anytime.”
“I hope not,” you laugh and Kei follows suit.
You begin to turn on your heel, giving a small wave.
Kei doesn’t know what overcomes him, but he calls out your name and reaches for your wrist. Before he has a moment to think about what he’s doing, he pulls you to his chest in a hug. You stiffen and then relax in his grip, wrapping your arms around him. Your body is warmer than his, sending heat through the gaps in his sweater.
“You can call even if it’s not to tell me you got home safe,” he says. “If you want to.”
You squeeze him around the middle. “Okay, I will.”
When Kei lets go, he finds that his face is burning. The cold has been replaced by a flush of blood, making his vision a little syrupy.
“Thanks for coming back,” he says. “Get home safe.”
“Of course,” you sound a little dazed, wearing an expression that Kei thinks might match his. “And I will.”
Then, you smile at him, flashing your teeth and giving him a wave. You hold up your phone and point to it.
“Expect a call!”
Kei nods and raises his arm to wave goodbye.
He stands and watches your figure as you walk down the sidewalk and turn the corner. When you’re out of sight, he lingers by the door to his building, just in case you decide to come back. You don’t come back, but Kei lingers anyway, considering the conversation.
He goes inside, intent on apologizing to Tadashi. When he opens the door to his apartment, the lights are still on in the living room and Tadashi gets up from the couch and walks quickly down the hall to him.
“Kei, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
“Don’t worry,” Kei says. “I know. I’m sorry about tonight too. And for treating you like that today. And for high school.”
“High school?” Tadashi says, confused. “Why are you bringing up high school?”
“Just wanted to apologize again.”
Kei can feel his eyes drooping, exhaustion creeping into his body and replacing the elated feeling he had moments before.
“I didn’t mean to bring your parents into it. How you like someone is none of my business,” Tadashi says. “I was out of line.”
“So was I,” Kei admits through a tired sigh. “I shouldn’t have acted that way. I’ll apologize to the others in the morning.”
Tadashi narrows his eyes a little and nods. Kei, besieged by that sleepy late night feeling, moves towards his bedroom.
“Hey, Kei,” his voice comes out a little louder this time. “You’re being surprisingly easy-going. Are we good?”
Kei scoffs a little, rubbing his eyes. “I just had some time to think, that’s all. And yeah, we’re good.”
“Okay, are you good?”
“Yeah, I am,” Kei says.
Before he closes the door to his room, he furrows his eyebrows and makes a firm decision.
“By the way,” Tadashi turns to him, cocking his head to the side in response. “I lied. I do like them.”
“Could have guessed as much,” he responds, laughing a little. “See you in the morning.”
“Yup, see you in the morning.”
Kei shuts the door to his room. It clicks into place quietly. His room is spotless. It looks like a room that could be easily emptied at any time. He sighs, stepping into it and laying down on his bed. His phone is on the comforter next to him, lying face up.
When it lights up, it illuminates the ceiling above him and he answers the phone without needing to check who's calling.
“Hello?”
“Hey, I got home safe,” he hears your keys clink against something and then the sound of a door shutting. Then, he hears the sound of you laying down on your bed. He imagines you’re lying the same way he is.
“Good, I’m glad,” he says. “No trouble?”
“No trouble at all,” you say. He can hear your smile.
“Thanks again for coming back tonight,” he says, turning over onto his side and letting the phone rest on the bed in front of his face.
“Of course,” you say.
He doesn’t know what else to say. His nerves have caught up to him and your voice through the speaker sounds so close, like you’re whispering directly into his ear.
“Okay, well I’m going to go to bed,” Kei starts.
“Kei?” you say.
“Yeah?”
“I’m gonna take you up on your offer. About calling you. Just wanted you to know.”
“Okay,” he swallows.
“I feel a lot closer to you.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Goodnight, Kei,” you practically whisper.
“Goodnight,” he responds, lowering his voice the same way you did. You hang up the phone and the call ends.
He blinks at his phone for a moment before standing up and getting ready for bed. Kei goes through the motions while thinking about how the evening got here. He’d been certain before it began that he no longer liked you, that he was confused. Now, he’s certain of the opposite.
He decides that he’ll like you for real this time. Even if he’s afraid of hurting himself, of hurting you.
Kei lays down in his bed and faces the ceiling. He thinks about his parents, about your mother, about you. The cadence of your voice, the slight tremor in it. He thinks about your expressions, understanding and unintrusive. He thinks about your history, the anger you’d admitted to him and the grace you’d given him in his own circumstances.
He dreams of braids, like DNA. Coils of pink yarn woven together in an intricate pattern. A molecular change not visible to the naked eye. Morning comes like liquid gold, spilling across his bedspread in slats through the window.
—
Kei’s apologies go smoothly. Tadashi’s friends—his friends—are good people. They know him better than most and field his awkward, stumbling apology with steady hands.
He’d explained his sour mood in as little detail as possible, deliberately omitting his feelings for you while doing so, and he made a special effort to apologize to Tanaka. He’s easygoing and quick to forget, but Kei knows that even after accepting the apology, Tanaka will lord it over his head for a week or two. Tanaka thinks those kinds of things are funny and Kei won’t try to tell him otherwise.
You do take Kei up on his offer. You call him twice a week now. Sometimes it’s to tell him something relevant to him, other times, you just whisper into the phone that you just felt like talking. Either way, it’s not good for his heart. Kei thinks that at this rate, it might just give out.
There are a lot of things that Kei could say about liking you. It makes his days a little brighter. When he remembers that he has someone he cares about like that, he feels a surge of excitement for no particular reason. He finds that he looks forward to seeing you and goes out of his way to do so, more than he did before he was willing to admit it.
He’s noticed the way you eat, like every bite of food is even better than the last. He’s noticed that you wipe the condensation off of your cups before each sip. He’s noticed that when you’re studying, you’ll pull at the collar of your shirt absentmindedly and then become frustrated when it is stretched out of place. Kei likes all of these things about you.
Kei has also found that liking someone hurts. It hurts worse than he thought it would. Insecurity weaves its way into even the most minor of interactions. He’s self conscious almost all of the time, adjusting his hair, clothing, glasses right down to minor details. As of late, Kei appears more put together than he ever has, but the reality is that he’s probably the least put together he’s ever been.
When you’re around, Kei is awkward and clumsy. He drops things, trips over nothing, loses control over his lanky limbs and overshoots things. He feels like a teenager again, not that he’s that far off from one.
Still, one thing overshadows all of this. Kei is so comfortable around you, so peaceful despite the nerves and insecurity, that he’s able to forget about the worst of it. Forgetting about the worst of things is not something Kei is particularly good at. He’s cynical by nature. You help to ease the burden of it.
The coffee shop he’s visiting with you today is quiet. The room is decorated with dark oak wood and the tables are accented by the rings of the trees the wood was cut from. The early spring light filters in at angles through the windows letting out onto the street. It falls across your notebooks and the knuckles of your hand, wrapped evenly around a black pen.
You’d brought him here to study instead of going to the library and Kei can’t help but think that it feels like a date. His tea sits half-finished in a mug beside his laptop, beginning to cool to room temperature. Your coffee sits by your unoccupied hand and every now and then, you’ll reach to take a sip of the warm beverage without even glancing up.
Kei has spent so much time watching you today, that he’s hardly gotten any work done. His computer is open on a document with a paragraph of writing about nudity in the classical period, which he hasn’t touched in about 10 minutes. He’s been clicking blankly around the page, adding spaces and then deleting them and then glancing up over the edge of the screen to look at the way you purse your lips when you’re focused.
“You’d get a lot more done if you stopped staring,” you say, not looking up from your notebook.
Kei chokes on his exhale. “What?”
You laugh a little, looking up at him through your lashes. God, you’re pretty.
“The document?” You chuckle. “You’re not fooling anyone by clicking around randomly like that.”
“Oh,” Kei furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head a little. “Yeah, just can’t seem to focus.”
“What’s the paper on?” You set down your pen and cross your arms on the table.
“It’s not really a paper,” he says. “It’s a visual analysis on the Aphrodite of Knidos.”
“Is that the one without the arms?”
“No, but they come from the same family of statues,” Kei smiles a little.
You hum a bit. “Do you like it?”
“Like, do I think the statue’s pretty?” Kei closes the screen of his laptop to see you better. “Yeah, I do. Learning about the history of it is a bit depressing though.”
“Why?”
“Well, Aphrodite was one of the most powerful Greek gods, right?” He says, and you nod your head and roll your eyes because you know that already. “But this statue group intrudes on a private moment of hers. She’s trying to cover up her body, probably just before or after a bath. It’s meant to be humiliating.”
You tilt your head. “Sounds more interesting than molecular structures at least.”
Kei laughs a little. “Yeah, I think it’s just a bit more interesting.”
“Why did you choose to study art history?” You question, leaning forward on your elbows.
Kei feels awkward at receiving the question. He doesn’t like talking about himself much, let alone his passions. They tend to get away from him.
“Probably because I’m no good at art,” he smiles a little.
“Such a shame, what with your artist’s hands and all,” you reach across the table and tap his knuckle.
Kei feels the color rise to his cheeks.
“You’re no good at art, so you study art history instead?” You press for more.
“Yeah,” he says. “I like things that people make with their hands. There’s a lot of human expression in ancient art, good and bad. Gives a bit more context into who we were before.”
You lean back in the chair, grinning at him. Kei bites the inside of his cheek and tries not to notice the slope of your neck.
“Why are you studying molecular bio?” He changes the subject.
You shrug your shoulders. “I want a good cushy job that makes me a lot of money.”
Kei watches the corners of your lips curl up.
“Plus,” you continue, “I wanted to show off a little bit.”
“So you put yourself through four years of torture?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Yup, I’m a huge masochist,” you grin.
“You STEM kids are unbearable, you know?” Kei snorts.
“But you like me anyway, yeah?”
Kei nods, heat creeping up his neck, and watches you return to your work.
It’s true, he does like you anyway. Kei likes you so much, in fact, that it frightens him. Well, the idea of liking someone has always frightened Kei, whether he’s noticed it or not. Commitment, or lack thereof, make Kei nervous in the same way heights do. He feels like he could lose his footing at any moment.
That’s probably why he doesn’t want to do anything in particular about his feelings. Kei is content with just feeling them. He’s content to just be able to like you in his own way, even if nothing ever comes of it. He probably shouldn’t do anything about them, considering the back and forth battle he’s waged in his mind over the last few months. He’s too indecisive to do anything but like you, and even that feels herculean to accept.
Not that liking you is a hard thing to do. You’re easy to like. It’s easy for him to picture touching you. It’s easy for Kei to imagine late night conversations and little intimacies shared over damp pillows. You’re easy to talk to, floating through conversations and navigating conflict with a sure step, something Kei can’t do. It’s not hard to find things to admire.
Kei imagines what it would be like to be with you. He imagines the feel of your hands in his, how you might look spread beneath him, the inside of your thighs pressing against his hips. He imagines how his glasses might fog up with your breath and slip down the bridge of his nose. What do you taste like? What do you feel like?
A little alarm bell sounds in his head. This is a dangerous line of thought, a greedy one. Kei doesn’t think he can handle greed, not when it comes to you. He got a taste of it that day when he saw you leave with someone else and again the following Friday. Kei doesn’t mix well with it, with wanting. Still, he wants.
—
It’s a breezy day. It cuts the growing humidity as the beginning of May creeps on. This is no doubt one of the best times of year, though Kei prefers the fall or winter. Still, even with the slightly sticky air, his walk to class is pleasant. He’d even venture to say that it’s good.
Light filters through the trees, blooming with their spring flowers, and in the distance he can see a familiar row of cherry blossoms just beginning to bloom. As he approaches them, he finds himself admiring their delicate petals, wondering just how brief their bloom will be before they come cascading down. One tree among the pink rows has yet to open its flowers. The buds sit on their branches, shades of green and gray. A late bloomer. This tree will no doubt flower once the other petals have fallen, and when it does, it’ll become the most eye-catching thing on the street.
Kei admires it for a moment, standing below the thing and looking up through its twisting branches. It’s so small, much smaller than the rest of its counterparts, and its branches don’t look too full of yet-to-bloom buds either.
There was a tree like this outside of Kei’s childhood home, the one his family lived in together when it was whole. It would always bloom a week after the others and every year he would worry that it never would. Of course, he kept this fear to himself, but he often watched it from his bedroom window when Akiteru was out. He’d press his face against the glass and pray for the flowers to come so that it didn’t get left behind. Sure enough though, it would bloom without fail and leave scattered pink petals across his yard and doorstep. Kei wonders if this tree in front of him will do the same.
“Thinking about changing your major to plant sciences, Kei?”
He jumps, started by your voice and your proximity.
“Jesus,” Kei turns, “you need a bell or something.”
“You’re the one standing in public staring at a tree with no flowers on it,” you laugh a little.
Kei shrugs his shoulders, not really willing to give an explanation for the train of thought he was just on.
“Where’re you headed?” he questions.
“Dropping off an assignment,” you smile lightly, “wanna come with me?”
“I can’t. I’ve got a class in 15.”
“Fifteen minutes is fifteen minutes,” you shrug. “We’ll make it.”
“We?” Kei raises an eyebrow.
“Yeah, you come with me to drop off my paper and then I drop you off at class. It’s a win-win.”
“Sounds like I’m just doing a lot of extra walking,” Kei snorts.
“Yeah, but you get to do it with me so it’ll be more fun.”
Kei folds and goes with you to drop off your assignment. It’s an essay assigned by an old-fashioned professor who doesn’t like electronic submissions. You comment off-handedly on what a waste of paper it is and Kei nods, just happy to hear about it.
It’s strange. Kei is normally very tied to his routine. It keeps him sane, helps him to organize his thoughts and feelings into neat compartments. For Kei, an orderly life is an orderly mind. Somehow though, you ask him to deviate from that and he’s more than willing, eager even, to oblige you. Better yet, he does it without feeling off-kilter. Well, without feeling as off-kilter about his daily life. When it comes to you, Kei is about as stable as a pogo stick.
The walk to your professor's office is only a few minutes from his classroom, just a few buildings over, but by the time you both arrive there, Kei’s palms are sweating. He resorts to shoving them in his pockets and wiping them on the inside of his pants, mortified at the idea of accidentally touching you like this.
“Hey, about tonight,” you start after dropping the paper off with a quick bow.
You’re supposed to come over. It’s the first time you and Kei have agreed to hang out at one of your places alone and Kei has been compartmentalizing his nerves so harshly that he’d almost forgotten about it entirely. Maybe that explains his easy-going mood.
“Yeah?”
“So, Tadashi may have mentioned it in front of the others,” you give him a sheepish grin, “and they may have asked to come and I definitely told them ‘the more the merrier’.”
“Oh, yeah?” Kei’s a little disappointed. “So they’re coming too?”
“Yeah, is that okay?” You furrow your eyebrows.
Kei can’t very well come out and say that it isn’t, because his reason for thinking that is entirely about monopolizing your time. Kei says he doesn’t want to do anything about these feelings, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t indulge just a little into the foreign feeling of accepting that he’s ‘in like’.
“Yeah sure, why wouldn’t it be?”
You raise an eyebrow at him and Kei misses the message entirely.
“I dunno, you’re not really a fan of bigger groups right?”
“Not really,” Kei shrugs, “but I’ve known them for a while so it doesn’t count.”
You nod your head and then smile. “Great! Now, where is your class?”
“Social Sciences,” Kei glances down at the brown watch on his wrist. “In about… four minutes.”
“Wanna run? Can’t be late, can you?”
Kei does not want to run. He runs anyway. You’re faster than he is and your step is louder. The soles of your shoes thump on the floor with every step you take and your whole body lurches forward with each bound. When you reach the end of the hallway his class is in, Kei is completely winded. Considering that he plays volleyball as a hobby, he should really be in better shape. He attributes his lack of breath to your presence. Maybe he’d been holding it while watching you run.
You glance into his full classroom, giving him a relieved look upon seeing that the professor has not begun her lecture yet. Then, you bounce twice on the tips of your toes and start jogging in the other direction.
“Have a good class!” You call.
“What’s the rush?” he questions.
“I’ve got class now too, dummy. Just wanted to hang out with you for a few more minutes.” Then, you turn and run off, your bag bouncing against the side of your leg as you round a corner and fly down a set of stairs.
That’s the thing about you that Kei can’t get enough of. When Kei takes a step back, when he resigns himself to being okay with just a chance meeting and a brief hello, you take a step forward. Whatever Kei lacks, you make up for tenfold. Your outstretched hand makes him greedier. It makes Kei want more than he’s ever wanted before. He goes to class starved for something that isn’t food, a feeling Kei hasn’t experienced often, let alone leaned into. He lets himself feel the hunger.
—
Day melts away to a cool evening, still slightly wet, but like the dampness before rain. The air loses its warm touch, creeping into something chillier. Kei opens his bedroom window to let the air in. He likes the smell of cool nights. He wants his room to smell like it when he sleeps tonight.
“Sorry that I spilled the beans about tonight,” Tadashi leans in the doorway of his room.
“It’s not like that,” Kei rolls his eyes, already irritated with the implication that whatever you and Kei had organized was anything more than two friends hanging out.
“Sure it isn’t,” he laughs.
“I’m serious dude,” Kei fights the urge to throw something soft at him.
“You wanted to hang out with them alone, right?” Tadashi tilts his head. His dark hair falls to the side and around his neck.
“I just said it wasn’t like that!”
Tadashi gives an even laugh. “You’re the one making it dirty, Tsukki, not me.”
Heat floods Kei’s face, painting it red.
“Caught ya,” Tadashi smiles.
“When the hell are you moving out?” Kei grumbles and Tadashi gives another good natured laugh.
“Not until you do. You’re stuck with me.”
“Not if I kill you,” Kei doesn’t smile when he says this.
Tadashi barks a laugh. “So what changed?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean with you. You seem a little more upbeat lately,” Tadashi says. “Nothing like the sad sack from a few months ago.”
“I was kidding before but now I’m serious. I really will kill you.”
Tadashi shakes his head a little but doesn’t say anything, intruding on Kei’s space until he gives an answer.
“I just got tired of it, that’s all,” Kei says evenly, though it’s a little hard to admit.
“Tired of what?”
“Pretending,” he says plainly, glancing up at Tadashi in the doorway.
“Because of them?”
“No,” he starts. “Maybe. I don’t know. Can you leave now?”
Tadashi shakes his head. “Too curious to leave.”
“I don’t have an answer for you,” Kei grumbles. “I got tired of pretending I didn’t want them.”
“Not like you were very good at pretending,” Tadashi laughs and Kei tosses him a sharp look.
He raises his hands defensively, tucking his chin downwards and laughing lightly. “Okay, fine. I’m gone now.”
“They’ll be here in an hour or so, by the way,” Kei adds and Tadashi gives a little hum to confirm that he’s heard him as he leaves the room.
Kei glances around his room. The floor is bare, save for a small mat by the side of his bed to keep the shock of warm feet on a cold floor in the morning away. That notebook, dear to him as it is, still sits on the desk. It’s empty, but Kei likes the look of it.
The hour before you and his friends are meant to arrive goes by so slowly that Kei worries that he’s gotten the day wrong. He incessantly checks his watch. It’s a brown leather watch with a square face. Thin and somewhat old fashioned, Kei prefers it to pulling his phone out to check the time. His Dad has one like it, almost matching. It had been given to him as a gift at his high school graduation and Kei had accepted it begrudgingly. He’d not been on good terms with his parents then and having them both in the same space for his graduation day was more trouble than it was worth. Still, he wears the watch almost daily. Despite having the impression that his parents never really cared about him, it was a fine gift for him and the brown strap suits his light skin tone in the same way it suits his father’s.
He walks to the mirror in his room, hanging on the wall beside his nightstand, and peers into it. Kei’s curly hair is somewhat unruly. It’s hard to manage, especially in the warmer months when his waves turn into frizzy curls that he can’t seem to keep down. It’s gotten longer, coming down to just above the bottom of his ears at the back and curls upwards in licks of thick blond.
Kei fiddles with it for a moment, tucking it behind his ears and then deciding to pull it forward. He could put gel in it to help calm it down, but he hates the greasy look of it and he’s never been one to primp and preen. He adjusts his glasses on his nose, square frames in a tortoiseshell pattern. They look expensive, though they’re only a cheap pair that he’d found at the drug store and had the lenses replaced.
He looks normal. Kei looks like himself, if not a bit flushed in the face from his nerves. His reflection is one he is oddly unfamiliar with, despite it being his throughout his entire life. At some point during high school, he’d stopped recognizing the man in the mirror as Kei and started viewing him as a separate entity. Kei Two, a version of him that can make a home out of a space and find things to write in his notebook. Kei Two’s family is still whole and unbroken, and he likes to imagine that he’s a little more friendly than the real-world version. He looks away from the mirror, content today with being the original.
Kei is in the living room and around the corner when the front door latch clicks open and is followed by a symphony of raucous voices. He takes a sharp inhale, unsure of why this feels so different from the hundreds of other times you’ve all piled into his living room.
“Where’s Kei?” He hears you call, dragging out the syllable of his name in a soft hum.
That’s why. It’s because this time, you’ve come here to see him specifically. You’re not here to see Tadashi or by chance, you’re here because you’d made plans to see Kei. That’s what makes it different.
You round the corner and Kei is hit full force in the chest with his emotions and his nerves. It happens all at once, keeping the air from his lungs. You’re smiling, beaming even, and Kei thinks that maybe it’s because you can hear the hammer of his heart against his chest.
“Hi,” you breathe, plopping down next to him on the couch.
“Hey,” he chokes out.
Kei chides himself for his nerves. He’d been doing better about getting weird around you, but today he feels closer to blowing up than he ever has.
Hinata, Kageyama, Yachi, and Noya make their way into the kitchen, each one clapping Tadashi on the back as they do. They beeline for their fridge, opening the door and flooding the floor with artificial white light as they pull out enough beers and sodas to supply a small army. Kei wonders why he and Tadashi ever bought so many of them. Kei hardly drinks, but he supposes that Tadashi just likes to host.
“Tanaka and Kiyoko?” Tadashi questions as he makes his way into the living room with the group. His beer cracks open with a satisfying pop.
“Date night,” Noya says, sinking into one of the arm chairs situated around the coffee table. “So annoying.”
He groans about Kiyoko, someone he’s all but worshiped since high school.
“You’re just mad it isn’t you,” Kageyama quips, giving a somewhat mean grin.
“Not true,” Noya argues. “I am the happiest person in the world for them! But now they go on dates and I can’t come. It’s like I lost a bro.”
“You’re so overreacting,” Yachi adds, her lips forming around high pitched syllables. “They’re here most of the time.”
“Yeah, most but not all,” Noya pouts.
“Give the same energy to Daichi, Suga, and Asahi next time, kay?” Tadashi laughs.
Their friend group is a large one, consisting of most (if not all) of their highschool volleyball team. While Hinata, Kageyama, and Yachi are the same age as Kei and Tadashi, Tanaka and Noya are a year older, and Kiyoko is two. Daichi, Asahi, and Suga all went to universities outside of Sendai, meaning they hardly ever see them. All in all, the rest of the group is pretty bummed about it. Kei just finds that he misses having Daichi around to reel everyone in. Now that he’s gone, that job has somehow gone to Tadashi, who is more of an enabler than anything else.
“They’re different and you know it,” Noya frowns, opening his open beer with a hiss through his teeth.
You lean to the side, bumping your shoulder against Kei’s.
“Who’re Daichi, Suga, and Asahi?” You ask softly.
“You’ve never met?” Kei furrows his eyebrows and you shrug.
“Maybe, but if I have it was only once or twice.”
“They’re friends from our volleyball team in highschool, but they’re two years older.”
“Okay, so one year older than me?”
Kei blinks a few times. “You’re a year older than me?”
“Yeah?” You laugh a little like it’s obvious.
“But aren’t you a fourth year?” He furrows his eyebrows.
“I took a year off before starting college,” you shrug your shoulders. “Thought that I had to get my sillies out.”
“Your sillies?” Kei laughs a little.
“Yeah,” you smile, “and I had to save up some money. It makes the world go ‘round, you know?”
“What are you guys whispering about?” Tadashi gives Kei a wry grin over the top of his beer can.
It’s only then that Kei realizes the way you both are leaning into each other. He’s tilting his head down to hear you better and you’re leaning forward. It gives off the impression of two people conspiring, of closeness that Kei hadn’t even realized had crept up on him.
“I was asking who Daichi, Suga, and Asahi are,” you shrug off the moment, leaning back in the chair.
This prompts a chorus of disbelief, everyone jumping in to describe them to you. Kei takes it as a moment to breathe, inhaling and exhaling. He can feel your thigh against his, just barely there and bleeding warmth through the fabric of his jeans.
They delve into stories about nationals, little details that Kei had forgotten a long time ago. Every now and then, someone will bring up Kei’s more-than-sour personality and he will feel the need to hide the embarrassment on his cheeks. Even though you know about it, it’s still mortifying for Kei to hear. He wants you to see the best in him, but any hopes he had of you forgetting are quickly washed away as someone brings up Kei’s relentless prodding of Kageyama’s easily pushed buttons.
You laugh along with them like you were there, amused to hear stories about your college friends in their high school years. Kei finds himself thinking that you fit very well into this scene.
Still though, despite the fun he’s having, Kei’s battery begins to run out quickly and after a long game of cards, he gets up to take a quick break in the kitchen. It’s not that he wants the night to end, but rather that he just needs a minute to himself and uses the idea of more snacks as an excuse for it.
He reaches into a cabinet, pulling out a half-finished bag of chips and setting them on the counter. They’re clipped with a bright red chip-clip from the grocery store and Kei thinks that because of that, they shouldn’t have gone stale yet. If it were the peak of summer, Kei might think twice, but this time of year, they should be fine.
Then, he bends down to get a large white mixing bowl from a lower cabinet. Their plates and bowls are kept in various different cabinets, though the only reason they stay somewhat organized is because of Kei.
“Done already?” You lean your hip against the counter.
“With what?” Kei struggles to keep his eyes from following the line of your body.
“Hanging out,” you smile lightly.
“Not really,” he says. “Just needed a minute and decided to get more snacks.”
“Wanna go sit outside for a bit then?”
Kei glances into the living room where the group chatters away. He’d hate to be stopped on the way.
“Relax,” you laugh. “They’re so caught up they won’t even notice that we’re gone.”
Kei furrows his eyebrows and then shrugs, swallowing his heart down with the spit that has pooled in his mouth. He follows you out of the front door, shutting it with a quiet click and heading down the steps of the complex and to the concrete wall lining the shrubbery outside. It’s the same place you’d come back to talk to him at all those weeks ago, though he is in considerably better spirits than he was then.
It’s a cool night, the gentle heat of the day completely burned off to make way for a crisp breeze. He inhales, wishing that he had brought a drink to fiddle with and sip on to distract him from his nerves.
You sit beside him, leaning back on your palms with your legs outstretched in front of you. Your hand is only a few inches from his and Kei sucks in a breath when he accidentally touches it while he gets comfortable. You only offer him a little smile in response.
“Sorry again about bringing the troops here,” you speak first.
“That’s really okay,” he says. “Contrary to popular belief, I actually really like them.”
You snort. “I hope so.”
Kei inhales louder than he intends to and when you look at him like he’s going to say something, he just holds his breath and shakes his head. The air only leaves him when you finally look away.
“Kind of a bummer though,” you start, “I was kinda excited about just hanging out with you.”
Kei’s breath catches in his throat. He swallows to move the metaphorical blockage.
“We hang out all the time though,” he says like it’s enough. Of course it’s not enough.
“Guess so,” you smile a little, though Kei can hear the distinct turn of disappointment in your voice.
“You know,” he starts, already embarrassed at what he’s going to admit. “I wanted to be your friend for a while.”
“Oh yeah?” you smile, opening up again and turning towards him. “Why?”
Kei shrugs, resisting the urge to shut down completely. It’s embarrassing admitting to someone that you wanted to know them before you actually knew them.
“You kind of reminded me of Tadashi,” he says. “And you both got along so well.”
“Tadashi? I’m nothing like Tadashi,” you laugh, shaking your head.
“What? No, you two are so similar,” Kei insists, lacing his fingers together.
“What about us is so similar?”
“Well, you’re both sociable and warm and…” Kei trails off. He can’t really think of anything else. You look at him with an expectant look in your eyes.
“See?”
Kei realizes that the two of you are not similar at all. Your warmth is where the similarity stops. He’d been likening you to Tadashi this entire time, not because the two of you are similar, but because you make him feel similar to the way Tadashi does. Safe and comfortable, though with the added addition of deeply awkward. He realizes that without the safety net of you being like Tadashi, he’s never had any ability to deny his feelings and with that they rage full force around the corner and slam into his chest like a heavy blow.
“We’re nothing like each other,” you laugh and lean back against your palms. “Though, it would be cool to be like Tadashi.”
Kei experiences the sudden realization that he doesn’t want you to be like Tadashi. Kei wants you to be like him. He wants you to be greedy and want him the same way he wants you. He wants you to be able to keep up with his turns and his moods, something he didn’t realize he wanted in the first place. If you’re like Kei, then Kei doesn’t have to be afraid of showing you the worst. You’ll have already seen it. If you’re like Kei and he loves you, then what is stopping you from loving him?
“Even if you’re not like Tadashi, that’s fine.” His cheeks burn.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I like you all the same,” he admits quietly.
“The same? As Tadashi?” You purse your lips a little. “I thought I was a little different. Was I wrong?”
Kei wants to kiss you. Kei wants to kiss you so badly that his mouth has gone dry and his lips feel like they’ve separated from his body. Anything he’d thought about not wanting anything with you flies out of the window with your proximity. You’re so close to him. Close enough that if he leaned a little to the right, his shoulder would be against yours. You’re so close and you’re looking at him like you’re waiting for something, implying that somehow you’re different from Tadashi. Implying that you want him to like you differently than the way he likes his platonic friend.
“No, you’re different,” he says, taking the bait you’ve laid in front of him. His heart pounds and he can’t look at you. He thinks he’ll kiss you if he does.
“Am I?”
Kei can hear the smile in your voice. It makes what you’re saying sound honeyed and curved.
“Yeah, you are.”
“How so?”
Kei finally raises his head to look at you. You’re grinning, leaning towards him like you’re watching a show. He feels the way his nerves rise into his throat, pressing against the very back of his tongue. He doesn’t know how to answer or what to say. Well, he does know what to say, he just doesn’t think he can. Kei is good at thinking about emotions, but when it comes time to speak them outloud, it seems that he’s still got a padlock around his throat. So he does what any logical person would do.
Kei leans forward, pushing against his screaming nerves and trying to ignore the tremble in his hands, and kisses you. It’s awkward and his teeth click against yours before his lips fully settle against your mouth. He feels the breath you draw in, like surprise and relief mixed together, and he finds that he does the same.
He can see the way your eyes flutter closed through his barely open ones and he realizes that your lips are so warm. He screws his eyes shut when you dip your head forward to move your lips against his. Yours are so warm and soft, like satin. A kiss has never felt like this to Kei before and he finds that he wants to catalog every single one of your reactions. Maybe that’s what he could write in the notebook. Maybe he could write down every single thing that you do that leaves him winded and wanting more.
Neither of you reach for the other, but he can feel the knuckle of your pinky against his as you slowly kiss each other, tilting your heads side to side. There’s hunger within him, the need to take more than what he’s receiving and a greed he isn’t quite familiar with, but there’s also romance. It’s like a spell that’s yet to be broken, fed by the click of your mouths as they move together. Kei sighs, flooded with the relief of this kind of physical affection, of being honest with himself at how much he likes it. Kei loves the feel of your mouth. He loves the way your lips and tongue feel and he loves that they’re all that he can feel right now.
The kiss lasts longer than Kei thought it would and by the time he pulls away, you’re both steadily panting and attempting to keep your breathing even. He wants to do it again. He wants it so badly that it makes his chest swell. He wants to do that with you forever, but he swallows down the desire. It’s a temporary fix, but it’s enough for him to choke out what it is he wants to say next.
“I think I’m in really hot water,” he squeaks.
“What do you mean?” You breathe out, the playfulness from a few moments earlier long behind you.
“I think I want you way more than I thought I did,” he admits quietly, the first out loud admittance of his feelings to you.
You smile a little before speaking. “I think it’s only hot water if the other person doesn’t feel the same way.”
Your face is still so close to his. “Yeah?”
It comes out a bit desperate, like he needs reassurance. Kei does. He’s so afraid that he thinks he could die. Afraid of the spell breaking, afraid of losing whatever moment this is and being forced to return to his one-sided pining, afraid that you don’t feel the same way.
Your face moves closer to him, breath trembling lightly. “Yeah.”
You kiss him again, pressing your lips against his lightly before parting them. He’s so overwhelmed and so immediately lost in it. Kei feels the way your tongue teases the inside of his mouth and it makes him feel like a teenager again, swelling with desires and emotions that he can’t name. You move your hand over his, placing it lightly on top of his, and he reacts by lacing your fingers together and pushing forward more.
Kei wants to touch you so badly, to reach up and hold your face, to touch your waist and your legs and your chest. He wants to do it all, to feel you right here under the cover of night, but he doesn’t. Instead, he kisses you and stews in the desire, letting it swell in his chest as he listens to the clicking of your mouths. You kiss him so slowly, moving your mouth at a languid pace. It drives him crazy. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of this.
“We should go back inside, I think,” you break away, your bottom lip shiny with a sheen of spit. “The others might think something’s up and Tanaka isn’t exactly good with discretion.”
Kei automatically reaches up to swipe it with his thumb. He doesn’t know where this affection comes from, where the possessive action found its origins, but he finds that he likes the way it feels to be able to do it in the first place.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Kei responds, though he would have been happy to continue sitting out here with you, kissing you silly.
You stand first, dusting off the back of your legs and waiting for Kei to follow suit. When he does, you reach quickly for his hand, giving it a quick squeeze before walking in front of him.
Kei is not sure how he should act when he goes inside. He’s tense all over, desperate to pick up where the two of you left off, and unsure if his face betrays that thought.
“Where’d you guys go?” Tadashi asks as Kei closes the door behind him.
In the time you’d both been gone, the living room has been transformed into something nearly unrecognizable. Empty beer cans are strewn about the tables and the blankets and pillows from the couches are now haphazardly laying around beside the couch or over people’s bodies. Then again, maybe the room always looked like this and he was just too busy thinking about how close you were to him.
Kei doesn’t know what to say. Why had they gone outside in the first place? He’s not even sure that he remembers.
“I wanted a cigarette and I made Kei come with me,” you answer evenly. “Why? You jealous?”
“Of inhaling second-hand smoke? No, thanks.” Tadashi laughs, but he tosses Kei a sideways glance. Tadashi knows him well enough to know that Kei wouldn’t voluntarily stand outside with a smoker unless he was particularly fond of them.
“Aw, man, I thought you quit?” Hinata pipes up, tilting his head.
“I did, hot stuff,” you respond, sitting down on the couch. “Don’t worry. I won’t smoke anymore.”
Hinata huffs and Kei takes the opportunity to sit down next to you.
His thigh is pressed against yours, warmth seeping through his pants and into his skin. Kei feels like he could explode. You’re so close to him again, closer than before, and he can’t stop replaying the kiss in his head. He’s desperate for it, fidgety with his desire. He keeps thinking about the hot press of your mouth and the languid motion of your tongue. All he can imagine is the few points of contact between you both, mouth and hands, and how badly he wanted it to be more. He needs it.
You touch him a few times throughout the night and the tension is so palpable that Kei is convinced he can see it. It’s like there is a rope pulled taut between the two of you. If he doesn’t stick his ground, he’ll go flying towards you, grabbing and touching and taking in the way he’s desperate to now.
After an hour, his friends begin to grow restless. Their faces are flushed with alcohol and the things they’d been amusing themselves with are no longer enough stimulation.
“Hey, we’re going out to the bars. Who’s coming?” Hinata speaks up.
A chorus of agreement rings out, but the last thing Kei wants to do is go out.
“I think I’ll probably stay back and start cleaning,” he says somewhat disdainfully. “It’s a mess in here,” Kei tosses you a small glance. It’s unintentional but he’s glad for it because Kei is hoping that you’ll stay back with him, that you both can pick up where you left off.
“I’ll stay and help too. I’ve got an early morning tomorrow anyway,” you smile and Hinata pouts.
“You guys are so boring,” he protests. “Leave the mess for tomorrow and come out with us.”
“I’ll pass, pipsqueak,” Kei scoffs.
“Fine, but don’t complain to me when you’re full of regret tomorrow,” he points a finger at Kei and then moves it over to you. “And you’re too nice for your own good.”
“Do you hear that?” You say, beginning to usher the group to the door. “I think it’s the sound of the bar and all that alcohol calling to you guys.”
“You guys are so full of shit-” Kageyama starts, speaking up for the first time in a while, but Kei just waves him out.
“Yeah yeah, let the grown ups clean while you guys have fun. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
The rope is so taut between you both that it’s unbearable and by the time the door closes, you are spinning around on your heel toward Kei.
“We’re not cleaning, right?”
Kei shakes his head and starts towards you. The tension breaks when his hands find your hips and he hungrily leans down to press his mouth against yours.
This kiss is different from the first, desperate and full of desire. It’s fast and your mouths move together quickly as he starts to walk you back towards his bedroom, his hands eagerly roaming up and down your hips. Vaguely, he acknowledges that his glasses have been moved out of place, but he pays it no mind as you turn the knob to his bedroom door with your back to it.
There’s an urgency to his movements. Kei feels it in his chest, this desperate desire to be closer, to consume everything that you’ve laid out in the palm of his hand. You stumble backwards into his room and Kei catches your shifted weight with a hand around your waist. His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, feeling the warm skin on your jaw and neck. His fingers tremble where they touch you, half out of desperate need and half out of the nerves that threaten to spill from his mouth. His lips though, are occupied with yours, clicking together, all tongue and teeth.
Kei kisses sloppily down your jaw, his lips smearing across your cheek and dipping down below your ear. He sucks a trail there, unsure if he’s leaving marks, all the way down to your collarbone. Every part of you tastes better than he’d expected it to and with every push he delivers, you pull.
You make small sounds, little pants and groans that make Kei’s hair stand on end with wanting. Your voice, so familiar and fond to him, spills out in small, breath-like bursts that make Kei want to coax more out of you. Kei’s never been one to want this way, but right now, it’s all that he feels. So much tension and impulse that he feels like he can hardly control himself.
You reach blindly behind you for the bed and Kei guides you down, placing his hand on one side of you as you sit. Then, without disconnecting your lips, he guides you up toward the wall.
He feels the cool tips of your fingers at the hem of his shirt, pulling downward and then upward to get him to take it off. Kei obliges you, leaning back on his knees and pulling it off over the top of his head. You eye him for a moment, the two of you slowing down enough as the urgency settles into something heavy and lingering.
Kei leans forward again, one of his hands reaching for your hip. He slips his fingers underneath the hem of your shirt, sliding his long fingers up your stomach as he kisses you again. You’re so soft and he can feel the way your chest heaves against his palm. His touch is feather light and he slides it up evenly until it reaches just below your breast. When you nod, Kei moves it up over your bra and he feels you shudder. Kei does the same, overwhelmed by your pliability.
He can feel the goosebumps that have raised on your skin, little pinpricks of skin that indicate that some part of you feels good. When Kei squeezes your breast, you gasp into his moan and he groans his response, letting you bite at his bottom lip.
He feels you suck at his lips and swipe your tongue along the ridge of his mouth. When he opens it to let you in, he’s overtaken by the warmth of the soft muscle. He groans, tilting his head down to kiss you deeper, letting the taste of you spread over his mouth. It’s hot and your breath fans across his face.
Kei hands drift from your breasts along the sides of your body. He feels the heave of your breath there against your warm skin, his palms resting on your waist. You raise your knees, the sides of them pressing against Kei’s hips. He shifts downwards slowly, dragging his mouth along your skin, past the cloth of your shirt.
His hands make their way from your waist to your hips as he dips lower. Kei takes off his glasses, already fogged up and in the way. When he meets your eyes, you nod your permission and Kei slips between your legs, his flat palms moving to spread your thighs.
You’re so warm and soft, so pliable in a way that Kei can’t articulate. It makes his mouth water with his desperation and he’s grown hard against the bedspread beneath him.
“Touch me,” you breathe out.
Kei nods into your stomach, looping his fingers around our waistband, and pulls down your pants. Your panties come with it and it’s with a slight wave of regret that he realizes he won’t get to see the way you stick to them.
When he sees you, his heart leaps into his throat. His eagerness and his nerves catch up to him and he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. You shudder when the air hits your exposed cunt, an unintentional side effect of Kei’s nerves that has him grinding down against the bedspread.
He slides his palm to rest over your center. It’s warm and sticky, wet beyond what Kei had imagined and he gingerly presses a finger between your folds. You gasp, mouth falling open above him. Then, he slides his finger into you to the first knuckle, curling up. Kei goes deeper on the second pump, curling his whole finger inside of you and feeling the way you tighten around him.
You arch your back up off the bed and Kei groans and rolls his eyes, resting his head on the inside of your exposed thigh. He curls his fingers in you, watching the way they coat with your pleasure. His eyebrows are knit together, like he’s asking whether you like how he touches you or not, and you seem to pick up on his insecurity, nodding your head before letting it tip back against Kei’s pillows.
Kei thinks your expression is incredible. Your eyebrows pull up in the center, pretty face twisted and mouth slightly open in an expression of undeniable pleasure. Kei’s stomach winds at the look of it and he ruts his hips against the mattress to quell the growing ache of need. His fingers, which curl at a slow and even pace inside of you, are warm with your enjoyment. It leaks between his knuckles, sliding down the back of his hand like a slow moving syrup. He wonders whether you have more to give and how you taste, his gaze slinking from your face to the place just above where his fingers disappear.
He lowers his mouth to you without thinking, curious and needing the taste of it. Sure enough, you have more to give. Your voice comes quickly, a small gasp that is stifled by the back of your hand when he sucks sharply on your clit. Your hips push forward against his hands and then you arch up off the mattress with a small cry. Kei wonders if you’ve cum. He wonders if he’s sent you over the edge, but if he has, you’re taking all of it so well that he doesn’t dare stop.
The taste of you spreads on his tongue, tangy and warm. You invade his senses violently, like you are gripping his throat. Kei holds his mouth to you, pressing the length of his cock into the mattress and moving his hips like he plans to fuck it.
He moves his free hand down your thigh and onto the inside of your leg. Your skin is so soft. It’s so vulnerable, something easily pierced and bled. Kei’s pointer finger rubs gentle circles there, feeling the slight pull of the soft skin with his fingers, so thin that it almost feels like tissue paper. He’s sure that with a little pressure, you would bruise.
The thought surprises him. He works his tongue across your clit and his fingers against that gummy spot inside of you, but his mind drifts to the softness of your inner thigh, the way it would be so easy to leave a spot that might hurt later when you press on it, remind you of exactly where he was. Then, Kei pinches you on the inside of your thigh and when you cry out, tightening around his fingers with a tapered moan, he pinches you again, harder this time.
You whimper slightly, like you like it. No, you sound like you love it and Kei finds himself holding back a choked moan as he tries not to cum prematurely. He pinches along the inside of your legs and around the back. Not too much. Only when he feels like it. Only when he wants to hear what kind of sounds you’ll make.
“K-Kei wait, wait,” you pant, grabbing him by his tufts of blonde hair. It hurts. He doesn’t think you mean to hurt him, but it doesn’t matter. He likes it and he twitches in his pants.
“Huh?” He hums, detaching from your clit and slowing the movement of his fingers to a halt. Your legs shake around his handiwork. “You okay?”
“I’ll cum if you keep going like that,” you breathe, screwing your eyes shut like you’re still on the edge. “Drag it out for me, yeah?”
Kei furrows his eyebrows and sucks in a sharp breath.
“Cum if you want to.” He tilts his head down to reattach his lips.
“Not yet,” you tug at his hair. “I like chasing it.”
Kei stares at you, unblinking and awestruck. Your chest heaves and despite the pleasure on your face, you look uncomfortable as your orgasm slips away from you. Kei likes that look on your face and he finds himself growing greedy.
“Come here,” you coax him onto the mattress.
Kei watches as you slip your hands into the waistband of his jeans and pull them down, leaving him on his back with his tented boxers exposed. You crawl down his body and settle between his legs with your arms between his thighs. He shudders when you run your hands up them and he briefly sees his boxers jump.
You smile, pressing your mouth to him through his boxers. Kei can’t stifle the groan that escapes him and heat floods his face when you raise your eyebrows in response.
“You don’t have to,” he says through gritted teeth as you slip the waistband of his boxers down.
“But I want to,” you mumble, taking him in your hand and placing a kiss on the side of his dick.
Kei’s head falls back against the pillow and he swears under his breath when he feels the warmth of your mouth close around the tip of him. He jerks his head up to see, awestruck by the way your lips look around the head of his cock.
