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your-world-with-nct · 8 months

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polaroid love | njm (3)

THREE — thinking about you

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PAIRING | na jaemin x female reader (ft. nct dream + enhypen 02z)

GENRE | fluff, angst, college au

WARNINGS | intended lowercase, cursing, alcohol consumption

WORD COUNT | 3.8k

SUMMARY | inspired by enhypen’s ‘polaroid love’ — in his twenty-two years of living, na jaemin has never been in a proper relationship. after witnessing his best friends go through their fair share of complicated, devastating heartbreaks, jaemin decided he was better off investing his time and effort into his studies, rather than wasting his time falling in love. years of having fleeting crushes and being countlessly confessed to passed by and not a single person could tempt jaemin into the world of love. that is, until, he meets someone that he can’t get out of his head no matter how long he stares at his anatomy textbooks. someone that reminds him of the hopeless romantic he once was. someone that can show him that love doesn’t have to be so complicated to succeed.

FIC PLAYLIST LINK | click here to enhance your reading experience!

HEADER KEY | • REC -> a character’s point of view | ■ GALLERY -> a flashback from that character’s point of view

A/N | sorry for being so inactive lately! i’ve been busy preparing for uni and it was actually my first night last night 🙈 hope you guys enjoy this new chapter and feedback is always appreciated <3

Y/N CAM • REC

you stared at jake in silence, watching as he fiddled with his chopsticks whilst waiting for the food to come, “jakey?”

“hmm?” he answered, eyes fixed on the small tower he was making by stacking tiny, balled-up pieces of a napkin.

“you okay?” you asked, your voice laced with concern, “you didn’t even squeal when you saw the turtle-shell grill, is everything alright?”

jake let out a quiet giggle at your observation, putting his chopsticks down and abandoning his napkin tower, “yeah, everything’s fine, i’m just… tired.”

you raised a brow, not completely convinced by his answer. reaching across the table, you took his hand in yours, rubbing your thumb against the back of his hand, “hey, you know you can tell me when something’s bothering you, right? i’m not gonna force you to say anything if you don’t want to, but i’m here to listen, okay? i don’t like seeing you upset, what do i have to do to put a smile on your face, hm?”

you noticed jake’s lips curve upwards at your words, but the smile had yet to reach his eyes. he squeezed your hand and met your gaze, “thank you, y/n, really, but i promise i’m okay. i’ve just… had a long day, those morning classes are such a pain in the ass. ugh, i wish i’d taken up your coffee offer before.”

you still weren’t a hundred percent reassured by his answer, but you decided it was best not to push him for the truth. instead, you settled with the reply he gave, “ahh, okay, i’m glad nothing’s bothering you, but i’m still shocked you said no to free coffee.”

“i don’t know what got into me, i’ll be honest,” jake shrugged, retracting his hand from yours and running it through his hair.

“well, don’t you worry, i’ll buy you some coffee next time you take me to photography club,” you bit your lip, trying to hide your growing smile at the thought of seeing a certain someone again.

“next time? you wanna come next time?” jake cocked his head to the side, his face reminiscent of a confused puppy, “what’s with the sudden interest? don’t tell me you expect free food in return for helping me, you know i don’t have the funds for that!”

“actually…” you paused, inwardly debating whether to tell your best friend or not. “okay, can i tell you something and can you promise not to judge me? or tell anyone else?”

“judge you? i mean… depends how bad it is.”

“jake, i’m serious!”

“okay, okay, i promise! now, what is it, my dear?” he said, leaning in and placing a sympathetic hand on yours.

you pulled your hand out from under his, lightly smacking it, “i told you, you’ve gotta stop calling me that in public, people are gonna think we’re dating.”

jake shrugged, “so? you’re the one who held my hand before, hypocrite.”

the exaggerated pout on his face told you that he wasn’t being serious, but you didn’t want him to think that you were joking, “okay, that’s fair, but… it just— it can scare guys away! which i don’t have a problem with when it gets creeps to back off, but sometimes there are guys that i don’t want to scare off, y’know?”

your gaze trailed down to the grill on the table, unable to make eye contact with your best friend knowing your words were quite harsh. a few seconds went by with no reaction or reply from him, and although it seemed like you were too late, you scrambled to soften the blow.