For some reason, Kei is already so sensitive. He feels everything, and when you swipe the tip of your tongue along his slit as you bob your head, he makes a noise he didn’t think he could make. His fingers knot themselves in the bed sheets, white knuckled and trembling while you bob your head over him.
Your mouth is so warm and wet. It’s a little messy, dripping down the length of him and onto his balls. Kei feels the warmth, the heat of you. He can still taste you on his tongue. Kei can still feel the stickiness left behind from your arousal on his mouth. The combination of you between his legs and the taste of you on his tongue is overwhelming.
Kei can feel his orgasm growing in his lower stomach, turning over until he’s bringing his long fingers to your head in an effort to steady himself. There’s nothing he can do but give in, watching you through damp eyes as you watch his expression.
It’s embarrassing how quickly he cums. It doesn’t take long and he teeters on the edge for a few moments before fully cresting over. Kei can’t help the way he lifts his hips from the mattress, his voice caught in his throat as it hooks on a high pitched groan. His voice cracks and he feels the way his cum collects on your tongue and across the tip of his dick in your mouth.
“Fuck,” he mutters, red faced and panting, “I didn’t mean to- I didn’t mean to finish so quickly, you’re just-”
“It’s fine,” you come up, your eyes glassed over and lust-filled. “I like making you feel good.”
“Yeah but-”
“No buts,” you crawl over him and straddle his waist. Kei winces when your weight briefly nudges his cock. “There’s still fun to be had. Can I kiss you?”
He nods and you lean down to do as you’d asked. Your tongue moves slowly against his, less desperate this time, like you’re trying to work him down and back up again. You place your hands on his chest, settling your weight down so that your bare cunt is pressed against his sensitive cock. Kei thinks he might die.
He brings his hands to your waist, the fatigue creeping from his bones as he digs the pads of his fingers into your fleshy sides. You draw in a breath when he does and it makes Kein feel like he’s tipping sideways with arousal. Everything that you do, right down to the involuntary twitch of your hips or eyebrows, is sexy.
Kei turns you over, growing hard between your legs again, and gently pins you to the mattress. He kisses you for a moment longer, his lips working clumsily across yours before he pulls away to catch his breath and find his bearings.
You chase him with your mouth, tilting your head up to kiss him. Kei feels his chest swell with arousal and his cock strains almost painfully against his pants as he peers at you. You’re so pretty. Everything about you is so pretty. On his chest, he can feel your fingers, splayed over his pecks, across his collarbone, and grazing the side of his neck. He leans closer, loving the pressure of your body and the desperation that pours from your skin.
Kei kisses you again. He kisses you the way he wanted to outside, dipping his tongue into your mouth with a desperation that he can taste. You take control back, reaching between the two of you, and Kei shifts himself upward instinctually to give you access to him. He feels your fingers fumble for him and there’s a pause in which Kei doesn’t know what to do. He wonders if this might be the part of him that you like. The awkward part, the one that doesn’t know what to do. Kei’s thoughts are interrupted by the feeling of your hand wrapping around him and tugging upward.
His head drops and a low groan escapes his lips before he can even think to stop it. Kei’d almost forgotten his sensitivity, how desperately he wants to be touched, how overwhelming it feels. He shivers, looking down at where your hand wraps around him and pumps. When he looks back up, he finds that you’re looking at his face, your eyes glassed over and observant as you commit all of his expressions to memory.
“What?” he says, letting out a shuddering breath and the slight overstimulation.
“Your face is red,” you reach up with your free hand to run your thumb along his cheek.
Kei huffs, dropping his head and you fiddle with something between the two of you.
“No,” you pick his chin up. “I like it. It’s cute.”
You tighten your grip around him and Kei feels his expression twist, a new rush of heat and desire flooding his belly as he realizes you’re sliding a condom onto him. Then, you guide the tip of him between your legs and he feels the wet press of your entrance against him.
“Christ,” he groans.
You smile slightly, shifting your hips a little and then placing your hands on his shoulders. Kei pushes forward slowly, his thighs twitching. It takes everything he has to keep from cumming again and every muscle in his body screams with a desire to let go.
Kei is so overwhelmed, partially because you feel so good, but also because there is some part of him that knows this feels different. Kei feels different about you, about being intimate with you, than he has with anyone else. There’s something alive in him, something with its own mind. Something greedy and vulnerable that stirs when your face is this close to him, when he’s buried all the way in you to the base of his cock. Emotional and sensitive, Kei feels it kick.
His first instinct is to run. Agreeing to let himself like you, to let himself do something about it, was not agreeing to letting something live inside of him. Kei’s first thought when he registers the difference is to cut it off and suffocate it so that it stops thumping against his chest. He’d grown so used to the hollow feeling that the feeling of living emotion makes him nervous, it puts him on edge. But when he pulls out a few inches and fucks back into you, the anxiety dispels into insurmountable pleasure. A pleasure Kei can’t describe, something fulfilling and whole.
He picks up his pace, letting himself do what he wants while you grip his shoulders with blunted nails. He likes the expression you wear. Truthfully, he likes all of your expressions, but this one is new. Pressure and pleasure, a newness to the feel of him inside of you that you can’t quite keep from your eyes or lips. He kisses you as if he could taste it, slipping his tongue between your lips.
“I really like you,” you mumble against his mouth, breath hot as it fans across his cheeks.
Kei’s heart hammers and his hips stutter a little.
“Me too,” he chokes, trying to think about volleyball to stave off a second orgasm. All that comes to mind though, is you.
“Are you close again?” you breathe, voice laden with pleasure.
“I have been since we started,” Kei admits.
“Cum then,” you say softly, reaching behind his head to pull his mouth back to yours. Kei likes the control you exhibit. He groans his approval.
“You first,” he mutters.
There’s this possessive part of Kei that wants to watch you fall apart on him. He wants to see it, to watch you feel good too and commit it to memory so that he can always keep it. He thinks it’s a pride thing, something attached to his desire to succeed, to his reliability. Maybe though, it’s just because he thinks it’ll look hot.
He reaches down and lifts one of your legs up by the back of your knee, pressing it down to give himself better access. You whine and Kei feels the way you clench down around him, your fingers knitting into the hair at the back of his neck. It hurts in a good way.
Kei slips his hand between you, rubbing circles on your clit to get you there faster. Frankly, he doesn’t know how much longer he can last like this, staring down at your face while it twists with pleasure. You’re so attractive to him. Everything about you is sexy. It makes Kei a little crazy.
He listens as your breathing quickens, as your voice wavers further. He feels the way your cunt begins to flutter faster, pulsing around him until you attempt to cry out and warn him. Then, you clamp down around him, arching your hips up off the mattress and pulling at his hair. Kei moves his head with you, relishing in the way you tug and scratch.
He builds up to his orgasm so fast that it hurts. There’s pressure and then the mounting feeling of nearing the top, and then the peak and crash. He cums so hard that it hurts, pushing his cock as far as it will go into you and feeling the warm spill of his cum in the condom. He moans a long, drawn out sound that you mimic, his fingers knitting into the pillow behind you and his head dropping so that his lips sit near your neck.
He lets out a shaky breath, letting himself sit inside of you for a moment. You turn his head towards yours and kiss him. It’s gentle. A smooth and languid kiss that neither of you moves to deepen. Your lips move against each other and Kei closes his eyes to savor the taste.
You tap his shoulder and Kei rolls over onto the bed beside you, snapping the condom off with a small wince and tying it up in a quick motion. He places it in the trash bin beside the bed. When he turns over, you’re already moving to slip under his arm, resting your head on his chest.
There’s a passing moment of silence, not unlike the ones you both have fallen into before and you sigh lightly against his exposed chest. Kei follows suit, watching the way you move with his breath.
His skin is sticky against yours and Kei can vaguely register the smell of sweat in the room. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since everyone left, nor does he know when they’ll be back, but he estimates that it won’t be more than an hour. Kei briefly wishes that he could pause time so that he can stay here with you, just like this.
“I’m not good at this kind of stuff,” Kei admits quietly.
“What stuff?” You ask, tracing your finger along the ridges of his lean abdomen.
“Liking people,” he says. “Dating.”
You give a small laugh. “No offense, Kei, but I could tell that from the moment I met you.”
“Shit, seriously?”
“Duh,” you breathe out. “It’s a little charming to me, though. I like that part of you.”
So it’s true. You like the parts of Kei that he’s always worried were the worst of him.
“Huh,” he says. “Could you tell?”
“That you like me?” You ask, shifting your head to look at him. “Yeah, it was obvious after we established that you didn’t hate me. I always noticed you staring in the library.”
“Really? I thought I was being a little slick with that,” Kei feels heat and color flood his face.
You let out a good-natured laugh. “People can always tell when someone’s staring, Kei. It’s like a sixth sense.”
“Good to know. Hindsight is 20/20 and all.”
Another bout of silence follows.
“You can keep staring though,” you say, “if you want to. And calling.”
“Okay,” Kei responds, “I didn’t really plan on stopping.”
“Ha, freaky,” you laugh a little and Kei reaches up to flick the side of your head. “Wanna start going out?”
Kei thinks about this for a moment. He thinks about being able to hold your hand, brush hair out of your face, watch movies on the couch and fix your breakfast the next morning. Then he thinks about not being able to do those things.
“I think I’d be a little upset if we didn’t,” he admits.
“Good,” you say. “Me too.”
He’s fighting off sleep. His eyelids are heavy and he tries to blink away the shroud of rest that’s falling over him. Kei knows you’re fighting it too. Your breathing goes in and out of that familiar breathing that comes with sleep. Kei likes the way it sounds coming from you, restful and quiet.
“We should… really get up to clean just a little,” he mumbles.
“Five more minutes,” you say softly, your voice heavy and laden with drowsiness.
“Okay,” he says.
It’s just five more minutes. Kei fights sleep to hear you breathe like this a little longer.
—
There’s a period after which Kei doesn’t know what to do with himself. Like the awkward start to a new hobby or passion, Kei finds himself enthralled with his budding relationship while simultaneously stumbling continuously along the way. You’re gracious with him though, letting him make mistakes and fumble until he finds his footing.
It’s all very awkward for him, very new. He finds that it’s easier to just do the nice things he wants to do for you than to agonize over it and slowly, he begins to grow comfortable in the relationship that took you both so long to begin.
At first, only Tadashi knew about you both. Kei thought that there was no point in hiding it from him, since you were over at the apartment all the time. Of course, Tadashi somehow already knew. That’s how it usually goes anyway, and Kei is relieved to find that his internal change did not trigger some global shift that would turn his life upside down. Everything is normal, save for the fact that Kei now tries to love without hindrance.
Kei discovers that he’s possessive. That’s a new trait of his that he didn’t know belonged to him. Before you, before Kei had found something he so desperately wanted to keep, he’d been rather detached. Possessiveness was rare because Kei hardly ever got attached enough to want. Now though, he wants so badly that it hurts. You lean into it. Kei suspects that you like it when he wards off people who hit on you, when he pouts a little because he wants to be close to you, when he gets a little jealous. Kei doesn’t really mind it either. After all, despite his possessiveness, he never feels insecure. The both of you make sure of that.
This sunny period with you, the one Kei worried would only last a week, drifts easily from one month into two and before he knows it, it’s been five. Kei had worried about that fundamental change. The one imperceivable to the human eye. He’d worried that slowly, it would begin to spoil what is so good between the two of you.
“Kei,” you snap him out of it, placing a hand on his shoulder, “you okay?”
He sets down his cup of tea, barely touched. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet?” You give him a wry smile. “This was your idea, after all.”
“Yeah, well it was a pretty shit idea actually,” he breathes, “My parents aren’t exactly easy.”
“You want to cancel?” You ask, your eyebrows pulling up in a clumsy attempt to hide your disappointment. Kei can see right through it.
“No,” he shakes his head. “I want you to meet them. I just don’t want you to meet them.”
The truth of it is that Kei would like to cancel. In an ideal world, one where the sun rises on the opposite side of his bedroom window, he’d forget the whole thing and take you out to get dinner and see a movie. Things would be simpler that way, less uncomfortable for the both of you. But as uncomfortable as it is, Kei wants you to be a part of their lives too. You’re too important to not introduce to his parents and Kei can’t see it any other way, though he’d like to.
You snort. “What does that even mean?”
Kei gives you a pointed and somewhat irritated look.
“Okay, sorry,” you raise your hands defensively and walk over to place them on his shoulders. “I know you’re worried, but I think it’s going to be okay. I’m excited.”
Kei huffs out a laugh, unable to vocalize his nerves in their totality. “Excited to meet my dysfunctional, divorced parents that kind of hate each other?”
“Yup. I’m excited to meet the people who raised you.”
Kei smiles a little. “You should meet Akiteru, then,” It’s an exaggeration, but for some reason the prospect of seeing both of his parents together has him feeling a little more bitter than usual, even if it was his idea.
You give him a little grin through narrowed eyes. There’s an understanding that passes from you to him, like you’re acknowledging that you haven’t forgotten what he’d told you nearly six months ago. Kei feels the tension in his shoulders relax a little.
His parents are already at the restaurant when he arrives. It’s a swanky Italian place. The kind you go to on birthdays or for anniversaries, where the pasta dishes are things like lobster mushroom ravioli or truffle oil fettucini in tiny portions. Kei made sure to book somewhere that his parents would have trouble making a scene in, not that they ever had much of a mind for decorum when they were married. He’s surprised to find them chatting cordially when you both arrive.
“Kei,” his mother stands from the table and crosses to give him a hug. He pats her back gently.
“Hi Mom,” Kei responds and she gives him a small smile.
Kei’s dad adjusts the lapel of his suit, the same one he’s had for years, and reaches to give him a hug around one shoulder.
“Guys,” he inhales, “This is my partner, _____.”
You grin at Kei and then introduce yourself formally to his parents. Kei watches in awe as you blend right in, like you’ve known them for many years. He sits down while trying to keep the nerves from his face.
“We’re so happy to meet you,” his mother starts, “Kei’s never introduced us to any of his partners before.”
“I’m the first?” You smile a little, raising an eyebrow at Kei as if to tease him.
“There really haven’t been that many to begin with,” Kei grumbles as if that somehow makes it better.
You laugh again and the ball of conversation begins rolling. His mother tells you how pretty you are and his father nods a quieter approval. They talk about his university’s graduation ceremony, which they attended separately, as if they were together the entire time and then ask about your major, if you graduated with him, where you plan on going. You tell them what you want to do and that you want to go wherever Kei goes. He marvels at how smoothly the evening moves onward.
There are moments where the tension in his family becomes obvious. Little swells or comments that bring up a sour or shameful memory that cannot be ignored. Moments when the air thickens and it feels like the hammer is about to come down. It never does though. The tension, rather than snapping, simply fades away.
He’d expected everything to blow up for some reason. Kei had expected that, like his childhood, the restaurant dishes would end up smashed on the floor. The glassware always ended up broken in the house, why shouldn’t they be broken here to shatter the illusion of things being good? He braces himself for a ball that never drops.
It takes him until the ride home, after a successful dinner, to realize that the dishes haven’t been smashed in years. Not since he was fourteen and his parents fought for custody. Not since his mother got remarried to her now husband almost 6 years ago and his father met his new wife. Kei wonders why he still feels like he lives in that house. The one his parents were at their worst in. Why can’t he feel like he lives in the apartment he rents with Tadashi?
“I think that went well,” you say softly on the drive back.
Kei nods his agreement. “I think so too.”
You don’t bring up the fact that they didn’t fight, or that they spoke about their new kids with each other as if they were old friends. You don’t accuse Kei of being wrong, of being paranoid even though he most definitely was.
“I’m glad that I got to meet them,” you say. “You look so much like your mom.”
“Really?” Kei asks.
“Yeah, you’ve got her eyes and her nose,” you smile a little. “It makes you two look similar.”
“Huh,” he says. “I never really gave that much thought.”
Kei turns the idea that he has his mother’s face over in his head. He’d spent so much time dreading that he was like them on the inside, that he never paused to consider the outside. So much of his life has been spent worrying that he’s just like them. That he breaks the plates and lashes out and acts cruelly even when he’s trying to love. But he has his mother’s eyes and for some reason that unsettles him. It’s like evidence.
“You don’t really act like them though,” you say as if on cue. “You’re a little gentler.”
“Me? Gentle?” Kei scoffs.
“Yeah!” you say. “I mean, sure you’re prickly, but there’s a goodness to you that’s really obvious if you look.”
Goodness. What a strange word to use to describe someone. Kei thinks that if there’s any goodness in him, if there’s anything that hasn’t been tainted by his parents’ sour personalities, it’s from Akiteru. Kei likes to believe that whatever good he got was from him. No matter how strained his relationship with him might be now, Kei is certain of that.
“That’s a relief,” he admits in a flat tone.
After a long pause, he speaks again. “Thanks.”
“For what?” You laugh.
“Bearing with me… and with them,” he says. “Couldn’t have been easy.”
“It was easy,” you say. “Because I wanted to meet them. And I care about you.”
Kei feels color rise to his cheeks. He turns to look in the sideview mirrors as he pulls the car into a parking spot in his apartment complex’s garage.
“You say that stuff so easily,” he huffs.
“What? That I care about you?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I do,” you laugh a little.
Kei’s face grows hotter and he distracts himself by putting the car into park and taking the key out of the ignition.
“Me too,” he says quietly, waiting for you to catch up so that he can take your hand in his. “Sorry that I don’t say it a lot.”
“Not to be rude,” you say, “but even if you never said it at all, it would be obvious. You’re kind of a sucker.”
Kei supposes that that’s true and he gives a small laugh before nudging your shoulder with his. The parking garage is humid and stuffy, but he holds your hand in it anyway.
—
You’re half asleep in bed beside him and your breathing comes in even sweeps the way it does just before you fall asleep. Kei listens to it for a moment, admiring the sound of it and the way your chest feels expanding against his.
He thinks about dinner, about how good it feels to have introduced you. How real it makes this relationship feel despite the uneasiness surrounding his familial situation. Kei thinks about his parents. He thinks about their inability to be good for each other. He thinks about the worst of them, something he’s familiar with, before thinking about the best of them. Kei imagines the way their faces looked at dinner, talking about the children they’re raising properly. They’re good people, they just made each other bad. Molecular shifts that changed them for the worst. The notebook theory in its most frightening form. But they were good too.
Kei thinks about loving you. His reluctance to do so originally isn’t quite beyond him yet. He’s unsure, in fact, if he’ll ever really get past the fear of the fall, the fear of becoming what his parents made each other. But he also thinks about his promise to love you for real. Love is not something that Kei does. He knows now that it's something that happens to him, like it happened to his parents. They loved each other once, even if it made them so blind that they couldn’t see just how bad it made them.
Kei still resents the fact that he was born to fix a marriage that never would have worked in the first place. He resents being a fix rather than a gift, but at the very least, his existence is proof that his parents cared enough about their family to try. Even if it was misguided, at least they tried even a little.
In the quiet after of an emotionally charged evening, loving you seems like an easier task for him now. It’s not hard to love you. What’s hard, Kei thinks, is not hurting you. He carries a lot of baggage that, for a long while, felt like too much. Kei thinks he can manage if it’s for you. He’ll bear the brunt of it. He’ll put in the work.
Yes, Kei is his parents’ son, but he’s also Tadashi’s friend, Akiteru’s brother, the person who loves you. He doesn’t live in the house with a bin full of shards and no glassware anymore.
“Are you awake?” He whispers across the pillow.
“Mhm,” you hum, pushing your cheek into his arm.
“Let’s move in together,” he says.
You tense against him and slowly attempt to blink away sleep. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” he responds. “I want to live with you.”
“Okay then,” you smile a little. “Let’s do it.”
—
In the fall, when his lease with Tadashi ends and his friend gives him a tearful, yet somewhat silly goodbye, Kei moves into your new shared apartment. Two small rooms in a modest part of town, a shared kitchen and living room, one bathroom, a mismatch of furniture from both of your old places, and an empty fridge. The first night is spent eating take out on the floor with you in front of a TV with no proper stand. Kei has never been happier.
And in the morning, when the sun comes through the slats of his window, broken up into gentle dots by the orange-leaved trees outside, Kei rises slowly. He rises gently. Kei doesn’t want to wake you, not before he’s made breakfast. He pads out to the kitchen, where boxes are strewn about, half unpacked, and grabs the little brown notebook from the box it’s been temporarily living in. In it, he writes a grocery list full of the things you like. It’s a good enough reason, a good enough change.
The notebook theory.
#tsukishima x reader#tsukishima kei x reader#tsukishima x reader smut#tsukishima kei x reader smut#hq x reader#tsukishima smut#tsukishima kei smut#tsukishima kei fic#[ 📕 – writing ]#she is finally finished i hope u enjoy and that u find it romantic and fulfilling#tw: overstimulation#i may add more warnings and such if i remember to#and pls lmk if i forgot any
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Idea:
Tamaki (Ohshc) with Fem!reader who dislikes him and finds him annoying. Reader always wears kimono dresses and has a little knife up her sleeve (FOR SELF DEFENSE PURPOSES ONLY). So sometime she hangs around with Haruki and the rest of the club come (she only tolerates Honey cause he looks a kid) and Tamaki starts his romantic antics and she gets pissed so she just swiftly throws the knife very close to his face saying "The next time I won't miss."
She goes to unplug the knife from the wall, accidentally caging Tamaki between her and the wall.
Honestly I have no more ideas,so just go ahead and finish it as you like.
🐸~ hi!! missed you in my inbox <33 thanks for your request! i hardly ever write for ohshc😭 hope u enjoy, ily
˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ fem!reader, knives
“It’s nice to spend some time alone with you,” Haruhi confessed, smiling a little awkwardly with a small laugh. “The host club has been all over me lately. I can hardly go to the bathroom without one of them on my tail.”
You and your friend, Haruhi Fujioka, were sitting outside in the courtyard of Ouran High School. Cherry blossom trees surrounding you and the occasional petal or two fluttered down into either of your hair, a gentle breeze blowing on your long dress. It was a free period, meaning students could simply do as they pleased for forty-five minutes. You hadn’t gotten to see Haruhi as often as you used to, so you were glad to steal your friend away for at least a little while.
“I agree.” You nodded, smiling as well. “Only time I’ve gotten to see you lately is when you’re with that infernal host club- and you know I can’t stand them.” Your smile faltered a little, and you folded your arms across your chest, the sleeves of your kimono rustling. “And I only tolerate Honey because he literally looks like a little kid. It feels morally wrong to hate him.”
Haruhi laughed out loud. “Senpai- sorry, Tamaki still bothering you?”
“To no end,” you replied bitterly, rolling your eyes.
“Yeah, he can be pretty persistent. There was a phase for a minute when he was absolutely obsessed with me.” Haruhi cringed as she recalled it. Then she smiled again. “Luckily, when you came into the picture Tamaki totally forgot about me.”
You pursed your lips in a sour manner. “Yeah, you owe me for the rest of your life.”
“I know, I know!”
Haruhi’s amusement was contagious, and the two of you just sat there giggling for a minute before your laughter was cut through with a shrill scream of “Haruhiiiiiiiiiii!”
Haruhi immediately stopped laughing, her expression dropping as her eyes widened. You made a face, recognizing the yell instantly.
Tamaki came barreling towards the two of you, followed from a distance by the rest of the Host Club, tearing through the throngs of students until he finally reached you both.
“Haruhi! I’ve been looking for you all over!” Tamaki cried dramatically, throwing his arms around Haruhi in an exaggerated embrace. Haruhi let out a groan and thrashed around in his grip, snapping at him to get off, but he wasn’t listening. “Daddy was so worried when you weren’t in the music room! Free periods are our busiest time, and we can’t operate without our star host- well, second star host,” Tamaki whined.
“Senpai, I’m with a friend right now,” Haruhi grunted in annoyance, trying to pry his arms off of her. “Do you mind?”
“What friend could possibly be more important than being with us at the host club?” Tamaki demanded, turning vehemently- and that’s when he caught sight of you. You let out a weary sigh, already knowing what was coming next as the blonde’s eyes widened and that irritating lovesick expression softened his face. “Oh- it’s you, Y/N!” Tamaki exclaimed joyfully, abruptly releasing Haruhi and coming to stand in front of you. Haruhi dropped to the ground with a yelp, but when you moved to help her up, Tamaki blocked your way.
“You cannot be serious,” you muttered, dropping your head in exasperation. So much for a quiet period with Haruhi.
Tamaki, as usual, was oblivious to your obvious disinterest. “Why, Y/N- you’re looking even more radiant than usual today! Your skin is absolutely radiant in the sun.” He had that familiar gleam in his eye, the one that usually made girls’ knees buckle and cheeks flush, but all it did was piss you off. “May I humbly ask you to accompany the Host Club and I back to the music room? Such a dull place it is without your lovely presence…” Tamaki sighed as if in distress and placed the back of his hand on his forehead like a swooning maiden. You could practically see the sparkles gleaming off of him, and to be honest, it made you nauseous.
“Mhm,” you answered flatly. “I’ll pass, thanks.”
The rest of the host club had caught up with Tamaki by now, Kyoya and Mori helping a disgruntled Haruhi off the ground where Tamaki had dropped her. One of the girl’s arms in his grip, Kyoya glanced up from behind his glasses, watching the scene between you and Tamaki. “Clearly, Tamaki, she’s very interested in joining you,” he remarked sarcastically. “What a ray of sunshine, hm?”
“Like you’re much better,” you muttered in response. Tamaki hardly noticed Kyoya’s disdain, though.
“You’re interested?” he exclaimed, and before you could react he took your hands in his, twirling you around in a very theatric fashion that, much to your dismay, drew the attention of passersby. “Wonderful! To have someone like you join me at the Host Club… truly you are the most beautiful of them all.”
Your expression remained stony as you broke away from Tamaki’s grasp, smoothing down your kimono and blowing stray strands of hair out of your face. “You say that to every girl you meet,” you answered sourly.
Tamaki paused for a second in surprise, a slightly guilty expression appearing on his face. “Well, yes, but I only really mean it when I say it to you,” he offered sheepishly, hitting you with another one of those disgustingly blinding bright smiles. You let out a heavy sigh in response, and with your patience thinning you thought it best to not say anything.
“Wow, is free period almost over?” you asked offhandedly, checking an imaginary watch on your wrist. “Maybe I should be going-“
“Nonsense!” Tamaki exclaimed. “We still have twenty-five minutes left.” He suddenly reached for your hair, and before you could duck he plucked a pink petal from your head. Grimacing, you watched as he gazed at the petal with a downright corny amount of fondness as he brought it to his face.
“This flower was caught in your hair,” Tamaki explained, his voice sickeningly sweet, and you fought the urge to hit yourself in the head. “You are such a radiant creature that even the flowers wish to remain by your side. I will cherish it forever- as a token of your beauty.”
Tamaki’s dramatic antics had drawn something of a crowd by now- really just a handful of fawning girls who clung to every word he was saying to you. At this last remark they let out a collective squeal that made you wince. Behind Tamaki, Haruhi sent you an apologetic look.
You pinched the bridge of your nose, thoroughly exasperated. “Well, that’s definitely unnecessary. I’ll be going now-“
“But, my love, wait-“ Tamaki started, grabbing your hands again- but by now you’d had more than enough. All in one move, you tore your hands out of his, reached into the large sleeve of your kimono, pulled out a throwing knife, and hurled it at Tamaki with alarming accuracy. It was sheer luck that Tamaki wasn’t impaled through the face, dodging at the last minute, and the knife instead buried itself into a tree directly behind him.
The people around you went dead silent. Haruhi’s eyes were wide as frying pans and the host club members besides Mori and Kyoya wore equally disquieted expressions on their faces. Honey rushed to cower behind Mori’s long legs. Tamaki, eyes wide as well, was frozen against the tree, the knife barely an inch from his temple.
Not even noticing the looks of alarm directed at you, you tsked in slight frustration with yourself for missing. Keeping your gaze straight ahead, you walked straight up to Tamaki, who didn’t move an inch but whose eyes followed you like lasers, and pinning him just beneath you you roughly yanked the knife from the bark of the tree. But before pulling away with your knife in hand, you placed your lips at Tamaki’s ear, making sure only he could hear what you were going to say next.
“Next time I won’t miss.”
#ohshc x reader#ohshc headcanons#ohshc imagines#request#tamaki suoh#tamaki suoh x reader#reader x tamaki suoh#tamaki suoh headcanons#haruhi fujioka x you#ouran host club#ouran fanfic#ouran high school host club#ouran haruhi#ouran tamaki#ohshc haruhi#ohshc tamaki
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Can you please do Loona x Male Sinner Reader headcanons? Thanks for your time!
of course!! u didn't specify much but I will try my best! also i am not used to writing a male reader so if it comes off as that way- sorry. hope u like it regardless!!! :D
General Relationship HCs! | Loona x Male!Sinner! Reader
Relationship: Romantic
Warnnings: None!
For the purpose of this, we are going to say you are going to be some type of hound/wolf/canine
You guys probably met while she was (half-heartedly) putting posters of I.M.P. and later met again when you were asking to put a hit on your ex/deadbeat parent/shitty friend.
When you guys first met while she was out and about- you were on your way to work when you saw her putting up the advertisement
Interested in the service, you asked her for directions, not really paying attention to you, she pointed behind her, where the building was.
Feeling silly at not noticing, you thank her and continue about your day.
Not really the ideal meet cute, but! you would be able to rekindle that at a later date
When you entered the office, you weren’t expecting the same hellhound from the other day, but you were excited regardless.
She was sitting in her seat, feet (paws?) propped up on the desk as she scrolled on her phone.
Clearing your throat, you asked if they were able to take a hit at the moment.
Annoyed that someone had spoken to her, she looked up and stopped when she saw you.
You were…cute? Handsome?
Unknown of it, her tail began to wag, her interest piqued at the sight of you
Not that the word to describe you was really important, what was important was that you were talking to her and still waiting for a response.
“Uhh- Yea-”
BlitzØ cut her off before she even finished her word.
After taking you into his office to discuss the hit, Loona was left sitting there, thinking of you
There was no way she had liked you. She literally just met you.
Once you left BlitzØ’s office, you stopped in front of the cute hellhound at the front desk. and attempted to strike conversation with her
The conversation was..actually enjoyable. You had mentioned a couple of things that Loona enjoyed and were even asking for some of her input
Either it was she was seriously lonely, or you were just speaking to her on a personal level (it was both) but she ended up being the one asking for your number, to which you happily agreed
After you left, Loona was in a better mood than normal, her tail wagging way more now that she felt that she made a friend who was similar to her
The entire time, BlitzØ was watching and planning both your and your hits murder. He was not elated.
You and Loona would have very casual hangouts, exploring the pride ring together and looking for things to do. You two would also hang out at your place, especially since if you guys hung out at her place, there was always the risk of BlitzØ, and you would rather live.
The slow burn between you and Loona was so bad that soon, Moxxie and Millie took notice of two way crush and made bets with one another asto who would confess first. All the while, BlitzØ is SO SOUR. The thinks Moxxie and Millie should be on his side, not trying to get you two together.
It actually takes you both way too long to realize that you even like the other, and even longer to finally confess
The first one to confess was you, while out walking to find something to do. Loona was NOT expecting it and froze.
You thought she was trying to find a way to reject you, so you quickly took back your confession, freaking her out even more. Stopping you, she pulled you into a hug, her tail wagging like crazy. Stunned at the hug, it takes you a moment to even hold her back, but all the while your tail is is going even crazier
Now together, you both just enjoy being with one another
Date nights out are kind of hard to do since you can’t leave the pride ring. Say bye-bye to ozzies (sad noise)
But date nights at home are very common. Normally at your place, (occasionally at hers when BlitzØ was out) you both cook up a meal, and cuddle while watching movies
No one even suspected of you two dating til BlitzØ entered the home earlier than she normally did and spotted you two fast asleep on the couch.
You woke up to intense shaking and Loona yelling before the shaking stopped. You say your girlfriend pulling her adoptive dad off you, all the while he was spewing curses at you and your mother.
Next day, you dropped by the office with tickets to a horse show and some alcohol for BlitzØ, to serve as an apology. When Moxxie asked you what you were doing there, you explained to him and he just turned to Millie and laughed.
He won the bet lol
BlitzØ was elated that you got him the ticket, but still growled at you and tried to bite at your hand
With BlitzØ how sedated (for the time) you and Loona can now announce that you are in a relationship (very much to the dismay of BlitzØ)
In the beginning, there can no PDA, especially around BlitzØ, but once he eventually agrees with the relationship, after seeing how happy and loved Loona is, it still isn’t much but still here.
Loona isn’t a very touchy person, and a bit emotionally stunted, so she doesn’t go out of her way to seek it. At most, she will go up to you and hang around you. You are normally the one who initiates the contact, hand-holding, kisses, hugging, and anything else.
Once she is secure enough in the relationship, she regularly seeks out physical touch, often enjoying bone-crushing hugs.
Arguments are kinda often in a relationship with her. From her temper and stubbornness, to your own, things can get heated pretty quickly
The best thing is to take some time/space and later, when you both are feeling better, you guys talk it out. Apologies are said, and you guys make amends pretty quickly
A bond activity that you both partake in is telling each other about your lives before one another. Loona recounts her life growing up in the adoption center, and you tell her of your life on earth.
If you aren’t from L.A. then you tell her what your hometown is like. What you did with your friends, places to eat, the shops and everything you could.
If you were from L.A. you laugh at her experience, agreeing with her that the place is shit, and then telling her that there are some cool spots that you loved to go to when you were alive.
If she has to go to another ring for work, she will probably be on call with you or messaging you the whole time, sending you pictures so you know what the other rings are like. Maybe even getting you merch or a novelty item there.
If Loona wanted to take you somewhere because it reminded her of you, she would have to find a way to smuggle you into the other rings.
Lets say she smuggled you to Beelz’s party, the whole time the other hell hounds are trying to figure out why none of them know you, and why you don’t even smell like them. (Beelz knows, just doesn’t care)
You would also be the number one person to calm her down. Sucks you couldn’t attend her appointment with her (BlitzØ wouldn’t let you lol)
Overall you two are so cute and as much BlitzØ hates to admit it, you make Loona happy and love her almost as much as him. Moxxie is just glad that she doesn’t call him fat as much and Millie is already planning the wedding.
HOPE THIS IS OKAY!!! again i am not used to male readers but hopefully with time, i get better with it. i just realized that the readers gender never really played an important role into it ☹️☹️i didn't intend for that to happen im so sorry uhhhh i need to get used to this
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Hey! Hope you’re doing alright. I binged Welcome to Eden and I have thoughts I want to share but am very much mindful of spoilers so don’t read this until you finish/catch up! I’ll put my thoughts under the break:
*SPOILERS*
*SPOILERS*
*SPOILERS*
*SPOILERS*
*SPOILERS*
*SPOILERS*
Okay so! I really enjoyed this season it was fun. I loved the progression of Bel and Zoa’s relationship. I liked that Bel initiated a convo with Gabi after she and Zoa fought, and Gabi picked up that Bel liked Zoa “a lot.” I’m always wary of f/f couples on television saying I love you too soon because I find it really jarring and I respect that they didn’t have Bel say that explicitly, but honestly after everything they’ve been through together I also wouldn’t mind if they did have her say I love you.
Also — the way that there were multiple moments where Zoa was with Bel but would leave to speak with Gabi and tell Gabi that she is the most important thing in the world to Zoa AND there were a couple of scenes where Gabi made digs at Bel or suggested Zoa was wrong for wanting to rebel … then in the finale Zoa has the opportunity to leave Bel to die and live with Gabi, but she chooses to stay with Bel and die together.
Lowkey I’m wondering about the racial politics of the show, like the way the majority of the main and/or sympathetic characters are white or at least white passing (Zoa, Charly, the kid, Mayka, Ibón, Eloy, África, Gabi … also Bel? Her actress is Spanish) and the characters of color, especially the Black characters, are discarded or unsympathetic (Eva, Saúl, Nico … man Nico is a mess and all over the place character-wise). This didn’t particularly bother me while I was watching, but it’s worth thinking about what’s implied even unintentionally. I appreciate the amount of queer representation in the show, truly off the charts and beyond my expectations, but idk…u know? Anyway thank you for reading this if you did, excited to hear your thoughts on the show :)
Hey! Thanks so much for the spoiler warning, I hadn't finished by the time I got this and was able to stop reading ahead in plenty of time.
Yeah, I was honestly shocked at the treatment Zoa and Bel got, especially since the trailer had almost no Bel or Bel with Zoa, and a romantic-seeming scene with Nico and Zoa. Given history, people could be forgiven for thinking s2 would return to a love triangle, or worse, kill off Bel. We couldn't have been more wrong.
The show didn't even do the kind of drama or distancing/sidelining that often happens in a second season, where Zoa would get frustrated with Bel's single-mindedness or choose Gabi over her. It was just them together, somehow both the established, grounded couple watching over everyone but also with tentative little romantic moments just for themselves.
I didn't even make that connection between Gabi accusing Zoa of being influenced by Bel and forcing her to reiterate that Gabi was Zoa's biggest priority, but then at the end Zoa choosing to die with Bel over living with Gabi, like, damn.
They just had so many scenes, like, I don't even know where to begin giffing. And along with the m/m and trans rep, the rebels were the queerest group on the island. :P Though I was super sad to lose my cartoon boy brought to life, Ibon, would much rather have lost Orson who in his final act of character development could have sacrificed himself for the others. >_>
I definitely know what you mean about race, I remember it last season when Claudia was just sacrificed like that and Nico was treated like a selfish moron, and then this season it wasn't much better, Nico straight up dying, Saul also dying, Eva being treated as an outsider the whole time. I'm just glad she survived it all and wasn't the traitor (which, dammit, Gabi, so annoying, her and Africa were by far the biggest disappointments). And when you're considering something like this, it is a combination of screentime, complexity, rootability, agency, I didn't love that Eva was one of the only women who went totally topless, along with Som, who is Asian but one of the darker skinned characters on the show. Which, lol, that's an even more nuanced discussion, like, it shouldn't be a matter of shame or poor treatment, but in reality, it can be, and if there's an imbalance, it does stand out. None of these are dealbreakers, but for sure, I definitely was racking up these observations.
I'm curious if it gets another season. I'd be okay if it doesn't, since it could very well be read as a full rescue and resolution of the story, though I'm sure the writers have something much more convoluted planned. :o
#replies#femslash related stuff#sent on 20230422#Anonymous#5#welcome to eden#welcome to eden spoilers#zoabel#bienvenidos a edén#bienvenidos a edén spoilers
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Some of these football dicks make their girlfriends come and watch them practice as if it’s interesting.. – Beckett Guerrero
A NOTE FROM ADMIN B: Oooooh I am LOVING all these fresh faces we’re seeing on the dash lately!! Thank you Ari for bringing us a long awaited member of The Craft!!!
OOC NAME/ALIAS, PREFERRED PRONOUNS, AGE & TIMEZONE: Ari, they/them 28, EST
DESIRED CHARACTER: Beckett Guerrero
HOW ACTIVE WILL YOU BE? 7.5 u know how it beee
DESCRIBE THE CHARACTER:
It feels accurate to say that Beckett knows a lot more about who he isn’t than who he is. Most of his life he’s been focused on re-creating himself into his own perfect vision. As much as he struggled with realizing he was transgender, that struggle doubled in size the day he caught on fire. To feel both not at home in his body and overall ugly has done a type of damage to his psyche that not even therapy could undo. But the attention and desire of someone he also desires has been enough to start to chip away at the thick wall that his insecurity and self-loathing has created.
For all of their problems, Beckett enjoyed Nadine’s attention deep down. Not only because she was giving him exactly what he wanted but because deep down the three woman who had imposed themselves on his life had shown him that maybe being lonely wasn’t the only way to live. Maybe he could have everything he dreamed of. Maybe there were people who actually wanted to be in his company. But Beckett is never at peace with maybe.
SAMPLE WRITING:
If Beckett’s parents were home right now they might have thought their child had been body snatched. If only because the sounds from his room had made it sound like he was actually someone who was happy. And he was. Today he was because he would be finally going on a date with Reed. He had planned it all out. Enough balance to be romantic while not being overwhelming. He’d pick up flowers he had already pre-ordered on the way and he had woken up feeling good about himself. Maybe, just maybe the universe was smiling on him this once.
So he put some music on as he got ready, something more upbeat than his Phoebe Bridgers and Del Water Gap playlist for once. he was even dancing around his room and Beckett couldn’t remember the last time he danced. the last time he had felt hope. That was what Reed made him feel, a hope that he could be a boy experiencing love just like every other normal person. Which was a revelation all on it’s own since Beckett had never considered himself someone who wanted to be normal. But his endless pursuit of perfection had made that clear.
But today he wasn’t thinking about that as he put on the outfit he had been going back and forth on all week. He faltered as he picked up a cologne that Nadine had given him for his birthday this year. It was expensive and heavy and of course it was the perfect scent for him. He loved it in an irresistible way and it was just like Nadine to find such a sickeningly perfect present. One that would force him to think about her every time he used it. A few quick sprays and he pushed it away along with the thoughts of her. This night wasn’t about Nadine and if this night went well, there would be no more nights that were about Nadine.
Of course all of that was wishful thinking as he finally finished up and reached for his keys at the same time as his phone went off with a text from Reed. His stomach dropped as soon as he read it and he was sure he skipped some steps as he rushed down to his car to make sure Reed didn’t get to Nadine’s before him. All he could think of as he drove was of how foolish he was. How foolish he was to ever think that their lives could ever be about something other than Nadine.
ANYTHING ELSE: 1985
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in which tasu nearly throws hands but decides his best friend is more important
oc x canon content jumpscare
takes place in chapter 2 of danganronpa 2, none of the deaths of that chapter are discussed but there’s still spoilers so just,,,,, proceed w caution if u still wanna read
words: somehow 2041. i haven’t written this much in god knows how long. i think nagito possessed me or something.
fluff, no romantic stuff as this takes place before they confess, anndddd i think that’s it. enjoy 👍
tasu yawned, stretching his arms as he walked to the hotel. the past few days had been… eventful, to put it lightly. he was more emotionally drained than he had ever been before, and it made him physically tired in turn. the only thing keeping him motivated was the thought of seeing his new friends every morning at breakfast (though even that wasn’t entirely guaranteed because of the killing game). still, he persisted, doing his best to remain positive in hopes of encouraging everyone else.
as he reached the top of the stairs and entered the hotel’s restaurant, he waved brightly to everyone present. he found himself scanning the room for akane, then nekomaru, and finally… huh. nagito was missing. tasu quickly dismissed any sudden negative ideas as to why that might be, and took a seat with akane.
“mornin’, suzuki!” she grinned, ruffling his hair. “didja sleep well?”
“mhm,” tasu replied, fixing his hair after playfully shoving her away. “and you?”
“like a rock!” akane chuckled, taking a large bite out of an apple she was holding.
nekomaru patted tasu firmly on the back, sitting on the other side of him.
“good morning!” nekomaru’s voice carried even as he spoke at a normal volume.
tasu felt immediately more at ease as he was surrounded by his favorite people. he cast one more look around, hoping to see nagito. unfortunately, the other was nowhere to be seen, and tasu sighed.
“hm? what’s up, suzuki?” akane asked through a mouthful of food.
tasu picked up a pear from the fruit bowl in the center of the table. “just waiting for komaeda. have you seen him this morning?”
akane shook her head, replying, “nuh-uh. why does it matter? it’s too early to deal with that creep.”
“don’t say that!” tasu huffed. “nidai, what about you?”
“UHHH…. nope! haven’t seen komaeda at all today!” nekomaru chuckled anxiously.
tasu’s heart dropped into his stomach at the obvious lie. maybe he was still paranoid from a few nights ago when byakuya had been killed, because nekomaru would never do something so violent, but he couldn’t help the sense of dread that kept an icy fist around his chest.
“NIDAI!” a sudden shrill voice rang out. “keep your mouth shut, stupid! you’re so bad at lyi— OH GOD.”
“souda, have you seen komaeda?” tasu asked, an unusual coldness in his tone.
kazuichi froze up, glancing around frantically.
“uh— well— what does it matter to you anyway, huh? you got some weird morals as well?!”
tasu narrowed his eyes, finishing his pear and standing up.
“you avoided the question. you know something. tell me.”
kazuichi met tasu’s gaze briefly before breaking and slumping over with defeat.
“alright, fine. when did you get so scary…? since you’re so obsessed with finding out where komaeda is, and nidai has already blown our cover… we tied him up in the old building,” kazuichi replied, shrinking under tasu’s stare.
even akane flinched as tasu yelped out, “you what?!”
nekomaru inched away from tasu as he continued. “why? you know what, actually, don’t answer that. i know why. and you just left him there? alone?”
“monomi is—“
tasu glared at kazuichi.
“so, let me get this straight. you tied up komaeda in the old building, the place where togami died, and just left him there to starve? if you two really think nagito is the monster here, reconsider.”
he pushed in his chair and considered the food spread out on the table before picking up a slice of toast and an orange. he wrapped them in a napkin and turned to leave.
“where’re you going?” akane asked.
tasu sighed, casting another pointed glance towards nekomaru and kazuichi.
“i’m going to take care of komaeda.”
he was met only with silence before he turned and stormed out, taking the stairs that led outside. his footsteps were heavier than usual as he made his way to the old building, almost stomping there.
tasu marched through the door, ignoring monomi’s panicked babbling from outside. as he opened the door to the dining hall, he huffed, finally seeing what kazuichi and nekomaru had done for himself.
“oh, suzuki,” nagito laughed, gazing up at him from the floor. “i wasn’t expecting to see you when i heard such angry-sounding footsteps. what has you so worked up?”
tasu softened, walking over to nagito and studying the chain wrapped around his arms. he set the food on a table before sitting next to him with his legs crossed.
“i can’t believe they did this to you…” he sighed. “poor thing.”
nagito stiffened as tasu pulled him upwards, helping him sit upright.
“suzuki…? what are you—?”
“i’m untying you,” tasu replied. “nidai and souda can suck it up if they get pressed about it, i don’t care.”
the large chain jangled as tasu worked it out of the messy, haphazard knot wrapped around nagito’s arms.
“such a cold remark from you, suzuki,” nagito laughed. “are you really so upset over someone like me being treated the way they deserve…?”
“you don’t deserve this, no one deserves this, — shoot.” tasu’s hand slipped as he pulled at a stubborn part of the knot. he tugged at the oddly wrapped link again, determined to break it either by unraveling the chain from nagito or breaking the chain itself.
nagito paused, looking back at tasu with wide eyes. “you really… want to help me?”
“of course i do,” tasu replied. “sure, what happened the other day was kind of scary and confusing, but definitely not worth tying you up and leaving you to starve.”
nagito turned away, chuckling sheepishly. “… i’m sorry about that, by the way. i don’t know what came over me when i said all that. i had no intent to worry anyone. it’s just… i think the stress of everything is getting to me and clouding my mind a little.”
tasu let out a small ‘yes!’ as he finally worked through the toughest part of the knot.
“that’s fair, i guess. it’s not exactly the most normal of reactions, but honestly it’s not the most wild thing i’ve seen so far,” he replied.
nagito chuckled. “forgive me for being so blunt, but you’re an odd one, suzuki. why is it that you are so endlessly kind to me, even after everyone else started hating me? i knew you were sweet, but to go so far as to take care of me, especially now…”
tasu listened quietly as he studied the chain, trying to decide where to try unraveling next.
“well, for one, you haven’t done anything to harm anyone out of malice. you did it for — how did you put it? — the sake of being a ‘stepping stone for hope’? i’m not sure i quite get it myself, but i don’t think you’re evil at all. you just sort of… have an odd way of approaching things. and like you said, you didn’t mean any of what you said the other night. it might be naive of me, but i trust you.”
nagito hummed, smiling softly. “that’s nice to know, i guess. leave it to someone as endlessly kind as you to be the only remaining person to care about me.”
he shifted a little, sighing.
“apologies for asking so suddenly, but my legs are starting to fall asleep like this…”
“i’m almost done, but if you want you can lean against me while i finish up.” tasu moved back to adjust his own sitting position.
nagito looked back again, an almost shocked look in his eyes. “ah— really? oh, suzuki, i could never— i wouldn’t want to stain such a brilliant ultimate like you with my filth…”
“komaeda, we’ve been over this,” tasu smiled exasperatedly. “you aren’t filthy, you aren’t trash, and you aren’t inferior. you can lean on me, i wouldn’t have offered if i didn’t want you to.”
he watched as nagito pondered for a moment before inching back and leaning gingerly against tasu, straightening his still-bound legs and stretching them out as much as he could.
“see? doesn’t that feel much better?” tasu smiled, reaching back down to untangle the rest of the chain.
after a moment, the rest of the chain finally clattered onto the floor, and nagito stretched his arms with a satisfied groan. he sat still for a moment, enjoying the softness of tasu’s shoulder as he — he was still leaning on tasu. nagito sat up, apologizing profusely.
“oh my goodness, suzuki, i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean—“
“hey, hey,” tasu interjected gently. “it’s okay. i told you i don’t mind.”
the look on nagito’s face was one that tasu could only describe as awe.
“suzuki, i’m truly far too lucky to be friends with someone as sweet as you… i should be careful these next few days. since i had the fortune of meeting you, that might mean something terrible is going to happen to me soon, ahaha!”
tasu scooted around to sit in front of nagito. he looked at the rope binding nagito’s legs and sighed. the same plentiful, hurried knots were tied in random places. tasu should really be thankful, he thought briefly, but just because nekomaru and kazuichi weren’t the ultimate knot-tyers didn’t mean his job was any easier.
“i would ask what they did to you before they brought you here, but maybe it’s best that i don’t. i won’t commit a murder or anything, but if they hurt you i’d have to beat them up for it.”
nagito snorted. “suzuki, my goodness. and i was just praising you for being so sweet…”
tasu glanced up at the other as he pulled apart the knots around nagito’s legs. “what? they need to know that someone will defend you if they try anything again.”
“you…” nagito blinked, stunned. “you would? really? i’ve… never had someone offer to do something like that before. thank you, suzuki.”
tasu beamed, turning back to the rope. “you’re welcome, komaeda.”
after a moment or two, the rope was almost completely untied. tasu sighed, happy to almost be done.
“oh! before i forget,” he rose up onto his knees to get the food down from the table. “here.”
nagito unwrapped the toast and orange, smiling softly.
“suzuki, you really didn’t have to…” he chuckled. “i could have gotten something from the restaurant once you got done untying me.”
“well, i figured i would bring some food for you since nidai and souda just decided to leave you here with nothing.” tasu’s tone was briefly cold again before he added, “i remembered you don’t like sweet things, so i just kind of guessed. hope what i got is okay with you.”
he looked up from the rope again to see nagito tearing up and shaking a little.
“oh, suzuki…” he mumbled, sniffling a little. “this is so embarrassing, please forgive me, but… you’ve brought me so much hope today, i don’t know how i could ever begin to repay you.”
tasu worked out the last knot and set the rope off to the side. he moved back again, sitting beside nagito.
“you don’t have to repay me, silly. i just want to keep you safe. it would totally suck if i just let someone mistreat my favorite person here.”
nagito gasped, looking over at tasu with wide eyes. “i’m… your favorite?! surely i misheard or misunderstood, or somethi—“
tasu pulled him into a gentle hug.
“you’re my favorite person, komaeda.”
he panicked slightly as nagito whimpered, wiping away his tears.
“oh— i— i didn’t mean to make you upset— i didn’t know—“
“suzuki, i can’t believe i’m your favorite. i’ve never been anyone’s favorite. i… i don’t know what to say… um— thank you. i guess.”
tasu softened, patting nagito’s shoulder.
“you’re welcome.”
#fable writes 💫#oc x canon#sdr2#danganronpa oc x canon#tasu suzuki#nagito komaeda#only tagging the main focuses but akane nekomaru and kazuichi are also briefly in here 👍
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Omgggg just finished reading c&f and wow🤭 I’m usually not into period pieces, idk maybe it’s the disconnect, but this was so good omg
The scene where y/n and jk are listening to the little boy recite his poem and she’s just gushing about how much she enjoys and appreciates the kids was so cute🥲
Ik the premise of their relationship is being rivals, but are we going to dig in deeper to more specific issues bc ik jk hinted at y/n to be the one to find his dad? (I really hope I’m not pulling this out of my ass) and the overall bullying they did to each other, but I wonder if there was more bigger arguments between them
The end💔💔💔💔 ik it’s the hopeless romantic in me, but I also think there was a small truth to what jk was agreeing to w his uncle, I feel like maybe he first planned to get w y/n to use her, but spending more time w her made him actually appreciate their friendship, but why can’t he just admit he actually liked her??(if he actually does)
Also the cmi snippet😵💫😵💫😵💫 the angst is definitely angsting
But it was such a fun read thank u
-⭐️
omg i think that's the 3rd ask in succession that i'm answering that starts with "i'm not usually into royal aus but..." lol i love you all, thank you so much for giving my fic a chance 😭
yes, i added the entire poetry scene in the very last moment; it wasn't planned, so i'm happy you enjoyed the final addition 🥺 and i like your hopelessly romantic theory! it's very possible that he changed his mind as he got to know her. his thoughts are a puzzle, and he better explain them to her.
regarding your question about their relationship – in my head, their dislike for each other did start bc of the bullying, but even before that, it was the fact that jk connected his father's death too much with oc. it made despising her easier, bc the memory still hurt(s). but now that all that shit went down at the end of ch1, their rivalry has truly started, bc oc is pissed pissed. :') there were def huge past arguments between them, but i'll see if i'll get into them in the next chapters!
and no no, oc didn't find his dad, he died due to something natural, in his home! she found jk, after his dad's death. thank you for reading, star, it means a lot that you came by and told me all that 🤍
#tw death#lmao oh god yes the cmi snippet 😭 an entire shitshow this chapter fr#notes for rid 🌹#⭐️ anon#fic: candles & flames#fic: colour me in
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No Need to Rush
Request: can u pls do a spencer x bau fem! reader where she’s dyslexic but also a genius like spencer and like someone maybe another member of the team/unsub makes a comment abt her being stupid. and she gets really upset abt it. then later spencer comforts her and they have really romantic but rough sex. where he’s just like reassuring her of how smart and beautiful she is.
A/N: Thanks for the request, anon! Sorry this took a lil long to complete but I wanted to make sure I wrote this accurately and incorporate everything you wanted into it! Please let me know if you don’t feel as if this representation of dyslexia sits right with you and I will edit it no problem. This fic also concludes smut week (woo!) so I hope you enjoy 💓
Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!reader
Category: Smut
Content warning: Learning disorder degradation, mentions of violence, rough sex, fingering, penetrative sex, creampie, choking
Word count: 3.2k
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It was the dead of winter in Seattle, Washington and a sniper decided it was the best time to have some target practice. His target practice ended up taking three innocent people’s lives as they were living their day-to-day lives. To top off his killing spree, he wrote handwritten letters to the police department. His letters were rambles about him not stopping until he finds his final target.
Hotch had left Spencer and you to go over the letters to try and figure out any indications of who his final target could be. He had sent JJ and Morgan to interview the victim’s family members to try and see if there were any similar people in their circle. Having you four working diligently on piecing the entire story together could end up saving another person from meeting an early demise.
You loved working with Spencer because the two of you were always up to speed with your thinking process. Both of you analyzed each letter with care, making sure nothing was missed which could possibly be used as a clue in identifying who this person and who their real target is.
You felt as if you were taking too long to go through every letter. There were about 20 of them and his incoherent rambles were giving you a hard time efficiently reading them. You had 10 to go through and Spencer was already finished and writing on the whiteboard clues he found in the letters. You were still on your seventh letter, dissecting and writing down what you thought was important. You couldn’t help feeling bad you were taking a long time.
“I’m sorry,” you said.
Spencer looked back at you with a questionable expression. “For what?”
“For taking forever. I’m taking up time reading these letters when I should be brainstorming with you.”
“Y/N, you’re not slowing down the process. If anything you taking your time can identify some major evidence.”
“Yeah, but you could do it within two minutes.”
“Doesn’t mean anything. Valuable information is valuable information no matter how long it takes you to find it. Besides you’re the smartest person I know, so nothing will get past you.”
“Doesn’t feel like it sometimes.”
“I’m here to remind you it’s all the time. I’ll be here to remind you every day if you ever doubt yourself.”
You smiled as you felt your worries drifting away. You were always self-conscious about having dyslexia. Growing up with it was the hardest part of your early years because people would see your extraordinary capabilities but questioned them whenever you had to read or spending longer than usual completing tasks. It was embarrassing for you. Even in adulthood you felt anxious about letting people know you were dyslexic because you were worried they wouldn’t see you as a genius.
When you let the members of the team know you were dyslexic, they accepted you as you were. It made you feel welcomed and understood for once in the longest while. It was especially nice hearing Spencer say you were a genius regardless of your dyslexia. You felt as if he understood you the most out of everyone because he had a rough time growing up as a child prodigy.
As you continued to read through the letter you were on, something caught your eye. You looked up at the whiteboard to see what Spencer had written. He had written about sunsets, trees and a park. He had concluded it was about Kerry Park in Seattle and speculated the unsub could possibly live near there. What you had read though made you think of a different possibility.
“Kelly Park,” you said aloud.
Spencer turned to you. “Kelly Park?”
Before you could explain your findings, Hotch and detective Royce entered the room. You were happy they did, so you could explain to everyone your theory as to who the unsays actual target is.
“Find any useful information we can put towards finding the unsub?” Hotch asked.
You nodded. “Yes. Kelly Park’s the end goal.”
“Kelly Park? You mean Kerry Park by West Highland,” detective Royce said.
“No, I mean, yes, but the unsub slipped up…uh no, they-uh- replaced Kelly with Kerry because there is a Kelly Park who lives nearby,” you explained.
“Wait, so is it Kerry or Kelly the name of the person who lives nearby Kerry’s Park?” Hotch asked.
“Sorry, sir. It’s Kelly Park who lives nearby Kerry’s Park.”
“How can you even speculate that?” Detective Royce asked.
“Because it’s in this letter. He says, ‘I spend my days looking at Kelly Park and wondering when I’d be brave enough to leave. I don’t think I am but one day I’ll be free,’” you said while holding it up.
Detective Royce took it from your hand to take a closer look. He furrowed his eyebrows as he read. He looked back up at you questionably.
“Maybe he’s dyslexic. Only an idiot would write Kelly instead of Kerry when referring to Kerry Park,” he said.
You clenched your jaw as he said his ignorant statement. You knew the unsub wasn’t dyslexic and you had a clue right infant of you. You snatched the letter away from his hands as you took a deep breath to calm yourself down.
“I’m actually dyslexic myself and I can tell you right now this unsub is not,” you said.
“I should have known from the time you mixed up Kerry and Kelly in your explanation. For a genius you sure don’t talk like one,” he said.
You felt your eyes stinging from the tears which were trying to breakthrough. What he said was familiar to everything you heard from your childhood. It was degrading to hear it when you knew you were on to something. Especially evidence which could potentially save someone.
“Don’t talk to one of my agents with such disrespect, Royce. My team and I would never slander your team, so we expect the same courtesy back,” Hotch said.
“Hotchner, you can’t seriously believe this is a connection,” detective Royce said.
“Who said it couldn’t be?” Spencer said.
“Common sense. He’s trying to mess up his words on purpose to take us off track from what really matters,” detective Royce said.
“Well, I’m not taking that risk. While you stand there with your arro…ignorance, I’ll actually go and do something about this piece of evidence,” you said as you walked by him to exit the room.
You could feel your heart drop with every step you took. Before you called Garcia you took a trip to the washroom. You went into a stall and made sure it was locked before you let your tears escape. You hadn’t felt humiliated for the longest time. The questionable look and harsh comments detective Royce spat at you made you feel sick. You knew you were smart and you knew you were onto evidence to save someone’s life. Yet you were doubted.
You wiped your tears away and took a few deep breaths before exiting the stall. You couldn’t let what he said distract you from finding Kelly Royce. You knew it would affect you for the rest of the day but you would sleep better at night knowing you saved a life. You didn’t want to be crying over two things tonight.
------
You sat on the edge of the hotel room bed. You had finished getting ready for the night and were ready to get into bed to forget about the day. You were happy you were right about Kelly Park and saved her hours before she was scheduled to go into the heart of Seattle for an appointment. Her ex-boyfriend, Michael Richards, had plotted for months on how to make her death look like an accident. Too bad his guilty conscience and ego didn’t mix well and he compulsively wrote down his thoughts.
It bothered you immensely detective Royce still didn’t give you your flowers at the end of everything. You understood not everyone would apologize for their ignorance and you should be used to it by now. However, you couldn’t help but think about it over and over.
You heard a few light knocks on your hotel room door. You looked at the clock. It was 11 p.m. You got up to go peek through the peephole to see who was trying to get your attention this time of night. You looked through the peephole and saw Spencer standing outside. You opened the door. As you opened it he looked at you with a smile but you could see the concern in his eyes.
“What brings you to this part of town so late?” You asked.
“I want to make sure you’re okay before you go to bed. I know how frustrating today was for you and I don’t want you going to bed with doubt on your mind,” he explained.
You stepped aside and gestured him to come inside your hotel room. You were happy he had stopped by. He was always the first one to give you words of encouragement and a reason to put your doubts aside. You closed the door and made your way over to the edge of the bed to sit. You patted the spot next to you for him to sit down. He took the seat next to you, sitting closer to you than expected. You two were shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh. It was comforting to you for him to be so close.
“You know, if it wasn’t for you pointing out Kelly Park in his letter, she might not be alive,” he said.
“I know and I’m glad it worked out in the end. I just…”
You trailed off as a wave of doubt overthrew your thought process. You started to think if you had been wrong, if it were just your dyslexia getting the best of you, an innocent life could have been taken. A tear slipped from your right eye. You quickly wiped it away before Spencer saw. He must have seen it escape because he placed his hand on your thigh and squeezed it.
“You have a beautiful mind, Y/N,” he assured you.
“It doesn’t translate properly when I say the wrong words, read slower than average, mix up-”
“And all that doesn’t make a difference to how you save lives every day. If detective Royce wasn’t so prideful he would have thanked you properly for bringing to light what they brushed off,” he said.
You chuckled. “Yeah, he is a prideful idiot.”
“Exactly, so don’t let him or other doubters get to you. I believe in you wholeheartedly and always will. The team does as well, so we’ll always back you up.”
You smiled brightly at him as you felt your deep sadness fade away. He had such a way with words you felt as if you could rule the world solely based on his encouragement. You opened up your arms and embraced him in a hug. He wrapped his arms around the small of your back. He rubbed your back gently as you placed your head comfortably in the crook of his neck.
“I love how you’re always here for me, Spence,” you whispered into his neck.
“I’ll always be here to remind you of your worth and beauty,” he said.
You leaned up from his neck and faced him straight on. Your faces were just an inch away from each other as you lost yourself in his eyes. You softly smiled and found yourself saying things before your brain could process them.
“I could just kiss you right now,” you blurted out.
“Why don’t you?” He asked.
You were now speechless as you weren’t expecting him to be open to the idea. Perhaps he did find more than just your mind to be beautiful. One of his hands moved from your back and found its way to the side of your face. He moved your face closer to his and your lips finally met each other. He gently eased his tongue into your mouth before he dived fully into your mouth.
You placed your hands on his chest. You pulled on his shirt to bring him forward even more to minimize the space between you two. He moved his hands and placed them both on your hip. He brought you onto his lap without breaking your kiss. You glued your hands to his face to prevent him from even considering moving away from you. His hands squeezed before slipping his hands down your pyjama pants.
You didn’t give it a second thought and raised yourself off his hips so he could pull your pants off along with your underwear. He leaned away from your lips as he stared at you with a deep yearning in his eyes. He caressed his hands up your thighs, to your hips and then under your shirt. He pulled your shirt off to reveal your bare breasts.
“I hope you like what you see,” you said.
He smiled. “Of course. You’re beautiful beyond words.”
He then placed your right nipple in his mouth and swirled his tongue around your nipple. You moaned loudly as his tongue made your nipple feel a stimulation you never thought they could feel. He freed your nipple from his mouth as he quietly hushed you.
“We can’t let anyone know where in the same room together,” he whispered.
“I don’t care,” you said as you desperately leaned into him to steal another kiss.
He kissed you back. You held his head in place so he wouldn’t dare move away from you again. You soon felt his thumb circling around your clit. It wasn’t enough to make you stop kissing him but it made you release endless moans into his mouth. You then felt him shove two fingers into you which made you stop kissing him and set your moans free into the atmosphere. He pumped his fingers in and out of you so quickly you couldn’t find the time to catch your breath.
“If you can’t handle my fingers, how do you expect to handle my dick, beautiful?” He asked.
“I…I can,” you stammered.
He smiled. “I haven’t doubted you yet, have I??”
He took his fingers out of you and went to work on undoing his pants. You stared down at his huge bulge as he slipped down his pants and then his underwear. Your eyes widened as you saw his dick. He looked at you to see the amazement in your eyes. He softly chuckled as he grabbed your ass and squeezed it tight as he brought you forward to position you.
“Sit down on it and try not to be too loud,” he demanded.
You did what he asked and lowered yourself onto his dick. The further you went beyond the tip the more your mouth went agape. You could barely even get to the base without feeling as if his dick was already completely inside of you. He did you the favour and forced you all the way down on his dick. You let out a shriek which was cut short by him sticking his two fingers coated in your juices inside your mouth.
“Bounce on it and don’t make a sound. Understand?” He asked.
He nodded your head ‘yes’ for you and you started bouncing on his dick. You could feel your legs quaking as you engulfed his dick in and out of your repeatedly. Once you established a rhythm, you rolled your eyes to the back of your head and enjoyed every inch of his dick stretching your walls.
“How about we pick up the pace?” He asked.
Your eyes shot open as he bucked his hips up and disrupted your rhythm with his new set motion. You moaned heavily around his fingers as his dick kept ramming into you with no mercy. He used his other hand and squeezed your left breast. He licked your breasts before gently biting your nipple.
“Fuck,” you moaned.
“I only ever treat extraordinary women like this,” he said.
“Really?” You moaned.
He lifted you off his dick and laid you on the bed. He gently wrapped his large hands around your throat as he positioned himself on top of you. You could feel your adrenaline pumping as he lowered his face down to yours and kissed you softly on your lips before he stared into your eyes.
“You’re the only extraordinary woman I know,” he said.
“Fuck me like an extraordinary woman,” you said.
He obliged and rammed his dick into you with urgency. You moaned repeatedly as you took in every inch of his dick inside of you. He kissed along your jawline before reaching your ear.
“Who gets fucked like this?” He asked.
“Extraordinary women,” you whimpered.
“And what are you?” He asked.
“An extraordinary woman,” you whimpered.
As he continued to fuck some sense into you, he whispered nothing but the sweetest things in your ear. He called you beautiful, brilliant, amazing and his favourite, extraordinary. It felt nice hearing those things being repeated over and over in your ear especially by him. His dick definitely enforced the message as with every word he said to you, his motion would intensify. You wrapped your legs around him as he continued to fuck you.
“Where do you want me to cum, beautiful?” He asked.
“Inside of me,” you moaned.
He tightened the grip around your neck. “Louder.”
“Inside of me,” you shrieked.
“Look at me while I cum inside of you,” he demanded.
He grabbed your face to keep you still so your eyes were focused on him the whole time. He bit his bottom lip as he stared at your worn-out expression as he fucked you. He slowly stopped going at his rapid pace and soon stopped. You felt his cum fill your insides and you let out a soft moan at the feeling.
He let go of your neck and eased up from on top of you. You felt him stick two fingers in you and he pulled them out quickly. He placed his cum covered fingers on your lips. You opened your mouth and licked the cum dripping off his fingers.
“I don’t ever want you to doubt yourself again. You’re fucking amazing,” he said.
You leaned up on your elbows and smiled. “You are too.”
“Since I can’t stay in your room for the night without raising suspicions in the morning, how about we do something when we get back home and you can stay the night at my place? You know, for extra reassurance,” he said with a smile.
You giggled. “I’d love that.”
He leaned into you and gave you another big kiss on the lips. As he parted from your lips he stared at you with softer eyes from before and brushed your hair back.
“Maybe I’ll stay for a few more minutes. You like cuddles?” He asked.
“I love them,” you said.
He chuckled. “Great because I have a deep desire to cuddle you and make you know you’re treasured.”
You could have cried when he said that. Instead you wrapped your arms around his neck and pecked him on the lips. It wasn’t the best time to cry. You wanted to cherish the moment as a positive part of the day.
“Thank you, Spence. You’re extraordinary.”
“I guess that makes us a perfect match.”
“It sure does.”
—–
Tagged: @shadyladyperfection, @slutforthegubes, @pinkdiamond1016, @spencerreidsthings, @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto, @slutforsr @bxtchboy69, @fallinallinmendes
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a hero’s journey (m)
summary; jungkook and jisoo are the mightiest power couple. however, one drunken confession and that whole facade fades in an instant. you realize that maybe you need to break from your unvaried life for a bit and be the hero of your own love story
pairing; jungkook x editor!reader (f)
genre/warnings; best friend’s boyfriend au, slice of life, angst with a happy ending because im weak, pining pINING, everyone’s kind of a mess in their own sweet special way, alcohol use, mentions of ze weed, toxic relationships, mean friends, sex—slight dom!kook, food play, fingering, squirting, heavy use of the petname “pretty girl” bc im weak, strength kink, manhandling (oop!)
w.c; 22.2k
a/n; woof! my first fic for @goldenclosetnetwork 23 | jungkook’s birthday project! this goes out to all the closet romantics *ahem me cough* who doesn’t love pining between a cutie koo? a huge thank u for vivi @eerieedits for making this bbbBEAUTIFUL fic banner!
prompt used: “I should’ve known.”
if you like this fic pls consider giving a like n’share🥺💜🥺💜
It’s so easy to ignore the world.
Maybe it’s a young-adult thing, but it gets difficult fitting into the 9-to-5 and playing to satisfy bosses that don’t entirely understand your work ethic. Maybe it’s out of complacency, or fear. But you prefer to let the world flow around you and when you’re needed, you’ll act. You’ve reached that point in your life where you enjoy the little things, satisfied by an extra hour of overtime tacked onto your paycheck, a new fabric softener, or finding the perfectly squishy yoga mat.
You’ve finally started feeling comfortable in your shoes, uncaring as to whether you’re single or drowning in college debt, happy to live a relatively stable life. You’re grateful. There’s nothing more than you need than your happiness, and the love of your friends and family.
Namely, your best friend from college. Jisoo always joked about how you two “won the lottery” as dorm rooms in freshman year were determined by lottery. Pulling numbers 883 and 884, you and Jisoo snagged a corner spot of the dormitory, leaving you two utterly cramped but utterly close as the years went by. Six years later and it’s still the case, the two of you have grown into talented working ladies. While you may not be able to spend time with each other the same way you did in school, you still care for each other.
So when Jisoo shows up teary with a rumpled dress shirt and her hair waterfalling out of this morning’s bun, you break out the good alcohol and season three of Jane the Virgin for her.
After the liquid is warm in your cheeks and you’ve fawned enough over Micheal and Rafael’s love triangle, you let Jisoo ramble.
Jisoo has downed a whole bottle of soju on her own, while you’ve decided to have a tasteful glass of wine. You’d rather be tired wine drunk than wasted on soju.
“Jungkook and I had a fight,” she warbles, stuffing a handful of popcorn in her mouth, “it was totally stupid.”
Your eyes flash, picturing Jisoo and Jungkook in quarrel. They’re the epitome of an Instagram-worthy couple, beautiful and deathly charming to a fault. They show nothing but kindness and sweetness to you whenever you third-wheel, not a lick of anger between them when you’re all together.
So a fight is something surprising. Jisoo and Jungkook, J-squared are a power couple. Saying their names next to each other just emits a sort of energy you can only akin to famous small screen couples like Troy and Gabriella or Cory and Topanga. Jisoo’s Instagram is belly full with sweet selfies of them together, the doe-eyed man always looking completely sweet and gentle to the woman in his arms.
You never piqued Jungkook as the type of guy who would pick a “stupid fight.” And you know Jungkook pretty well.
Maybe a little too well.
“He surprised me during my lunch break and he caught me talking to Doyoung and he thought I was flirting,” Jisoo is practically eating her sweater, her head falling between her flannel pyjama sleeves.
“Doyoung, as in your ex Doyoung?” you raise a brow.
She groans, glaring at you in earnest. “Not you, too! I told him it was ridiculous to get jealous, and then I told him how jealous I get when he’s around girls and I don’t need to tell him that,” she rolls her eyes, twisting her feet petulantly in her fuzzy socks, “but then you know what he says back?”
You wince, swirling your wine glass, “That you’re crazy?”
“That I’m crazy, exactly! How did you—” her bloodshot eyes zero in on you, where you’ve tucked yourself in the corner of the couch. You swirl the ruby liquid in your cup, watching the feet web around the cheap crystal, “you think I’m crazy too, don’t you?”
You swallow your sigh, taking your time to finish your liquid in languid sips. Uneasy, you wish you could just sink through the couch in order to avoid this conversation. Jisoo’s heart is generally in the right direction, but in terms of emotions she has the kind of sensitivity that you prefer to ignore rather than tread. Jungkook is also equally emotional, but in a different way. He wears his heart on his sleeve, preferring to keep things straight as opposed to bottling it up like Jisoo.
However the theoretic bottle has reached it’s brim and Jisoo’s tipping, fast.
“I need to tell you something,” Jisoo is swerving, crawling like an infant on wobbly limbs to reach your corner of the couch. You almost stop her, tell her you can continue this conversation in the morning, it’s what you normally do when she drinks into a stupor. But tears are swimming in her glassy caramel eyes and she’s grappling onto your blanket, resting her head in her lap.
Her glossy russet strands curtain her head, so you don’t see the expression on her face when she says her next words:
“Jungkook told me he liked you senior year, and I told him you weren’t interested so I’d have a chance.”
Wow. So that explains everything.
The memories that you’ve tried so hard to brush away, the feelings you’ve tried so hard and continue to try to suppress, are laid out in front of you on a rusted platter. You could laugh, you could fling the rest of the Pinot Grigio down your throat like fresh water on a hot day and call it a night.
But instead you choke back your tears, and push her off because you’re hurt.
Deep down you know you would’ve been less upset if she told you the week after Jisoo and Jungkook called it official. If you knew from the beginning, it would’ve been easier on your heart. But it's been over two years since the past, thinking you’ve been needlessly, stupidly, delusional in thinking that you could’ve possibly had a chance with Jungkook.
Because it could’ve been you. And the reason why Jisoo and Jungkook fought today? Now you know it’s because deep down, they know they’re each other’s second choice.
You can’t even recall a time where Jungkook and Jisoo were together alone before they suddenly started dating, remembering how it used to be you and Jungkook before Jisoo found him one day in your shared apartment, utterly smitten. And now you know you weren’t delusional, because the feelings and the signals you two were exchanging in senior year was real.
But it doesn’t stop the fact that over two years have passed. Two years of a serious relationship between Jisoo and Jungkook, and two years of you secretly loving him from an arm’s length.
“You hate me,” Jisoo removes herself from you, voice trembling. The quick, dark part of your mind wants you to snap back of course I hate you. You’ve trusted Jisoo with your life all these years, she was the reason you got through college so gracefully, why you enjoyed the past seven years of your life.
But the sentiment is stained, and all you can do is deliver a tired smile and stand up. “I don’t hate you,” you say, “I’m just, really overwhelmed. I can’t lie and say that I’m not hurt,” your fingers clutch the fake crystal in your grasp, and for once you’re thankful you’re not strong enough to break it, “but you two love each other now and there’s no point in dwelling in the ‘what-ifs’.”
Now that you think about it, when was the last time Jisoo treated you like a best friend? You stare at your wine glass, thinking that the only time comfort is provided in this apartment is when Jisoo is upset, never when you’re upset.
Jisoo bobs her head senselessly, agreeing to every word. It’s pathetic, seeing her on her knees and her eyes glimmering with the hope that you’d forgive her straightaway. She must feel awful. That’s good.
You sigh, needing to be the bigger person. “You need to call Jungkook and tell him he has nothing to worry about though, after all, you two have history now. As much, if not more than Doyoung.”
“Right,” she replies, biting her lip. It suddenly feels like you're talking to a wall, carrying a conversation that's long ended.
“As for us,” you have half a mind to slam your glass on the counter, but instead you give it a heavy hand, letting slowly thump to the coffee table, “I don’t think I want to see you two, for a while.”
“Understandable.”
“And I don’t want to help you move out anymore,” I just want you gone.
“Right,” she whispers. The both of you will be completed with your lease in two months, and Jisoo and Jungkook have decided to move into Jungkook’s apartment. As for you, you haven’t decided as to whether you want to go through the whole process of moving out or looking for a new roommate.
“I’m sorry, I’m so so fucking sorry. I just was insecure as fuck in college and Jungkook was the first person I met in a long time that helped me feel more… like me.”
You want to say that she's right, she’s selfish. Her excuses aren’t palpable anymore. It’s too late. But if you were in Jisoo’s shoes, you’d think this apology is mere crumbs in comparison to your friendship. Why isn't she trying harder? Maybe because she doesn't know any better. After all, you never told her what you felt for him has morphed into love.
You don’t even have to ask as to whether she’ll tell Jungkook this or not, you now know honesty is not her style.
Jisoo doesn’t get a goodnight and a drunken kiss on the forehead like she usually does whenever you two have your late night talks. Instead, she seals herself to her own demise as you slam the door to your bedroom, effectively shutting each other out.
Work is a bitch the following morning. You’re like molasses, rolling out of bed despite the whole world and its mother telling you to go back to sleep.
Your feet are killing you as you make your walk to work, deciding to wear a pair of red-backed heels so you can stomp your way through your day.
Your Wusband (Work-Husband) Kim Namjoon matches you step-for-step, eyes glued to his phone as he catches you on the sidewalk. “Woman on a mission,” he comments absentmindedly, eyes glued to his phone as he follows the click of your shoes to your favorite cafe.
You spare a glance to your right hand-man, eyeing him appreciatively at his dedication to your morning routine. He’s your favorite co-worker, one who keeps you on time to your meetings and keeps you sane when you want to pull your hair out and dig out a coffin in your little cubicle. Namjoon’s long legs always seem to catch up with you during your workweek, whether it’s to get coffee in the morning or to talk shit about the latest gossip in the breakroom.
The bell of the glass door tinkles in your ears as you enter the café, relatively busy for the morning rush. While you wait in line, Namjoon ticks off your activity list for today.
“Meeting with Victoria is cancelled this morning,” you groan in relief, your supervisor Victoria always scares the shit out of you even when she’s not doing anything, “and just the usual proofing and whatever we have to do on the third floor today—can I get a large iced Americano with a pump of caramel? Thanks,” Namjoon moves aside so you can throw your order in as well, “and after work could you stop by Vernon’s? He took a sick day today and he has most of the manuscripts for the next issue.”
“Done and done,” you swipe your card in the dip, tucking your card away in your zippered pouch. “So like, do Americanos taste any good? Like it’s literally watered down espresso how do you pay to drink watered down tar—”
Jungkook’s at the pick-up counter. Jungkook’s at the pick-up counter swirling stray sugar crystals with his thumb and putting them in his napkin. What an impeccable display of Virgo energy, absentmindedly cleaning things he has no business doing. You scoff to yourself, recalling this morning that Jisoo got off the phone this morning with a stupid smile on her face. From the mirror image that Jungkook is excluding while he’s smiling on his cellphone like a smitten teenager, it seems like they’ve made up.
Nevertheless the hurt from last night is still fresh in your bones, and you force yourself to look away despite the fact that your morning pick-me-ups are almost done and are sitting tauntingly next to Jungkook’s elbow. Does he really need to learn against the counter like he owns it? Hair slightly damp from the shower, your heart beats a little faster at the fresh image.His biceps are straining against his charcoal lycra long sleeve, which is slightly damp from his morning run. Snap out of it! You are a mature, working woman who does not swoon in the view of bulgy muscles, especially when the man who owns those muscles is taken. Suddenly there’s a call of your name, and two cups and a paper bag are put in front of Jungkook.
He blinks, and you immediately pale when you see his eyes flit over your name surrounded by your favorite coral pink beverage. You feel struck as his head perks up at the name and he narrowly makes eye-contact—
“The fuck you’re doing,” Namjoon gripes, shoving your guava iced tea and croissant in your chest, “standing there like a moron as if we don’t got shit to do today.”
“Sorry,” you mumble, pulling at the brown paper bag to tug a piece of croissant between your teeth. The warmth, buttery pastry melts in your tastebuds. Ah, bread. Nothing like a little bit of carb to make you feel better.
You’re suddenly thankful for Namjoon’s gargantuan torso from effectively blocking you from Jungkook, hauling you out of the coffee shop like a petulant toddler. He doesn’t even give you a chance to catch another secret look at the object of your affections, making sure you’re back in your work game before you enter the building. Even if he doesn’t know it, Kim Namjoon’s always got your back.
Or in today’s case, breathing down your back.
Without your third editor and a hard deadline coming up by the end of the week, you and Namjoon are working in tandem throughout your 9-5 to complete drafts for Big Hit Publishings Arts & Media section. Both of you take turns to bring snacks and feed each other, feeling like reading zombies and slaves to your desk as you remind each other to breathe throughout the whole ordeal.
In complete honesty you don’t totally mind. Namjoon is a great partner-in-crime, and you both love what you do and do a damn good job at it. You call it “Buzzfeed but with Benefits.”
And at least for today, you could quell the feelings in your chest from last night and this morning. Sure, you’ve always been okay with the pining you’ve had for Jungkook. The feeling comes and goes whenever it pleases, and since yesterday you’ve been okay with just admiring from afar and being their third wheel.
However, now the feelings are acutely comparable to a third-degree burn with the help of Jisoo playing with fire.
With a quiet exhale, you concede in your gaming chair (because it’s just so damn comfy to keep in the office.) You’re an adult and not a petty child, and you will not let this piece of information derail you from your calm, stable lifestyle.
But honestly? Fuck Jisoo.
“Let’s go, buckaroo,” Namjoon logs off for you, the cinnamon-y smell of his shampoo effectively waking up your senses, “it’s already 5:30. And you said you’d stop by Vern’s to get his drafts.”
“Right,” you blurt, mindlessly putting away your papers and snack wrappers in your bag. You can’t believe the whole day’s gone already.
“Maybe you don’t even have to go to his apartment. Just text him or whatever.”
“Sounds good, thanks Joonie.”
“And y/n?” Namjoon gives you a look that causes you to force a terse smile, one you give one too many times to higher-ups at work. It isn’t to insult Namjoon by any means, but you guys are partners, the kind that tell way too much but hide just enough to remain close from afar. “Take it easy, will you?”
“I will,” you concede, stretching your arms, “I’m def overdue for a massage.”
“You don’t look sick,” you scoff, taking in the casual look your co-editor boasts as he leans casually against the doorway.
Hansol Vernon Chwe is the epitome of fluffy, decked out in large electric blue sweats and his russet brown hair curling softly above his porcelain skin. Not only is he your co-editor, but also a friend from college. Not to the extent that you were with Jisoo and Jungkook, but you operated in the same publishing club and managed to get partnering internships that made you the co-workers you are today. You see a little bit of that collegiate youth in Vernon right now, as he looks well-rested and fresh faced despite the fact he probably didn’t apply moisturizer or drink enough water today.
“But you kinda do,” he tilts his head, noting the heels that adorn your feet, “you’re wearing your sexy shoes today, that means something’s going on.”
“Gee, ever the ladies’ man,” you scoff, getting under his arm to invite yourself inside, “all I want is the completed interviews so we can pick out the best parts and draft them. Then I’ll be on my merry way.”
“Oh c’mon, we’ve been talking nothing but work this whole damn month. What happened to college when we’d talk hours about House Hunters, the safeness of library sex, that little furry thing in Lincoln Hall’s urinal? That was prime conversation.”
“Vern, I’m just here for the drafts,” you sit at his tiny kitchen table, glaring at his open laptop.
“You could’ve just emailed me,” he teases, twisting around his chair so he can rest his arms against the back. “But since you’re here, that means you probably wanna spill some tea but you’re too upset to admit it.”
“If I talk will you stop talking like that?”
“Yes. Give me the juicy details. Need some juicy juice.”
“Nevermind, get out of my apartment.”
“Uh, this is my apartment.”
“My point still stands,” you make another face at his outfit, “you look like the blueberry girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.”
Vernon purses his lips, scooting his chair closer to yours. He’s unfazed by your insult, far used to your defenses being higher up than Fort Knox. He looks up at you with his pretty lashes and deceivingly sweet caramel eyes, leaning his head along the backrest. “C’mon, tell me what’s bothering you,” he says in a gentle tone, coaxing you open.
He always knew how to do it for you, a little bit of sweet talking and that clear open gaze always reduced you to shreds in university. For him, it always took a good meal and some sci-fi movies to get him to talk. That must be why you’ve stayed friends for so long, you two knew how to connect.
Finally you crack, kicking off your shoes and hoping the sharp end doesn’t land on his cat. You hear Luna meow in protest but she’s got great reflexes. Unbuttoning the first three buttons of your stuffy blazer, you air out your cleavage, not caring about Vernon’s gaze. He’s seen worse.
“Remember Jeon Jungkook? Majored in graphic design.”
“Ah, yeah. The guy who like, lived at the gym and the dining hall? Haven’t seen him in a minute,” his eyes seem to glaze over the glory days, reminiscing in the simultaneous safetynet and stressor that made up your early twenties, “didn’t you guys hit it off real well? Like I remember you ditched like—three sci-fi nights to study with him. Who even studies at 1AM?”
“Yeah, we did,” and you can’t help but frown at as you remember the 7-Eleven runs, the utter warmth you felt when he would wipe a stray rice grain off your cheek, and how happy you felt to laugh so much with him it hurt, “but uh. Jisoo got drunk last night, because they had a fight. And she sort of admitted to me that she sabotaged our relationship and told Jungkook I wasn’t interested in him so they could start dating. Two years later and here we are.”
A pause. And then, “Want a beer?”
Vernon doesn’t even wait for a response when he gets up, bare feet slapping against the tile as he prepares some drinks and snacks for you.
“That’s pretty fucked up,” he practically sing-songs among the cacophony of popcorn pop-pop-popping in the microwave. The aroma of buttery kernels is all but a relief, reminding you of movie matinees, “and like, she knew you liked him! It was totally obvious, even if you didn’t spell it out for her.”
“Yeah,” you practically gushed to Jisoo those past two months, every waking moment with heart-eyes over the talented graphic designer Jeon Jungkook.
“I can’t believe Jisoo would keep that a secret from you for so long. Like, can you even trust her anymore?”
“Don’t know, was she even my bestfriend or was I just a good roommate to her?” you ask. Vernon is holding two beers in one hand and a bag of popcorn by the tips of his fingers in the other, careful to not burn himself. Opening the beer for you, you thank him and take a long swig.
“Well, good thing you’re still not in love with him or whatever. That would really suck. Unless—”
The look on your face says it all. You’re practically snotting into your bottle, your face tucked into your chin as you fight hard to stop the tears you’ve been suppressing for the last two years. “Don’t give me your pity,” you garble, turning away from the sad look Vernon gives you as he wraps his arms around you.
The tears are soft and gentle, flowing freely onto the cotton of Vernon’s arms as you let it out.
“‘M’not,” he concedes, rubbing his chin into your neck. He really is a lot like Luna, just like his cat ready to give you affection. “Let’s just, get some take-out and watch Hamilton or something.”
He lets you wear his matching sweat suit, lime green, as you order Thai food and rap along to Hamilton’s sick beats. Vernon does a better job keeping the flow, but you’re having a good time being his hype man as he parades around the living room like it’s 1776.
You go home that night around ten o’clock, feeling noticeably lighter and more relaxed. Be that it may you are still wearing the sweatpants and heels ensemble, you feel comforted.
The apartment is quiet when you walk in, not a single light turned on. You get a slice of the city lights bleeding in from the organza curtains, which allow you to kick off your heels and hobble to where you think the kitchen counter is.
Today is Jisoo’s day to cook dinner. You can tell she decided to cook today from the faint smell of Japanese curry and a small unwashed plate in the sink. Whenever it was someone’s turn, they usually left an extra bowl or serving in it for the other roommate when they got home. Unsurprisingly, you find no such thing on the counter or in the fridge.
You’re not upset, but rather decided. If Jisoo is going to let your friendship fade off with no intention of redeeming herself, then you should give her the same amount of energy back. You realize now the apology she gave last night wasn’t for you, but empty words to make her feel better and mend whatever toxicity she’s created in her own relationships. People like Namjoon and Vernon reminded you that you didn’t need to try and earn other people’s friendships.
It’s disappointing, but the feeling is all but too familiar.
If you could describe Jisoo as anything, it would be the color pink. Blushing, beautiful, beguiling pink. The way she flushes when Jungkook does an uncalled for grandiose gesture of romance, or when she wears a hot magenta number when she’s hosting a fashion show. Jisoo is the personification of La vie en rose, unbothered and unabashed.
But now all you see when you think of Jisoo? Nothing but red.
With that, you go in your room and untack the polaroid of you and Jisoo at the carnival last month, putting it away in your junk drawer to be forgotten.
“You’re running away.”
“Am not.”
“Are too,” that interjection comes from Vernon’s roommate, Jung Hoseok. He’s been watching you two bicker over work for the past hour while he plays GTA5, failing to get a good hard carry because you and Vernon are too busy discussing whatever finishing touches you need on your final draft.
“No one asked for your opinion, Jung,” you throw over your shoulder.