“i-i’m not saying you have to stop doing those things, i still like the affection and the cute names but, maybe, i don’t know, you could save that for when we’re, uh, not in such a public place?”

“who is it?” jake asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

“wh-what do you— who… what?”

“hey, first things first, i’m not upset. if saving that stuff for when it’s just us or just friends is what you’re comfortable with, then ‘course i don’t mind doing that,” he shifted to lean his elbow on the table, relaxing his stance in hopes of relaxing you.

“what i meant was, well, i know you, y/n, and there must be a specific guy you don’t want scaring off, and, ah! that must be the ‘thing’ you were gonna tell me about, that’s why you didn’t want me to judge you or tell anyone. am i right or am i right?”

you blinked once, twice, in disbelief that jake was able to read you so well—it was a blessing and a curse. you opened and closed your mouth to speak, but nothing was coming out, earning you a loud giggle from the boy across you.

“your silence is telling me i’m right,” he said with a smug smile.

“okay, fine, yes, you’re right. i hate how accurate that was,” you sighed, trying to regain your composure.

“so… the guy?” jake asked, fed up from the anticipation.

“promise you won’t judge or tell anyone?” you held up your pinky in front of your best friend.

intertwining his finger with yours and placing his other hand on his chest as if he was swearing an oath, he declared, “i swear on my dog’s life, i won’t tell a soul.”

“good,” you nodded, “well, the guy is, uh, it’s someone you know well, he’s, hmm—”

“stop beating around the bush, who is it!”

“it’s jaemin!”

jake’s eyes widened as his jaw dropped, “jaemin? like na jaemin? like the med student jaemin, the photographer jaemin? the jaemin you met not even a few hours ago?”

“shhh!” you launched forward, pressing your hand against his mouth. “the whole restaurant does not need to know, and for the record, yes, it is that jaemin. and before you judge, which i’m pretty sure you already have, i’m not saying i like him or anything, i’m just, interested in him, let’s say.”

“interested? go on,” jake said to the best of his ability while your hand was still covering his mouth, prompting you to remove your hand and wipe it with your napkin.

“okay, ew. anyways, i-i don’t know, jaemin always sounded so sweet and funny whenever you told me about him, and, well, i saw that for myself today. he’s also, like, really really gorgeous, i couldn’t stop staring at him, and when he came up close to talk to me, i swear i almost fainted right there and then,” you paused to catch your breath, surprised at how easy it was for you to gush over someone you had, like jake pointed out, just met.

“but, like you said, i don’t even know him that well, which is why i’m glad he asked for my number so we can—”

“he asked for your number?”

“yeah, he asked for it so he could send the photos he took to me.”

“damn, i’m stealing that move from him, that’s smooth.”

“‘smooth’? ‘move’? y-you think he’s interested in me too? that he did it on purpose?” the mere idea of jaemin reciprocating your feelings had your heart rate speeding up.

“i-i don’t know anything! i mean, whaaat? what were you saying before i interrupted?” jake blinked rapidly, poorly covering up how suspicious he sounded.

you decided to ignore whatever it was he was hiding in case it gave you any false hope, and continued your point, “as i was saying, i’m glad he gave me his number, that way i can get to know him and stuff before jumping into anything. he was just… he was really nice and everything, i just wanna see how it goes, y’know?”

jake nodded, “ahh, okay, that sounds good. i hope it goes well for you, really. jaemin hyung’s a great guy, i can vouch for that, so no need to spend your early talking stage trying to figure out whether he’s a red flag or not.”

you laughed, cringing as the boy’s words reminded you of a past, failed fling, “oh, trust me, i don’t want a repeat of that. everything feels so much easier with jaemin, i have a feeling it’ll be different with him.”