“I’m just saying,” Hoseok flicks his wrist and nabs a tank, “you never wanna go home, you eat all our food, and I found your pyjamas in my laundry basket.”
“You said your basket was the blue one,” you hiss under your breath.
“The navy blue one,” Vernon chirps unhelpfully, “not the electric blue one.”
Hoseok hits “save” on his campaign, disconnecting from his PS4 and stretching his lean limbs. “I mean, we could use a third roommate,” Hoseok jokes, getting up from the couch and grabbing a handful of M&Ms from your bowl, “you do make a bomb mac n’cheese.”
“Appreciated,” you relent when Hoseok presses a kiss to your cheek and tells Vernon he’ll be back late working, leaving you and Vernon alone in their shared apartment. When Hoseok is gone, you stare at the door, tilting your head, “y’know,” you remark, “Hoseok’s a cool guy, why did I never hang out with him in college?”
“Because he was stoned the majority of senior year and you just didn’t vibe with that crowd.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“But, you’re trying to change the subject,” Vernon carefully untacks your hands from your keyboard, knowing that you two have already been done with this month's issue and you’re now just mindlessly re-reading emails. “You’ve been here since Thursday, and now it’s Saturday. And as much as Hoseok and I like having you around so you can wake me up before we go to work, it’d be nice to throw me a bone and let me in on what you’re thinking right now.”
You frown, noting Vernon’s large hand covering your laptop closed. He isn’t going to remove his hand anytime soon unless you talk. “Jungkook’s helping Jisoo pack up her half of the apartment this weekend and I don’t want to be there,” you say, short and simple.
“You miss her?”
“Yeah,” you admit honestly. You hate this version of yourself, unable to even look at Jisoo nowadays despite the fact you’re under the same roof for the remainder of the month. It’s hard to believe that the roommate from six years ago finally got under your skin, cancelling out all the years of friendship because of one silly relationship, “sad she doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.”
“Did you talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” you reply despondently, “if she cared at all she would’ve to apologize again by now.”
Vernon figures, and his neutral expression doesn’t change as he leads you to the couch, brushing away Hoseok’s things so you two can get comfy. You busy yourself with the remote, exiting the PS4 homepage to scroll Netflix.
“And are you trying to get over him?”
“I mean, yeah,” you have been, but it’s a little hard when you’ve been contentedly pining. It was easy to keep your feelings bottled up because you originally thought Jisoo and Jungkook were meant to be for each other for the past two years. Now you're still pining but ruefully bitter at Jisoo.
“It’s not fair, y’know. She broke girl code, bros before hoes. Or is it chicks before dicks?” Vernon shakes his head at his lame attempt to get you to smile, which works anyway because Vernon’s silly and his sense of humor always gets you a little loose. “It’s your house too, you shouldn’t feel like you don’t belong there.”
“Well I was supposed to help her move out this weekend, and I’d prefer it if Jungkook didn’t know what was going on.”
“What?” your friend furrows his thick brows together, tucking his hands under his knees as he leans into your stubborn expression. “You’re gonna let Jungkook go on with his life not knowing that his relationship is based on a lie. That’s not cool. Even if you’re into him, he’s still your friend.”
Damn, when did Vernon get so good at giving advice? Truth is Vernon’s always been good at dishing advice, you’ve just been privy to what you wanted to reveal to him. The first year or so being together outside of college was always about work, saving each other’s asses to ensure you two got that promotion and aim higher and higher. Now that goal is out of the way, and what better way to reconnect over some shoddy romance straight out of a Degrassi special?
“I know,” you hug your knees tight to your chest, “when I’m ready, okay?”
“Okay,” he agrees, because he’s not a pusher, “do you know the best way to get over someone?”
“What?”
“The best way to get over someone, is to get under someone," he emphasizes that point with his hands, sliding one under the other with a wiggle of his thick brows.
You slap him on the shoulder, “Vern, you disgust me.”
“But it works!”
“I’m not going on Tinder to find a fuckbuddy.”
“You don’t have to look on Tinder or Tumble.”
“Bumble.”
“Whatever,” and his eyes flicker to his lap, where his pale fingertips turn red as he grips the edge of a throw pillow. "If you really don't wanna find someone, I can help."
Is Vernon offering himself up? He is offering to fuck your brains out in the hope that you could inevitably fuck out your interest in Jungkook? Your eyes flicker over to Vernon's form on the couch, who's tucked in the couch just as you are.
It’s true that you find Vernon attractive, and to some extent he definitely finds you attractive as well otherwise he wouldn’t have suggested the idea. It’s just that in college you never viewed him in that kind of light, probably because you were always so caught up in Jungkook. But tonight you can’t seem to ignore the eagerness hidden in Vernon’s carmine gaze, and how shiny and touchable his chocolate locks look under the setting sun.
“I don’t want our friendship to change,” you reply slowly, furrowing your brows. “I appreciate it, but I don’t know. It sounds like a temporary fix.”
“Can’t knock it if you don’t try it,” and out of curiosity, you don’t shy away when Vernon leans over to you, squeezing himself between the couch so he can tuck you in his arms. “I want to help you, but only if you want to.”
Maybe it’s the frustration you feel with Jisoo, Jungkook’s ignorance, or the fact that you haven’t felt physical pleasure in such a long time, but you soften into Vernon’s hold. He’s relaxed, nothing betraying him as he waits patiently for your answer. You’ve always admired how much he kept up his “cool as a cucumber” demeanor. He isn’t the type of guy to let life pass him by, but he’s the kind of person who walks along life, embracing the ups and downs like old friends. He’s the ocean waves that crest along the shore, pushing and pulling along without a care in the world.
He’s the textbook opposite of Jeon Jungkook, which is why you give Vernon the okay to lean in and press his lips against yours.
His kisses are soft, and he takes great care in making sure you’re comfortable with this new step in your relationship. It almost feels as if you’re cutting corners, and you can’t help but feel a little guilty that you revel in the way Vernon’s hands trail under your too-large t-shirt.
The pleasure you’ve ached for is there, bubbling low in the pit of your belly. It’s hard to get you out of your mind however, because this man isn’t the one you love. His kisses hold no power, only brief reprieve. Your heart doesn’t palpitate and your palms don’t sweat, you’re just languid.
You’re greedy and selfish, but you remind yourself that it’s okay to allow yourself of these freedoms, even for a little bit. As Vernon finds your sweet spot that has you rolling your hips against his, you find that temporary fix isn’t a bad start at all.
When you trudge back to your apartment that night after much reluctance, your face is still flushed and you think you smell a little too much like Vernon’s cologne. But the fact that still stands is that you're satiated, and you feel a tiny percent closer to moving on.
The television is glowing with a terrible reality TV show, angry brides upset over cake layers or whatever. Jungkook and Jisoo have fallen asleep on the couch, surrounded by half-empty boxes. Jungkook has his arm lazily over Jisoo, her petite body fitting perfectly between his chest and the crook of his neck.
You scoff when you spy Jisoo's bedazzled manicure digging into Jungkook's bicep, as if someone's going to take him away if she doesn't hold tight.
With stiff muscles you spare one look at Jungkook, ignoring the pang in your chest as you weave between boxes to turn the TV off. Barely an iota of your feelings have dissipated since your previous tryst with Vernon not an hour ago. Looking at Jungkook brings it all back, unfortunately. You suppose the feelings will pass with time. The soft hum of the television ceases, and you’re bathed in a room that feels dark and empty, despite the apparent life in the room.
There’s some bleary talk coming from the couch as you walk to your bedroom, and if Jungkook is sleepily mumbling your name in question, you pretend you don’t hear.
“So, where’s y/n? I thought she was going to help us pack.”
It’s an innocent enough question, as Jungkook scans the corner of the living room hallway that leads to the bedrooms. You haven’t come out yet. He knows that you love sleeping in on the weekends, but he hopes the smell of fresh food will coax you to the table. His pan is sizzling in protest, telling Jungkook to quit talking and flip the hashbrowns. He's fried up three, in the hopes you’d be up for some crispy potatoes. He knows how much you love potatoes, especially at 2AM when you’re craving fries and a McFlurry combo.
Instead Jisoo mutters, “You toasted too much bread, you know I don’t eat bread like this,” she’s pulling slice by slice out of the toaster, until there’s a stack of six golden toasts in the middle of the kitchen table.
A little part of him wishes to quell the precursor to the argument there. It would be so easy for Jungkook to say, “the extras are for me” because he’s trying to gain weight, and that would be that.
Instead he continues with his unanswered question and replies honestly, “I made extra toast for y/n, babe. She was supposed to help us pack but I haven’t seen her all weekend.” But he’s pretty sure you came home last night, unless that was his imagination.
Jisoo pulls a carafé of apple juice out of the fridge, pouring the amber liquid into two glass cups. “Ah, she said she had some last minute things to do for work. Y’know, Big Hit always wants a big hit.”
He chuckles, tilting his head as Jisoo gives him a small smile from the kitchen table. Jisoo is always good at cheesy jokes. “She must love her job, huh.”
“Yeah.”
“Her articles are really good, too,” the air smells like butter and Italian seasoning, as he places one hash brown on Jisoo’s plate, and two on his. He knows you edit in the Arts & Media section, and loves how you make it a point to include video games and modern graphics when it’s deemed appropriate. “She did a piece on the evolution of RPG and I thought her commentary was really spot-on.”
He brings breakfast over to the table, while Jisoo places two slices of toast on his plate, one buttered and one with strawberry preserves. Breakfast is a quiet, but peaceful affair. Jungkook takes note of how Jisoo takes extra long to complete her meal, her fork creating ribbons in her little blob of magenta jam. He allows himself to complete his first hashbrown and a slice of toast before asking the difficult question.
“Are you and y/n okay?” and he also takes note when Jisoo’s ministrations on her jelly stop, as she looks up at him with her big brown eyes.
“We’re fine,” she insists, “just normal roommate issues, I promise.”
“Maybe I should text y/n,” Jungkook says, pulling out his phone. “Lemme help you fix this, wouldn’t want you and her in a bad place when you’re about to move out.”
“Baby, why are you so concerned about y/n?” Jisoo croons while his thumb hovers over your contact, his screen showing a two-year old selfie you two took during a study session early on in your friendship. He can’t remember the last time you two took a picture together out of spite, one without Jisoo. Jisoo’s hand pulls him away from his phone, rubbing small circles between his palm.
He wants to ask, why aren’t you? But he sees the terseness in Jisoo’s smile, as her eyes fix between the interlocked fingers. He has a feeling he’s hovering somewhere he isn’t allowed to be in. Maybe it really is roommate stuff and it’s none of his business, but he feels a little insulted being left out because you and Jungkook are just as much best friends as you were in college.
Or are you?
This question plagues him throughout the day, and when Jungkook packs enough boxes for the weekend and says he needs to go home, Jisoo for once doesn’t argue. Normally Jisoo would cling to him like a koala, murmur simultaneously adorable and dirty things in his ear and lead him to her bedroom to coop up for hours on end. But Jisoo says she’s tired and needs some alone time, which is also fine.
He doesn’t feel like going home, and instead heads straight to the gym. A couple pumps wouldn’t hurt, and it would clear his head. It’s nearly five in the evening when his body is thrumming with the afterglow of his post-workout, and he decides to take a little cool down in the mall and treat himself to a smoothie.
It must be kismet when he sees you coming out of the bookstore, looking a little winded but no less professional in your beige blazer set and rose gold iPad. Whenever he hung around your apartment with Jisoo and you’d come home from work, he’d make it a point to acknowledge your plethora of multicolored skirt-suits. He never needs to be professional in his place of work, and admires how much effort you put in.
“Hey!” he jogs up to you, and he catches the way your shoulders jump at his voice. “We missed you today.”
Your smile curls into something dry, and you twist your spine like rusty hinges to face him. In turn, his smile dims a little, wondering if he’s doing something wrong. Maybe you’re tired? He catches the line of sweat that glistens your baby hairs, and how your hair is done up but has fallen a few centimeters with some pieces falling out.
“Jungkook,” you exhale, “lifting boxes wasn’t enough of a workout?”
“You know me,” he replies stiffly, hiking his backpack higher upon his shoulder. Why does this conversation feel so awkward? “So, finishing up work? Sucks you have to work on a Sunday.”
“Ah, it wasn’t so bad,” you face relaxes a little as you explain your work, “it was children’s day at the bookstore and they were watching Disney movies. I’m writing a piece on how I believe Ratatouille is Pixar’s magnum opus. Interviewed some kids, I wanted an expert opinion.”
“Ratatouille is the superior film,” he declares with a firm nod, “after all, anyone can cook.” He revels in the small smile he manages to retrieve from you, immediately understanding the inside joke. If he came out of the gym five minutes earlier, he probably would’ve been able to catch you in the bookstore. What a shame, he would’ve loved to see you play around with the kids.
At the mention of food, the mall manages to silence itself enough for him to catch the grumbling coming from your stomach. He laughs when your cheeks heat.
“I was on my way to get some smoothies,” he jabs a thumb in the direction of the food court, “wanna catch up and get a bite?”
“Oh, I don’t know, I have a lot of work to edit,” disappointment pangs in his chest at your easy rejection, but he ignores it, “I kinda wanna save some money too, still not sure if I’m staying in the apartment after Jisoo moves.”
He doesn’t know what compels him to take your shoulders and wheel you in the direction of the food court, much to your protest and whines. “C’mon, explain to me why Ratatouille is the magnum opus—I need to defend why The Incredibles is superior. I’ll treat you to dinner.”
“What? I can pay for my own food—”
“And I can’t treat my best friend to a nice meal once in a while?”
That has you stopping in your tracks, and Jungkook nearly barrels his chest into your head if not for the grippy soles of his Adidas Ultraboosts. He can’t see your face, but his hands note how your muscles cord tightly between the cotton of your blazer.
He doesn’t understand why you’re so tense. Was it because he called you his best friend? Well, you are? At one point he felt that way, early on in college. The position just stuck with you. And when Jisoo told him you weren’t interested, he was perfectly fine with the platonic relationship. It was nice to have someone to talk media and video games to, someone not as chaotic as Jimin and someone not as deterred as Yoongi.
Although, maybe as of late he hasn’t been so much of a friend. It’s no one’s fault, he’s been caught up with work and Jisoo’s move, he hasn’t said so much as a “hey how are you” when you’re around. He can’t blame you.
Suddenly his mind blanks, the mall fading away as he focuses on how small you look as your eyes dart between the parking lot and the food court. Jisoo and Jungkook have been so caught up on each other lately, that he fears you’re starting to separate yourself.
“Um, this place is good,” you tug him by the elbow and lead him to a fast food joint.
When he picks up both your orders and comes over to your saved table, you’re talking animatedly on the phone. You’re laughing, looking at Jungkook as if he’s the one intruding and you’re muttering a hushed “sorry” as you continue the tail end of the conversation.
“Yes, Joonie. Go with section two, I know my shit. I’m your Work Wife for a reason, Umji in PR could never compare,” you’re giggling like you’re five years younger, and Jungkook feels stuck in a timelapse.
He watches you go, throwing around names and terms that he’s so lost on but so desperate to understand. He knows nothing about your life other than the one that’s tied with Jisoo, which is a damn shame. Since when did he inevitably downgrade you from “best friend” to “his girlfriend’s roommate?”
“I’m sorry,” you turn your phone over and push it to the side, giving Jungkook a smile as well, albeit weaker, “let’s dig in!”
To his relief the dinner goes as good as it should be. You have your tray practically overflowing at the seams, all on Jungkook’s dime. It has his heart swelling with pride, he hasn’t seen you eat in a long time. There’s fries spilling out from the corners, and two sandwiches because you couldn’t decide between a chicken sandwich and a burger.
Food gets you amicable, and he doesn’t mind when he does most of the talking. You’re engrossed in his talk, lettuce hanging out of your mouth as you’re rapt with attention as he recalls a story that happened at work recently with Mingyu. You ask questions in all the right places and he sucks up all your attention like a happy pill, and it feels nice to be able to lead a conversation for once.
“Jeez, I’m getting the burger sweats,” you giggle to yourself, and his smile brightens at your positive change in attitude. Food always helps.
When you remove your thick high-collar blazer, that’s when he sees it.
“Seeing someone?” he asks, eyes flickering curiously towards the violet bruises that bloom across your neck.
“What–oh,” you have the audacity to look embarrassed, hands clutching your neck like a shield, “no, just a hookup.”
A messy hookup, too. Unless you had a thing for showing off marks, which doesn’t seem to be the case. “Didn’t peg you for someone who hooks up,” he says more to himself than you, but you catch him on his impulse jab.
Your eyes narrow and your defenses go up, “I’m trying to get over someone,” you snip back, busying your hands by crushing up your greasy sandwich wrappers.
“Am I allowed to state my opinion?”
“Since you asked so politely, no.”
He sighs, “I just don’t think that’s the best way to get over someone,” heck, Jungkook doesn’t even know who exactly you’re trying to get over. He just knows that you’re far too smart and independent to let yourself resort to such matters.
“It isn’t, but it’s really the best option as of now,” you reply curtly.
And his gaze saddens as he sees you fold your blazer over your arm, indicating that your time is up. Jungkook is aware the comment he made is out of line, and it weakens him knowing that you don’t even want to pick a fight with him. He can’t even find it in himself to apologize properly.
He doesn’t know if he’s more sad that you’re pining over someone unattainable or upset at himself for not knowing you’ve been harboring feelings for someone. If you really think hooking up is your only option, you must be really hung about whoever you’re into as of late.
“If it’s worth anything,” Jungkook adds, wanting to leave on a high note, “fuck that guy. He clearly doesn’t deserve you.”
A small, secret smile plays on your lips, “Yeah, I like to believe that.”
“I’m anxious,” Namjoon’s mantra makes the whole energy in the room wobbly, paired with the fact the two of you are squished between cardboard boxes as Jungkook aimlessly moves things around like a Tetris screen.
The only time you feel remotely comfortable basking in your home is when Jisoo is gone. Oh-so conveniently is the Big Hit building undergoing maintenance today, so you and Namjoon have decided to work from home in your apartment. Although you thought by now that Jisoo’s boxes would be long gone and tucked away in Jungkook’s place, instead you’re living in an episode of Ed, Edd and Eddy and the cardboard is practically wall-to-wall. You also thought by now that Jungkook would have no reason to show up unannounced anymore, but apparently that’s not the case.
“I have, anxiety,” Namjoon adjusts his glasses for the nth time this afternoon, brain not fixed enough to focus on the screen of his chrome MacBook, “anxiety, anxiety. I can’t right now. I need my weighted blanket and a pillow.”
“Namjoon, I can get both of those for you if we just send in this last spread,” you coo gently, as if placating a baby. You make brief eye contact with Jungkook from the other side of the room, his lips quirking in amusement as he stacks a box of clothes by the kitchen.
“Do you feel my palms? My palms, they’re like a fucking fountain you need to feel them—” your Wusband approaches you like a zombie, leaning over you and tripping over his criss-crossed legs before he topples over you.
“Blegh, get off of me you sweat giant!” you cry with a good-natured laugh, although the grip of Namjoon’s palms under your shoulders are damp and slimy, “Joon, I can’t get you your blanket if you’re crushing my boobs.”
Namjoon finally relents, untacking himself to rest his chin on your glass coffee table. “Fine.”
“Look over the last column and I’ll bring your blanket, okay?”
Pushing yourself off the ground, you shuffle your way out of the living room through the maze of boxes and into the hallway. It feels like your apartment is less of an apartment and more of a storage space when you’re trapped in-between two lines of boxes, and Jungkook effectively blocking you from entering your room. He was just in the living room but now he’s come from the linen closet, standing between the entrance of your room.
“Sorry,” he pops his head out from a smaller box, one filled with designer costume jewelry.
“It’s fine,” you chirp, barely making eye contact as you shuffle over the boxes.
Your toe drags over the lid of one of the open boxes in an attempt to move diagonally. You nearly crash your face into the hardwood if not for Jungkook’s arm stretching out to catch you. In seconds he manages to catch all your weight in one hand, pulling you to him with your hip pressed against his. Your breath traps itself in your neck. Your subconscious fears that if you speak now, you’ll babble about how attractive it is that he’s able to catch you as easily as grabbing a light sheet of paper.
“Careful,” his voice rumbles in his throat as he regards you with a wan smile.
Your “thanks” is barely uttered as you slip into your room, heaving your weighted blanket and a pillow in your arms to let Namjoon borrow.
The burgundy quilted fabric is hunched over your shoulder, draped around your body so it’s easier for you to carry on your back. You try to eradicate the memory of Jungkook’s arms, lean and strong as he held you to him moments before.
Ugh, you thought messing around with Vernon would stop your silly pining. It seems that it’ll take more than a couple rounds to satiate your curiosity. For such a kind guy, Jungkook seems like a wolf in sheep’s clothing when it comes to the bedroom.
You can imagine him being so kind in the beginning, coaxing you to wan and bend to his every wish and command. And then when you keen a little too hard at the attention, you bet a switch would flip and he’d grab you—
The blanket flops around your back, and you’re sorely reminded that you’re thirsting over a taken man, yet again.
Jungkook makes it extremely difficult for him to be hateable. It’s by nature that he’s just so damn likeable. Heck, he’s pretty much packed seventy percent of the things Jisoo should be packing right now.
Making sure not to trip again, on your feelings and your blanket, you successfully reach a tired Namjoon. You tuck your koala-shaped pillow under your co-editor’s arms, and drape the heavy blanket over him like a cape. He’s giving you a thumbs up and a toothless smile, the previous meltdown overcome as he focuses on finishing the last of today’s work. He’s slipped on some noise-cancelling earphones, presumably filled with generic coffee-house music or rain playlists.
Wordlessly you go to your nook to prepare some tea. It’s getting late and a warm cup would distract you from the impending deadline. Despite the fact that you and Namjoon are 99% of the way done, his previous freak-out has you on live-wire and you could use a little caffeine.
Placing three mugs on the counter you call, “Jungkook, tea?”
“Yes please,” you stiffen when you feel Jungkook magically appear right behind you, his head peering over your shoulder, “with milk and honey.”
Deciding to give Jungkook the beehive-shaped mug because it’s very on-brand for him, you begin to steep the leaves in your kettle while he spoons the honey.
“So,” his words are slow as the drip of honey, the amber goo taking its time to descend into his mug as it falls from the dipper. “Is that the guy you’re trying to get over?”
Jungkook lifts his brows towards Namjoon, who is softcore jamming to his white noise playlist. It’s cute as to how curious Jungkook is about Namjoon. While you try to keep your work life separate, there really isn’t much backstory to your personal life to warrant that kind of divide.
“Namjoon,” you state aloud, watching Namjoon sing badly to himself, “why, are you gonna beat him up for me?”
“I can take him,” you can practically hear Jungkook’s chest pop out.
With a roll of your eyes, you reach to kill the heat off the tea kettle, “No need. He isn’t the guy I’m trying to get over.”
“Oh, he’s your fuck buddy then?”
“Shit!” being caught off guard, you grab at the handle of your kettle without a pot holder, burning your fingertips. In seconds Jungkook’s larger hand encases your own, pulling you over to the sink to soak your fingers in cool running water.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jungkook is chanting like a sinner at church, searching for any sign of pain in your visage, “I shouldn’t have asked while you’re working with a hot stove.”
You suppress a sigh, relaxing your fingers as Jungkook soothes the burn with his gentle hold, “Shouldn’t have asked in the first place,” you mumble.
“I know,” he replies, “guess I’m just feeling a little left out. We don’t talk like we used to. I guess I’m getting a little too nosy for my own good, aren’t I?”
You don’t understand what’s going on with his incessant babbling as of late, but you chalk it up to work stress and Jisoo’s move. Having no answers to his honest reply, you gently untack your red palm from his grip, assuring him that you’re fine.
Namjoon steps into your kitchenette, being surprisingly careful as he takes your potholder to pour himself a cup of tea. If the tea is oversteeped and bitter he doesn’t say anything, only leans against the counter as he regards you two with slow sips. “You alright?”
“M’fine,” you reply stubbornly, avoiding Jungkook’s worried stare.
Namjoon holds out his hand, “Hand.”
“No—”
“Hand.”
His deep voice coerces you, and you immediately slap the back of your palm onto Namjoon’s. Your partner brushes his golden hands over the tiny blister that’s forming over your fingertips. “Can’t have my Work Wife outta commission.”
“Your Work Wife is fine,” you gripe back.
Your co-worker’s eyes flicker over to Jungkook’s for a brief second, Jungkook regarding him in curiosity as he stares at your connected palms. “I have some aloe in my bag for sunburns,” Namjoon offers helpfully, ignoring the weird glances, “I’ll give it to you in a bit. Also, I’ve overcome my sudden bout of stress and I’m ready to email our progress to Victoria. We’re done for the day.”
“Awesome, thanks Joonie,” you exhale, relaxing against the sink, “wanna go eat somewhere?”
“There’s a niche place in Itaewon if you wanna check it out?” Namjoon offers.
Jungkook interjects, “Jisoo ordered pizza if you guys wanna share with us?”
“Pizza also sounds good—”
“We don’t wanna interrupt your alone time,” you gracefully cut in, stepping in front of Namjoon despite the fact that he’s easily towering over you.
Jungkook snorts, “I’ll have enough alone time with her when she moves in, don’t worry. Besides, I ordered three pies because I wanted to try three different flavor combos. I need two additional judges.”
“Thanks Jungkook but,” you stifle a cry when Namjoon jabs you in the back with his thumb. It’s pressing, digging into the small of your back as if he’s trying to telepathically tell you that you’re being rude, “but… I don’t know if I can eat three slices! Namjoon on the other hand, can probably eat enough to fairly judge.”
“Great,” Jungkook’s smile is blinding, causing your grin to stiffen as he looks for his phone to shoot Jisoo a quick text that they’re having dinner for four.
Once Jungkook’s out of earshot, Namjoon tugs you by the sleeve, “The hell was that?” he hisses in your ear, “you look like you’re about to shit and piss your pants at the same time.”
“I just don’t feel comfortable eating with them,” you cross your arms in defiance. You think back to just a week ago where you and Jisoo reluctantly attempted to eat breakfast together one morning. You provided minimal small talk while Jisoo clinged to her phone, replying to you in non-committal clipped tones.
“Do I want to know?”
“No.”
“Do you want me to leave?”
“No!” you retort, “you got me into this mess, you’re gonna stay with me ‘till the end.”
“I don’t know what you want from me, woman,” Namjoon throws his arms out exasperatedly, oolong tea nearly sloshing onto his hand, “just suck it up or I revoke your bragging rights to that snag you got on our spread next Monday.”
“Not my fault you couldn’t get Kim Taeyeon on the spread,” you smirk.
“Well I didn’t so happen to stalk the Sephora she frequents for the past two weeks—”
“I didn’t stalk her I just so happened to need a new Fenty Gloss Bomb every other day—”
“I’m home, Jungkookie!”
Your face contorts, your playful energy melting to the hardwood as your previous banter with Namjoon evaporates into thin air. Work bags in one hand and three boxes of pizza balancing in the other, Jisoo kicks off her heels somewhere across the door and places the pizza on the dining table.
Jungkook immediately appears by her side, and you look away and Jisoo plants a heavy kiss on his lips. She cracks open one eye as she notices you and Namjoon hanging by the kitchenette, “Oh,” she mumbles at her audience, “you’re here?”
Yes, you bimbo. I’m here in my own apartment.
“I guess you didn’t read my text that they’ll be joining us for dinner,” Jungkook cuts in good-naturedly, “we have way too much pizza anyway. Have a seat, guys.”
Jungkook navigates the kitchen as easily as your own, and you slump in your chair while Namjoon exchanges pleasantries with Jisoo. She looks impeccable, hair in a tight chignon and a tight navy dress as she converses with your co-editor.
“I’m starving,” Jungkook announces, making sure to place a slice on Jisoo’s plate. He shuffles through the other boxes, making brief eye contact with you when he decides to put a slice on yours as well, “you like these toppings, right?”
You regard the greasy, hearty piece of cheese and bread with a curt nod. You feel Jisoo’s eyes laser on your skin, “Yeah, thanks Kook.”
Namjoon, Jisoo and Jungkook mostly stir up the conversation, you opting to eat as slow as possible to avoid any conversation. It’s easy to blend back and let them take over, as Jisoo loves to talk about her fashion firm and Namjoon is a great listener.
Jungkook and Namjoon make it a point to direct the conversation to you from time to time, and you let the ball leave your court as soon as it lands. You prefer to keep your responses short and simple, especially when Jisoo is so eager to talk about the new silk drapes she’s installing for Jungkook’s windows.
Your phone buzzes in your lap, and you discreetly look under the table to read the incoming text message.
vernie bernie: would u like to do the devil’s dance tonight
vernie bernie: or a tickle to my pickle?
vernie bernie: beatin ya bean?
You: ohmyGOD
vernie bernie: or y’know, u could just come ovr and chill. Hobi made some bomb tres leches
You: call. Ill come after dinner
“Are you okay, y/n?” your head bounces up to meet Jungkook’s gaze, “you’ve barely eaten and you haven’t talked much.”
“Oh you know, she’s just stressed about the upcoming spread,” Namjoon steps in for you, and you send him a discrete, but grateful smile. He’s always impeccable at reading the room, “she’s just nervous about her interview with Kim Taeyeon, but I think you did her interview justice.”
“No way, the singer Kim Taeyeon?” Jungkook gushes, regarding you with stars in his eyes, “your interviews are always so great, y/n. You ask really good questions. Like that one spread about Lee Yonghwa’s art gallery? Really cool.”
You notice the way Jisoo presses her lips together, a thin line as if she’s trying to seal away words that she’ll regret saying. She’s jealous, and you can’t help the blush of pride that fills your veins as you raise a secret brow at her.
“Right, you got nothing to worry about,” Namjoon squeezes your shoulder encouragingly, as if you’d get his double-meaning.
“Thanks,” you reply, pushing your plate away and standing up, “I’m actually gonna go head to Vernon’s for a bit, though. He wants to double check his work before we email Victoria.”
It’s a bald-faced lie, Namjoon sent the files to Victoria right before dinner, but he isn’t going to argue.
“Okay,” Namjoon thanks Jungkook and Jisoo for the meal, stacking his plate atop yours, “I’ll walk out with you.”
“It’s only been twenty minutes, though,” you see the slight panic in Jungkook’s gaze as he watches you quickly clean up for you and Namjoon. You can’t quite pin why he’s so concerned, after all he has been acting strange as of late.
“Yeah, I’m full,” you reply curtly, licking your lips and avoiding his gaze. You already know what he wants to say, that he’s been in your apartment all day and all he’s seen you eat is stale chips and tea, “but we can do this again.” But hopefully not.
“If you’re coming home late again,” it’s the first time Jisoo has spoken to you directly. You tilt your head to her slowly, watching the plastic smile carefully carved onto her expression. You see the contrived care and concern between her brows, “please try to be quieter next time, the last time you came home late you woke Jungkookie up.”
Snapping your gaze to Jungkook you plaster on a thick smile, “Sorry Jungkook—”
“What? No, it’s fine!” he furrows his brows in confusion, finally able to detect the strange tension between the two housemates, “I barely heard you—”
“Maybe I’ll just stay the night at Vernon’s,” your eyes trail over to the pajama set you immediately switched into when you got home today, “wouldn’t want to disturb you two.”
“Good,” Jisoo’s tone is saccharine and clipped as she tacks on a, “have fun.”
It’s laudable, how much Jisoo wants to make a fool out of you but you won’t have it. You revel in the perplexed expression as Jungkook’s gaze darts back and forth between the two of you, wanting to butt in but unsure of how to approach it. Not giving him the time to, you bid the couple a goodnight and make a fast getaway. Heck, you don’t even take your work stuff with you.
Once you’re out the door, Namjoon wordlessly gives you a hug. You sigh gratefully into his embrace.
The next time Jungkook sees you, he reads the room before anything. You and Jisoo’s apartment is scarily empty, almost clinical. He’s tried texting you a few times after his failed-not-failed attempt at catching up at the mall and his awkward conversation concerning Namjoon, but you always reply back with vague replies and an unpromised promise of meeting up sometime soon.
It dulls him to think that you’ve given up on him as a friend. But can you blame him? He needs to keep an appropriate distance for Jisoo, after all, she doesn’t like it when he gets too close to other women unless it’s strictly professional. Usually Jisoo’s jealousy inevitably works itself out and Jungkook doesn’t pose any problems because he has very few girl friends, but for some reason your friendship with him specifically gets Jisoo stiff in the face. Is it because you and Jisoo are so close? Possibly.
But it doesn’t mean you can’t join the same Valorant server with him at 2AM and accidentally bomb each other, or argue over the magnum opus of each film company. Is that not enough?
Jisoo’s working overtime, and Jungkook suggested last night that he move the boxes to the front of the door for easy pick-up when the moving truck arrives. Jisoo promises to buy Thai food in return, and with a kiss emoji she leaves him to audit fabric budgets.
As he glides down to Jisoo’s room he notes that the pictures along the wall have disappeared, and there’s double the amount of boxes in the hallway. It seems that you’re moving out too. To where, he doesn’t know but he hopes it isn’t too far.
He chides Jisoo remotely when he sees that her room is completely intact, and he makes moves to pack up her things.
That’s when he finds his letter. Not a love letter to Jisoo, but a love letter to you. Deep in the recesses of Jisoo’s junk drawer, is a faded lavender envelope with a pressed cream colored baby’s breath taped up in plastic. The glue is yellow and old, clearly served its purpose due to the fact that the letter is already opened and the contents rumpled.
Hey Pretty Girl–
He immediately stuffs the letter back in its holder, stricken at his messy handwriting from two years ago. It feels like he found a time capsule, another version of Jungkook confessing to you. He used to call you Pretty Girl, not enough for you to catch on to his feelings, but enough for you to understand that he did find you attractive. It was early on in your friendship.
When you first asked him to be study partners for some silly class that had nothing to do with each other’s majors, he gaped like a guppy and pointed to himself. That day he went to class in last night’s clothes and a nest of fluffy strands. “Me?” he felt like absolute trash, and you were probably desperate due to the fact you two were the only seniors in this class, “but you’re a pretty girl… and I’m pretty dumb when it comes to this subject.”
But instead you scoffed and pulled him from his slumped figure, dragging him to the library, with a wink and a “you’re pretty, too.” Those words have burned in his brain since then, as he wasn’t used to getting such off-handed compliments, especially from intelligent girls that wanted more than one night.
For whatever reason you continued seeing his dumb self, even after the semester ended and together registered for one more class for spring.
Whenever you’d go out for ice cream you wouldn’t hesitate to stuff your face and add for extra Oreos and fries, you’d assure Jungkook you’re not normally this much of a slob.
Jungkook would just smile and offer you a napkin and say, “You’re still a pretty girl.”
He fell for you gracefully. There was no regret, no walk of shame, no cliché late night party where you or him could’ve instigated it into the physical. It was all by feel.
However the two of you took your time with your relationship, languidly enjoying the hushed conversations in the library at 2AM, the late night McFlurry runs, the integration of each other’s friends like it was natural. Ergo the lavender love letter. It was a gentle declaration, one he felt pretty confident in.
So color him stupid when you passed him in class with a happy wave, Jungkook dumbfounded at how well you handled his confession. You weren’t oblivious, you just never read it.
But now he knows the declaration was for whatever reason, lost in transit. “I should’ve known,” he whispers in the air, the letter crumpling in his grip. Composing himself, he pinches his brows.
There’s an electronic buzz and a sharp slam of the front door. Judging by the time, you’re home.
You flop onto your mattress, folding an arm over your head to stop the sun from seeping to your eyes. Vernon’s exhausted you, and you barely got away before he could have any say in it. You need a little space, and some time to think.
Just as you close the door to your bedroom, it swings open.
You gape as Jungkook thrusts himself into your bedroom like a deer with horns, looking pale. You follow his gaze, darkened eyes that linger a little too long on your neck again, and you narrow your eyes at him to avert. He looks a little red in the cheeks despite his pallidness, looking like he just got out of bed with messy wavy locks and his signature sweats. Is Jungkook packing for Jisoo again?
Acutely aware that you smell like sweat and sex, you clutch the blankets closer to your body. “Uh, rude.”
He looks uncharastically frantic, waving a letter in his hand, “Did you ever read this?”
“Read what?” you ask, hands reaching out for the envelope.
“My confession letter,” he blurts, having no shame now that all the gears are running through his head. “I wrote you a letter asking you out, because you said you wanted to collect notes like in Letters to Juliet. But I just found it in Jisoo’s drawer, why would it be there?”
And all the pent up frustration that never seemed to escape under Vernon’s sheets, the feelings that never seem to subside, all bubble back to the surface. Now that Jungkook knows, there’s no hiding.
You’re in shock, hands reaching for the letter despite the burn that seeps through your fingertips. Jungkook’s shoulders slump when you do indeed look like it’s your first time seeing this, as if a missing puzzle piece in your timeline has finally been revealed.
“I, I didn’t think you’d write me a letter,” you take the lavender envelope, clutching the letter by your chest like it’s something precious, “that’s so sweet,” you say to yourself.
It dawns on him, “Wait, you knew about this? I knew something weird was going on.”
“Only recently,” you frown.
“And you didn’t think to tell me?” he nearly shouts, causing you to flinch, “no wonder why you were being so weird all this time. How could you let me live the rest of my life knowing this? That my relationship is built on a lie? ”
“I don’t know,” you suddenly feel very small in your mattress as Jungkook rounds up on you, pulling your desk chair closer to your bed, “because you love Jisoo, of course.”
“Well obviously that’s not possible,” and while yes a two-year realtionship ending like this is going to hit him hard tonight, he’s focused on you and the fact that you failed to tell him, “somehow I’d find out. Why wait for me to find out on my own?”
“Because I wanted to protect you!”
“Protect me,” he scoffs, crossing his arms and sneering at you. It causes you to tense up, feeling the telltale signs of tears bubbling to the surface, “you don’t even want to be friends anymore, y/n. I’ve tried to catch up to you so many times, but you keep leaving me hanging. I know I’ve been a pretty bad friend and I get it if you just feel awkward that I liked you, then that’s a shitty reason.”
“Have you ever considered that it’s too late to tell you?” you shoot back, sitting up straight, “yes, I admit I should’ve told you earlier and I’m sorry, but it was a lot for me to process to y’know? Jisoo and I haven’t talked properly in weeks!”
“Oh, so you’ve stopped trying to be friends with Jisoo too, huh? Just like you’re trying to stop being friends with me.”
“No,” you pinch your brows, “she stopped being friends with me! She doesn’t care about me because she has you,” conflict burns in Jungkook’s gaze, and you only serve to fuel the fire, “she’s tried so hard to not involve me in your relationship.”
“Just tell me why you’ve really kept this secret instead of saying you want to protect me like a baby—”
“It’s because I’m in love with you, idiot!”
You blink and back up against the wall of your bedroom, as if you can’t believe that the words came out of your mouth.
It’s quiet again. The sour look evaporates from Jungkook’s face as he watches you suppress your sobs on your mattress. The room seems devoid, sucked out of its color as you’ve cleaned up most of your things, the only thing left being some plain grey sheets and a pillow.
Jungkook’s mind is absolutely reeling, playing back memories from a different point of view.
“When Jisoo told me she sabotaged our relationship so she could date you, I was so upset and didn’t know what to think,” you manage to place the lavender note on your wooden desk, making sure no tears could mar it. “And I thought I could move on and eventually stay friends with the both of you, but the next day Jisoo put all her attention on you and completely ignored me or any attempt to salvage our friendship. She only told me to forgive herself,” you’re hugging yourself, wrapping the blankets around you like a weak embrace, “so I thought if I cut myself out of the picture and forced myself to move on like I should’ve, everything would’ve been okay.”
“So, you would’ve rather kept all this pain to yourself?”
“Yeah,” you give him a teary smile, “because I wanted you to be happy.”
And with an equally sad smile he murmurs, “But I’m not happy.”
Your face falls, and you really look at Jungkook. He’s exhausted as well, slumped in his chair. Has he been trying to grapple along the threads of his relationships, while you’ve been trying to loosen them?
“What a waste of two years,” he slumps in your chair, letting the pieces click into place, “a relationship built on fake love. I was really trying, y’know. I thought I was going crazy.”
The three of you have unknowingly been playing a futile game of Cat’s Cradle, a game that no one wins.
Jungkook looks wistfully out the window, noting the pleasant day that fails to present itself in your tiny room. It feels simultaneously satisfying and bitter when it falls into place, your thoughts finally fitting together for the first time in months. “We could’ve loved each other. For real,” he says, and you silently agree.
You’re still crying, shaking like a leaf in autumn. Jungkook’s arms hover awkwardly over yours, his warmth palpable despite the fact that he hasn’t touched you yet. With a timid smile you allow consent, and you melt like putty in his arms.
“Kookie, ‘m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you murmur into his shoulder, not caring if it hurts when you press your chin into his skin. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”
It’s been so long to have him close like this, the friend you’ve always wanted but never needed. Since college you’ve always imagined a life without him doing just fine, but that doesn’t mean you want to live without him, roommate’s boyfriend or not.
“I’m sorry too,” he sighs back, “this sucks right now, but we’ll be alright.”
The two of you sit in your room until it turns dark and the sky muddles into shades of twilight and egg yolk orange. There’s lulls in the conversation, the two of you filling in the gaps and making sense of the mumbo-jumbo that’s been going on in your consciousness up until this point. Your insantities turn sane, and by the time Jisoo’s making her way back inside with the smell of pad thai, Jungkook is ready. With a squeeze to each other and a press of your lips because you don’t know what to say, you tuck yourself in and pretend to fall asleep.
“Messy, messy, messy,” Vernon sing-songs, knocking his heels against the wall.
The both of you are sitting upside-down, butts attached to the wall connecting to his mattress and your feet hanging in the air. Your mint floral organza socks pad against his Pink Floyd poster, while his yellow tube socks are heeling against some old Polaroids from college. There’s no prospect of sex today, not when shit just hit the fan.
Today you and Vernon are just two old friends and very close co-workers.
“Tell me about it,” you bemoan, frowning at the beige wall, “this whole week’s just been a whole mess. It’s like, warm tuna salad.”
“Gross,” Vernon grimaces at the apt comparison, “so what happens now?”
You sit up on your elbows, looking down at Vernon’s peaceful expression, “What do you mean?”
“Like, are you gonna get together with him?”
You snort, flopping back down on his bed. The blankets fluff around you and you inhale the pine scented sheets. “After all that? No.”
“But you still love him?”
It must sound dumb to still love him after all this time. You wouldn’t be surprised if Vernon thought you’re silly to still hold a place in your heart for someone who has fifteen million things on their plate now. After all the physicality and the space Vernon gave you in his home, your feelings haven’t wavered.
Your companion doesn’t bother waiting for your answer, hearing your answer somewhere in the air as he gets up and throws on his denim jacket. Rolling over your stomach you ask, “Where are you going?”
“Some friends down in printing want to meet up for drinks,” Vernon messes up his hair, making the waves part in that little coiff that makes his jawline look sharp. “I heard Yerin really wanted me to come, so.”
You can’t help the little middle school coo that comes from your lips, causing Vernon to giggle and throw a pillow at you. “Yerin’s cute!” you declare, remembering the petite girl in overalls who’s all about pops of yellow and violet, “you're into her?”
“Nah,” Vernon holds up two hats in his hands, gesturing for you to pick one. “Just figured it was a push in the right direction.”
Crawling out of his bed you stumble in your oversized t-shirt, tucking a finger under your chin as you decide between the emerald bucket hat and the red Ralph Lauren baseball cap. You pull out both hats from his hands and set it down on his vanity, opting to smooth out the flyaways and ringing your fingers through his soft curls. “And what direction would my free-flowing friend be going today?” you ask aloud, “you look better with your hair out,” you declare firmly, “makes you look like a fluffy CEO.”
He laughs at your silly comparison, and he gently moves your hand away from his hair when you linger a little too close to him. His gaze is solemn as he regards you with a gentle smile, “Keep your distance, I’m tryna get over someone,” he says simply, and your arm falls limp at your sides.
Your heart thuds in a different direction, your mouth parting but no words coming to the surface. When was the last time you asked about Vernon’s needs, wondered if he was doing alright, making sure you two were on the same page—
“You’re spiraling,” he reads you like a playbook, smoothing down your hair to press a kiss to the crown. Suddenly you feel guilty for not having sparks in your belly, shaming your conscience for not even considering his sacrifices in your self-absorption these past few weeks. “Like I said, I wanted to help you. Stop looking like a kicked puppy, it’s okay to be selfish.”
With transparent tears the two of you pack up and head to your next destination. Hands ghosting between each other you make your way to the exit of Vernon’s apartment, him to meet up with his friends while you have to unpack your new apartment. With a hug you tell each other you’ll see them on Monday, and as easy as that you go your separate ways.
Hey Pretty Girl—
I kinda wanted to tell you this in person but I know how much you liked Mamma Mia and all those other movies that have grand gestures in writing so I thought hey, might as well shoot my shot on paper.
Not gonna tell you all the details, because you deserve to hear it in-person. But mayhaps this letter has something to do with how much I like studying with you, watching movies with you, doing absolutely nothing with you and all of that in-between.
There’s a gift card to our spot attached. Meet me at McDonalds @12 tonight, so I know it’s real 😎
Hopefully yours, Jungkook
P.S. if you haven’t noticed already, I sprayed a little cologne and stole Taehyung’s fancy paper from Muji. That’s how serious I am about you.
“Joon, we live in a bonsai garden. We’re like giants in a forest.”
“Can you—can you stop spitting at them? Let them breathe, dammit.”
“Not my fault they’re so tiny! I literally have to zoom 200% just to get a good look at ‘em.”
The two of you are huddled in what used to be Namjoon’s balcony, now a sunroom for his succulents and bonsais. Your heart feels pink and swollen with affection as you regard Namjoon with interest, absorbing every bit of information you can as he teaches you how to care for his plants. After all, you’re co-parenting now.
Having your Wusband co-sign as your roommate for the next year is probably the best decision you have made this year. Everyday is like a breath of fresh air. With Seokjin gone for the year to tour his restaurant franchises, his room is yours for the taking. The two of you are easy going roommates, filling the apartment with color and vigour whether it be in the form of baking sweets or watching Netflix documentaries.
The only drama you ever have is when you two are having a meltdown over the same work-related issue, as if you two somehow share the same brain cell. It’s significantly less stressful, no need for unnecessary anger when you have someone as mediating as Namjoon.
After today’s plant lesson, you two go back to the living room to finish up your work for the evening. Another perk of living together is that you can go home at normal work times and continue where you left off with the comfort of your couch and eating a whole pizza pie with no shame.
Namjoon’s phone pings with a new email from corporate. “We got the new concept for next month’s spread,” he gestures to you with a grandiose wave of his arm, “drumroll please.”
He pulls up the newsletter from corporate with a flick of his thumb. Your company put out every month’s concept out in an Evite, like every month was a themed party. A stressful, month long work party. In seconds, the page loaded and you’re met with next month’s title bathed in electronic glitter.
The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth
The two of you say silent, absorbing the concept like a cookie to milk. It’s a personal spread this month, a real treat for the team to show off their normal non-professional life. A spread that reveals the masters behind the ink and text. Last year’s personal spread was about the staff’s vacation destinations, but this year’s is much more intimate. You can imagine all the ideas that will be thrown around on Monday’s meeting: pinning down shared ideas like Throwback Thursdays, late night munchie runs, drunk stories, and all the crazy college nostalgia that you’ve been trying to avoid as of late.
But now it’s presented to you in a gold chalice, and while you’re sick of the past you think it’s about time to face it. You’re excited to tackle the dark monster you’ve suppressed since Jungkook and Jisoo’s breakup.
“Did I ever tell you I was president of my university’s Mock Trial?”
“No, I always thought you’d be president of the Comparative Literature Club or whatever. But Mock Trial is equally as nerdy.”
“I’ll have you know Mock Trial got me tons of action,” he winked, “made me very convincing.”
“Gross,” you sneer, “so that’s what your spread will be about? How the co-editor of the Arts & Entertainment section managed to bag with his skills from Mock Trial?”
“Nah, I went on a penniless journey with Jin during spring break. Six days around Malta.”
“That does sound so you,” you sigh, fingers slipping between the cracked screen as you mull over the overly happy Evite, “sounds like a cool story.”
“I know that look,” Namjoon quips, snatching his phone under his nose, “don’t overthink your spread just yet, it’s still the weekend. Now to more important things, what do you want from Taco Bell?”
And because you can’t refuse the combined efforts of nachos and Namjoon’s dimples, you relent for the night and tack the unmade idea to the next workday.
Unfortunately the next workday is just as disheartening. Today’s work meeting is the antithesis of icing on the cake. While your college life isn’t anything remarkable, you didn’t think it was a painfully dull time. With every passing moment and every excited co-worker throwing memories back and forth like ping pong balls, the more you felt inferior by competing with their amazing memories.
“Who can even afford Aruba at twenty-one,” you mutter under your breath, stalking back to your cubicle.
Filling up a whole spread is daunting to you, the thought of Victoria popping her head in your cubicle to ask what you’ve got for the day is practically eating you from the inside out. Maybe your college life was in actuality, super boring? You have no crazy drug trips to tell, any vacations that gave you a life-changing perspective, or an epic love story.
“What’cha got there, partner?”
The third musketeer of your editing team’s caramel eyes peer into your cubicle, causing you to jump in your chair. Vernon wheels around, chair and all to push you into your already cramped space. His gold button up gleams in the sunlight, effectively blinding you.
“If by something you mean nothing, then yeah I got nothing,” you frown, spinning around your chair. “What are you writing about?”
A fond smile melts onto your friend’s face, and you can’t help returning a smile that mirrors his own. You two have fallen back into a good place, as far as you know. He’s still easy, simple, sweet Vernon. When you dropped some boxes off in coloring, you heard that Vernon and Yerin have recently started seeing each other.
“Thought of the idea as soon as the Evite came out. It’s more of a photo spread, but I’m gonna write about my study abroad in NYU,” Vernon ticks a pencil on his forehead, “a self-identity piece talking about how I felt like, not-white around my family n’stuff. And then felt not-Asian at the same time, s’complicated but I think I can make it work.”
“Deep,” you pat his shoulder caringly, knowing that Big Hit is a good outlet for these kinds of subjects, “alright City Slicker, since you’re so full of ideas then tell me what to write about.”
Vernon sits up straight, regarding you with narrowed eyes, “Aren’t you gonna write about your little love triangle with Jisoo and Jungkook?” and it seems like he’s already storyboarded the idea in his head, gesturing to the air as if he’s writing down a timeline, “I can see the headline now: How to Steal a Heart,” he’s grinning, nodding fervently as you cross your arms in distaste.
“Vern, are you suggesting that I exploit Jisoo and Jungkook’s personal lives?” while the journalism business didn’t pride itself on sincerity, it did feel wrong to drag in your personal life to that extent.
“Babe, you don’t understand. You have the perfect slice of life story. Everyone’s writing about expensive vacations and that one time they got cross-faded and ended up in Busan,” he squeezes your hand, “but your story, it’s relatable. It’s romantic. It’s angsty. It has closure. No one’s gonna be able to relate to an impulse spending on daddy’s money to Aruba. But first loves? Unrequited romance and all that ish? Everyone can speak to that. And you’re a beautiful writer, they’ll eat up that story like honey.”
“I don’t know, it still doesn’t feel right.”
“Change up the names, twist the story,” he offers easily, knowing you’d put up a fight, “besides, it’s not like you’re planning on talking to Jisoo or Jungkook ever again,” you open your mouth to retort, but Vernon’s phone beeps to the Star Wars theme song and he’s flying out of his chair. “Shoot, gotta go help Joon upstairs. Just think about it, okay? Good luck!” and he’s kicking his chair out with a brown loafer, leaving you with breathing room in your cubicle.
Five seconds later Vernon is jogging back, pointing a finger at you, “And if you do choose to write it, you have to add that Jisoo copped your McDonalds gift card. Like, who does that shit? Couldn’t she have just given it to you and say it was from her and not Jungkook? Seriously fucked up.”
For the next ten or so minutes you mull. Out of all the memorable college events you’ve participated in, the largest one by far is your (now defunct and debatable) friendship with Jisoo, and your (un)requited love for Jungkook. Reluctantly, you must admit Vernon has a sharp idea, busting in like a hero and offering you the most writable piece on a silver platter.
It doesn’t feel morally right just to start writing, because ultimately you can’t feel comfortable until you get the consent of Jungkook. While you don’t want to touch Jisoo with a ten-meter pole, you do want to start talking to Jungkook again now that the waters have calmed.
Your life has moved gracefully up until this point, and you’d like to start being friends with him again. Decision made, you pull out your phone and make an important call.
“Hey Yoongi,” you say nervously. Min Yoongi is Kim Namjoon’s equivalent, Jungkook’s Wusband and former upperclassmen in college.
Said man hums noncommittally on the other line, “Whaddya want, it’s been awhile.”
You stifle a giggle at his apathetic attitude, knowing he’s someone who wastes no time in getting straight to the point. “I just wanna make sure Jungkook’s address is still the same? I know it’s been a couple months, but I need to send him something and I wanna make sure it gets to him ASAP because—”
“Because last time something was sent, your crazy roommate intervened and Jungkook ended up in a two-year half-toxic relationship? Yeah, let’s make sure that doesn’t happen again.”
“Yoongi,” you say slowly, “where are you?”
“Working in the studio,” he tuts, “Jungkook says hi, by the way.”
Typical, cat’s out of the bag. With a roll of our eyes you reply, “Thanks for outing me, Yoongi. Talk to you later.”
“And y/n? Jungkook says he’s waiting.”
With a stupid smile slapped onto your face, you hang up the phone and pull out your stationary kit from under your desk. You pluck out a vermillion red envelope, a color so bold and begging to be seen, you know it can’t possibly get lost in transit. Feeling a little bit like a high schooler as you pull out a glitter jelly pen, you get to writing.
Hey Pretty Boy...
Jungkook and Jisoo are no longer together, evidently.
Their social media runs in different directions, with Jisoo sporting absolute elegance in her work at her family-owned boutique. Her posts are full of shiny outfits and soulless gazes, betraying any pinch of emotion she may have felt over these past few months. Her profile is wiped of any personal posts, all traces of you and Jungkook evaporated from her page. You must admit that she looks good, like a real fashion mogul, but only at the surface level.
Conversely, Jungkook is thriving. It’s evident. Normally he isn’t the type of guy to post so frequently, his habits being often sporadic and limited to sweaty gym stories. But whenever you scroll, it’s pictures of him smiling. Big bunny teeth broken into a genuine, full-bellied laugh. Cute selfies of him and his co-workers. You notice two familiar co-workers in those posts, Irene and Seulgi, two beautiful women Jisoo always felt intimidated by whenever she ranted to you. You conclude positively that Jungkook doesn’t feel tethered and can hang out with all the friends he wants, female and male alike. Jungkook looks free, and you’re happy for him.
It’s another Instagram-worthy moment tonight at McDonalds, where you and Jungkook proposed to meet each other at 12AM.
This time, the letter makes it to its desired destination. You make sure of that because this time you hand-deliver it, slipping under his apartment door knowing he lives alone and no one would be able to access it except him.
You’re parked in an obscure corner, but you can see that Jungkook is currently having a great time with his co-workers for an after work meal. Yoongi is unbothered on his phone, while Jimin and Seulgi are taking turns throwing fries into each other’s mouth. Jungkook is squished between them, scrunching his nose cutely as he tries not to get in the fray of their fry-war.
Your phone pings, and you laugh at what pops up on the screen.
Yoongi: come inside, u loser.
You: can’t ur friend group makes me nervous stop being so dang cute
You: dw i’ll wait, it’s only 11:50
Instead of replying, Yoongi puts his phone down and resumes eating. In turn you pick a playlist, deciding that “summer time high mix✨✨✨” is a theme you need to subscribe to for the rest of the weekend.
Busying yourself by sending some texts to Namjoon and checking some emails, you relax in your seat as you let your brain turn to sludge for the weekend. You’re tired, eyes glazing over as you watch Yoongi elbow Jungkook harshly, forcing him to look out the foggy window.
Jungkook’s eyes light up like it’s Christmas Eve, but instead of Christmas lights it's your car’s lowlights. The graphic designer pays no mind to his friends as they wish him goodbye and goodluck, throwing on his jacket with a wave.
The night air whizzes by, Jungkook’s floppy black strands bouncing with each step as he bounds to your car. He throws your door open, bringing in the cold air as he regards you as easily as an old friend would.
“Hi,” he chirps, placing his tattooed palms by the air vent, “c’mon, let’s order.”
“You know, you could’ve ordered inside and brought it in here.”
“Yeah but then it would take longer to get to you,” the cheeky grin that Jungkook throws at you is unmistakable, “c’mon, get out the car and let’s switch.”
“Huh?”
“You look tired, you didn’t come back from the office again, did you?”
“I did tonight,” you say, “I just really wanted to get the soft copy of the article done and—”
“Out, out!” Jungkook clicks your seatbelt off and he’s coming out of the passenger side, opening your car and pulling you out by the hand, “c’mon, I’ll drive.”
You shake your head, hiding your smile in your hand as you let Jungkook do what he wants. Normally you’d be insulted that anyone suggests they should drive your car but Jungkook would always drive you around, saying he loved long rides. Above all, if you could trust anyone to drive your car, Jungkook is at the top of the list.
Buckling in, you bite the inside of your cheek as Jungkook easily pulls out of the parking spot one-handed. His jacket is pulled up to his elbows, exposing his veins as he expertly whirls the wheel in the direction of the drive-thru. Since college he’s always looked very attractive driving.
Doesn’t mean you have to act like you’re still in college. You tamp those feelings down, knowing that your article probably has you feeling stuck in time.
“—coming along?”
“Wha?”
“I said, how’s the spread coming along?”
“It’s pretty much done, I think. I’ll send you the hard copy when it’s ready,” you tap your fingers against the dashboard, “but are you sure you’re okay with me writing it? I know I’m using a pseudonym and everything for you two but I still feel weird—”
“It’s fine, I think it’s a good thing,” and you still squirm in your seat when he flashes you a genuine smile, “I mean, it kinda is a funny story and I think it’s good for both of us. Like closure, y’know? Moving on and—hi, can I get two Oreo McFlurrys and a large fry? Thanks!” he pulls out his wallet to scan the total on the e-reader. “I mean, didn’t it feel good writing it?”
“Yeah,” you replied honestly, relaxing in your seat, “like, college was fun and all, but when Jisoo kinda ruined all that… after awhile I didn’t think it was ruined after all, y’know? I still made amazing friends and ended up where I wanted to be. I want to show the readers that shit happens, and that’s okay. And if things are really meant to be, they’re meant to be.”
The summer playlist hums in the background as Jungkook pulls up to the pick-up window. He thanks the worker and hands you the tray, and you make quick work to put the fries in the first cup holder for optimal sharing. He doesn’t park at McDonalds, but instead smoothly pulls out of the restaurant into the direction of his apartment. It isn’t a particularly long drive, but you figure it would be easier for Jungkook to go home first if you’re already parked at his complex.
“What do you mean by that?” Jungkook parks in the driveway of his apartment, taking his McFlurry from your hands.
“Mean by what?”
“If things are really meant to be, they’re meant to be.”
“Well, we’re here now, right?”
Jungkook pops his spoon in, swallowing vanilla and a silly smile through his coral pink lips, “We’re here now,” he repeats.
The night air is cool and your conversation is warm. You promise Jungkook that you’ll send him the final copy of your spread as soon as it’s done, and you two eagerly deviate away from the past and focus on the present.
You can’t help the eagerness that flows between you, as if you’ve never spent time apart like this and it’s only now that you’re reuniting. It must be absence that makes the heart grow fonder, because you swell with affection and you find Jungkook’s presence sweeter than any kind of ice cream.
Are you dating now? Maybe. You and Jungkook are going on dates, everything without the title. McFlurry runs, marathons of HGTV’s Design on a Dime, having lunch at each other’s respective buildings with the Wusbands. Whether these dates are exclusive or not is unknown, but you figure the question will present yourself one way or another.
You’re in a good place right now, potential relationship or not. After all, your priorities are simultaneously positive and in order: family, work, friends, and any potential romantic trysts are at the very bottom. You could kiss the cover of this month’s issue (and trust, you have kissed your own copy multiple times) if it is not for the fact that this specific issue is for Jungkook.
So, romantic trysts and friends have a tendency to flip-flop on your priority list, but only because it’s Jungkook.
Unsurprisingly, there’s no guilt knowing that you’re dating your former best friend's ex-boyfriend.
After a much deserved early work day, Namjoon and the crew arrange a hearty happy-hour filled with good food and enough relaxation to last the weekend. With your combined successes, your team felt like they made the best issue yet. At the heart of it, The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth became a reckoning of each other’s young life. Despite the love and the growth that occurred from your college years up until this point, you’re glad to close that chapter and move forward.
You did not tell Jungkook when the issue would come out, so you think it’ll be a fun surprise for him when he sees it magically show up at his apartment. Bending down you move to slip the issue under his door, one hand pushing it under while one hand braces against the frame to steady your balance.
Just as the shiny cover glides under the door it swings open, and you fall flat on Jungkook’s feet.
Being the little shit he is, he simply giggles at the blunder, looking at you with excited eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he says.
“Creepy as hell, Jeon,” you mutter under your breath, brushing the dirt off your aqua pencil skirt. Looking at him from your spot on the floor and his large height, you grimace. “You look like a middle-aged serial killer looking outside your peephole.”
“Now, we know that’s not true.” he finally offers his hand, easily pulling you up to your feet. You follow him into his kitchen, where he’s cutting up fresh fruit. He throws your issue on the counter, gentle enough so it doesn’t slide off the granite. He gestures to himself with both hands, “me, a dashingly handsome late twenty-something in Nike sweats who can bench-press two of you? Totally not a middle-aged serial killer.”
“It’s in the eyes,” you chastise, “you look crazy.”
“Maybe I’m just crazy excited to see you,” he says with a cheeky grin.
You try your best not to choke on your spit at the cheeseball comment, throwing a blackberry in your mouth. Savoring the burst of tart flavor that fills your mouth, you wait for Jungkook to plate the fruit before meeting him on the couch. He’s holding a prettily arranged plate of berries, bananas, and mango with a huge dollop of whipped cream in the middle. In his other hand is Big Hit’s magazine.
Throwing your blazer on the couch’s arm you don’t hesitate to cuddle up next to him, eagerly waiting for him to read your spread.
The cover gazes back at the two of you like a reflection. The entirety of the staff is posed on the cover, made to look like a class photo. Some of you are holding balloons in your respective school colors, many of you grouping up with whoever happened to go to college together. You and Vernon are wearing matching university sweaters with silly grins on your faces. In the middle of the issue is the editor-in-chief, Victoria Song holding a placard that reads: Class of Youth.
Jungkook spares you a glance from the corner of his eye, your head naturally tucked into his shoulder. With an exaggerated sigh, he fiddles through the glossy pages, “Hmm, which one should I read first?”
“Of course you’ll read mine first,” you pout.
“Ah, Namjoon’s looks really fun. Or Vernon’s? New York looks pretty cool,” he flips to a random page, “wait, Yerin’s spread is a Korean cookbook! I definitely want to make some tuna rice...”
“Jungkook,” you whine, “read mine.”
“I don’t know,” he taps his finger on his lip, “I mean, I pretty much know your spread because I’m already in it. It would be kind of redundant to read it.”
“Kook, you’re being mean,” you glower, rubbing your cheek against his soft sweater. He’s just so damn comfy.
“I’m kidding,” he tugs at your cheek, “where’s the table of contents, first page?”
“I’m on page eighty-three.”
You speed up the process like an impatient child, leaning over to brush the pages to the desired spread. You even dog-earred it, a habit that drives Jungkook crazy as he immediately fiddles to iron out the crease.
“Are you gonna read it to me too, mom?” he teases.
“Okay fine! I’ll be quiet, but don’t take too long.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Eyes fluttering, you let Jungkook take his time to absorb your piece. A roommate by any other (rude) name: the lost letter. A cheesy, gimmicky title that Victoria insisted upon that you had no choice but relent to. The rest of the spread thankfully has a very authentic edge to it, your story laced with photos of you and Jungkook, your internship with Vernon, and most importantly, a scan of the lavender letter that got left in the past.
Jungkook’s not silent through his read-through, either. He laughs at all the right parts, fueling your ego as his smile grows at your favorite lines. While he doesn’t directly engage in conversation, his positive energy is enough for you to make you feel like you’ve done your job right. It’s one thing to write about unknown celebrities and unnamed artists, but for people like Jungkook, the validation is personal.
“It’s beautiful,” Jungkook says when he’s read it thrice through, running his thumb over a picture of you. “Really organic. Really, real.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he chuckles, having run out of adverbs. “It’s funny, too. I liked your little internal monologue. I wish I knew how you felt back then.”
“I wish you did, too.”
You’re quietly munching on a strawberry, looking over a polaroid Jungkook took. It was sometime in the beginning of senior year, where you’ve fallen asleep on his mattress, drool drying on your mouth. Normally you’d be opposed to having such unflattering, grainy pictures amongst your writing, but it encapsulates the youth you’ve tried so hard to chase away.
“How do you feel?” Jungkook says, switching out the magazine for the plate of fruit, placing it on his side.
“Feel great, actually,” you muse, smiling to yourself. By no means are you a hero writing some grand gesture in an entertainment magazine, but you feel like you’ve saved yourself. You’ve savored your youth in four thousand words, cutting out the poison and keeping the moment as sweet as it can be.
“I’m proud of you,” he reaches to ruffle your hair, and you don’t even get mad when it tousles out of your pinned style.
Reveling in the attention, you simply close your eyes and feed yourself a handful of blueberries.
“Love that I make money, but I definitely miss college from time to time,” Jungkook stretches, jostling you out of your comfortable position. “Like I remember Taehyung and I would take turns bringing backpacks to the dining hall so we could stuff fruit in it for later.”
“Yeah, but as much as I loved college I wouldn’t go back,” you nod to yourself, “I’m happy where I am now.”
“What about when we stayed up for midnight breakfast? The dining hall was filled to the brim with food. Remember when I tried to eat a whole stack of pancakes?”
“Jungkook…”
“Or when our classes got cancelled and we went to Lotte World? You ate way too much funnel cake and I had to carry you to the car!”
“Jungkook—”
“And that one time we snuck out to the music hall’s rooftop?” words gush out of Jungkook’s mouth like a waterfall, unable to relent, “that’s when I realized I liked you. I liked you so much, I tried to tell you that night but choked—”
“Jungkook!” and he immediately zips up, frowning. You straighten up, on your knees as you reach over to run your hands through his onyx tresses, moving the styled strands to the back of his pierced ears, “Jungkook,” you repeat softly, “I’ve heard all these stories, I was there for most of them. As much as I love the past… can we talk about something else?” you give him a small, tentative smile to show him you’re not mad, but a little uncomfortable at his reminiscing.
He leans into your touch, pressing your palm against the soft swell of his warm cheek. “Okay,” he agrees, resting one hand on your thigh.
You’re roped in his gaze, and you have to force yourself to breathe when Jungkook moves closer to you. He hooks a leg behind his back, and another across his lap. A cool breeze kisses your inner thighs when your skirt exposes your cotton underwear. You should be embarrassed but instead you’re fixated, unable to understand what he’s trying to accomplish.
“Then I’m gonna talk about the future,” Jungkook traps you between the couch, his thumb running hot circles to where your skirt has hiked up. It exposes a slip of the thigh that Jungkook has seen a million times. He’s seen you walking around your apartment in a large shirt, ridden up to your boyshorts. It’s different now, you feel exposed and tingly, thrumming with excitement. “I like you, obviously anticipated news and old news. I can’t stop thinking about how much I want to go on dates with you, re-watch Avatar, grumble when I force you to come to the gym with me,” he bumps noses with you when you scrunch yours, “I wanna be with you. Heck, I’ve even cleared space in my spare room so you’d have closet space for all your fancy designer suits if you ever need it.”
“You cleared space?” you manage to choke out. Visions of a shared apartment roll through your brain. Cooking meals together, having two toothbrushes side by side, and waking up to his face.
“Of course I did. Do you know how financially attractive you are?” he says lightheartedly, “you’re a sexy working woman and it’s crazy to imagine you’d want to settle for me and my little apartment. But I have to try now because if I don’t, it’ll be too late.”
“That’s not true,” you retort, “you’re not someone I’d settle for. I want you, and no one else.”
He chuckles, running a thumb over your cheek. “Then what are we waiting for? Your key’s hiding under the mat.”
“Jungkook…” on the tip of your tongue lays the words you’re going too fast but it doesn’t make its way to the air.
“But do you really think it’s too fast?” he reads your face clearly, “these feelings never went anywhere. They were locked away, sure. And I loved her,” he can’t even say the name, not when you’re warm and flush against him, “but I loved our friendship more.”
“I… I don’t know what to say,” you breathe, letting the cogs in your brain roll until sparks develop.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he concedes, “I just wanted to let you know. Could’ve done the letter thing all over again and let the past repeat itself. I know Namjoon wouldn’t hide a love letter for two years, but if I left another damn letter he’d definitely make a copy and tease me about it.”
You snort, pressing your forehead to his. You’re practically buried in the couch now, tingly and vibrating with happiness. “And I’m not going to leave you hanging. I do want to say something,” and he looks at you expectantly, licking the leftover berry juice on his lips, nearly making you miss your train of thought, “I like you too,” you say, the other L-word is also applicable, but you feel like that phrase is reserved for another time, “I want to show you off on work vacations, bring you along as my date and show them you’re my muse,” you confess, “I wanna play video games with you ‘till 2AM, and eat ice cream in the comfort of our apartment instead of our cars because we’re too stubborn to admit we don’t wanna go home without each other.”
Jungkook absolutely preens at the affection, sending you a heart melting smile that has your stomach doing backflips.
“Jungkook, I want to fall in love with you again.”
Your squeal of surprise is swallowed by Jungkook’s lips, tasting of mangoes and berries as strong hands cup your backside, easily lifting you onto his lap. You plop under his strong thighs, feeling them flex against yours. The both of you are pouring in this kiss, raining with promises and hopes for a future with each other. His taste is concentrated, and you can feel the devotion practically injected in his embrace.
When he pulls away his lips are cherry-red and shiny, looking up at you through clear coffee eyes. “This isn’t a dream, right?” he looks at you up and down, unable to decipher fact from fiction, “because I distinctly remember two wet dreams that involve you looking like this.”
Looking down, you heat at the disarray you’re in. Hair wild and parted in different wavelengths, tired of the day’s efforts. Your slightly sheer dress-shirt is rumpled, the lace collar opened with two popped buttons revealing your cleavage, and your skirt is stretched so tight that it’s ruched all the way up your thighs. Sprawled across Jungkook’s lap, you’re dangerously close to something long and hard.
Emboldened, you clutch at Jungkook’s collar, pulling him closer.
“Show me what happens in your dream,” you whisper into his ear, barely brushing your clothed core against his crotch, “maybe we can make it come true tonight.”
You can’t see his face, but you feel something dark and sensual overtake him. The grip on your ass tightens, a delicious pain that has you pressing your breasts against him and nipping on his ear, your tongue darting sensually through the cold silver hoops that dart through his skin.
Within seconds, he rips you away from his neck and demands, “Open.”
Dazed, you barely get a centimeter of your mouth open when Jungkook presses something cold and sugary against your lips. Whipped cream. You manage to take a small bite of the tart strawberry that he holds by the viridian stem, rolling the flavor between your mouth as Jungkook paints the leftover whipped cream over your lips. Once he’s satisfied he then creates a white trail that leads to your cleavage.
Better than any dream, his eyes drink you in like the last glass of water in a desert. Your lips are swollen and parted like a baby kitten, covered in the creamy confection. “So pretty,” he exhales, his hot tongue licking from your cleavage to your lips, swallowing the flavor of you and strawberry juice, “such a pretty girl you are, and all mine.”
“Yours,” you submit easily, rolling your hips against his.
At that moment you think you’re meant to fall in love this way. You can’t imagine the shy, fumbly Jungkook and your equally confused self waltzing around a relationship when you barely had your lives together. The two of you still had growing to do. The wait is certainly worth it, because as you feel his arms tighten around you, you’re sure this love will stay strong.
It’s difficult for you to find a rhythm at first, what with Jungkook’s strength and need to be satiated, both of you are sloppy but the friction is nothing less than delicious. Your finger reaches over to swipe at the leftover cream on the plate, and you press your finger to Jungkook’s mouth, and he immediately complies. A dollop of sweet cream leaks out of his lips and your panties dampen further when you feel his tongue lick you clean, imagaining how good it would feel if it was your pussy he was licking.
Your mouth waters at the feeling of his dick lining up against your core, as sticky as the strawberry juice that clings to your bodies.
“C-can I make a confession? I—oh, Jungkook…” your mind is all fuzzed up when he snaps his hips against yours, causing you to shamelessly bounce on his length.
“Yeah?”
“I… I like it when you use all your strength like that,” his hips slow as your words sink in, but you don’t mind as it gives you time to make a long drag along the entirety of his member. “Everytime you pull me up when I trip, or you come back from a workout, I like it when you carry me around like I weigh nothing.”
“Do—do you think about it a lot?” he grunts, and you stifle a moan when he does a slow, hard drag against your wet folds. “Tell the truth.”
“It’s, it’s embarrassing,” you whimper, unable to think straight with the amount of stimuli you’re receiving.
“Please, baby.”
“Yes mm—oh! I do,” you try to get the words out as quickly as you can. He stops moving, and you groan in frustration so you just lay it all out on the table. “I, I love it when you hold me in your strong arms. And, ah, uh w-henever you come back from the gym you just look so sexy fresh from the shower. Sometimes I think about how you’re too damn nice for your own good but I bet you’d be so rough in bed.”
“Really?” and then he’s shoving you onto the couch, air brushing against your bare thighs as your back hits the beige throw pillows. He’s hovering, dark eyes starting from the tip of your toes to your damp lips. “You like it when I manhandle you? Throw you around like a little doll?”
“All that strength, and for what?” you try to keep your snappy remarks in check, but it’s hard when he’s pressing his straining dick against your thigh, weeping and needy.
“You’re not gonna be joking about my strength anytime soon, baby,” emblazoned, he easily throws your leg over his shoulder, pushing your panties to the side to let your wetness leak out and onto his fingers, “are you gonna complain or be a good girl?”
“Yes, I’m ah—” you wince when he inserts a finger, “I’ll be good for you,”
“My good girl,” he revels in the way you melt under his touch, your previous sarcasm quickly dissolving into a puddle. You always had an inkling that Jungkook would be a sneaky fox in bed, all that muscle hidden behind a kind smile and a penchant for tea with milk and honey.
Jungkook slips in another finger, stretching you and preparing you for what’s to come. He’s scissoring you at a sensible pace that has you squirming and wanting more. To prevent you from shimmying off the couch he holds you down with his free hand, and you love the way he practically feeds you to the couch, hands dancing over your neck as he shoves you further into the furniture.
“You look so gorgeous,” he says, causing you to moan and keen at his attention, “you’re such a strong, gorgeous woman. Having you sprawled out like this, ready to do whatever I want to you is so fucking hot.”
“I’m—I’m only weak for you Jungkook,” you say honestly, tears pricking when he dips another finger. The stretch burns deliciously, and your folds eagerly swallow him up until you’re filled to the brim. Your fingers or toys cannot compare to flesh, and you sigh in relief when you see his inked fingers pick up the pace once more.
“You’re damn right,” Jungkook husks, and with a grain of love he murmurs in your ear, “I’m only weak for you, too.”
And that’s when he snaps, thumb rolling against your bud as he slams his other fingers against you, going at a brutal pace. You cry out, not caring whether his neighbors hear as he pulls you back and forth through pleasure and pain.
“T-too much, Kookie,” you mewl, your hand warbling to find his, “I, ah, ‘m gonna cum!”
“That’s the plan,” he only goes faster, stretching your band further and further before your desired high is reached. His hand trails up to force your chin straight, looking up at him, “let go for me, baby. Wanna feel your pussy clench around my fingers.”
In seconds, you gush. It has you in a slight panic, drunk on endorphins as you try to lift your head up but Jungkook’s hand is firmly pressing you on your shoulder as he fingers you efficiently through your high, the wet squelching sounds only increasing with your cries. His lap is drenched in your arousal, along with his chin and lips glistening with your essence.
He finally releases you when you’re practically shaking, his hands sticky and creamy. You moan when he shamelessly licks them within your view, making sure to wrap his tongue around his ink-stained digits.
“I,” your mouth is dry when you feel the dampness that hits your bottom, “I’ve never, I don’t remember ever—”
Your babbles are lost between your throat and Jungkook’s tongue, shoved deep into your mouth. Tasting your arousal has you practically vibrating in your place, as you two rut against each other like hungry bunnies.
“God, you’re amazing,” he says between pecks, kissing away your face of any tears you may have pricked, “Amazing, adorable, absolutely beautifulIadoreyousoso—”
“Pleasepleaseplease,” you press your hips up, wiggling for more attention, “please fuck me, Jungkook.”
You can’t help the witchy, satisfied smile when Jungkook’s eyes darken to a thick coal, “Anything for you,” he murmurs, swinging your legs between his arms as he lifts you like a feather.
On his lap again, you soon accept that the way you two mesh like puzzle pieces is one of your favorite positions as it gives you both equal space to ravish each other.
Just when your hand trails to the waistband of his boxer briefs and you’re rolling your thumb over its collected moisture, the moment is shattered when the doorbell rings. You jump in his arms, unprepared for your moment to be interrupted.
He groans into the crown of your hair, and you soften in his relaxed hold, “I ordered us pizza,” he nearly forgot.
Perking your head up to look at him you regard him innocently, as if you didn’t release a waterfall on his sweats two seconds ago. “You got us pizza?”
“I knew you’d be coming over tonight,” he’s pouting into your neck, regretting ever having called the pizza guy if he knew this would happen, “Victoria posted the publish date on Twitter. I just didn’t think,” he gestures vaguely to the mess on his pants, “this would happen.”
“Damn, and here I thought I was being sneaky,” you chuckle, flicking his ear playfully.
He gives you an uncharacteristically subby whine, shamelessly upset he has to let you go so fast after he’s given you your first of many highs. Before he weakens further under your beauty, he unceremoniously shoves you off. “Sorry, pretty girl,” you melt at the easy way his pet name rolls off his lips, “can you wait in my room for a bit so I can pay the delivery guy? I don’t want them to see you like this.”
“But I want to eat pizza,” you declare stubbornly, standing up to button your blouse and pull down your skirt.
Before you could fasten one button or pull down one centimeter, his hand darts out to snatch your wrist away from your body. It doesn’t hurt much, but it causes your body to heat in more places than one. He’s sexy like this, demanding your attention. “No,” he rumbles definitively, “my room. Now.”
“Why?” you throw your hands in the air, yelping when he slaps your ass. He makes sure to make it sting, cupping you fully.
“Because,” he says firmly, “you don’t get to eat until I eat,” you whimper when his hand reaches to cup your sex, panties wet and cold without his warmth as he pushes you in the direction of his bedroom.
Oh, you can’t wait for both of you to eat tonight.
some time later.
“Ohmygod the view is beautiful!” Krystal, who works in advertisement, squeals. “No filter needed!”
“Alright alright, make room Princess,” Namjoon teases. With a bump to Krystal’s tiny hips Namjoon shoves you two across the pavilion, putting his arm around you once he finds the perfect angle, “Umji, can you get a pic of me and my Work Wife? I want this on the Big Hit Instagram!”
You hold your straw sunhat down from the salty wind, smiling beautifully as Umji takes multiple pictures of you and Namjoon from her Nikon. Another successful year under your notch, ending with a successful work retreat.
“Namjoon, can I take a picture with my actual wife now?”
“We’re not married, Jungkook,” you chastise, patting the chest of Namjoon’s floral printed Hawaiian shirt so he can switch. Instantly, Jungkook slides up next to you like a picture perfect stock model piece, and you wrap your arms around his trim waist, “we’re not even engaged.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he pouts, looking over the pavilion and adjusting the both of you so there’s a good amount of you and the resort in the background. The sun may be scathingly hot, but it looks beautiful perched over the crystal clear waters. “Namjoon, you got it easy,” Jungkook says when he hands him your phone, “every angle is our good angle, so you can’t mess it up.”
Being the honest man he is, Namjoon knows better and doesn’t say anything to that. Instead he shoots down whatever pineapple-flavored concoction is offered to him on a silver platter, and starts shooting.
“Is this swimsuit new?” Jungkook murmurs into your ear between shots, flicking your little red number by the strap connecting the back, “because I didn’t see this in the luggage.”
You smile big, pearly whites as Namjoon demands to pop out your butt and work it, pressing your body closer to Jungkook’s. “Tiny enough so I could hide it in my purse,” you reply proudly, voice low for only each other’s ears, “why, surprised?”
“Definitely not prepared,” his fingers dig deliciously in your bare flesh, “would Victoria fire you if she catches us doing it in the cabana?”
Amused that your boyfriend now shares your combined awe and fear of your boss, you twist his nipple lightly. He yelps, and from Namjoon’s guaff he’s definitely got that on camera. “We didn’t come to Boracay to fuck in the cabana.”
“Then the hotel room?”
Namjoon hands you back your phone when he considers his job done, letting you and Jungkook have some alone time. You wave your phone in his face, trying to get him to focus on the task at hand. You wanted to post some cute pictures of you and your boyfriend, one to impress the family back home and the Big Hit interns back in Seoul who are absolutely pining for your position.
“Jungkook, they have the water ski thing where you can flip in the water mid air! Doesn’t that sound fun? Or we can go scuba diving, have Filipino food, or get massages. LIterally, we’re on Big Hit’s dime, and the first thing you want to do is go back to the room?”
“Yes,” he pouts petulantly, leaning into the hollow of your ear and whispering, “got a chub on.”
Discreetly so, your hands brush against his navy trunks and you note yes, he’s half hard. “No!” you shake your head definitively, pushing him out of your arms. You’re not letting sex get in the way of your hard-earned vacation, you’re on company dime and you intend to milk every peso of it. “Namjoon, take him away!”
You blow him a kiss and follow another group who’s decided to go eat, watching your boyfriend get dragged away by Namjoon’s long arms. Krystal, who’s been mildly watching the whole ordeal in-between taking selfies, looks at you in awe, “You got it good, bosslady,” she says, and you happily link arms with her in the direction of the restaurants.
You and Jungkook definitely have it good. You don’t see him until dinnertime, looking utterly relaxed as he sips on a mango-muddled concoction. He must’ve gotten a couples massage with Namjoon, cute. Splitting up was definitely a good idea, by the time your meal arrives the two of you are practically leaning against each other, telling each other what events you need to do tomorrow and events you think will be fun to do together.
“Joon,” Jungkook is throwing an arm over your Wusband’s shoulder, mildly tipsy. The image is adorable, as Jungkook long ago previously confessed that he felt a little jealous of Namjoon’s work relationship with you before you were dating. Now, it feels like they’re best friends and you’re third-wheeling. “What do you think about having halo-halo tomorrow? It’s like bingsu but with a bunch of other good stuffs. There’s red bean, mango, ube, ice cream…”
Just as Jungkook begins his tirade of dessert ingredients, you pull up your phone to check on your social media. You smile back at your profile, seeing your latest Instagram post at the very top of the feed. Not to flex, but the two of you look pretty smokin’ since you’ve been keeping up with Jungkook’s insistence to join him at the gym. Jungkook and you are leaning against the pristine veranda, overlooking the clear blue water and a cloudless sky. The smiles you two sport are genuine and utterly in love.
You scroll down the comments, most of them filled with sweet messages but one of them has you doing a double take.
@sooyaaa__: 😒😒😒 knew something was goin on behind my back… good riddance
The smell of Jungkook’s detergent overtakes your nostrils, and you turn to him. He’s stopped talking, now immersed in whatever’s going on in your phone.
“The nerve of her,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, disgusted at her latest comment. “As if anyone would believe her.”
“Yeah,” you echo, “I feel bad for her, though. She’s probably lonely.”
“Her loss, she put this upon herself. Not us.”
You pout, “I know, but she was my friend at one point.”
He frowns, putting an arm behind your backrest. It would be easy for him to say yeah, and she was my girlfriend and one-up you, leaving it at that. But now he knows better, and that friendship is a much better value than an ill-fated relationship. “Sorry baby,” it’s not his fault, but he sees your disappointment in putting out hope for an old friend. He gives you a little smooch on your temple, “do you miss her?”
“The old her, yeah,” you sigh, clicking on her profile, “but now? I can do without her negativity.”
“Okay,” he takes your phone from your hand, “have you ever blocked a person before?”
“No.”
“Well, today’s the day,” he says it so coolly, you barely have time to think when he clicks the ‘block’ button on Jisoo’s profile, then clicking off his phone to put in his pocket. “No more phone for today,” he proceeds to take your plate that was recently served, taking the time to cut your large vegetables into smaller portions. “Like you said, we shouldn’t waste your vacation time.”
Your heart swells with butterflies for Jeon Jungkook, who’s meticulously cutting your food and telling you to relax and stop dwelling on the past. He’s right, if Jisoo’s not going to stick around for the future and continue to cause negativity in your life, why not keep the positives in the past while it lasted?
“You know I love you, right?”
He ceases cutting, and looks at you to pop a sweet potato in his mouth. “Love me enough to do it in the cabana?”
He’s still on that? “Jungkook,” you warn, pretending to get up, “forget I said anything. I’m gonna go karaoke with Umji.”
“Kiddingggg,” he whines, pulling you back down with an outstretched hand, “you know I love you too.”
“You’re terrible.”
“Only this way because I’d know you’d totally be into cabana sex if we were vacationing by ourselves.”
“Yes, but you’re still terrible,” you giggle when Jungkook steals a kiss, just as easy as he’s stolen your heart.
#jungkook x reader#jungkook smut#gcn23#goldenclosetnet#btsghostie#jungkook fic#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#bts fic#bts smut#a big weight is off my shoulders
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renegade
Andy Dolan x reader
Summary: After another night where Hedwig abandons Andy; reader is left with no other choice but to try and help console him the best she can.
Words: 3.6k+
Warnings: vague mentions of drugs and being intoxicated, some jealous! reader, lotsss of angst, brief fluff, mainly hurt/comfort fic tbh hehe, major Hedwig slander oops, maybe a bit of unhealthy relationships (??), slowburn, some conflict/arguing
A\N: hey y’all, hope u enjoy this hehe. I was mostly going for a angst and fluff vibe when I wrote this but it just turned into hurt/comfort so.. hopefully it’s still enjoyable !! :) this takes place sometime in episode three probably lol. ALSO fic is named after the song Taylor swift has recently been featured in 👉🏻👈🏻
The town, Eden; regardless of its beauty was a force to be reckoned with.
Being practically forced to live in a town that was so.. particular was never something you envisioned for your future in the past, but now you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else; even given the choice.
After all how could you exactly complain?
If you were to ask any person- (or any sane person that didn’t know of Eden that well) they would say that living here would sound like complete fucking heaven. A small coastal town, a tight knit community that was overly abundant with beautiful people and drugs seemed beyond euphoric.. and it was. Atleast for the first week or two.
Looking back; you were purely fucking naïve, and far too much of a optimist to assume shit wouldn’t crash or burn eventually.
Your first red flag was Hedwig.
She was one of the first people you met, and you two quickly hit it off and became close but.. things never exactly felt right with her, per say. Maybe it was because of how guarded she was, or because of the drugs she dealt.. it was hard to tell. However; Hedwig was completely fucking harmless compared to the man she introduced you too.
Andy Dolan.
Just like everyone in Eden; he was drop dead gorgeous but.. oddly hostile. At first you only saw him at parties, ones that you tried your best to avoid him at since you knew he had a notorious temper but, Hedwig being the great friend she is introduced you to him.. and that’s all it took.
You two quickly hit it off after that night (mostly because you were tired of Hedwig being your only friend and branching out never hurt anyone.. right?). Your attraction towards each other at first was strictly platonic, that was clear in how he treated you and how careful you were around him. It was almost stupid to try and not think about how pretty he was but letting your gaze linger on him for even more than two seconds felt erroneous.
You saw almost daily (or atleast every other day) how quick he was to anger and how cold he was to nearly everyone he met.. The only exception at this point was you and Hedwig but your sure if you were to even show a sign that you had romantic interest in him, he would drop you without a second thought. That thought alone was beyond fucking torturous but it wasn’t enough to stop you from daydreaming about how soft his hair or lips probably were. Ones that you doubt you would ever get the pleasure of touching but- atleast it was a nice distraction from how fucking weird Eden truly was.
Sure, it was beyond beautiful and the weather was fairly nice most days but that didn’t make up for peoples attitudes; and you weren’t referring to Andy’s. It wasn’t hard to tell that people were strangely secretive and cliquey, which only really left you with Hedwig and Andy for your friends. No matter how pretty she was, Hedwig was really only surface level friendly so you never particularly trusted her. That only left Andy (which wasn’t exactly any better when it came to being friendly but you knew he cherished your company, which was way more you could say about Hedwig).
However; it didn’t take too long for you and Andy to form a routine. Every weekend he would throw a party and you would stay with him after. The first time it happened, it was purely because you were far too fucked up to go anywhere else (which perhaps is also why Andy finally started being nice to you..) but after that, it was a question you never had the heart to say no too.
How could you? It’s not like he exactly had anyone else which made the possibility of saying no, close to impossible. Just because everyone else who lived in Eden were assholes didn’t mean you were going to be one, which is what lead you to your current predicament.