JAEMIN CAM • REC

“get the drinks out, boys, we’re celebrating tonight!” haechan exclaimed, swinging the front door open and letting jaemin shuffle in behind him.

“it’s literally… thursday night,” jeno deadpanned, glancing up from the tv to give his roommate a look of concern, or was it confusion? jaemin was too preoccupied thinking about… someone else to tell.

haechan locked the door, passing jeno’s slumped figure on the sofa and making his way to the kitchen. scoffing, he muttered under his breath, “okay, when has that ever stopped you?”

unfortunately, he wasn’t quiet enough, as jeno shot up from the couch, ready to crush that little coconut head of his, but was quickly stopped by jaemin pulling him back down to sit and renjun interrupting the petty squabble.

“can you two shut the fuck up for a sec,” he looked up from what he was cooking, glaring as he pointed his spoon at jeno and haechan respectively. “you said we should be ‘celebrating’, right? that means… it went well with y/n! how was it then, jaem?”

haechan gasped, placing the cans of cider he’d retrieved from the fridge onto the counter, “oh my god, would you believe jaemin actually—”

renjun sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingers as he whipped round to face his infuriating friend, “sorry, is your name jaemin?”

jeno and jaemin’s (not so) muffled giggles broke through haechan’s silence, which spoke for itself.

nodding, renjun turned back to the boiling pot on the stove, “yeah, i thought so. go on, jaem.”

jaemin took a deep breath, trying to organise what felt like a million and one thoughts into coherent words, “to be honest, i-it felt… like a dream. i must’ve blacked out or something, it was like some super confident version of me took over. i still can’t believe that i winked at her, practically held her hand, asked for her number and got it. oh, and she even gave me her instagram without me asking.”

“sorry, what? you got her number and held her hand and you— my god, i need some time to process the fact that you did all of that,” jeno placed a hand on jaemin’s shoulder, before quickly turning it into a hug. “shit, man, i’m proud of you.”

“damn, you go, jaem!” renjun cheered from the kitchen, his face beaming with pride for his best friend’s multitude of successes, “so y/n’s definitely single then? ‘cause you’re in a good position right now to start getting closer to her if she is.”

“yup,” haechan answered, “i checked with her friend jake, and jaemin’s got the green light. jake even said he’d help him out if he needed, but as if our jaemin will need his help, right?”

jaemin’s eyes widened, looking frantically from jeno beside him to the boys in the kitchen, “uh, well, you’re kinda overestimating my skills, hyuck.”

“oh no,” he shook his head, chuckling. “no, no, no, i know you’ll need help but you’ve got us! y’know, since we’ve actually gotten this far with girls before.”

renjun’s stirring slowed to a stop as his jaw dropped, and jeno whipped around, burying his face in the couch cushions to suppress his laughter.

“yah!” jaemin stood up, pointing a threatening finger at haechan. on any other occasion, he would’ve found the teasing funny and laughed it off, but jaemin’s furrowed brows and stern tone told the boys otherwise.

“ah, i crossed the line, didn’t i? sorry, sorry,” haechan said, holding his hands up in surrender.

jaemin sighed as he slumped back down onto the sofa, burying his head in his hands, “no, i’m sorry. i really do appreciate your help and support, because, you’re right, i have no idea what i’m doing. i just— i really really don’t wanna mess up with y/n, and i’m grateful that you guys are willing to help me out, but it would be nice if you let me figure some things out myself too.”

jeno ruffled his best friend’s hair, giving him a supportive pat on the back as he replied, “of course we can do that! i know that sometimes we get involved in each other’s business without being asked, but we do it because we care, even though it’s not always the best way of showing it.”

“yeah,” haechan added, abandoning the drinks and joining his roommates on the couch. “we just want the best for you but we don’t wanna get there by overstepping your boundaries or anything.”