Five calls you had made that had all been unanswered is what currently lit up your phone screen, as well as your room. It was far past midnight and instead of sleeping like any other sane person would be doing - you were calling Andy or trying too anyway but he wasn’t fucking answering.. naturally.
You weren’t calling for any particular reason, but that wasn’t the point anymore. The fact that Andy wasn’t answering was a huge warning that something was wrong, after all it was a weekday and you knew he wasn’t sleeping or exactly busy.
Unless.. He was with Hedwig?
The thought automatically made your blood run hot under your skin. The feeling seething and utterly consuming until you quickly found yourself going out to your car. Doing the only thing that you knew would make your sudden paranoia go away.
As you drove through the roads that were completely vacant of any other cars and drove past houses and neighborhoods that also looked vacant of any life - you couldn’t help but to think why you even cared.
Andy never really showed interest in you, so what if Hedwig and Andy were actually doing anything?? Unless you caught them in the act, it’s not like either of them would admit to doing shit anyway but that didn’t stop you from still feeling irrationally angry and a bit betrayed.
You didn’t realize how tight you were gripping the steering wheel until you stopped the car and had to let go of it. Your fingers unnecessarily clenched and stiff to the point where they physically ached. Not to mention, you were shaking with the possibility that you could really find them here together, but now that you were actually here- you quickly realized that there was no other car here.
Odd.
You quickly (and quietly) stepped out of the car and paced up to Andy’s house. Not bothering to knock as you let yourself in, knowing that Andy wouldn’t necessarily mind that you did so.. well, you knew if he wasn’t with Hedwig anyway.
The only thing you heard were your footsteps as you took a few steps into the house. Looking cautiously for any signs of life.. any sounds or anything that could indicate anyone was in the house at all but you found nothing.
It took your eyes a minute to adjust to the near pitch darkness that omitted from the large windows that sat on the vast majority of the living room walls. The only light came dimly from the kitchen but even that was too sparse to truly allow you to see anything.
You slid your shoes off and left them by the door, not wanting your steps to allude to your presence before you could see him first and say something. Your steps far more quiet and easier to control now that you only had socks covering your feet.
You made it about halfway up the stairs, originally trying to make a beeline to Andy’s room but quickly freezing once you heard something.
It was shallow and soft but, with the contrast of pure stark silence it was nearly fucking deafening. It was a whimper at first, and it was coming from downstairs on the couch.
Your heart sank once you realized what exactly you were listening too. The first sniffle you heard nearly making you jump from how off guard you suddenly felt; that was the last thing you were expecting to hear..
You looked down from the staircase at the couch; making out a very dim outline of someone slumped over and sitting on the edge with their head in their hands. Their chest and back heaving from how deep they were crying..
You stood idle for a moment, not knowing whether to continue standing or to leave silently but you felt as if you didn’t exactly have a option. Even without asking or being able to necessarily see; you knew who it was but even knowing this- you knew getting him to talk was a good first step.
“Andy?”
Your voice automatically cut off his sobs - almost stopping instantaneously.
You saw his hands move down from his face and drop down to his lap, his head turning up to look at you. Your eyes finally adjusting to the near pitch black atmosphere.
The silence only permeated the room for about three seconds but that was nearly far too long to withstand. Knowing how unpredictable Andy was, you didn’t know if the words that were going to come out of his mouth were going to be kind or purely vile.
You started to speak fast without a second thought, the silence driving you to immediately apologize and try to fix the damage before Andy completely went off on you.
“I’m really sorry. I just got worried because you weren’t answering my calls and I wanted to make sure you were okay, but.. obviously your not,” You said. Swallowing harshly after realizing that Andy was still diligently listening and not cutting you off or telling you to leave.. That had to be a good sign, right? “What happened?” You pressed on.
“What do you think happened?” Andy answered quickly. His voice rough and rugged from sobbing, as well as probably from previously yelling.
You slowly walked down the stairs, choosing to not shy away from his sudden outburst of anger. You weren’t exactly certain which direction you would go in once you were finished descending.. but atleast you knew Andy wasn’t fucking Hedwig. Not right now at the very least.
“Was it Hedwig?” you blindly guessed. Wanting to affirm what you were so desperately hoping wasn’t true and that you could finally relax a bit. That’s if Andy wasn’t mad that you practically broke into his house.. but he didn’t seem to be. Not right now anyway.
You heard him softly laugh in response which made you smile for a second. You could tell by how he was previously crying and in the tone of his voice that he was still hurt. His laugh wasn’t genuine in the slightest; but it showed that he was done crying for the moment which was worth a smile.
“Why does it matter to you if it was her?”
“So it was,” you affirmed.
Your feet stepped off of the final step, and you found yourself approaching Andy. The choice came naturally. The closer you got to him the more apparent it was how broken he truly looked. He stopped crying but his eyes and cheeks were still glossy and wet with tears. His lips red and trembling; among looking entirely and utterly broken there was a hint of agitation present as well. You started to wonder if Hedwig truly did something or if Andy once again was blowing things out of proportion.
“Will you tell me what happened?” You asked cautiously. Your voice was soft, not wanting to unintentionally come off as too strong or hostile.
He studied you hesitantly and with a gleam of uncertainty in his eye - but nonetheless he patted the seat next to him on the couch he was sitting on. Silently urging you to sit next to him and letting you know that he would probably tell you what happened.
At first he remained quiet. Awkwardly avoiding what he knew you wanted to talk about but he still remained silent.. but his voice suddenly broke through. Making you jump at the unexpected sound that suddenly sounded so loud, even though in reality his voice was still low in tone.
“She left me.”
You stared at him numbly for a second, not feeling necessarily surprised at his words (After all, since when was Hedwig not a flight risk?) but instead feeling weirdly a bit frustrated and sad for Andy.
You knew exactly how he felt; it wasn’t like this was the first time this ever happened but hopefully it would be the last. Seeing Andy this sad and broken over someone who in reality, didn’t give two fucks about him was beyond heartbreaking. It hurt even worse for you to keep witnessing him coming back to her though.
Just when you finally opened your mouth to speak he cut you off.
“You don’t have to say anything. I know it’s my fault and I’m such a fucking idiot-“
“Andy, stop!” You said a bit too loudly. You tried your best to hold eye contact with him when he finally turned to meet your gaze as he reluctantly looked at you. You fought the impulse to apologize for raising your voice but there was no need because you didn’t truly feel sorry. He needed to hear you out. “You need to stop blaming yourself. Hedwig’s actions aren’t your fault.. she’s like that with everyone, Andy. She’s always been-“
“I don’t give a fuck what she’s like with other people y/n! She should’ve acted differently with me, she was supposed to care about me and stay..” his words cut off with a deep inhale.
He was trying not to sob and failing miserably.
Andy quickly left the couch, taking a few steps away from you with his back turned. Trying to compose himself as you sat and.. felt entirely guilty.
Even though he had practically blown up at you; you weren’t leaving but you knew approaching him wasn’t the answer either, so you stayed seated at the couch. Hoping he would atleast sit back down next to you.
“I can’t control Hedwig or what she does, Andy but I know solely saying that I’m sorry isn’t enough either,” you started and then paused. The words you wanted to say next.. words that you knew were true but barely had the courage to say were heavy on your tongue. You knew this wasn’t exactly the time to even be thinking about how you truly felt for Andy but you couldn’t help it.
You wanted nothing more than for it to stop. His tears, his words and pleading with Hedwig, your feelings.. it wasn’t enough to just submit to it anymore and to be a witness to how you truly felt. If anything, it was slowly but surely driving you mad and you knew unless you atleast hinted at the fact that it was making you upset; Andy wouldn’t change his behavior.
You knew he payed for sex from Hedwig, it was the one thing that always kept her coming back no matter how he acted and well.. Even if his time was being bought, he liked the attention. He craved it.
It felt weird to admit to yourself that he was taking you for granted.. because he wasn’t really but, compared to how he treated Hedwig - you were definitely on the back burner. You didn’t blame him; why would he ever notice you when he could have someone like Hedwig?
You slowly looked back at Andy, noticing he was staring at you once again with glossy blue eyes which appeared dark in the lighting. A dark, almost midnight blue that would surely match the ocean waves that you could faintly hear from inside the house since the back door was open. He looked a bit annoyed but mostly intrigued. He was waiting for you to continue.
“But you deserve better, Andrew. You shouldn’t allow her to repeatedly do this to you because I know she knows how upset it makes you. She doesn’t care-“
“How do you know how Hedwig feels about me y/n?! You need to keep her name out of your fucking mouth. You don’t know her like I do,” Andy spoke roughly.
You stared at him blankly for a moment. Purely appalled that he was saying this to you in total seriousness; but you knew in reality that it was foolish to be surprised.. to not expect that he would talk to you like this eventually. After all; he blew up at everyone else, why wouldn’t he do the same to you?
You knew nothing made you inherently different and well.. this was just proving that assumption. Andy never viewed you differently from anyone else; that was now crystal clear.
Your hands started to gently tremble in your lap; and it didn’t take long for the rest of your body to follow suit. The sadness and self pity quickly washed away in what was quicker and more rapid than waves. Anger surged through your veins, forcing you to stand up suddenly. You could barely stand to make eye contact as you spoke, barely able to bear to witness how your words made him feel.
“Don’t talk to me like that. You don’t get to talk to me like that. If I didn’t randomly decide to come and check on you because I guess I’m the only one who actually gives a fuck about you, then you would’ve been alone again with no one to yell at. And maybe that would’ve been for the best,” You turned around on your heels. Walking fast and headed for the door, trying to quickly slip your shoes on before you heard Andy’s voice solemnly.
“Y/n wait.”
You stood still at first, weirdly feeling numb and waiting for the metaphorical shoe to drop. Andy’s voice was soft this time as he spoke, the roughness that was present earlier was long gone but.. you didn’t trust it.
You waited for him to catch his breath and to raise his voice and just say more words he would apologize for later; your throat tightened as you felt your body react almost instinctively. You slipped the other shoe you previously put on back off. Turning around just enough so that you could make eye contact, or attempt too with the horribly dim lighting.
“Yeah? Wait for what?”
Andy swallowed in response to your words. Almost bashfully looking down briefly to avoid saying anything or having to look at you any longer. You could see tears staining his cheeks, continuing to run down and nearly slid down his neck. He looked pathetic; and it would’ve almost been funny to see a grown man fully sob in front of you with no shame if it wasn’t your best friend and well.. the person you loved.
“Never mind. You were right; it’s probably best if you just go,” Andy’s voice cracked.
You wanted to believe that the best option for you was to turn around and leave but your judgment felt entirely skewed. Was it really the right thing to turn around and leave when he needed you? Probably not.
You knew if the roles were changed and you were the one who was upset that Andy would probably stay.. but that also depended on other circumstances as well, of course.
Stepping away from your shoes and the entrance of Andy’s house; you approached him. You tried to do so as quickly as possible before he could try to stop you or protest, but by the time he looked up you were barely a foot away.
You reached up, and with a shaky hand (that you hoped desperately he didn’t notice or wouldn’t swat away) you gently placed your fingertips on his cheek. Your thumb softly pressing against his skin, dragging your finger up as to wipe away his tears as the rest of your fingers lie under his jaw.
You tried to ignore how unsettled he looked at you doing this, and how he almost looked uncomfortable or as if he was on the brink of telling you off.. but he didn’t. He watched you diligently as you continued to brush away his tears.
“I’m sorry.. But I couldn’t stand to see you like that,” you said. Trying to give some rational explanation for your behavior even though, Andy didn’t look like he particularly cared why you were doing it. It was the fact you were doing it at all that seemed to have his interest piqued.
You tried to pull your hand back since his cheeks were dry, but he stopped you. His hand softly grabbed your wrist before his hand slid into yours.. your fingers slowly lacing together before you turned your gaze from your laced hands up to his eyes.
“Will you stay?” He asked. His voice was still rough and gravelly but this time, it was starting to sound a bit genuine.
You studied him for a second longer - your mouth dry but you knew the answer before you even spoke.
“Yeah. I’m not going to leave you Andy. I’m not Hedwig,” you spoke as if it were more of a promise rather than a statement.
You felt your stomach churn for a split second as you remembered how he scolded you earlier for talking down on Hedwig, but you smiled instead. The laughter you heard quickly subsiding your previous emotions.
“Okay,” He spoke almost uncertainly.
You could see the outline of him walking away before you felt him gently pull on your hand; making you follow him into the dark hallway which would eventually lead too, you could only guess, what would be his room.
Holding his hand like this almost felt weird but you couldn’t deny how almost.. right it felt too. Even perfect, you would dare say.
There was no way to guess what the rest of the night would entail but you didn’t exactly mind guessing; after all, how could you complain if you were to spend it with Andy?
You couldn’t. There was no way you could.
Whether it was platonic or not, spending the rest of the night right next to Andy, most likely in his clothes since you didn’t bother to bring any more of your own, sounded like heaven.
And since when did you ever complain about spending a night with someone that you had craved so bad?
Taglist: @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakescoven @dark-mei-rose @9layerdevilfoodcake @prophecy-is-inevitable @matildaofoz @beautyiswithinchaos @frenchlangdon @king-with-no-crovvn @melodylangdon @littledemondani @celestialrequiem @sojournmichael @ritualmichael @twilightzone24
Let me know if you would like to be added or removed to the taglist :)
#Andy Dolan x reader#Andy x reader#Andy Dolan fanfic#andy dolan fanfiction#Andy Dolan#my fic#will crosspost to ao3 shortly#not 100% happy w this but oh well lol
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hello!! It's your relief story anon!!! i friken love what you wrote!!! may i have another request 🥺 similar to the relief story, Levi's s/o gets into a near death experience right in front of him and he freezes for the first time. everyone's super shocked abt it after the mission and he gets reprimanded just for formalities (erwin n hanji rlly just wanna check up on him personally) but they all understand since he's been through a lot. Levi can't deal with his emotions and he wants to say i love you to his s/o (first time saying it) but he doesn't know how and yes HAHAHAHA
- OMG HI AGAIN ! IM SO HAPPY THAT YOU ENJOYED IT THANK YOU SO MUCH !!!!! thank you again not only for requesting that, but also for requesting again, it’s so awesome when u guys come back and request more :) plus your ideas are always so great. i had a lot of fun writing this, i hope u enjoy <3 (and i got your second message tysm for adding it ! i tried to include as much fluff as possible but my dumb brain always defaults to angst hahaha)
how to say i love you
- levi ackerman x reader
warnings: season 2 and ova spoilers (if you haven’t watched the ova’s yet they’re on youtube but this only references ‘a choice with no regrets’ aka levi’s ova)
levi has never had...feelings for anyone before.
the romantic kind, of course. he's felt plenty of things towards people on a regular basis—anger. hate. disgust. confusion. annoyance. frustration.
to be fair he has had the occasional friend, or the occasional person who he respected, and others who he flat out wanted to protect. just never anything romantic.
this didn’t bother him, falling in love wasn’t his top priority or anything. his life has been one traumatic experience after the other. there was no time for him to be romantically involved with another, nor was he willing to take the risk of potential heartbreak that would add to his constantly growing list of traumatic events.
when he first met y/n l/n he acknowledged her as nothing more than another member of the survey corps. someone he would work with. someone he would train with. someone who he would give orders to if deemed necessary. someone who would join his team. someone he would slowly become more curious about. someone who would bring him feelings that he couldn't describe in words.
his plans had clearly gone astray.
y/n was supposed to be nothing more than a colleague, but somehow fate had much more in store. the young girl began to appear more and more in his life and before he could even process it, she was already apart of his team.
now that the they were spending almost everyday together, along with the rest of his team, levi had the opportunity to try to solve the mystery that was y/n.
there was something that he felt about her that he couldn't put into words. the way she was determined to save humanity and her friends, the way she poured everything she had into everything she did, the way she was strong in every aspect of the word, the way she got along with the rest of the team, the way she laughed, the way she smiled, the way she spoke, the way she moved, all of it. it all encapsulated him.
what is this emotion ? fascination ? curiosity ? these words weren’t completely right, but they safe enough for him to settle on for now.
yes, that's all. the brat just makes me curious because i don't understand her.
at least, that's what he told himself. but the tingles that remained on his skin from the place where she accidentally brushed up against him or the way his stomach felt after his eyes met hers or the way he noticed himself always wanting to be near her or the way he wanted to protect her more than anything in the world, said otherwise.
whatever message he wanted to send probably definitely was not passed on. when y/n accidentally brushed up against him he snapped back "watch it." when she made eye contact with him, it was more her meeting his eyes and him seemingly glaring back. when he took a few steps towards her to be closer, she felt paranoid, wondering if he was determining whether or not he should scold her for something. when she was on missions and he occasionally had to step in and save her tail, she felt like she was slacking.
truthfully in all these situations levi just resorted back to his true nature. he never meant any harm so clearly he wasn’t the best at expressing his feelings. henceforth, the three word phrase was foreign to him.
after all the many challenges that came with trying to understand each other, the couple finally got together. but despite being together, neither had said the 'L word’ yet.
to be honest, y/n hadn’t dwelled on it too much. she had learned the best way to survive mentally was to live in the moment. when the time would come, the time would come, however, the thought that time wasn’t a guarantee gnawed at the back of her brain. she always wondered how levi felt about the matter, but never got around to asking. little did he know he’d once again find out for himself that time wasn’t a guarantee.
just like every other day, y/n awoke to levi placing a kiss on her forehead. he wished nothing more than to let the love of his life sleep late into the morning in their shared bed, safe from the dangers of the world, but there was another mission today in which he needed her by his side.
the plan was to head to the outskirts of wall rose to a forest that was known to be surrounded by titans. hanji convinced erwin to let her try to capture titans in the forest again, as it all but worked on the female titan. erwin agreed, not only because he too believed the survey corps had all the materials necessary to capture titans again, but also because he knew the scouts needed more real time practice in the forest. levi wasn’t happy to hear the commander refer to this as “practice,” since so many lives were guaranteed to be lost in the process, but there was nothing he could do about it.
with everyone’s approval and the preparations complete, they were off. the ride there had been as close to smooth sailing as possible, with erwin successfully rerouting the troops to avoid as many unnecessary collisions with titans as possible and a surprisingly low amount of abnormals in their path. but everyone knew the real problems would be up ahead.
in this area, the titans were mainly surrounding the thick trees in the forest. it wasn’t too far from the forest where they encountered the female titan so the layout of the jungle was fairly similar. a large path ran straight through the trees, leaving the scouts lots of opportunities.
before the forest itself came into view, the hoard otherworldly creatures showed up. the crowd of titans didn’t seem to be too bad, with none surpassing ten meters. a bit of the outer edges of the formation took a hit, but everyone else made it into the woods unscathed.
unlike the last time levi’s squad was in the forest, their objective was not to be the bait. instead, they were to take to the trees and be on clean up duty. it was a little different from their normal clean up duty, as they weren’t doing chores around the castle or cabin—they were eliminating stray titans. the survey corps was only prepared to capture two titans, so any others that entered needed to be exterminated.
they weren’t the only ones with this job, but erwin placed them as the last hoop the titans had to get through before they were captured. any titans that escaped the first few groups were more likely than not going to be challenging, so they needed to be left with the most talented squad.
the eight scouts that made up levi’s squad traveled the path that cut through the forest until they found the four trees in which they were to set up camp. levi and jean were on the first tree, armin and sasha on the one across from them, connie and mikasa on the next, and y/n and eren on the fourth. the formation placed y/n and levi diagonal from each other so they could each defend half of the younger scouts in their squad if necessary, as well as had the team in pairs that weren’t often together for even more practice.
the ground rumbled beneath the group as they looked down to see the first wave of soldiers acting as bait pass through. after some time and a few more waves, including hanji and erwin who were in charge of the traps, everyone passed through and the titans came into sight.
the ground troops had all reported that no abnormals or titans above ten meters made it in so they all relaxed—or relaxed as one can be when they’re facing man-eating giants. levi recognized the last troop passing through and gave his second in command a nod which she returned, letting everyone else know it was show time.
the rumbling of the ground from the horses before was nothing compared to that of the titans. not counting the first two, there were nine titans in all. everyone gave a silent thanks to the squads who had narrowed down the hoard before it arrived to them.
finally, the first two titans ran past the trees levi’s squad was hidden in, chasing the ground troops. with a loud “now !” from levi, the rest of them deployed from their hiding places. thanks to the squad’s impeccable teamwork and countless hours of training in forests closer to home, the remaining seven titans were taken out without a hitch. y/n couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as she watched her team improve with every mission and it was obvious they all felt the same way. the way they beamed and had to hold back their celebration was as a clear as day.
the team regrouped, with y/n checking the younger members for any life threatening wounds and levi double checking all the titans were taken care of. she had just finished examining sasha when levi came back and announced the next step of today’s plan. everyone was to head forward to meet the other troops and aid in getting the titans back to the walls. although the titans may be secured, there were still infinite possibilities for catastrophes that could happen so they needed all the backup they could get. the young cadets nodded in agreement then followed after levi as he took to the sky, with y/n tailing the rest of the group. if y/n and levi weren’t side by side during missions, this was always the formation everyone fell into. levi led the way, protecting the front of the party, and she acted as the caboose to make sure no one got left behind as well as to protect them from the back.
after a few failed tricks from eren as he tried to show off with his gear and a quick scolding from levi, the rest of the scouts came into view. the mission appeared to be a success. the final two titans were both apprehended, one nailed to the ground and the other bound in the air.
squad levi landed and began to greet everyone but didn’t get very far when hanji’s squeals flooded everyone’s ears.
the scientist was practically bouncing up and down as she came over. “squad levi ! all in one piece, i see. let me show you what we’ve done,” she gushed, ushering all of them towards the titans.
it was no surprise she was so excited. she had been waiting for this day to arrive for ages, but levi still gave a quick “tch,” under his breath out of annoyance which forced y/n to cover her mouth with her palm to stifle a laugh.
the eight, now nine, of them cranned their necks up to see the side of the beast that was hammered into the ground. the sight would’ve been cruel if it were anything other than a titan, but remembering all the pain they’ve brought to each one of them, no one did so much as bat an eye. returning the focus back to hanji, everyone watched as she took a sharp inhale to prepare for her long ramble about how everything worked. lucky for y/n, before hanji could exhale, levi grabbed his partner’s arm and pulled her away.
he pulled her close so he could whisper in her ear, “come on, let’s go find erwin.”
as much as she wanted to argue with him and tell him he was being mean, she really didn’t want to listen to hanji’s spiel that she had heard a million times over. a tiny pang of guilt struck y/n for leaving the other half of the squad behind forced to listen to her, but sometimes everyone has to take one for the team.
she threw a quick wave over her shoulder to the others, then followed levi, who was still holding her arm, as he dragged her through the crowd of other scouts who were just floating around, waiting for orders, until he finally spotted the commander.
the tall man’s eyes fell upon the pair and he drew himself away from whomever he was speaking with to come greet them.
“ah levi, y/n,” erwin began. levi’s expression stayed the same but y/n offered the man a small smile and wave which he returned with a nod. erwin was actually the one who recommended to levi that he should consider y/n to be apart of his squad, so she heavily credited him entirely with starting your relationship with levi (even if levi disagreed every time she told him this).
levi and erwin fell into formal conversation, discussing the remainder of the mission, which left y/n realizing levi hadn’t really saved her from a talk you’ve heard countless times before, but instead brought her into another one.
hanji’s rambling would have been more interesting than this she thought to yourself as she began lazily scanned the small sea of scouts scrambling around, looking for a way to entertain yourself until the two men were done talking. one group in particular caught her eyes.
the soldiers seemed to be much more jittery than everyone else. they frantically looked amongst each other and towards the titan that hanji had just finished showing the rest of levi’s squad, and seemed to be contemplating a solution to an unknown issue.
it was clear something was up.
just as she placed her hand on levi’s shoulder to bring his and erwin’s focus over to the scene, the ground began to shake, which caught their attention for her.
no one had time to react when dust flew up everywhere, obstructing everyone’s views so they couldn’t see where the loud crashes that followed came from. a strong force slammed into them, throwing them who knows how far into the air. the fear of hitting the ground barely had enough time to settle into y/n before everything went dark.
everyone in the vicinity had been sent flying into the air along, but levi was the first one to be up on his feet again. bringing his arms up to shield his eyes, he decided to stay where he was as the dust cleared so he could assess the situation and move on from there.
the scene finally came into view; he gathered that the titan had ripped its arm through the nails that secured it to the floor of the woods, then flailed it around in an attempt to grab people. it made a clean sweep in the area that he was previously standing—all that was left were debris and broken wood planks from the compartments that were attached to the other titan’s traps.
a wave of adrenaline passed through his body as he remembered who was with him. he needed to find not only erwin immediately, but also y/n. he reached down to grab the handles of his controller grip but froze instantly upon seeing what had just come into view as more of the dust cleared.
y/n was sprawled out on the ground, ODM gear tossed a few feet away from her body but more importantly, the titan’s hand was hovering mere meters above her.
his pulse almost quickened twicehold, but it felt as though it heart had stopped in his chest. situations like this presented themselves to levi almost everyday of his life, but this was much different. in those, he was almost two steps ahead. he knew that by now he should be wrapping his arms around y/n and pulling her to safety at breakneck speed, or even better, he should’ve shielded her from harm at the very beginning. but right now he couldn’t do so much as move his finger.
levi was completely inert—his arms felt like they being weighed down by a ball and chain, his legs felt like they had grown roots into the ground that planted in him place. his throat ran dry and his stomach felt like it had just done a flip. the rest of him went numb while shock consumed his body, physically and mentally, rendering him entirely helpless.
images of isabel, farlan, petra, oluo, eld, gunther, and countless others all flashed before him, the same running theme echoed in his mind—he wasn’t able to save them. all he had to do was pull back a single index finger. this would launch one of his anchors into the back of the titan’s neck, sending him flying to slice its nape. but he couldn’t do it. the only thing he knew he had the power to do was watch helplessly as his partner would be eaten alive.
the shouts of others flooded his ears as his senses slowly began to return to him, but it didn’t matter. he couldn’t make out a thing. frankly he wished he could so he could break away from the things that occupied his mind now. shame. guilt. humiliation. fear. regret. he took for granted every moment he had ever spent with y/n. every smile she gave him. every time he embraced her. every kiss. every conversation they shared under the stars while everyone else was fast asleep. every opportunity he had but failed to tell her that he—
before he finished his thought someone finally broke through his trance. erwin was the one who was able to crack the surface and bring him back to life.
the commander was shouting levi’s name, hoping, praying, to wake him up from whatever was going on in his head. levi was still unable feel his body, but he realized he was moving as the ground began to grow smaller. one of erwin’s strong arms hooked around levi’s middle and they were flying away from the chaos below. the commander spared a glance to levi to see the man’s eyes were still trained on y/n.
the feeling returned to levi’s body as he felt the pain of being thrown onto one of the thick tree branches surge through his body. not knowing how else to bring him back from the trance that wasn’t full broken, erwin had tossed off of him levi instead of placing him down gently.
he watched as levi scrambled up and expected him to yell back for throwing him, but the response was much different.
“where is she ??” levi demanded. his eyes may have been on y/n the whole time, but his mind was elsewhere replaying scenes from the past. he had no idea if she had been eaten, or even survived the initial attack. the only think he saw was her body on the ground, unmoving.
“safe,” erwin confirmed. “hanji ran over just in time and got her. but what happened to you ?” no one had ever seen levi freeze up the way he did. others believed it was just fear which made him seem a little more human to them, but erwin knew it was more than that.
throughout the years, erwin watched levi witness the deaths of those closest to him, and even then he was still able to act. but after seeing him go rigid, erwin was more than worried. it was clear levi went into shock, however, shock runs more than skin deep.
this became even more evident to him as levi remained silent the entire way back to the walls. y/n was still unconscious, so one of the open carts was her escort. guilt continued to wash over levi as he wasn’t able to ride in the cart with her to monitor her closely because he had to ride his horse back. regardless, he stayed as close to the cart as possible and stole as many glances her way as he could.
if he had it his way, he would’ve waited outside the infirmary for y/n when they arrived back home, but hanji and erwin practically dragged him to the mess hall to replenish his energy. this may or may not be skipping the part where levi was questioned about what happened, followed by him being chastised for his actions (or lack there of). levi could bare focus even though it was such a serious conversation. his mind was still a hazy mess. as much as hanji and erwin wanted to talk to levi more about the situtation, they knew it was best for the conversation to end there for the day. levi looked so shaken up that he could barely keep himself standing so the last thing he needed was to be yelled at more. the entire corps also made sure to steer clear of the man. he usually had all his emotions hidden but they were on full display now. it still scared the hell out of them.
but the fear alone wasn’t enough to stop them from whispering to themselves. word carried fast about how captain levi froze up and watched one of his squad mates almost die. the ones who only heard about the story instead of witnessing it couldn’t believe what they were hearing. the captain levi did nothing while one of his own almost became titan food ?
hearing the whispers in passing, levi didn’t care that they were talking about him, but he was still affected. their words just made reality sink deeper into him. they weren’t the only ones who were unable to believe what happened. he really just watched helplessly as someone almost died. and it wasn’t just someone, it was his other half.
“hey levi ?” hanji voiced, pulling him out of his head. levi didn’t bother looking up from his food that he had been staring at for the past few minutes to face her. the best he could to was give her a side glance as he peered at her from the corner of his eyes and waited for her to finish.
the glare he was sending her way made her blood run cold, but she took the hint and continued. “are you alright ?” she asked in a small voice.
“does it look like i’m alright ?” he growled back, then went back to eating.
“just wanted to ask,” she added with an awkward laugh then turned to erwin who was on the other side of her. for once in her life she knew not to press any harder, but making levi upset wasn’t her intention. she was genuinely worried about him. hanji gave erwin a what do i do now ? look, hoping for some help, but erwin could only shake his head. he cared about levi just as much as she did, but he knew there was nothing either of them could do or say to make levi feel better. the only thing he needed was to see y/n.
at last, levi finished his dinner and excused himself to go find his partner. as his feet carried him at a quick pace across the stone floors of the many hallways in HQ, fear came back to his already grim mind. there was no word on y/n’s condition so he assumed no progress had been made and she was still unconscious.
needless to say, when he rounded the corner and saw her sitting on the bench right outside the infirmary swiveling her heels and tapping her toes together as if she was bored, shock overcame him once again, this time on a much lower scale. similar to just a few hours ago, he was frozen instantly upon seeing her. it was a much prettier sight this time, but it was still painful to see. the bandage that wrapped around her head peaked out from being any strands of hair that fell in front of her face, other wraps and patches plastered themselves across her arms and legs, and some purple and blue splotches peaked out from behind them. this was only the skin that was exposed. for once in his life levi didn’t want to think about what she looked like when she weren’t wearing any clothes. he made a quick mental note to later place tender kisses on all her bumps and bruises, and took of running towards her.
y/n had been discharged from the infirmary during dinner hours, so the halls has been quite empty as she sat outside alone, falling into boredom. when the first sounds of shoes hitting the ground entered her ears, she got a bit excited, but calmed herself down reminding herself it probably wasn’t him. but when the steps got quicker and louder, she finally let yourself look up to see up to see her partner was the source. there was no point in holding back anyone; her face visibly lit up and a wide smile placed itself on her lips. just like levi, y/n wanted nothing more in the entire world than to see him.
he run turned to a jog then a complete stop as he halted in front of her. despite being so anxious to see one another, neither were really prepared. they just kinda...stared at each other, neither sure of the right words to say. levi decided to take the initiative. he opened his mouth, hoping something, anything, would come out, but his attempt fell flat. words just weren’t enough. instead, he lifted his arms and placed both hands gently on y/n’s shoulders. she caught on quickly, standing up at the same time as he was pulling her into his arms for a tight embrace.
the pair remained silent in each other’s arms until y/n decided to take initiative this time and finally spoke. “is it true ?” she mumbled against his neck, barely loud enough for him to hear.
as much as he had hoped the gossip would stay in the mess hall, levi knew that inevitably word would spread to her. someone must have told her everything that happened, leaving in every little detail about how levi made no moves to save her life, ending up having to be saved by hanji in the end.
based off his silence, y/n knew levi had a lot on his mind so she continued “did you really freeze up?”
he didn’t realize it, but he had tensed up at her words. it absolutely pained him to answer, but he couldn’t imagine the pain she were feeling.
summing up his courage, he began to confirm the worst, but she pulled away before he could get more than a “yes,” out. levi braced himself for the hurt expression that he would be faced with, knowing his heart would break instantly as she realized he truly did failed to protect her, but instead he was met with kind eyes and soft face.
the look on his face had utter disbelief written all over it as her hands went up to cup his face that was now reddening. “are you okay?” y/n asked softly. “im so sorry.”
levi was beyond bewildered. he wanted her to be furious at him. yell at him. pull her soft hands back and strike him as much as she pleased. tell him he failed and that she couldn’t stand the sight of him. he knew he deserved it all and more, but he should’ve known she would never do that. that wasn’t y/n.
he melted into her touch and placing one of his hand over one of hers that remained on his cheek. “i was terrified, y/n.”
y/n finally gave him one of her beautiful smiles and giggled softly. “why were you scared ? i was the one who almost got eaten,” she teased.
y/n’s laughs had quickly subsided after seeing the serious look that had etched itself onto levi’s face. “because you were in danger,” he started.
“i don’t know what id do with myself if i lost you, i...”
“i love you, y/n.”
it was finally y/n’s turn to get a taste of the shock that levi had been experiencing all day. she could’ve sworn her heart skipped a beat at his words, followed by butterfly wings tickling the inside of her tummy, her eyes widening and jaw falling slack. her hands slowly slipped from his face to instead place one of her palms on her chest to make sure her heart was indeed pumping at a regular pace.
levi, on the other hand, was not having a magical experience. y/n’s reaction made him feel as though his feelings weren’t reciprocated despite having been together for so long. he started to get deeper into his head, negative thoughts starting to eat away at him once again, when she finally spoke.
“i love you too, levi,” she breathed out, still too stunned to breathe properly.
levi had had enough of being unable to move for one day. one of his hands grabbed y/n’s waist while the other found its way to the back of her head, as he kissed her roughly, which she eagerly returned. the way he felt her grin against his lips was enough to make all the pain and fear he had experienced that day worth it.
he couldn’t have asked for a better outcome to such a shitty day.
levi had finally learned how to say i love you and he thanked the stars every night following that day that y/n was the one who taught him how.
#attack on titan#aot#attack on titan x reader#aot x reader#shingeki no kyojin#snk#shingeki no kyojin x reader#snk x reader#levi ackerman#levi ackermann#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackermann x reader#levi x reader
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Half the Battle, pt. 1
Kuroo Tetsurou x gn!reader
find part two here!
warnings: slight angst about childhood/parents fighting/divorce, one (1) bottle of wine is opened, someone is betrayed in Mario Party, NOT beta-read! apologize for any mistakes! (lmk if there’s any warnings i missed!)
wordcount: 5.5k
content: soulmate AU, mild angst, fluff, post-timeskip but slight canon divergence (i haven’t read the manga yet so this is loosely based off of their canon timeskip lives), gender neutral reader, reader is a video editor, reader is bad at eye contact but the details as to why are vague/up for interpretation!
notes: this was made for @gg9183 ‘s wonderful birthday event, a soulmate collab! (go read the other wonderful works!) happy birthday once again, gray!! this was meant to be a 2k one shot but.... plans and inspiration changes sometimes, right? 🥺 so this ended up as a 5k part ONE lmfao i hope thats alright w u!!! part2 will be up asap, i promise!! i hope you enjoy this!!!!
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Not meeting his soulmate was fine, Kuroo often found himself thinking. The odds of finding your soulmate’s way too low to be realistic anyways, he supported the thought. It’s illogical to spend so much time fretting about it, he finally added for good measure.
Soulmates were a natural part of life, always had been. But with the big wide world filled with over seven billion people, meeting yours wasn’t completely unheard of. But given the powers of soulmates even existing, it wasn’t unrealistic to also believe that some kind of fate would pull you towards each other throughout your lives so that you would meet each other. Kuroo however, prided himself in not caring about soulmates. His life was rich enough. People explaining their feelings about “something being missing until they finally meet them” was incomprehensible to him.
Kuroo had lived for 29 years without being able to see color. And you know what? His life was damn well fulfilling enough. He had a beautiful apartment, an economy that flourished, an adorable cat named Cucumber and good people around him. What would he really need a soulmate for? He could ignore his friends comments on how wonderful the world was in color, if only he would just start looking for his soulmate, how much meaning it gave life. Just because the people in his closest circle had all magically met theirs – not to mention how many of them had already met in Goddamn high school, Kuroo scoffed and was always able to move on.
Even though a lot of people actively made eye contact with everyone they met, even people on the street, to make sure they would meet their soulmate, Kuroo kept his eyes down. He wasn’t insecure, come on, he was perfectly happy! He just didn’t need to be late for a meeting because he got eye contact with some stranger, you know?
His life was in perfect balance as is.. Until yesterday, of course. It had turned out there was mold in his apartment complex so they had to evict it for a month while a crew would go through everything to remove it. He didn’t want to go to his mother’s place, that was too far from his work, but he wasn’t in the mood for a hotel, that was way too expensive, so he turned to his best friend of many years with the biggest set of puppy eyes he could muster and the prospect of making every dinner while he lived there.
“Fine… but don’t get in the way,” was all Kenma had to say.
And so Kuroo spent his last weekend in his own apartment packing things down to make it accessible to the cleaning crew. Cucumber hated other cats with a passion so he couldn’t bring him to Kenma’s, where three cats already happily lived, so his mother would pick him up tomorrow afternoon.
__
He sat on his couch, scrolling his phone mindlessly with Cucumber on his lap who had been stressed with all the packing down, sensing something was up. He was being extra cuddly towards Kuroo who, honestly? Didn’t mind at all. He loved when Cucumber was in mood for cuddles, though it wasn’t very often. He had been told his cat was orange and while he didn’t have a measure for what that color actually looked like, he was happy with his gray cat.
His mother was supposed to arrive any minute now, so he should have gotten up and put the cat in his carrier but it was easier to get him in it if you had two pair of hands. He scrolled through Instagram, reaching a photo put up by Tsukishima of his soulmate, the light-haired manager of their high school volleyball club, with a tooth-eating grin on her face and proudly showing off a ring on her finger, the caption said, This smile makes me wanna brag. Kuroo could physically hear the provocative tone of his voice, knowing he was one of the first in his circle of friends to actually plan a wedding. Kuroo clicked his tongue with a smile on his face and double-tapped to like the picture.
He didn’t know if it was the combination of that post and the fact that his mother was on her way but memories of his parent’s wedding flooded his mind. For a lot of people, weddings felt obsolete in the face of the whole “you already got your soulmate and you know this” thing, so a lot of couples were happy not getting married but just being together. But there was also the benefits of marriage in the practical sense, so some people did anyways, some hosting parties, some not. His parents weren’t married when he came to, but after he turned five they decided to do it so he would be protected by both of them, in case of any emergency.
It had been a small wedding, only the closest family and friends but Kuroo was vivid, so excited about being part of that whole romantic ordeal, even helping his mom find a dress and everything. He had been a huge and important part of the wedding – if he did say so himself. Everyone had been glowing at the day, the food was delicious, there was laughter, song and cheers and everyone had brought so many presents – even some for little Tetsurou, who had been very excited about his new train tracks.
But when Kuroo was seven years old, it wasn’t as romantic anymore. His parents were fighting a lot, he wasn’t entirely sure why or about what because they would never tell him about it, no matter how much he asked. When he tried to listen in, the words he heard didn’t explain anything to him because even though they were yelling at each other, the important words were always whispered, as if they knew Kuroo was listening in.
When he was eight his mom had come into his room, hugged him and with tears in her eyes and said that they were going to move away.
“Where are we going?” he asked simply, no emotion to be read on his little face. He was exhausted from his parents being this way – they were soulmates, right? Why did they fight like that?
“To Tokyo, just you and me, my love.”
That’s when he met Kenma. He had been very closed-off and shy back when they met, he reminisced. He had been a regular kid when he was younger but the way his parents split up – his soulmate parents – had closed him off pretty bad, so it was a miracle he met Kenma and started opening up again.
Kuroo smiled to himself bitterly before scratching Cucumber’s ear. He supposed this was also why he wasn’t interested in his soulmate. So many people had romanticized the whole soulmate ideal so a lot of people forgot that relationships still took work, took effort and just because they were made for each other, didn’t necessarily guarantee that they would stay together. His mom and dad didn’t officially talk anymore, but when he asked his mom as a child whether or not she still saw color, she said that she did. He also found long letters in her bedroom when he was nine, letters from his dad, so he supposed they still talked together, though Kuroo wasn’t let in on it – nor was he particularly interested. And he definitely we wasn’t interested in ending up in a relationship with someone who would end up not wanting to put in the effort for the relationship to flourish.
After Cucumber had been picked up by his mom it was time to leave for Kenma’s place. He carried the last boxes of valuables down to his basement and locked them in before trekking down to the subway with his suitcase and sports bag.
_____
You were late for work, so you scrambled to pack your things. It was Wednesday afternoon and you were supposed to meet in at 3PM, because that was around the time that Kodzuken had planned to finish his recording, he told you yesterday. You were a video editor and had met Kenma through your old part-time job in his favorite convenience store quite a few years back, back when he had first bought his house when he was 24. You remembered talking to him about video games in the store since you also played some, and after a good while of polite customer service and talk about new games, you had started hanging out outside of work as well. When you had then told him you were actually a freelance video editor but just didn’t get many jobs, he had almost instantly hired you to do his YouTube videos for him and general editing and set-ups of his streams. I know video games, not recording equipment, he had told you so many years ago.
Your original thought had been wary, because working for a friend might get messy but Kenma cared a lot about keeping it professional when you were on the clock, which you appreciated very much. In his house, down by his game room, there was a room next door with screens and all the best editing software just for you to play with. Your pay was higher than average for such a “simple” but regular gig but when prompted about it, he simply shrugged and told you it wasn’t up for negotiation and no one was being treated unfair – and who were you to go against such a good pay for a job that you loved doing and wanted to do full-time? With Kenma being a famous streamer and gamer, he often made lots of different videos for various sites so your job hours resembled a nine to five job, easy, even if the hours were off from the more conventional jobs and you usually came in later in the day and sometimes finished off late in the evening – some of his videos had a time limit for a release date of a game, so there was also days where you were extremely busy and scrambling to get the video done right for a release of a game.
As you closed your bag and ran out the door towards the subway, you checked your phone for any updates. If he’d finished early, he would’ve texted you about it, so you put your phone in your pocket and hurried towards his house.
When you arrived you immediately rang the doorbell before catching your breath, you were used to Kenma spending a few minutes before reaching the door and opening it, so when the door opened almost instantly you took a step back before looking up. The one opening the door was taller than Kenma and in a loose dress shirt that was unbuttoned at the top - that’s all you saw before your eyes darted down to your feet.
“...Hi! I’m uh… Where’s Kenma?” was all you got out while fidgeting with your purse strap, it certainly wasn’t his boyfriend Hinata opening the door today.
“Oh, hey! You must be his video editor, right? He told me about you!” The man said, pointing to himself with his thumb,
“I’m Kuroo Tetsurou! Kenma’s childhood friend! Sorry to intrude, I’ll be living here for the next month, I promise not to get in your way!” As he finished his introduction, he moved aside so that you could enter. As you took off your shoes you heard Kenma’s feet shuffling towards you, “oh hey, welcome, you’re early,” Kenma said with his usual deadpan expression but you could clearly hear the teasing in his voice.
“At least I’m here now, right?” You smiled back, instantly relaxing at the sight of your boss and friend. You turned to Kuroo again, bowed and introduced yourself before taking off your coat and putting it on a hanger, while Kenma and the guy named Kuroo seemed to bicker a bit about whether or not Kuroo should answer the door while he lived there.
“I’ll go set it up, have you transferred the video files to the hard disk?” you asked Kenma as you moved towards ‘your’ office, sending Kuroo a polite smile while keeping your eyes on his neck.
Eye contact was hard for you, it always made you extremely uncomfortable and you didn’t really have any before you felt comfortable with the person. Your mother had often scolded you, saying you’d never find your soulmate at this rate, which you always acknowledged with a hum or a simple yes without starting a discussion.
You honestly weren’t sure whether or not you cared for a soulmate. Your biggest argument to wanting to find one was so that you could see colors, because it’d help your career. Kenma already had his soulmate, so he was the one deciding the color scheme for his videos and helped with the color-related editing, which worked fine as of now, but you would probably appreciate to be able to do it yourself. You had also spent some years coming to terms with your struggles with eye contact and accept that this was just how you functioned. If you missed your soulmate in a random supermarket thanks to it one day, well, you’d be none the wiser, so you felt sure you’d survive without one, but you also couldn’t deny that the sound of a soulmate sounded really nice and comforting. That someone out there existed to fit you, that you were born to love someone who was also meant to love you. You were sure that finding your soulmate wasn’t a dance on roses, it was sure to still be hard, frustrating and maybe even painful sometimes, but you also couldn’t just have all the good, there was a balance that was sure to exist within soulmates as well.