“i agree! with both of those things,” renjun shouted from the kitchen as he plated their dinner, “sorry, they kinda said everything i was gonna say. oh, by the way, food’s ready!”

jaemin chuckled, “thank you guys, honestly. uh, also, this might sound a little contradictory now, but i just realised that i never gave y/n my number. can you help me figure out how to word my first message to her? while we eat, of course, i’m not gonna let the food renjunnie worked so hard on go cold.”

“oh my god, yes!”

“i’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life, not even kidding.”

“at least someone appreciates my hard work!”

the enthusiastic squeals eventually died down and the next thirty (yes, thirty) minutes were spent meticulously drafting a message to you, with the occasional distractions of renjun’s delicious stew and debates over what your contact picture should be.

“okay, i’m pretty sure you can send it now,” haechan said and was met with nods of agreement.

“pretty sure?! pretty sure isn’t sure enough for me, i’m checking it one more time,” jaemin shook his head, placing his phone on the table and reading the text aloud.

“‘hey y/n, it’s jaemin, just letting you know since i didn’t get to give you my number before. by the way, i haven’t managed to start editing the pics just yet but i’ll let you know how they look once i do, smiley blushy face emoji’. are we sure it’s not too much?” his fingers hovered over the screen, prepared to alter the message for the umpteenth time.

“jaemin, my guy,” jeno placed his hands on jaemin’s in reassurance. “we’ve said it before and we’ll say it again—it sounds fine. and it’s not too much either, the text isn’t dry and the fact that you mentioned the photos means she can start a conversation about it, so you’re less likely to be left on read.”

“plus, y’know, it’s too late now. jeno just sent the text,” renjun pointed out nonchalantly, directing everyone’s gazes to the blue text bubble on the screen and jeno’s hand stacked clumsily on top of jaemin’s… on top of the phone.

jaemin yelped, yanking his hands away and turning his phone off. he squeezed his eyes shut, not ready to accept what happened nor even think about getting a response any time soon.

“i-i’m sorry! i was just trying to make you feel better, i didn’t realise i was gonna press send. we can turn airplane mode on if you want so it doesn’t send! or we can—”

in the midst of jeno’s flurry of apologies, a small ding resonated through the kitchen, followed by another, as the screen illuminated, showing two notifications from messages.

“no. way.” jaemin breathed out, eyes now open and glued to the notification banner. a quick glance over at his wide-eyed friends with their jaws hanging open told him that they were all anticipating the same thing.

“open those notifications, open them right now, na jaemin!” haechan said, more of an encouragement than a demand.

jaemin quickly came to his senses, scrambling to unlock his phone, as the other boys leaned forward to get a closer look at your replies.

“my god, she’s quick,” renjun commented, shuffling closer to read the messages.

“‘thanks for letting me know, saved it now hehe smiley face’. mission accomplished, jaem, she has your number and she replied!”

“ooh, and it seems like your conversation starter worked,” haechan took over for the second, longer message.

“‘speaking of pics, jake never lived up to his ‘threat’ and he took some photos of me at dinner, wanna help me pick which ones to post?’ wait, is she talking about when jake said he would stop taking her instagram photos if she didn’t listen to him?”

jaemin couldn’t hide his wide grin as he nodded, remembering that he was the reason you were so preoccupied.

“well, don’t just sit there blushing like a tomato, answer! you don’t wanna leave her on read for too long, do you?” jeno lightly smacked jaemin on the arm, prompting him to type out a quick ‘sure!’.

once again, they all gathered around the phone, waiting to see the three dots pop up or hear another notification alert. moments passed with no dots nor dings, all that could be seen was a faint ‘delivered’ as the screen slowly faded to black from lack of activity.

“it’s fine, it’s fine,” jaemin shrugged, forcing out a laugh. “she’ll respond later… probably, right? you know what, doesn’t matter, i shouldn’t be so bothered about it, does anyone want another cider?”

before he could even leave his seat, renjun gently tugged his arm, sitting him back down, “jaem, stop stressing, and don’t say ‘i’m not stressing!’ because we know you well enough to know that you definitely are. how about you turn your phone off for the time being, hmm? i know you want things to go well with y/n, but try not to let yourself depend on her too much, okay?”