After hours of going through the raw footage from his video game play and slowly editing while watching it, you popped your shoulders and stretched your arms for a moment, yawning as you did so. Your hours were always a bit intense, but that couldn’t be helped when you had six hours of raw footage to work with. Looking at the clock you saw that it was 5.30PM which meant that soon Kenma would wake up from his pseudo-sleep (which was more like a nap in your opinion) to look at your process and ask what you wanted for dinner.
Soon after a soft knock was heard followed by the door opening slowly, Kenma standing in sweats and a hoodie with bags under his eyes, “do you like hotpot?” he asked, and you smiled at him, “sure, are you cooking tonight?” he yawned while he shook his head, “Kuroo is. He insists on a ‘fulfilling meal’, whatever that means.”
You giggled before beckoning Kenma in to see some of what you’ve done so far and making minor adjustments along the way. “Now, something smells delicious and I’m thirsty,” you stated after the two of you had talked a bit about the rest of the video’s plans. As you went towards the kitchen you could hear the sound of of a nameless tune being hummed, pans sizzling from something being cooked and kitchen utensils being used.
Inside, the table was already set with plates and prepared ingredients lying ready for the pot that Kuroo was just about to put on the table. It seemed he had made an endless supply of different side dishes and really put in a lot of work for it, so you looked really forward to eating it and it smelled delicious. You grabbed a glass from the set table and went to the sink to get some water and just as your hand reached it, Kuroo had extended his hand as well to the sink and you accidentally touched.
You both recoiled as if you had been burned and you couldn’t stop the gasp that accidentally left your lips. A feeling was rushing through your body you hadn’t experienced before and you immediately apologized to Kuroo and went back to the table, foregoing the water. You didn’t notice how Kuroo was frozen in place from when he touched you before Kenma called out to him and he immediately started moving again.
You ended up eating shortly after, Kuroo serving the food and talking animatedly about him and Kenma’s childhood, making you laugh quite a bit at their (or more, Kuroo’s) antics and their volleyball days. Kuroo was the type of person to make you relax in his presence and have fun which you didn’t even notice until you got home later that evening and really thought about what a great time you had had. You found yourself surprised by how easily you clicked with Kuroo, a total stranger. It must be his charm, you thought to yourself before going through your night routine. You had to come back tomorrow and finish work, after all. You estimated the video would take you a few more days to finish but that would end up fitting well with the weekend coming, so as you went to bed you felt yourself more relaxed than you had in a while.
_____
“What are they like?”
It was Friday and it seemed you had finished Kenma’s video and therefor you weren’t here for dinner – for the first time in a few days, which did let down Kuroo just a tiny bit. He had talked a lot with you during dinner preparations when you came out from the office and during dinner as well and while you did answer all his questions (which, he admitted, there were quite a few of them) and follow up with your own for him, it still felt… off… talking to you – and Kuroo didn’t like not knowing why. “What do you mean?” Kenma asked, taking another bite into his mouth.
Kenma swallowed a piece of meat before looking up at Kuroo who was stabbing his plate with his fork in what seemed like a useless purpose. He knew he was being a little weird but meeting you was weird, even though he had no reason to explain why.
“I mean, is this how they usually act?” He didn’t even know what that question meant or why he was even asking it, nothing made sense! But he had a desperate feeling that he needed to get to know you – he was afraid of what that implied and what suspicions he needed to hold onto, but he was sure it was his gut telling him you were dangerous for Kenma to be around – that had to be it! Kenma was his best friend, his childhood friend, it had to be a gut feeling meant to protect him!
“Who knows, they’re being more polite than usual, I think. But that makes sense,” Kenma replied calmly before adding, “I mean you are a stranger who’s really intent on being social with them over our dinners, they were a bit shy as well when I met them,”
Kuroo nodded and finally took a bite of his own food. He didn’t notice Kenma’s raised eyebrows or the questioning look that was sent his way, so Kenma decided to let the subject rest.
Not seeing you today felt weird to him too and he couldn’t help the irritation building up inside him – you had just met a few days ago and only in the evenings when he was done with work and ready to make dinner – and yet, the thought of you kept invading his mind. He had gotten through work today thinking you were going to be there for dinner so when he came home and found out you wouldn’t be there, the first seed of irritation had been planted – why was he suddenly looking so much forward to seeing you? Had it been like this yesterday too? Why was it suddenly important that you weren’t there? He ended up sitting in front of the laptop in the guest room for the rest of the evening, the document left open and completely untouched.
Kuroo, however, didn’t let the subject rest in his head for the rest of that evening. Hinata was in town, having time off after a big game yesterday so Kuroo was left to his own devices – which really wasn’t a problem considering he had to make the paperwork for a promotional deal for a meeting Monday morning that he had procrastinated making – which wasn’t like him at all, he usually never pushed assignments to last minute and he then realized the reason he wasn’t done yet was because he had spent so much time over the dinner table with Kenma and you, talking even after dinner had been done for a while. You always offered to help him with the clean-up so you also spent some time talking there, drifting off to various subjects far passing the cleaning duties and sitting down again with a glass of water.
He enjoyed your company, it felt... easy, somehow, the sensation that something was off was there but it didn’t really settle in his stomach until every time after you left, as if it was left to grow a bit from a small sensation to a problem, which worried him – Kuroo prided himself as an impeccable people-reader, he was captain for both the volleyball team in high school and college, he knew how to act around business relations so well because he could read them so flawlessly – so the feelings he got from you was unsettling and unreadable and it took some control away from him – and Kuroo always felt uneasy when he wasn’t in control.
____
Kuroo heard your name and almost got whiplash from how fast his head moved towards Kenma, “what?”
“I asked if we should invite them? To game night? Being three is a little annoying in Mario Party.”
“Oooh, that’s a good idea! I’d love to see them again!” Hinata happily exclaimed before taking another bite of the lasagna Kuroo had prepared tonight. It was Saturday and Kuroo had been in a daze the entire day, first at the office for a quick meeting with his boss about a potential partner he might be able to reel in soon and then doing his laundry at Kenma’s and continuing to try and make the stupid paperwork but ultimately failing before he had to make dinner.
“Isn’t it a bit late to invite someone? I mean, they could have plans already...” Kuroo tried, knowing what a pain it could be to be asked to something an hour before it happened and he didn’t want to let you go through that – that’s what he tried to tell himself, at least. In truth? He was a bit afraid of seeing you again, afraid of his potential reactions, since he had spent his entire Friday in a stupor just thinking about you. His thoughts didn’t mean much for Kenma and Hinata though, who was already texting you to ask. “Oi, no phones at the table, have you parents taught you no manners?” Kuroo chided and Hinata immediately shrank back and apologized – Kuroo smirked, yea the Chibi-chan still had respect for his seniors. But he was quickly pulled back to thoughts about you by Kenma’s phone lighting up again, “they’ll be here in an hour. They’re asking if they should bring anything?” Kenma looked up to gauge Kuroo’s reaction, having noticed something about his friend had been off the past few days. He immediately made a funny grimace before turning it into a smile. “Yea, they can bring a bottle of white wine, if I have to beat you all at Mario Party, I would very much like to be a tiny bit buzzed,” Kuroo said, and Hinata looked at him with wide eyes, “you drink wine!? So grown up!” Hinata exclaimed, to which Kenma just muttered, “or just an old man…” Kuroo didn’t hear that though, too busy to fidget with his hands under the table, suddenly feeling nervous that you were showing up.
Hinata plopped down between Kuroo and you with a controller in hand, “I’m gonna beat you all in this Mario Kart!” to which you laughed loudly, “good luck since we’re playing Mario Party.”
“Huh? Is there a difference?” Hinata asked, making Kuroo belt out a loud laugh as well, holding his stomach, “you just told us you’d beat us but you don’t even know what we’re playing!” Kuroo couldn’t contain his laughter for a bit until he noticed how you were looking at him and instantly retracted his laugh, sitting up straight with a cough, and apologizing for being loud, which confused him to no end. He had never been self-conscious of his own laugh! He knew it could be obnoxious and loud, but he also liked it himself, and-
“That’s a really cute laugh.”
The comment earned you the stares of the century from the three other people in the room, with Kenma in genuine shock – he wouldn’t say he disliked Kuroo’s laugh, just that it was… special.
“Uhm… Uh. Thank you?” Kuroo could feel that his blush went all the way to his ears but he hoped that the light in the living room wasn’t bright enough to catch it. “Yeah uh! Sure! Mhm,” you awkwardly coughed a bit as well before reaching for your glass of wine.
You had brought a bottle of white wine for Kuroo on the promise that you’d get a glass too, saying he was your first friend who also liked wine. The word ‘friend’ had dumb-founded him and he’d just answered “you can have it all,” to which you had laughed and said it’s fine with half, you weirdo.
The game was about to begin but Kuroo was still sitting stuck on the fact that his laugh was cute – cute? Had anyone else found it cute before besides Bokuto and his mom? He wasn’t sure – he sure couldn’t pinpoint them right now anyways. He tried to shake it off and focus on the game, though quite a bit of time was spent explaining the rules to Hinata who apparently had thought they were just playing Mario Kart.
When you were 12 laps into it, it seemed that you were set to win with your four stars and 121 coins. Kenma was right behind you with three stars and Hinata and Kuroo had been left in the dust with zero stars. You had stolen Kuroo’s first (and only) star early in the game, so he was plotting his vengeance in quiet but was getting afraid that the game would end before he could do anything to you – but just as his hopes were at the smallest during the last round of the game, you were put in the same team as him in the last mini game.
Kuroo had a wide smirk when you cheered and said, “this’ll be easy then!” because no, it would not be easy for you. If he had to go down in order to take you down a notch, then so be it. He’d rather Kenma win than you did with stolen goods!
The last mini game was “Tow the Line” where two players were put in a sewing box shaped with nine dots as a grid and two players tied together with a string and the objective was to make the shape with the string as shown in the middle of screen. As soon as the whistle sounded, Kuroo lowered his hands and stopped using his controllers, all with a big grin on his lips.
“Kuroo, what the fuck! Get moving, we’ve started!” you yelled at him as Kenma and Hinata won the first round, signaling the next round began, Kuroo started whistling and looking away from the screen, to which you got up from your seat, “fine, I’ll just take your controller and do it myself!”
Kuroo put his arm with the controller behind him, “nah-ah-ah! You’re not winning this, fiend! That’s what you get for stealing my star!” He grinned up at you with his eyes closed as you stood with your hands on your hips, “come on man! I stole that star in the fourth round! Kenma stole a star from me as well!” you tried, “maybe he stole the one that was yours, who knows! Get over it so we can win!”
But as soon as you’d said that, the third round had just been won and you sighed and flopped down on your seat again, “not cool Kuroo, not cool. I’ll remember this!”
You both laughed as the game made ready to announce the winner, Kenma and Hinata entertained by your antics.
“You can’t avenge something that I avenged in the first place! I only did it because you did me wrong, you know!”
“You can’t use logic on me, it doesn’t apply!”
To no surprise, you won the entire game, even winning one of the two bonus stars given at the end of the game.
After the last sequence and a bow from you there was a quick break before you decided to play some Mario Kart for Hinata’s sake, since his argument was that he lost due it being Party instead. You played quite a few hours and after another toilet break you had switched places with Hinata so Kenma could cuddle up against him. You yawned, drinking the last of the wine in your glass and said, “I should head home, I have a friend coming over for lunch tomorrow.”
Hinata and Kenma both started to get up to say goodnight but you waved at them with a smile, “I can walk out myself, it’s fine!” But Kuroo had already gotten up from the couch as well, so you walked with him towards the hallway where you put on your shoes. There was a comfortable silence between the two of you, which Kuroo noted and scowled a bit - he might have only known you for less than a week but for some reason he felt like it had been a lot longer, like you were old friends – it felt strange, to be so close with a stranger. He didn’t know anything about you, really. He knew your name, your job and how you liked some of your vegetables and which meat was your favorite, he knew you also loved cats but didn’t have one (he couldn’t remember if he knew why) and he felt pretty sure he would recognize you in a crowded area – why it was so intense, he was unsure of, he hadn’t tried meeting someone this way before. It had also seemed like having this game night had made you considerably more relaxed in his presence, even joking around with him instead of being polite, which made Kuroo somewhat giddy, though it didn’t really make sense to him as to why.
“I hope you had fun,” Kuroo said awkwardly, as if he had been the host and scratched the back of his head.
“Yeah, I did! I’m sorry I stole your star, though,” you laughed, buttoning your jacket.
“Nah, no worries, as they say, all’s fair in love and war, right?”
You giggled and picked up your bag from the dresser while Kuroo opened up the door for you. As you exited, you turned around with a bright smile, “well, thanks for toni-”
Everything ended up a blur, too bright, too much, too noisy, too… colorful? Kuroo was still looking into your eyes as all that went through him, completely blindsided. As he took a proper look, he could see that you looked just as surprised as him, your eyes wide but still never leaving his either.
“Is… Is this? Are you? Is…” You asked after what felt like both days and milliseconds, I could stare at them so much longer, he thought to himself, the colors only making your face more clear to him. Had you really not had eye contact at all? Had you seen each other for several hours – more than a few times, without looking each other in the eyes at all? Kuroo was more baffled by this happening so late than the fact that it was happening.
He was about to say something, anything, when you promptly turned around, nervously yelling, “I-I uh, I gotta go! Goodbye!” as you hurried out of the driveway and down towards the subway.
“W-wait!” Kuroo belatedly and unhelpfully yelled out as you turned a corner, too late. You were gone. A hand was dragged down his face as a sigh left him, what the fuck had just happened? He obviously needed to talk to you about this, but he also needed to gather his thoughts about all of this, so he slowly closed the door and went back towards the living room, greeted by Hinata and Kenma who looked up at him curiously, “why did you yell?” Hinata asked with his head tilted.
“I think I just found my soulmate.”
#haikyuu!!#kuroo tetsurou x you#kuroo tetsurou x reader#hq x reader#waaaaah im so nervous about this!!!! i basically cranked it out in less than 24hrs ngl.... i had 1.5k of beautiful words before i came u#P WITH A WHOLE OTHER PLOT!!!! :-)#if any of u get the ref of the title i love u and we need to play mp together lmao <33333#also kenhina and tsukiyachi is mentioned!#both reader and kuroo r A MESS#stay tuned for part 2!!!!!!#nohr.writing#half the battle series#im gonna dig a hole real quick to hide in hehehe#honestly im not sure this is entirely coherent i had so much.... i wanted to force into it im afraid some of it feels out of place but!!!#here we go!! face the fear lmao!!!!
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“Fuck You!””I Just Might.”
Bakugou Katsuki
word count : 7.1k holy hecc
[ ✘ (nsfw!) ]
themes : nasty nasties hehe.. choking, angry sex, dom bakugou (what’s new lmao), lots of sexy vengeful teasing, & almost being caught (? idk what to call that haha)
bio : You and Ground Zero are far from getting along in almost every aspect… except for getting off perhaps.
author’s note : wow another smut whodathunkit !!! This isn’t super romantic (Happy VDay my sweets!!) but goddamn if u thirstin today drink tf up bc the SALOON IS OPEN AND HERE’S THE SPECIAL ON DA HOUSE
side note: (Y/H/N) = your hero name, also the sidekick is 100% out my ass not real bc I didn’t feel like doing legit research heheh. also, all characters are aged up to long past UA-grad in this (so everyone is 18+!!)
tagging: @lordexplosionsextra per request -- hope you enjoy bb :) happy vday!
also available on AO3 here
─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───
🄰rms crossed, chest puffing in defiance, your gaze shoots daggers into his stupid smirk. “I’m not your fucking sidekick, Boom-Boy, so you can crawl back into the putrid swamp you came from and take your damn paperwork with you!”
“H-hey now,” Bakugou’s sidekick laughs nervously, hands waving in front of him as he shakes off the jab you just took at him inadvertently.
Bakugou laces his gloved fingers over his lap and kicks back in his chair, straightening his legs so his boots rest on the table across from you. “Listen, Princess, you know the rules. Whoever gets the final blow doesn’t have to do the nitty-gritty shit,” he answers, shrugging nonchalantly.
“You only got the finisher in ‘cuz I was busy doing everything else! You pop in at the last second and get all the credit and no busywork? Fuck off,” you fume, hooking your foot around the leg of his chair and ripping it toward you. Bakugou’s eyes widen as he falls backwards, tumbling onto the hard floor. He grimaces at you from the floor, vermillion eyes ablaze.
“It’s not my fault you’re too stupid to strategize! Don’t start shit you can’t fucking finish yourself!” He barks, voice spiking with fury. Ouch, that one stung your pride a little.
“You’re such an asshole,” you snarl, shoving the stack of papers off the table. The pages swirl in the air and scatter onto the tiled floor, some landing on the instigator’s lap. Bakugou’s palms crackle as his breath is stolen at your audacity. Your sidekick lets out a startled noise, jumping at the sudden popping. Bakugou’s sidekick has his hand on his temple, attempting to rub out the headache forming at this mess.
Why did you two have to hate each other so much?
The two sidekicks stand stiffly against the wall as you shove by them, Bakugou glaring at your ass as your hips swing around the doorway, out of his sight.
It’s late, the purple sky littered with the lights of the lively city. The villain you— or Bakugou, you suppose— had taken down earlier had been the last job of the day and you’re tired of the stupid bullshit he always serves you when the two of you work together.
Usually your agency kept the two of you on opposite boundaries of the patrol area, but you had begrudgingly needed help with this last offender of the day. Your quirk didn’t do incredibly well against villains with close-combat styles, but you could still manage. Unfortunately, the guy that had been causing mayhem earlier was beyond powerful up close, and he had landed a hit that knocked the wind out of you and made you slower than usual. It wasn’t a major injury or anything, but you’d probably have a nasty bruise on your torso after you took off this goddamn gimp-suit of a costume. Luckily, you had visited the in-house, agency healer in the infirmary upon arrival from the job, and they had sucked the nasty welt off your skin and redirected it somewhere else as their quirk allowed. The pain subsided mostly, just a bit sore where the bruise would’ve been.
You close the door to your office gently, a heavy sigh releasing as you make your way toward the desk. It was almost quitting time, but you still had to finish up the paperwork from the other case you had dealt with this morning. Clicking on the desk lamp, you breathe in to calm your frayed nerves, eyes closing briefly as you try to find the energy to finish your work.
The door bursts open, slamming almost immediately and tearing you out of your attempt at meditation. Bakugou stands in there, steam practically billowing from his nose and scarlet eyes flashing with agitation.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He snarls, prowling toward you with an accusatory, gloved finger raised.
“Excuse me?” You quip, irritation revitalized almost instantly. “Who do you think you are, storming into my office after the shit you pulled today?”
He stops in front of you, glowering down at you. You turn your face slightly, your eye level meeting his chest and not wanting to look at that. He was kind of muscular up close like this, you’d never noticed because you’d always created the most distance as possible between you two.
“Oh, you mean me saving your ass? Yeah, my bad, woman,” he growls, letting his gaze linger on the way your eyelashes kiss your cheek bones as you scoff, eyes closed in annoyance.
You glare at him, infuriated. “I didn’t need your fucking help! Did I ask you to come?”
He takes his time to reply, stare holding your attention briefly before he licks his lips. “No, but your sidekick did.”
The sentence is like a cold slap to the face, and you push him backwards with newfound anger. “Don’t fucking lie to me Bakugou,” you seethe, hands clenched into fists. “If you’re gonna lie at least come up with something believable!”
“Tch. She did call me, brat, and she begged me to come to your rescue like you were a goddamn damsel in distress,” he grunts, breaking eye contact with you as he hunches slightly, strong hands shoved into his pockets. Bristling at the refreshed anger rippling off of you, he already knows what you’re going to say. “She said that shitty villain got his hands on you, yeah right you had it under control.”
You don’t know what to say. You can’t really refute that the assailant had managed to hurt you, but you still wish Bakugou hadn’t heard that information. The asshole already thinks he’s the hottest shit in the agency, you really don’t want to give him any evidence of your weaknesses. So you sit on the edge of your desk, sighing once again. “I can handle one hit, dipshit,” you mutter. “It’s already healed anyway.”
“Yeah, yeah, you can take care of yourself,” he grumbles, gaze flickering to your grim expression before he looks intently at the picture on your wall.
The silence that ensues is uncomfortable. You had never really talked to Bakugou before-- usually every time the two of you were together you were having a shouting match, throwing insults back and forth relentlessly. You aren’t really sure how to reply, and you absolutely did not want to acknowledge that he had come to your rescue when you actually needed him.
Bakugou is as silent as you are. He wonders where you’d been hit momentarily, before pushing off the thought because god forbid he show emotions. He’d already had his fill of feelings for the day. He sure as hell would never tell a soul, but the second he had seen your sidekick’s name flash across his phone screen this evening, his stomach dropped like he’d been the one to receive the villain's punch, not you. Shoving away the intrusive thought, his trademark scowl surfaces to his face.
“You know, I still haven’t heard a ‘thank you’.”
His irritating voice slices through the tension in the room, and you bristle at his impudence. “Gee, Ground Zero,” he ruffles at his hero name, a frown bending his thin lips,” thanks so much for stealing my job and taking the credit for it too, and really— thank you so much for the paperwork as well. I’m just so grateful.”
“Tch. Don’t be so bitchy, you know I saved your ass today so just fess up and thank me already. You’ll feel better once you spit it out,” he provokes, thick arms crossing over his chest.
“Fuck you,” you hiss, scowling at his smug face. The snarl that breaks his lips is ignored as your eyes turn to slits directed toward him.
He laughs at your malicious look, mouth transforming into a sleazy grin. He can’t stop himself even though he’s a tad hesitant, but his bold and loud nature wins out and he says cooly, “I just might.”
You gape at him, the smile on his mouth escalating your agitation. “W-What?” You choke out meekly, palms pushing you off the desk to stand upright.
He has the gall to grin, taking a step toward you. His heavy boots clunk against the floor, and you move backwards only to bump into the desk again. You cast a futile glare at the desk, and when you look back at him, he’s looming over you. “I think it’s time we acknowledge this thing we have, (Y/H/N).”
Your lips part in surprise, the blush tainting your cheeks slightly. “I have no idea what you’re referring to,” you stammer. Your arms crossing over your chest, he can’t help but notice how your breasts squish upwards, cleavage visible through your skin-tight costume.
“I think you do,” he chuckles with a low voice, gaze regarding the pink pigment gracing your cheeks. He savors it, lips curling into a smirk. His hands meeting the edge of your desk as he leans in, his body brushes against your arms. You rear back, shock evident on your face with lips parted as he tips his head to the side. He cages you in, an unfamiliar look simmering in his crimson irises. “You can feel the tension between us too. I know it, Princess.”
You’re once again at a loss for words. What the hell is happening right now? You think, mind reeling desperately to change the subject. “I hate it when you call me that,” you spit out, looking up to catch his intense stare. It wasn’t dishonest, you hated his pet name for you. Just because you weren’t as careless as him, he’d tacked the snide nickname to you awhile back because he knew it pissed you off. “It’s a stupid name that only your idiot brain could come up with.”
Take the bait, please take the bait.
“The way you treat me like I’m beneath you, what else can I call you?” His breath fans against your cheek and you hate to admit it’s fresh and minty, not at all as nasty and troll-like as you’d convinced yourself it would be. “But I guess that’s ‘cuz you really wouldn’t mind having me under your lap, right?”
You gasp at his crude suggestion, knees smacking together as your thighs clench automatically. “Fuck off, Bakugou,” your voice trembles slightly, your palms hesitantly landing on his chest. Your attempt to push him is less than half-hearted, and he smiles at your crumbling resolve.
His fingers skim along the small of your back, perching his hand on your waist. You can feel its warmth through your costume and his glove, and your body bends into his hold on its own accord, your ass pushing back while your chest grazes his. He exhales harshly, his other hand docking on the top of your stiffened thigh, thumb falling into the curve between your legs. You wish it was higher up, and the recognition of your craving makes your blush a few shades darker.
“What was that?” He snickers, lips brushing your earlobe as his nose pushes away your cascading hair. He didn’t expect you to smell so good after a long day of fighting crime.
Your fingers grab onto his costume, clawing at the material and you’re not sure if it’s in anger or desire. But Bakugou is sure, his fingers rubbing your waist as he glances at your restless hold on his costume. “Oh, bite me,” you spit out, your bottom lip caught between your teeth.
His lips touch your jaw, and you can feel the sneer that rests so prominently there. “Manners, Princess… say please,” he chides, tongue poking out to trace the soft skin there.
A quiet moan escapes you and Bakugou groans loudly in response. He draws his face back to lock eyes with you, stare taught with the tension the two of you have built over all this time.
“You gonna tell me you’ve never thought about us fucking?” He inquires, eyes darting to your lips and returning to your gaze. “All those times we riled each other up, every time we pushed each other’s buttons over and over— you gonna say you never thought about getting me to shut the hell up by any means necessary?”
Your eyes roll in your head, from a combination of lust and disbelief. You cannot believe you're letting him hold you like butter in his hot hands, melting you and licking you up. You glare at him, his lips just close enough to distract you. You weren’t going to let him mould you like putty anymore. “I bet you wanna think that I have, Bakugou,” you whisper, and he looks at you with mild surprise adorning his handsome face. Your blush infects him immediately, a flush spreading over his own cheeks and he’s suddenly very glad his costume has a mask. “You think I haven’t noticed you checking me out every second of the day, Boom-Boy?”
He seems at a loss for words as your wrists wrap around the back of his neck, pulling his face down and level to yours. His brow bursts into a sweat as one of your hand curls around his costume’s throat piece, trailing south and following the delicious line between his pecs down his abs. Your fingernails scraping through his costume, his skin prickles as he gasps. Your lips meet his stubbled jaw, mirroring the action he had performed to you a moment ago. His fingers tighten their hold on you, his body jerking almost invisibly at the contact. “You ogle at me much more, little Miss Priss,” he says cockily even though his voice sounds forced.
It was your turn to curl your lips into a sultry smile, half-lidded eyes regarding his shocked, eager stare. “I thought I told you not to tell your phony lies, Bakugou,” your murmur against his jawline, hand curving around his pelvis and to drag down his outer thigh. “It’s a sin to lie, you know.” Your fingers skim the very ridge of the bulge in his pants, teasingly tracing the outline and watching him close his eyes, his grin seeming strained.
“You know a lot about sins, then?” he pants, sliding his hand down from your waist slowly, fingertips stretching eagerly to push into your plush ass.
You nip at his skin playfully, and he shudders in response. Your raise your head to meet his hungry gaze, your coy smile still beaming. “I might… You want me to demonstrate my knowledge?” Your tongue parts your lips, eyes falling to his slightly agape mouth. Your breath tangles, and his eyelids flutter shut as your lips graze.
The hand on your thigh grips your flesh tighter and you whimper, your mouth tingling at the harder contact of the kiss. His other hand slides south and cups your tailbone, calloused fingers bringing your ass toward him. The sudden movement surprises you, and you grab onto his neck, making his chin dip down as your hips slide into his crotch. You clash into him, your lips colliding as sparks fly through the air.
You both moan into each other’s mouths, the kiss desperate and hot. Your tongue pokes out to probe his bottom lip and he gladly receives your wet muscle with his own. Your legs trapped between his shuffle as you wiggle your hips, savoring his fiery hands gliding over your figure.
Bakugou’s hands are firm but warm, caressing your waist and hips and heating them up. He growls as your hips buck against his, rubbing the tent in his baggy pants. One of his hands slides along the smooth fabric of your hero suit, cupping the swell of your breast in his large palm as his thumb runs over your nipple. You throw your head back, and his lips gladly blaze the trail of your throat with a scorching urgency. Your fingers move to his arm pieces, clamoring at the top of the machinery near his elbows. He gladly slides the gadgets off, placing them in one of the chairs facing your desk while he rips off his black gloves. He hastily throws the neck piece onto the seat as well before he turns and captures your lips once more.
When his fingers return to your hips, you can feel the true heat of his burning palms through your bodysuit, making you arch into him wantonly. His tongue battles yours fiercely, both of you fighting for dominance as his hands glide up to your waist and fumble with your belt. You can feel his rigid muscles through his thin tank top, your hands wandering greedily underneath the right material to touch his smooth skin.
Bakugou smirks as your belt falls onto the desk, hands falling and grabbing onto your ass cheeks eagerly, pulling you closer to his body. You take the chance to shove your tongue into his mouth and he groans at the impact, jaw slackening as he allows your tongue to take control. He grinds into you slowly, making your thighs tremble with apprehension. His mouth detaches from yours, and the string of saliva connecting your tongues is sliced as his shirt flies through the air. You drink in the sight of his naked chest, muscles swelling and flexing, tapering down into a delicious V that disappears underneath his belt.
You grab the belt, yanking his body close to yours again and sighing as your lips meet once more. “You’re really man-handling me Princess,” he comments amusedly into your lips as your fingers grapple with his belt, toying with the latch.
“Shut the fuck up,” you snarl, teeth sinking into his bottom lip and harnessing a moan from him,” and touch me already, pussy.”
His vermillion gaze ignites, mouth crashing onto yours as his fingers slide underneath the swell of your ass. He lifts you like you’re but a paperweight, and you moan as your legs wrap around his hips. His tongue crushing yours, his kisses so intense that your head leans back at the sizzling force. You jump slightly as your ass meets the cushion of your desk chair, eyes opening to see he’d rounded the desk and knelt in front of you. His knees on the ground, he looks up at you haughtily, hands coasting slowly down your legs toward your center. “Is this where you want me?” he feigns innocence and you glare down at him. His thumb hooks the crotch of your leotard, and he shoves the material to the side roughly, making you gasp.
The cool office air greets your cunt, making it throb even more in arousal. “Bakugou,” you whine as he watches your face, shifting your hips in a feeble attempt to catch his attention. He slinks down, lips brushing over your panties softly as he watches you squirm. He grins against the black lace, thumb curling around the skinny part of the thong over your asshole, making you shiver.
“You’re right Princess,” he grumbles, tongue gliding over the wet spot that had leaked through the material, inhaling your scent pervertedly as he closes his eyes in triumph. Your bottom lip is prisoner to your teeth again as you watch his teasing movements, unable to tear your eyes away from him. “Sometimes when you’ve got me all riled up, I jerk off thinking about how good your bratty little ass would look bouncing on my dick.” You can’t help but whimper at his confession, rolling your hips against his mouth in desperation.
He smirks up at you, crimson irises glittering with savory mischief. His hands snake around your thighs, clutching onto the junction they meet your hips with vigor. He pushes your body down into the seat so you can’t wriggle any longer, and he feels your cunt clench against his chin when he nips at your panties, teeth dragging along your clit. You wail his name again lowly, harsh breaths ripping through your lungs.
He growls in response, thumb ripping the lace to the side and exhaling at the sight of your swollen cunt, grin broadening at the excessive glaze that he had caused. “Fuck,” he laments, tongue poking out to graze your clit experimentally. Satisfied with the way your hand flies to cover your mouth, he places a teasing kiss there. “You know,” he murmurs against your slick nerve,” More than once I’ve wondered how hot and sweet your cunt must be, hiding underneath this skimpy little leotard.”
You let out a shaky breath, eyebrows cinching as you glower down at him, meeting his pleased gaze. “Why don’t you find out for yourself then?” you hiss, baring your teeth at his infuriatingly proud smirk.
“Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Princess?” Bakugou’s tongue glides along the side of your slit, making you stiffen and shut your eyes tightly. Of course he’s a fucking tease.
A knock sounds at your door to pull you out of your collapsing mind, and you sit up straight, eyes wide as Bakugou’s sidekick peeks into the room.
Bakugou stills, unsure as to who it is, staying hidden behind your desk and still holding your hips harshly.
“Hey Y/N, have you seen Ground Zero possibly? He’s stormed off as usual and I can’t find him anywhere,” the sidekick says, blinking at you with unsuspecting eyes.
“Oh, H-Hikaru,” you gulp, hesitantly placing your hands on your desk. Bakugou is quiet underneath you but you’re preparing yourself for the little shit to pull something stupid.
And he does.
Bakugou’s tongue slips between your folds suddenly, licking a large stripe from the bottom to the top of your slit, sucking in your clit and rolling his tongue around it brazenly.
“Oh my god!” you yell, hand slapping over your mouth too late. Hikaru looks at you incredulously, regarding your pink cheeks and sweaty forehead. “I can’t believe him! W-what an asshole!” you pant as Bakugou sucks harder, your pussy clenching onto itself. “He probably left so you’d do the paper… mmm, paperwork for h-him.” You abs are flexed so hard, straining in order to restrain the mess of moans that Bakugou is summoning.
Hikaru finds your tone a bit peculiar, but he continues anyway. “Uh, probably… Are you okay Y/N? You look kind of… sick,” he comments, head tilting to the left. “Did you get that jab checked out yet? I can take you to the infirmary if you want. If it’s bad I can drop you off at your place, too.”
Bakugou doesn’t like that suggestion. He doesn’t need to lick his fingers, your drenched core welcomes the digits instantly. Your walls accommodate his middle and ring finger eagerly and he smirks as they sink into you, knuckle-deep.
“Yes!” you shriek, quickly shooting a glare down at the blonde, your hair covering your face from his sidekick. “I mean— yes, I had it checked out and I’m f-fine, thank you for the concern, Hikaru,” you explain, a forced smile on your lips as you silently beg him to leave.
Bakugou stretches his fingers inside you, scissoring them to coat them in your essence before he puts them together again. His wrist strained in the forced position, he flicks the digits back and forth, almost laughing in glee as he recognizes that soft velvety spot deep within you.
Hikaru blinks at you again before he nods half-heartedly. “Okay… Well if you need me, I’ll be in the conference room doing Bakugou’s job,” he laughs, tucking out of the door and closing it finally.
“He wishes he could do my job, fucker,” Bakugou grunts, mouth immediately returning to satiating your needy hole.
You sag into the chair, a quiet moan floating out of you as Bakugou continues to finger you, his lips slurping up your clit once more. Shooting a heated look at him, you bare your teeth at him, and choke out a hiss,” Fuck you!”
Bakugou only chuckles, savoring the way your cunt throbs around his digits. “I didn’t think you were so impatient, brat.” He doesn’t slow his actions though, knuckles ramming against your skin. He enjoys the way you gasp as he moves your thigh over his shoulder, his tidy fingernails pressing into your trembling leg. “You taste pretty good, Y/N. I guess it’s just your personality that’s bitter,” he remarks, smiling against your sex as his fingers slide out of you.
You toss him a pointed look as he wipes his chin with the back of his hand. “Excuse you, Boom-Boy,” you chide,” only my friends get to call me that!”
“Tch, I get to eat your pussy but I can’t call you by your name? You really know how to make a guy work for it,” he scoffs, sounding mock-hurt, and now menacing over you.
You frown in response but it quickly melts into a smirk. “Don’t worry, Katsuki,” you observe how he closes his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching as his hand turns into a fist,” I’ll return the favor.” You tentatively place your hands on his belt, undoing the clasp and resting the heel of your palm against his clothed, hard cock. You gently undo the fastenings around his thick thighs, placing the belt with his grenades onto your desk cautiously. You weren’t trying to be blown up just for some dick.
He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of both his black pants and underwear, annoyed with you taking your sweet ass time. His bare cock springs free, greeting your hungry gaze with an inviting sheen of sticky precum trailing down his hard length. You gawk at the sight, genuinely surprised to find he was so… well equipped.
“So this is why you’re so cocky, huh?” you state, eyes following the protruding vein running the entirety of his full, flushed member.
He barks out a laugh which dies in his throat as you press a chaste kiss to his weeping pink tip. Your tongue flat against your bottom lip, you slide his cock into your mouth and moan at the salty, provocative taste of him. His length almost as thick as your throat itself, you gag gently as you take him whole into your mouth before quickly pulling back. You place your hand around the base of his now-slick cock, your mouth sucking and bobbing on the top half of him as you jerk your fist at the same tempo.
Bakugou is much louder than you expected him to be, and the way his erotic, serrated breath is tearing from his lungs makes your pussy clench in desire. His chest heaves, the bulging muscles on his torso tense underneath his surprisingly smooth skin. Your other hand wanders up his abs, enjoying the way the ridges between them are so defined. He growls as your finger rubs over his nipple, his hand catching your wrist in a tight grasp but not doing anything to stop the action.
You purr on his cock, slippery hand leaving the base to cup his balls, eliciting a hiss from him as he sucks air in between his gnashing teeth. Confidence torrenting through your veins at his reaction, your jaw drops as wide as you can muster, your mouth gliding further down his length.
Bakugou’s empty hand collects the hair falling around your face, holding it for you as you weave back and forth. His jaw falls slack as the head of his dick rubs the back of your throat, summoning a soft gag that makes your mouth vibrate around him. Your wrist hurts a little from his tight grasp, but the way his fingernails dig into your skin makes your core shiver in delight. “Shit, Y/N.”
You don’t bother to correct him this time, thumb running over his balls just hard enough to make him shake a bit, savoring the way he is panting and quaking before you. The hand grasping your hair nimbly shimmies closer to your skull, his fingers twisting almost too tightly onto the roots of your hair. You allow him to coax your mouth closer, his arm guiding your face to take his length deeply. A low growl tears from the bottom of his lungs as you lock eyes with his impassioned stare. His hips nudge smally against your lips, his tongue poking out to run over his lip as he pulls back and glides back inside your sweltering throat.
You moan forcefully, savoring the the strangled noise that slithers from his now gaping mouth. Taking initiative once more, you begin to jerk your neck back and forth quickly, wincing as his grip tightens on your wrist. Bakugou tries his best to repress his moans but the way your bratty throat welcomes his hard cock makes him see tiny, fizzling explosions when he closes his eyes.
His hips rear back, and you almost fall off the chair as you lean in to close the distance. He catches you easily, hot hands landing on your shoulders as his gaze locks with yours, inexplicable desire sizzling between the two of you. His hands fly down to collect your ass cheeks, and he picks you up just to place the apple of your cheeks on the desk behind him. Teetering on the edge of the wooden furniture, your legs wrap around his waist, and his lips slam onto yours again. His fingers frantically running over your super suit, he snarls in frustration when he can’t find the zipper.
You laugh at him mockingly, catching his eye as you pinch the zipper on the side of your neck, the material shrinking away immediately with elasticity. He watches as your breasts pop out of the silky, neoprene-like fabric, bouncing with hardened, pink nipples standing perkily to greet him.
“No bra?” He reprimands but his time sounds more turned on than accusatory. “Princess, you’re so naughty.” His hands fly to your tits, groping the soft and supple flesh with fervor. You unzip the rest of your side, pulling your arms out of the sleeves and carefully angling your hips so you can slide the suit off into a crumpled pile on the ground. In just your tiny little thong now, Bakugou closes the gap, pressing flush against your clothed center and grinding his wet cock against your damp underwear.
Your head tilts back and you whine, gasping as his mouth slides along your throat, hot tongue caressing the tender skin. “Please, Bakugou,” you wail, his thumbs rubbing your sensitive nipples hastily.
“God, you must be tight if you’re this high-strung,” he purrs next to your ear, enjoying the way your cunt clenches noticeably underneath your panties. Speaking of those… his fingers snatch the delicate lace to the side, his other hand grabbing his dick and running his swollen tip over your slit. He dips the head into your hole but recedes instantly, brushing it over your glistening trove before repeating the action. The teasing has your head spinning, harsh pants falling from you both and mingling in the thin divide between you. He can’t take it any longer, his hips snapping into yours as his dick easily disappears halfway into your steamy, aching cunt. “I fucking knew it,” he grunts, jaw clenching as your velvety walls embrace his girth, your cry of pleasure music to his ears. “Your cunt is so snug around my cock.”
His hips push into your thighs further, only stopping once he’s balls-deep, sunk completely in your flittering sex. Hand leaving your thong to the side of your cunt, he grabs your hip and pulls your ass close. You groan at his cock nestling even deeper into your sopping hole, and your hips jerk against his as his hand curls around your lower back, securing itself so his fingers coil snugly around your waist. You choke on a sob as he thrusts into you again, his thick member prodding you in a very private place.
“You better fuck me already,” you growl at his pace that was testing your nerves, ready to be fucked into submission. Not that you were going to go down without a fight.
He chuckles cockily, a sly grin on his lips. “Your wish is my command.” His hips slam against yours and your teeth sink into his shoulder, muffling a scream of desire. He ruts into you with ease, your arousal making it almost effortless for his cock to spread the tense walls of your desperate pussy. His free hand claps against the swell of your ass, the noise slicing through the air and you scowl at him. It’s like he wants to be caught.
Ragged breaths tumble from the both of you, your saliva trickling down his chest as your teeth are still fastened into his broad shoulder. “F-Fuck, Bakugou,” you keen, each time his pelvis pressing against you tightly forcing your vision to shake.
“Katsuki,” he huffs, his left hand pushing your chin up to capture your half-lidded gaze. “Say it, Princess— fuck, tell me who’s making you feel so good,” he demands, eager to hear his name leave your lips in such an intimate way once more. His hips change tempo from his fast and hard pace to a slower, more sensual rolling motion, milking the desired reaction out of you.
The novel movement pressing deliciously against your clit, your unabashed whimpers fall onto his eager ears. Your fingers raise to pinch the top of his black eye mask, pushing the material up over his forehead so it tucks his ash blonde hair back. Looking into his eyes and admiring his uncovered, handsome features, you shoot him a sinful pout. “Ka— ah! Oh, Katsuki,” you gasp, your hands flying up to claw desperately at his muscular back.
Bakugou relishes in your lewd reply, eyes rolling back into his skull in delight. He lets out a gravely groan, increasing the tempo to a needy, impatient pace. The extra stimulation on your clit makes your legs shiver around him, your heels digging into the plush top of his ass. His hand slides back to grip around the back of your neck, leaning in to take the side of your ear between his teeth. His fingers on your throat press into your skin, his thumb pushed into your racing pulse. Hand squeezing just the right amount, it becomes pleasurably harder to breathe and you pant, tongue poking out as you wanton gaze meets his. “I’m gonna make you cum so hard Y/N,” he growls, almost snarling at you as your body bounces against his, watching your hair dance and shake around the erotic expression on your face.
“Eat shit,” your nose twitches in annoyance,” You’re gonna burst any minute now.” Your cheeks are dusted in a telling flush, your body feeling heat spread throughout. His hand tightens on your throat and you moan, loving the way your breath tears slightly.
“You’ve been clenched down on me this whole time,” he reasons, lips close enough so you can feel his ragged breath. “You can’t deny how your body reacts to me, even if you don’t want it to.”
You roll your eyes. Even buried between your legs at a time like this, he insists on pushing your buttons. “Oh, you want me to clench, Katsuki?” you inquire, tone confident in contrast to the wanton shake of your body.
He shivers as his name leaves your sinful lips, and the breath in his lungs is sucked out of him as you clamp your pussy as tight as you can around him. His hips stutter and you revel in the lustful way his face contorts, his eyes screwing shut temporarily.
When his vermillion eyes open again, his predatory gaze adding wood to the fire between your legs. “Bad girl,” he admonishes, an unruly grin lifting the corners of his mouth. His hips slam against yours, railing into you at an unimaginable speed and harshness. “That’s a cute try, Princess, but you’re gonna cum before me no matter what.”
You can’t even respond as he thrusts into you, your pants ripping through the air and mingling with the quick slapping noise echoing through the room. You hate to let him win but you can’t hold yourself off from your impending orgasm, the pressure in your core multiplying at an alarming rate as each thrust deliciously stimulates your deepest, most secret place.
“Katsuki,” you whimper, your spine arching into his touch while his hand keeps its hold on your throat. “I’m so close, please,” you beg, your toes curling forcefully as your eyes roll back.
Bakugou smiles at your submissive tone, purring out, “That’s better.” His hand leaving your throat to rub his finger on your clit, your body trembles in his hands. He leans into you and his lips conquer yours passionately, tongue darting in between your lips to caress with yours. His tongue pulls back as he takes your bottom lip between his teeth, his wolfish stare daring you to follow his ensuing command. “Cum for me, Y/N.”
Your body tenses as you reach your climax, but Bakugou continues to assault your g-spot mercilessly. Your arms shake in euphoria, nails pressing in to form desperate scratches on his skin. It feels like he is snapping you in two, and you absolutely love it. Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you wail out, relief washing over your limbs feeling like ice cold lemonade on a torrid summer day.
Pussy fluttering around his cock so deliciously, Bakugou moans at the new intensity. He swears as he keeps going, despite his own orgasm approaching. The image of you squirming in ecstasy underneath him makes him gasp immodestly. His hands clasp down on your hips roughly, making it even easier for him to pound into your soaked cunt as his teeth release your reddened lip. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight,” he huffs, sweat glistening on his built chest as he thrusts into you particularly hard. “So much better than I could’ve ever imagined, holy shit, Princess.” He moans a little loudly, not holding anything back anymore. He is so fucking close.
“Katsuki, please,” you sob, your g-spot still being pummeled relentlessly, never getting a break from his assault and dragging your orgasm out longer than you thought possible. “I want your cum on me so bad!”
Bakugou throws his chin into the air, harsh breaths floating out as the flesh of your hips turns white under his oppressive grip. He grunts as he pulls out, his searing streaks of cum spurting out forcefully, shooting up to lace over your tits and down your stomach. His thighs tremble as he snarls, his first immediately jerking his cock as more of his cum gushes out of the tip. He gasps for breath, and he groans as your lips press to his captivatingly. He leans into your kiss, savoring the feeling of your sweet lips against his.
You shift in his hands, the once-rough palms now sliding over your skin carefully, fondling your body as his lips nibble at your own. You entertain it for a moment, nails trailing down his chest, thumbs rubbing into the ample muscles beneath his skin.
He pulls back, a lazy grin and satisfied eyes regarding you. “Well, that was hot,” he admits, eyebrow quirking upwards as he tries to even his choppy breath. You pull a handful of tissues out of the box on the corner of your desk, handing him a few which he gladly wipes over his drenched member. You sigh in content, head leaning back as you regulate your own breathing.
Bakugou makes you jump in surprise as he runs a new tissue along your torso, cleaning up his mess. You eye him playfully, secretly relishing in the way he is so considerate. He shuffles back a step like he can feel you appreciating his uncharacteristically caring actions, tugging up his underwear and tucking himself in with a smug grin on his lips.
“It was pretty good,” you say casually, sliding off the desk and pausing as your still-tingling core shifts, making you realize how tender you already are.
Bakugou rolls his eyes, handing you your costume from the floor. You snatch it out of his grasp condescendingly, glaring at him as you step into the leotard with quivering legs. “Pretty good?” he barks, eyeing your slow movements. “You’re still shaking, Princess.”
You shoot a glare at him, arms slipping into your costume and tucking your breasts away from his lingering eyes. “Fuck you.”
“You just did.” He replies smugly, and you ponder relieving the sudden urge you have to slap the look off his face.
“Whatever, Boom-Boy,” you quip, zipping up the side of your suit.
Bakugou chortles as he pulls on his shirt, fastening the loops around his thighs. “By the way,” he looks sideways at you with a smirk. “You came first, so I won.”
“You were, like, ten seconds behind me,” you scoff.
“After you, nonetheless,” he almost chirps, savoring in the irritation visibly building in you. He slips on his gloves, sliding his arms into his grenade-looking arm pieces. “Do I get a prize, Princess?”
You glance at his suggestive crimson eyes, pondering the idea of it. “You can choose the place next time,” you wink at him, clipping the belt on your waist with finality.
He seems pleased with the answer, his smirk widening as he steps closer to you. Your fingers pinch the bottom of his mask, dragging the material down to its correct location over his eyes. He shamelessly allows his gaze to rove over your body, recalling how tight and needy you’d been just minutes ago.
“Next time, I’m gonna make you beg,” he warns, opening the door and slipping through, seductive gaze locking with yours. “Can’t wait ‘til then, Y/H/N.”
And after that, working together became a whole lot easier.
─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───
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make sure to shoot me a comment/ask/reblog if you enjoyed ♥︎ I’d love to receive any feedback!!!
thank you so much for reading!! Happy Valentine’s Day sweethearts :)
➥ masterlist
𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.
#whewwwww#somebody call the fire departmentttt lawd#lmao not to toot my own horn but this was hot#i finished this ln when i was lit af and was so pleased to find this morning when editing minimal errors and i managed to stay on track woo#ok ok ill get over myself now#bakugou fic#bnha fic#mha fic#ground zero fic#bakugou katsuki fic#bakugou smut#bnha smut#mha smut#bakugou katsuki smut#bakugo smut#my fics#my fics katsuki
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Who’s the champ now?
(Competitive Hyunjin x Competitive G.N reader)
Description: After a long wait for laser tag you were excited for an game against teams, until one “champ” flaunts his win and his so called “skills” down your throat. That makes you go from a team game to a cat and mouse “Free for all” and you were determined to knock him down a peg.
⚠️Warnings⚠️
Nothing much but a lot of swearing as well as back and forth insults.
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Authors Note: I quickly wrote this based on what happened to me today. Except this guy was much older and ugly and nothing romantic happened but other than that this plot is completely mine as it is based on a real life event and I will not tolerate any replicas of my work. I would also like to add that any similarities this story might have to others is pure coincidence!!! Also that yes I use the word Princess a lot but I still use a GN reader cuz I used to call boys princess as well and they really liked it. So I say it goes anyway! But I hope you enjoy and feel free to leave me any feed back by either an ask or PM!
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It was along wait and quite frankly, you were not having it. You and your family just finished a movie and you had went to play a round of laser tag for the night as you had been wanting to get in one more final round before you went home. But when you got there sadly, they told you that they were full and that you and your cousins had to come back at 10:40. You reluctantly leave with a grumpy expression painting itself on your features when you check your phone: ‘10pm’. Your cousins all groaned and as you exited the glow in dark hall full of disco lights, only to enter a dim lighted hallway.
“Well now what! We got an more than a half hour left!”, you pause to glance around at whatever else was in the hotel. You groan in defeat when your view was jam pack with bars all around the hotel. You were on the verge of giving up and going home u til you spotted a glowing room filled with flashing lights: an arcade!
“Hey guys!”, you cried out in glee,”there’s an arcade over here we can just chill here until the game starts!”
“Works for me!”, your cousin, Becca replied with a grin. You were prancing around with excitement towards the arcade. Finally something to cure your boredom, you had heard there was a Pac-Man machine there! You haven’t played that game in ages and now you were excited. You grabbed your cousin hand in hand and made your way over.
“C-closed?….are you shitting me?”, you question with a sad sigh, eyeing the closed sign that was placed mere moments before you arrived at the arcade door. ‘So much for that idea!’ you thought, already feeling dejected that this too was ruined. You felt like the universe was conspiring against you. You walked a bit further up the hallway until you spotted a seating area with a snack bar near it. You started walking towards it in hope that Becca will follow. Sure enough when you turned around she was following your path. A grin slapped on your face and an extra kick in your step at the prospect of getting some food, you made your way down the narrow and long hallways to the nice marble counter of the snack bar. You eyed the hotdogs with a passion, your mouth already salivating when you took in that meaty hotdog smell. You look around for the cashier with a sense of determination. You walked around the snack bar with hast until you felt a tap on your shoulder.
“Y/n! It’s closed too!”, Becca regressed pointing at the sign that was against the wall.
“WHAT THE FUCK!”, you practically screamed gaining the attention of a family to the right of you. Two of the adults circling around the kids gave you look and you returned an apologetic bow. ‘Then what was that hotdog smell?’, you thought to yourself, sad that you missed out on it. Upon turning around you find a boy from the small family had a half eaten hot dog. He made his way over to a trash can and dumped it away. You wish you could’ve snatched it and savored even a bit of a juicy hot dog.
“This is fucking bullshit!”, you whisper yelled to Becca already defeated. She gave you a blank smile and replied ,”Hey at least all this prancing around gave up time to kill !”,She replied showing you her phone in an attempt to cheer you up, “It’s 10:32!”
You could only smile in return as it was almost time for the only thing that could possibly cheer you up at this point: laser tag! You made your way to those all too familiar doors that read: Kid Palace!
Excitement bubbled in your veins and you nudged Becca forward. She slide both of your laser tag passes to the clerk in front of you with an expectant smile splayed on her coffee colored features. The clerk however had a regretful look as they scrolled through their list and told the two of you that someone had an accident and that the match was rescheduled for 11pm. You smiled and reassured the lady that you would be back. Upon exiting the building once more you were pissed, today was just targeting you. You of course were not going to take it out on the poor worker: it wasn’t her fault shit happens. You walked to the wall on the side of the entrance and plopped down with an angry thud, Becca following suit.
“Guess we can just…”, you sigh letting your shoulders relax ,”chill here… it’s only twenty minutes!” You reach around your back pocket to grab your headphones. You scroll to your playlists and let the music fill your ears. You start to zone out and lightly mumble words from the song and before you know it you’re dozing off.
“…et…u…stu…d…..its…tme”, you weren’t sure if you even heard coherent words and then you had to remind yourself that you had headphones on. You reluctantly opened you eyes and ripped the earphones out.
“What?”, you croaked out, half awake from your tiny nap.
“I said! Get up stupid it’s time dumbass! It’s 10:55!”
“SHIT LETS GO!”
You hopped up with a big grin on your face and you walked up to the door that was a few feet away. Becca placed your passes on the table and you both crossed your fingers that this would go well.
“Alright you guys are our last game for today! Let me go get the others in the arena that just finished their game.”, the clerk smiled, and motioned for you to lift up your wrist so she can place a wristband with the Gaming logo and the date on it. The she motioned for you both to finally go down the ramp and enter the lobby. You and Becca skip there with haste and you find two other girls there but they didn’t make a move towards you, so you two just stayed in your spots, mirroring them.
The worker walked past you and went into the laser tags maze themed arena and came out with a group of 8 cheering and screaming boys all running to check the leaderboard. They all surrounded the screen you both took a second to admire their handsome features.
“Oooh I wonder if we could do teams with them they look rad as fuck!”, you added taking notice that they looked like they were in your age range.
“Whose ‘Electrical’?”, a boy with freckles asked, eyeing the number one spot that was taken by whoever ‘Electrical’ was.
“That would be me ‘Lix!”, a gorgeous man pushes through the crowd. He had his beautiful blond hair tied back into a ponytail that perfectly framed his pretty pale features. He had a mole underneath his left eye that you thought was cute. He took one look at his name on the scoreboard before baring a shit eating grin across his already smug face.
“That’s right boys! Read it and weep for I AM THE KING! THE CHAMP!” He jumped around pushing the other guys around while simultaneously flailing his arms around.
You rolled your eyes and didn’t even make an attempt at stifling a laugh despite the harsh nudges you got from Becca.
The group turned to you with amused smiles on their faces and the blond boy turned on his heel with a smirk before walking to you in a confident manner.
“What…got something to say princess? You think you’re better to me or something?”
“Please…”, you glance at the board to look at his stats before laughing loudly ,” you may have gotten first place asshat, but your hit rate is only 15% so please it’s just points that got you that spot not skill.”, you spit in matter-of-fact tone smirking at the grin that fell from his face when he heard the collective ‘oooohs’ that echoed throughout the building. He eyed you with a distasteful look on his face before replacing it with a challenging smirk.
“Well guess what sweetheart I obviously proved that skill isn’t needed to win. So don’t mess with the champ unless you really wanna eat your words princess”, he winked flirtatiously and you couldn’t help but admit he was breathtaking as much as you hated that thought. You quickly replaced your flustered expression with a scowl,
“Fucking suck it ‘Electrical’ anything can happen next round, you got lucky for this one so what that doesn’t mean shit!”, you cried out already letting that pent up frustration from earlier spill out.
“Hyunjin…cutie…that’s my name…but you can always call me…”, he leaned in to whisper in your ear,making you blush from how close he was,” the champ baby!” You were moments away from slapping the shit out of him but the laser tag worker stepped back out from the arena,
“Already everyone I finished disinfecting all the vests so you can all step in!”, she smiled and stepped to the side to let everyone in. You used that opportunity to zoom right in: you wanted to make this guy pay. You ran into the room first not caring if you bumped into anyone and quickly search the vests until you found the one you needed. You placed it on and stood silent as everyone else filled into the room. The group of people (your cousin and the girls included) walked to the vest rack and grabbed the first ones they could find except for one.
The annoying boy Hyunjin from earlier was walking around the room looking at each Individual vest on the rack as if he was looking for a specific one. You silently laughed to yourself and kept walking further away from him so he wouldn’t notice you. The clerk from before came in to explain the rules to everyone she stated that instead of teams she decided for the last match to be a free for all, you and Becca looked at each other and frowned but then just went to go in line the worker then used her own blaster to sign everyone in and then announced she would let everyone in one by one to get a chance to hide before the match started. You went to the front and she shot at your chest plate with the blaster and motioned for you to go in. You ran into the familiar two story maze and immediately ran towards the ramp that led you upstairs after avoiding random and sudden walls along the way. Once you were upstairs you secured your spot in a corner and waited. You tuned into the ladies voice even from far away, wanting to listen to how many footsteps you could hear coming in. After a few minutes you heard a noise on the loud speaker:
“Attention all soldiers the match will be starting in 10,….9……8……7…….6……5…….4…….3……2…….1…. Begin!”
Adventurous and upbeat music blasted through the loud speakers and you felt the vibrations of the footsteps that were running around the top floor. You peaked out of your corner and spotted your cousin with her back turned. You aimed at her back and shot directly into the center of her vest before cowering back into your hiding spot. You tuned around and began moving to the other wall next to it spotting two more people. You shot them right away and ran to another spot before they could respawn. As soon as you left your corner you felt your vest vibrate and you know someone shot you but you couldn’t see who so you kept running until you ran down the ramp leading to the ground floor. You felt the buzz happen again and once again no one was in sight. You ran to a secluded area and saw someone in front of you that hadn’t seen you.
Using this to your advantage you were about to shoot them until you felt your plate vibrate and you let out a loud “WHAT THE FUCK!” and the person in front of you turned around in surprise. It was the freckly boy from earlier. He ran away like a deer would from a hunter and you kept moving forward and every step you took you felt your vest vibrate and you were livid at this point. Sure enough though, you found solace in a secluded area and used that opportunity to take put others in the area. You had just shot down a whole group that came for you and the loud speaker sounded “‘Electrical’ is ahead by 20,000 points”, you smirked to yourself because you know that would send a message to that stupid boy wherever the hell he was.
You got shot once more and you turned around giving up instead you went searching for the asshole who was playing hide and seek with you. It wasn’t until you went to a purposefully open part of the maze that you were able to see who shot you when your chest vibrated once more. You made eye contact with the one boy you didn’t wanna see: Hyunjin!
“YOU FUCKING PRICK YOU WERE TARGETING ME THE WHOLE TIME!”, you screamed loudly trying to outshine the already booming music.
“That’s what you fucking get for stealing my tag!”
“Fuck you bitch you don’t own it ok? it’s fucking on!”, you declare and shoot him while he’s distracted. He looks at his vest and breaks out into a run not paying attention to you who was following suit. You chased and shot only at him, paying attention only to him not caring about the others who shot at you. You shot and you shot with anger in your veins. He led you upstairs when you tripped on a part of the ramp fell on your head. You felt so dizzy and you instantly shot up wanting to get that asshole Hyunjin, but instantly fell back down.
“Woah wait wait are you ok princess?”, you turned your discombobulated head towards the voice.
“Fuck you i DO NOT want your stupid pity or your help!”, you try to push him away but he grabs your arms and pulls you up to help you stand.
“It’s not gonna be much fun if your dead I guess”, Hyunjin replied with a smile.
“Fuck you!”
“Gladly what time sweetheart!”, he replied.
“Oh real mature!”
“Only as mature as you were for starting it!”
“I’m going to castrate you!”, you rolled your eyes trying to feign annoyance. You felt your mind at ease again.
“Oooh kinky!”
“Shut up !”
“No Asshole you make me!”
“Oh really now?”, he raised an eyebrow at you not caring that you had started shooting at him once again. His arm around your waist to support you in case you were to fall again.
“Yeah! Make me since you’re so big and bad huh?”, you spat.
“Ha say that again!”, he challenged shifting himself so that his face was in front of yours.
“Make m-“, he pressed his lips against yours while pulling at the arm that was around your waist closer and the first thought to pop in your mind was ‘what the fuck is happening? Didn’t I not like this guy?’ Truthfully you just felt like he was too much like you that he made you feel so annoyed. But he was very hot and honestly you liked how chased after you and how he was just competitive as you. Needless to say you just gave up and admitted you found him attractive.
Pulling away you look at him with a flustered expression before turning away and not facing him knowing he probably wore a stupid cocky smile. You just aimed your blaster at him and kept shooting.
“Well even if you won’t saying anything I liked our kiss sweetheart!”, he takes a bold risk now that he knows you can fully stand on your own and places his arm around your waist once more, looking at your face for any signs of discomfort before leaning back and using his blaster to start shooting at you too.
“I guess I liked it… it was w-whatever…I’ve had better”, you lied but you didn’t want him to know that it was your first kiss.
“No I know you loved it, everyone wants a taste of the champ.”
“Whatever I knew you were a player!”, you rolled your eyes and grabbed his hand off of you. You knew that you just met him but he did kiss you and then just act stupid.
“Relax it was a joke, and the only player I am is that of the video game variety. I don’t go around kissing anyone cutie.”, he smiled before facing you.
“Bitch we just met Im pretty much ‘just anybody’”, you questioned and gave him a look.
“Yeah but idk I liked how you outspoken you are and how competitive you were with me… it’s attractive!”, he stated matter-of-factly,” you are attractive and that’s why I did it.”
“Hyunjin… you don’t even know my name!”, you laughed loudly.
“Well while you maybe right I don’t care I know how I feel!”
“It’s Y/N you dumb ass!”
The loud speakers interrupted you and broke the tempo of the music ,”30 seconds remaining”, upon hearing that you and Hyunjin began shooting at each-other until the timer ran out and you all had to make way to the front lobby. Hyunjin wrapped his arm around you and you as you walked and you tried your hardest not to swoon at his forward and bold attitude. When you arrived at the front you both removed your blasters and vests and rested them on their original racks before walking further and spotting everyone else by the score board.
You looked at the board and your eyes widened. You looked at Hyunjin who looked utterly shocked.
“I got 6th place!”, he shrieked In terror and you laughed at his annoyingly dramatic behavior. But you plastered on a shit eating grin,
“Hey Hyunjin fucking suck it!”, you pointed to the board that read
1st place: Electrical
Points: 100,000
Hit rate: 97%
You felt like you were untouchable and you felt good. You detached yourself from his arm to face him before sneakily replying “, HA WHO’S THE CHAMP NOW!”
Everyone turned to look at you and Hyunjin and you proudly declared that this time you were electrical and that you were the new champ. The boys walked up to Hyunjin all clowning on him for losing while he faked cried and stared at you.
Becca walked up to you and asked you to take her home because she was very exhausted. You reluctantly agreed and walked up to Hyunjin who stared at you expectantly.
“I uh… have to go now!”, you replied not knowing what to say.
“Awww that’s too bad but can I have your number then?”, he asked with a hint of sadness. You only nodded back at him before putting your number in his phone with a smile.
“Wait…”, you called to him when he was about to walk away..”, let me have your wrist band… for memories…unless your boring ass thinks you’re too good for it!”, you playfully nudge him. He smiles and slides it off with a bit of a struggle he hands it to you and gives you a peck on the cheek before winking and walking away.
“What the fuck happened in there!”, Becca spoke up, clearly confused as to what transpired in that maze. You just shook your head and looked back at the smiling Hyunjin showing off the fact that he had your number to the other boys that were with him. He turned to face and gave you a nice wave. You waved back and made a ‘call me’ motion with your hand before leaving the Laser tag establishment. You smirked to yourself when you felt your phone vibrate. ‘Man maybe it was worth it after all.’
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Bonus:
You sat on the floor of your empty living room and began unpacking all of yours and your newly wed husbands decorations to hang in the living room. You open a box labeled: Framed items and started sorting through them until you picked up an old picture frame that had two pressed wristbands with a gaming logo and a faintly readable date on them. You smile widely and recalled the fond memories you made a few years ago and how happy one fateful say had made you.
“Hey Honey come look!”, you call out with a certain collection of happiness and desperation laced into your tone. You heard foot steps approach you and you turned to face him before shoving the frame in his face. He picks it from your hands and plops down next to you.
“I remember this…this is from where we first met right?”, he inquired even tho he knew the answer. He leaned closer to you and gave you a peck on the lips.
“Yeah it’s the day I beat your sorry ass… you never stood a chance!”
He gasped loudly ,”how dare you! You know what I don’t even remember that!”, he stated proudly cashing you to erupt in a fit of giggles. You leaned over and ruffled his hair before replying with “Sure Jinnie, sure!.”
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Hello I just wanted to thank all of you amazing humans who have made it this far! Sorry if it’s not the best but I tried :). @bangchan-fairy shoutout to Bee for always being so supportive of my work I love ya bee :)
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A Little Illegal: Daveed x fem!reader
Smut! 18+ reccomended
warnings: rough sex, large age gap, professor-student relationship
Summary: A highschool senior begins taking college courses. She never thought she’d enjoy her new professor so much...
To say you were nervous was an understatement. You had worked hard and kept your grades up to start taking some college classes throughout your senior year to get credits. You had signed up for any government or history-related classes you could get in hopes of filling your mind with as much information as possible before you graduate. You didn’t know many students who had signed up for the same classes as you which only heightened your anxiety. Not to mention the horror stories you had heard from some of the other students who had dealt with some of these professors before. You just hoped if you did the work and kept quiet it wouldn’t be a problem.
The bus that was transporting you and some other students arrived and harshly jerked to a stop. You stood up incredibly unconfidently and grabbed your bag. You shuffled off the dulled yellow ride and followed the small map you had in your hand. Luckily, you weren’t running late and were ahead of what was previously planned by ten minutes. You weave your way through puzzled kids and easily find your room. No one else is around so you nervously turn the handle and walk-in.
The first thing you notice is a tall man with glasses and amazing natural hair. He is not focused on you as he scribbles notes down on a post-it.
“U-um, hi,” you stutter, causing the man to look up. “You are Mr. Diggs, correct?”
“Uh, yeah, and you are?” he asks, a puzzled look on his face. He hadn’t seen you on campus before.
“I’m y/n l/n, it’s nice to meet you,” you say, walking over and reaching out your hand for him to shake.
“Ah, are you new here?”
“Yeah, in a sense,” You laugh, assuming he already knew you were with the high school.
“Well then y/n, come by my office after class and I can give you the rundown of this place, yeah?” he suggests.
“Yeah, that would be wonderful, thank you, Mr. Diggs.”
“Daveed is fine,” he says. “ ‘Mr. Diggs’ doesn’t sound right coming from your mouth.”
“Oh yeah, of course Daveed,” You say, deciding you like the way his name sounds rolling off your tongue. You turn away from him and walk over to the plethora of seats. Damn, she has a nice ass too.
“Sit here,” Daveed says, walking up behind you and pointing towards one in the front row.
“Are you sure?” you ask, not knowing if you want to be right in the middle of everything.
“You seem like you’ll be a great addition to this class and I don’t want to miss your thoughts,” he simply states, watching you sit down and pull out your laptop seemingly ready to take notes.
“Prepared, I like it.”
“Eh, I guess, I’m still pretty nervous though,” you admit, tucking some hair behind your ear.
“Don’t be. I’m always here if you need anything.”
He finishes talking as you hear the door burst open, several people coming in. Most of them rowdy and of the male gender.
“Gentlemen,” Daveed says, nodding at the group.
“Ayyy, it’s Diggs,” one of them yells, slamming his stuff down next to you. A look of irritation forms on your new professor's face at the sound of his voice.
All of the group follows the leader and set their bags and themselves down around you. You’re nervous at their actions knowing that they didn’t seem the most trustworthy.
“Hey, who are you?” one of them asks, leaning closer.
“Someone that wants you to leave them alone.”
“Ooh, c’mon, just play along, yeah?” he smiles, hand now resting closer to yours.
“No thanks, I’m okay,” you tell him, hoping he’ll take a hint.
“Yeah right, you sat right in the middle in the front row. You love this attention, don’t lie,” he concludes, making his friends snicker. You jerk your hand away and sink back in your seat. You figure they aren’t going to stop so ignoring them seems like the best option.
“Aww, c’mon, I just wanna have a little fun,” he says, hand now resting on your knee.
You all hear someone loudly clear their voice and everyone’s head jerks up.
“No means no,” Daveed declares, making direct eye contact with the boy who was previously harassing you. The boy doesn’t have a response as he crosses his arms and leans back.
“Why don’t you go sit somewhere else?” he more demands than suggests. Without a word, the group gets up and moves to a section in the back, far away from any authority figures.
“You good y/n?” Daveed asks, feeling guilty for telling you to sit up front for his selfish reasons.
“Yeah, I’m fine, just a little startled.”
He then grabs your bag and moves it over to a seat in the lower corner.
“The bulk of people sit in the middle so this way you shouldn’t be bothered,” he explains as you move over to sit down. He stares down at you for a moment.
"Hey, I'm sorry, I wouldn't have told you to sit there if I knew what they would do," he apologizes, running a hand over his hair.
“No, don’t worry, it’s not your fault,” you laugh. “Honestly, you would think they would be more mature.”
“Yeah, you would think.”
You had sat through the whole class and surprisingly wasn't bored to death. Even though most of it was just introductory, Daveed had a voice that was just captivating and you were looking forward to coming back. You shove everything into your bag before getting up and stretching. You begin to walk towards the door when you hear someone call your name. You turn around and see Daveed, having forgotten he wanted to talk with you in his office.
“You still want to talk?” He asks.
“Yeah, of course.”
“Okay, great, just give me a quick second and I’ll meet you in there. You can make yourself comfortable while you wait,” he tells you gesturing towards a door off to the side.
“Yeah, I’ll do that,” you respond, going over and walking in. Everything looks like a standard office. A desk with two chairs in front of it along with a couch towards the wall. Tons of books on shelves or stacked on stands. The atmosphere was romantic with the dim lighting and brown undertones set through the small space. There’s a hint of a woodsy smell that’s more calming than overwhelming.
After waiting for five minutes you begin to grow bored and gaze around from the seat you took in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Nothing new seems to pop out at you but curiosity still gets the best of you and you stand up and walk around the desk to snoop. All there seems to be is essays, not that you were expecting much else. The only thing that interests you is a spinny office chair the was positioned directly behind you. So what other choice is there besides sitting down and well, spinning?
You can’t help but laugh at how childish you must seem as you push on the desk to gain momentum.
You barely have time to enjoy yourself when the chair is suddenly halted to a stop. You looked up to see Daveed looking down at you, holding the chair still, hand right next to your head, catching some of your hair with it.
“Comfortable?” he asks, seemingly growing closer. Damn, he smelled amazing. You sit there and stare up at him, forgetting you were asked a question. You grip slightly onto the arms of the chair, growing nervous.
“I asked you a question, y/n,” he whispers, his mouth now next to your ear.
“Fuck uh, y-yeah, I’m great,” you stutter, clenching your legs. Were you really turned on right now? He’s your new professor who’s probably twice your age and you’re ready to strip right here and now.
“Oh, oh god, I’m so sorry Daveed I-”
“That’s Mr. Diggs to you,” he growls, his lips now grazing over your ear as he speaks.
“O-of course, Mr. Diggs,” you comply, eyes wandering down his body. His shirt seems to show far more muscles than earlier. But you weren’t complaining.
“Tell me to stop and I will,” Daveed whispers, mouth moving to yours to capture you in a kiss. It’s not gentle nor rough but has a sense of lust you'd never experienced before. You don’t even know this man and you were letting him have his way with you in an unlocked room on the campus of a school. You know this isn’t right. Hell, this isn’t even legal but right now you’re thinking with the dampness in your panties not the good judgment in your mind.
He continues moving his lips on yours and pulls you up so you’re standing against him. He walks back toward the couch, mouth not leaving yours once. He still has some of your hair tangled into his hand from when he had stopped the chair earlier. He uses it to his advantage and pulls on it suddenly, making your head jerk back and you’re mouth open. You moan when he slides his tongue in. You’re lowered onto the couch, him starting to slightly lean over you.
He pushes you down completely, straddling one of your legs. You move your knee up spreading your legs a little more and feel something hard graze against you. You know you should stop but you forget about thinking when he starts to reach his hand down the waistband of your jeans. Your breath hitches and you can feel him smile against your mouth.
“Damn y/n, I didn’t know I could get you like this so fast,” he whispers, voice husky.
“Of course you wouldn’t know. You know nothing more than my name at this point,” you pant while beginning to lift the edge of his shirt.
“Well I’d love to get to know you but I’m a little busy right now,” Daveed jokes, struggling to rip off your too-tight jeans. You swiftly remove his shirt as he finally strips you of your only layer of clothing- you decided not to wear panties that day.
“Are you ready?” he asks while undoing the belt holding up his slacks. You give a small moan in agreement as you see his dick nearly protruding out of his boxers. Without notice Daveed drops his remaining clothing and grabs the back of your head, gripping a fistful of hair and pulling. He pulls you closer to him as he uses his other hand to position his cock against your lips. You expect him to let you take the lead and you prepare to welcome him into your mouth. His grip on you tightens. Daveed slams himself into your throat and you let out a gag. This wasn’t your first time but it feels different than before.
You had watched porn scenes like this but never imagined it would be happening today. And not at 18 years old with your new professor. The onslaught continues as you feel his cock stretch your throat with every forceful pound. Your saliva and Daveed's sticky precum are dripping down your chin as you try to swallow. You can barely breathe much less swallow the fluids combining in your mouth. You were in pain what felt like everywhere. Your hair, your neck, your head, and anywhere that was being forcefully moved and penetrated by Daveed. But you loved it. You relished in the sting of your hair being pulled and your face being fucked.
Daveed begins to slow down and releases his grip on your head. You take in a deep breath and wait for the next act. Daveed moves quick, tearing off your shirt and pulling your bra off over your head. He pushes you back on the couch and moves down to your sopping pussy.
“I’m going to fuck your little cunt up so bad,” He growls. You watch as he slowly runs his tongue over his lips before he uses his fingers to sperate the lips of your pussy.
You shudder at the small touch bracing yourself for what’s next. Daveed opens his mouth, consuming your cunt in a sloppy kiss. His tongue lands on your swollen clit as he begins sucking and flicking all-around your sensitive ball of nerves. You try and keep quiet, reducing your moans to muffled groans. You bite the back of your hand as you feel a finger slip inside of you. You had only ever fucked boys who couldn't find a way to please you. This was what you needed; a mature man to make you feel something worth screaming over.
Daveed's finger begins thrusting faster as he slips another inside you. You lay there squirming and whining like a little puppy as the pleasure continued consuming your body. Then He added a third finger. It had been a while since you last had a dick in you and you could feel your pussy stretching to accommodate the new addition. You begin thrusting into Daveed as you feel your body ready to explode.
Daveed senses your body close to climax and abruptly stops. He rips his fingers out of you and stuffs them inside your panting mouth.
“Lick it off, get a good taste of yourself you little slut,” he growls, leaving his fingers in your mouth and gripping your chin to close your mouth. You begin sucking your juices from his fingers and move your hand down to your cunt. You felt so close and you just needed to keep going. Daveed notices your hand traveling down and wastes no time removing his hand from your mouth and pinning your hands above your head. He says nothing as he reaches to the floor to grab the belt he was previously wearing. It all happens so fast you can barely squeak out a word before your hangs are stuck tied above your head.
“Don’t try that again,” Daveed scolds while wiping his hand against your stomach to remove any of your remaining juices.
“O-oh I’m sorry Mr. Diggs,” you cower, showing the best puppy dog eyes you can muster. Daveed stares down at you for a moment before reaching into his discarded pants pocket.
“I’m on the pill,” you inform him, smiling slightly as his face lights up. You were excited to feel all of him raw inside you.
“Good girl,” Daveed tells you. He smooths down the stray hairs on your head and lines up his throbbing cock to your cunt. You honestly weren’t sure it would fit without tearing apart your insides. You didn’t get a chance to prepare yourself before he sinks halfway inside you. You let out a forceful breath, feeling a euphoric mix of pain and pleasure. Daveed lets out a small grunt and slightly pulls out of you.
“Be quiet,” he sternly warns you. You slightly nod and ball your fists as much as you can while tied above your head. Daveed slams back into you. this time forcing as much inside you as he can. You let out a gasp as he begins roughly thrusting his large cock inside you. You let out a moan; this one a little too loud. Daveed doesn’t hesitate as he wraps his right hand around your throat and slightly applies pressure. you throw back your head in immense pleasure reveling in the gentle pain.
Daveed moves his free hand to your clit and begins quickly rubbing his hand side to side against your clit. His intense thrusting continues as you try and contain your moans and noises. You can’t help but let out a small shriek as you feel yourself begin to unravel. Daveed tightens his grip around your neck, this time applying enough pressure to make it hard for you to breathe. You thrust your hips to meet him feeling every nerve in your pussy being abused by his cock. Every part of you tenses and you feel a release coming. Daveed removes his hand from around your neck and groans at the sudden lightening of your pussy.
“Shhh,” you hear whispered into your ear as you explode, your juices combining with Daveed’s. He thrusts into you while you both climax while muffled moans fill the dim room. Daveed quickly pulls out of you and begins undoing the belt still strapping your hands together.
“You good?” he asks. You look up at him still breathing heavily, the events catching up to you. “Um, yeah, I’m just... yeah I’m good,” you reply, not sure how to answer. You sit up and bend down to collect your discarded clothing. You slip on your jeans and the rest of your clothes, not sure if he expected you to stay.
“Come here for a sec,” Daveed tells you, walking to his desk. You follow him unsure of what's coming next. He looks up at you and reaches up and begins smoothing your messy hair. “We don’t want anyone getting suspicious,” he states. He gives you a small kiss on your forehead.
“Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need anything?” he asks.
“No I’m totally good,” you assure, smiling up at him.
“Good girl,” he tells you right as a loud knock comes from the door.
“I should get going.”
You grab your bag and quickly shuffle to the door. You open it to see an older man waiting. He must have been another professor.
“Same time next week?” Daveed asks loudly from across the room.
“Of course!” You say back, smirking as you reach for your phone to put the meeting into your calendar.
#daveed diggs x reader#daveed diggs imagine#daveed diggs#hamilton fanfic#hamilton fanfiction#lafayette x reader#thomas jefferson x reader#hamilton#hamilton imagine#hamilton smut
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First Time - Anon Request (Spencer x Reader)
SUMMARY: “hey babe can u do a fic where it’s spencer’s first time having sex and the reader is rlly experienced so he’s worried he won’t make her feel good and is also just generally nervous but reader helps him through and they both have a great time?”
WORD COUNT: 1.9k
WARNINGS: Smut
NOTE:
***Feedback is always welcome for future improvement!
***Thank you for your request anon and being so patient, hope you enjoy! ;)
——-
Clothes are all of a sudden being pulled off one another – not slow and gentle like Spencer had always thought, but rushed and chaotic, his shirt flying halfway across the room with his pants quickly following. Spencer’s nervous hands were indecisive as to where to touch next, wondering if he should undress Y/N or if she would do it herself. She can sense Spencer’s reluctance, a small smile forming on her face.
“You can touch me, Spencer… it’s okay.” Y/N reassures, scooting herself closer to Spencer, pulling his hands up to the sleeves of her top for him to pull off. As Spencer’s hands rest on either side of Y/N’s shoulders, he doesn’t proceed. Taking a closer look at his face, Y/N can sense there’s something wrong with Spencer.
“Hey… Spence, if you don’t want to do this we can stop. Seriously, I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
Spencer’s face reddens with embarrassment, avoiding eye contact with Y/N as he sits back and sighs deeply.
“It’s just… I’ve never d-done this before, and I k-know you have. What… what if I don’t, you know… make you f-feel good?” Spencer asks shyly, stumbling over his words in nervousness. Y/N’s face softens, gently placing her hands on Spencer’s cheeks, running her thumbs smoothly across his warm cheeks.
“Spencer, just because this is your first time doesn’t mean this won’t be good. In fact, I know it’s going to be great… you want to know why? Because it’s with you…” Y/N admits to Spencer, kissing his neck lightly. It’s a cheesy thing to say, but it was the absolute truth. Although Y/N and Spencer weren’t a couple, she wanted to make sure he still had a memorable experience.
Spencer gave Y/N a nervous yet encouraging smile, feeling comfort in her words.
Spencer began slowly lifting Y/N’s top, her giggling when it gets stuck around her head from Spencer’s shaking and fumbling hands. As Y/N’s top is finally peeled off, she runs her right hand down Spencer’s covered chest, taking in the moment. She realises how awkward and nervous Spencer feels, but the amount of adoration she’s feeling right now that Spencer is allowing her to become this intimate with him overpowers her with emotion.
Y/N’s hands fumble with the bottom of Spencer’s shirt, signalling for him to help her take it off. Once again, Spencer’s hands are shaking with nerves, but he’s eager to continue.
“Y-you’re so beautiful Y/N…” Spencer blushes, looking down into his lap.
Y/N responds by leaving a heavy kiss on Spencer, which forces him to let out an accidental quiet moan. She smiles into the kiss, now planting hot, open-mouthed kisses along his neck, leaning into him ever so slightly. This causes Spencer’s back to slowly fall back onto the bed.
Y/N climbs on top of Spencer, her legs straddling his waist. Her eyes rake over his lower stomach, staring at his crotch that’s met with hers.
“Can I touch you?” Y/N was the one to ask this time.
“Yes…” Spencer answers.
Y/N slowly begins to unzip Spencer’s pants, now kneeling at his side and waits for him to remove his pants and then his underwear. Y/N can tell Spencer feels very out of place, completely naked and vulnerable. Spencer begins to feel featherlight kisses placed on his inner thighs, sighing at the new sensation he’s never felt before. Making her way up to his cock, Y/N places a small kiss on the head, making Spencer gasp. Looking into Spencer’s eyes, she slowly uses her tongue to lick down the side of his now hard cock before enveloping her entire mouth over him, earning a satisfied groan from him.
“S-shit Y-Y/N… oh,” Spencer moans, both of his hands now roughly gripping the sheets beneath him, his mind going into overdrive.
Y/N continues to take Spencer into her mouth, excited that she’s able to make him feel this good… and by the looks of it, he’s having a pretty enjoyable time so far too. She could tell he was close by the way his eyes screwed shut and his breathing became more laboured.
“Cum for me Spence.” Y/N encourages, taking him quicker, using her hands on the parts of him she couldn’t suck. Spencer’s thigh muscles clench under her and he loudly groans, coming undone.
Catching his breath, Spencer is in pure heaven, feeling disbelief at what had just occurred. He looks to Y/N, finding her laying on the bed next to him looking into his eyes. He begins to run his hands down her thighs before Y/N stops his hands from creeping down any more.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to… if you’re too nervous then it’s f- “ She’s interrupted by Spencer boldly shutting her up with a heavy kiss.
“I want to.” He whispers.
Y/N spreads her legs outwards, watching Spencer’s face as he bites his lip, taking in her beauty. He leans down and presses soft kisses around her stomach, then her mid thighs. Once he reaches her core, he hesitates. As Y/N notices Spencer’s reluctance, she leans upwards onto her elbows.
“Spencer, if you don’t want to do this anymore, we can stop… it’s okay.” Y/N reassures.
Spencer shakes his head, clearing his throat. “No, no it’s not that. I want to. It’s just… I might need a little guidance…”
Y/N leans toward Spencer, kissing him deeply before laying back down on the bed. She reaches her arm out to find his hand, moving it towards her already wet core. Once both her and Spencer’s hand are placed on her, she lets out a deep sigh, moving in slow circles.
“Start like this, slow circles… up and down, side to side – whatever feels right.” Y/N whispers, removing her hand from Spencer’s to allow him to try.
Spencer drags the tip of his thumb through Y/N’s folds, making her quietly moan.
“You can use your fingers now, start slow and gradually go faster.” Y/N instructs, biting her lip and squeezing her eyes shut, already deep in pleasure.
Spencer gathers some of Y/N’s arousal and uses it to enter two fingers into her core, slowly thrusting in and out. He can feel Y/N squirming against him, which only encourages him to thrust his fingers faster, adding to Y/N’s pleasured state.
“You like that?” Spencer whispers, getting turned on just watching Y/N react to his touch.
“F-fuck yes!” Y/N squeals, grabbing her own nipples and tugging. Out of nowhere, she then feels Spencer’s wet tongue lick a stripe up her core much to her surprise, resulting in deeper groans escaping her open mouth.
As Y/N is continuously thrashing on the bed, Spencer applies more pressure with his tongue, flicking up and down and in circles, looking up at Y/N. He wraps his arms under her thighs and firmly presses his hands down on her lower stomach, keeping her in place.
“S-Spencer! I’m gonna – fuck!” Y/N screams, her chest rising up and down at a rapid pace while her legs tremble and twitch. Spencer gives her one soft kiss on her inner thigh before moving up the bed next to her.
“How was that?” Spencer asks, smiling at the aftermath of Y/N. Her breathing still laboured and a lazy smile possesses her face, quite clearly still coming down from her high. Spencer felt a small sense of pride at the fact that he had obviously done quite the number on Y/N.
In response to Spencer’s question, Y/N shakily moves her body so she is now straddling Spencer, his cock eagerly getting hard at the feeling of their naked skin touching. Y/N runs her hands through Spencer’s hair while his remain at Y/N hips, pressing firmly into her skin. They kiss heavily and rock their hips to meet the others, both groaning at the sensation.
“Are you ready?” Y/N asks, looking into Spencer’s eyes for confirmation.
“Yes.” Spencer confirms, planting another kiss on Y/N’s lips, which she happily accepts.
Reaching into the bedside table, Y/N retrieves a condom and leans back to Spencer. To avoid the awkwardness, Y/N decides to take charge and put the condom on Spencer, before she lines his cock with her entrance, sinking down on him. They both gasp in pleasure, Spencer going into overdrive at the new feeling. Y/N begins rocking her hips up slowly, allowing Spencer to become accustomed to the sensations before gradually rocking faster.
So Y/N isn’t the only one putting in the effort, Spencer thrusts his hips up, meeting hers, causing them both to throw their head back.
Spencer grunts, nestling his face into Y/N’s neck and biting her shoulder, increasing the pleasure for her as she hisses.
“Shit yes! Please, harder Spencer,” Y/N whines, scratching her nails up and down Spencer’s chest. Spencer begins thrusting even harder and faster to meet Y/N’s hips. He grabs Y/N’s face and leans his forehead against hers, receiving pleasure just by watching her react to the way his hips lift up to meet hers.
Although Y/N isn’t necessarily looking for a romantic connection within Spencer, despite the intimate act, she feels safe and comforted in Spencer’s arms and she hopes he feels the same way. Whilst looking into Y/N’s eyes, Spencer can feel his release coming shortly.
“I’m c-close Y/N…. o-oh shit you f-feel so good.” Spencer moans, his thrusts becoming sloppier.
“Me too Spence… fuck! Cum for me baby.” Y/N encourages, running kisses down his neck, sucking lightly on his warm skin. She’s careful not to leave marks, although she wants to, she figured that his work colleagues wouldn’t appreciate them as much as she would.
“Oh my god Y/N! Oh fuck.” Spencer releases himself inside her, feeling exhausted yet determined to make Y/N finish too. As Y/N is now focused on her own pleasure, creating her own pace and rhythm with Spencer’s cock, she bounces up and down on Spencer much harder and faster.
Although Spencer has never done this before, he can feel Y/N clenching herself firmly on his cock, indicating that she’s close to orgasm. Without any hesitation, Spencer uses his left hand to harshly circle his fingers on Y/N’s clit while his right hand remains on her hip, holding her down.
“Don’t stop Spencer, fuck yes! I’m gonna cum – ohh” Y/N yells, throwing her head back as she reaches her climax, sighing in utter content. As Y/N comes down from her high, she remains seated on Spencer’s lap, his cock still enveloped in her pussy. They both take in the moment, completely still.
The next ten or so minutes is filled with silence. Not an awkward silence – just peaceful. Spencer has his arm wrapped around Y/N’s shoulder’s and hers rest on his chest, legs tangled beneath the sheets. Spencer knows that typically after sex the aftercare can be just as important. But, he also sensed that Y/N wasn’t the type of woman who needed to be held or cared for. Spencer thought perhaps she’s doing it because she feels sorry for him.
“You don’t need to stay like this… if you don’t want to. You can leave whenever you want.” Spencer says.
Y/N looks up to Spencer. “Why? Do you want me to leave? I can go if-“
“No, No! I just thought that… you know… you don’t haveto stay around just because of what we did – “ Spencer was rambling.
“Hey, hey Spence – yes, technically it was just sex, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about what happens after. I had a great time – I’m still having a great time… and I hope you are too.” Y/N places a long kiss on Spencer’s lips to his surprise.
Their bodies remain wrapped together, eventually drifting off into a peaceful sleep, both hoping that the next morning there would be no awkwardness - but rather, thinking of it as a friend helping out another friend.
Tags: @emmalvei-blog
#criminal minds#dr spencer reid#dr spencer reid fics#dr spencer reid fic#dr spencer reid smut#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fics#criminal minds smut#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid y/n#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fics#spencer reid fic#spencer reid gif#spencer reid gifs#spencer reid fanfiction smut#anon#anonymous#anon request#anonymous request#spencer reid smut
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