“he’s right, trust me, it’s awful—obsessively checking if you’ve gotten a notification from a certain someone and letting it ruin your day when you haven’t. y’know, just speaking from experience,” haechan added, earning a nod of agreement from jeno.

“yeah,” jaemin sighed, turning his phone off as renjun suggested. “you guys are right, thank you. you’re probably gonna need to remind me of that a lot, i just– the last thing i want is to get heartbroken.”

jeno placed a hand on jaemin’s shoulder, “we’ll do everything in our power to make sure you don’t get hurt, jaem.”

for the next few hours, jaemin decided to keep himself busy and distract himself from thinking about you. but it was as if the universe didn’t want him to get you out of his head.

washing the dishes reminded him of the lazy roommate you told him about earlier. showering with music on to block out his thoughts? the song that came on shuffle had played earlier while he was taking pictures of you. even reading through his stupid ‘ethics in medicine’ textbook reminded him of you and your passion for your major. before he knew it, the thought of you had infiltrated anything and everything that he did, whether he liked it or not.

“fuck it,” jaemin muttered to nobody in particular, finally turning his phone back on. impatiently tapping his finger against the side of his case, he watched, waiting for the screen to load.

as soon as it turned on, he rushed to unlock it, his hands shaking as he went to click on the messages app. he would be lying if he said his heartbeat didn’t speed up when he saw a ‘6’ hovering next to the icon. before even opening the app, jaemin took a few deep breaths, preparing himself for the worst.

those six messages could be from multiple people—it could be jaehoon sending the notes from the lecture he missed the other day, it could be his mum nagging him about not getting enough sleep, it could be renjun asking for more toilet paper because someone had forgotten to replace the empty roll earlier.

even as he considered all the completely rational possibilities, he still couldn’t come to terms with the idea that the messages could be from anyone but you.

he squeezed his eyes shut and tapped the icon, slowly opening one eye, and then the other to confirm what he thought he’d seen. you had, in fact, sent jaemin six messages almost half an hour ago.

the knowledge that his mental torture could have ended earlier only passed his mind briefly, as he was more bothered by the fact that he had ignored you for so long.

he opened the messages, smiling fondly at the short apology you sent for responding so late because your data wasn’t working. his eyes naturally drifted to the pictures you’d sent, the beat of his thumping heart rivalling that of a deafening drum as he looked closer.

it hadn’t been long since jaemin last saw you but the way your enchanting smile shone like the bright, blazing sun made him feel like he was being welcomed into a brand new day. a giggle escaped his lips when he swiped to the last photo, depicting you mid-laugh, trying to cover your face with your hands but failing to hide those adorably crinkled, sparkling eyes of yours.

‘as an extremely professional photographer, i personally think that they’re all great and you should post them all but i think you look prettiest in the last one,’ jaemin typed out and sent, exiting the app as soon as possible to stop himself from overthinking his response and stressing out about when you’d reply.

feeling the corners of his lips starting to curl upwards, he buried his face in his pillow in embarrassment, but even that couldn’t stop the massive grin from growing. the ring of a notification had him darting upwards, letting out a little squeal when he saw your name on the banner.

‘thank you, mr professional photographer na, the last one’s my favourite too, i’ll post them all with that one as the cover :) since ur such a pro, can you help me choose a caption too?’

never had a simple colon and closed parenthesis made jaemin kick his feet and giggle before, but the thought of you smiling so sweetly behind your screen as you messaged him had his heart racing and his cheeks reddening.

he quickly replied with an ‘of course!’ and, before he knew it, there was no longer that anxious wait between him sending messages and you replying. as the conversation went on, jaemin gradually felt at ease talking to you, his responses coming naturally rather than being carefully crafted and analysed. although the beating of his heart was still erratic, there was something so comfortable, so natural about talking to you that made his worries and everything else around him simply drift away.

that was the first of many late nights jaemin chose to spend with you.

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chromes-corner · 2 years

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If you’re still doing the character bingo Vampire and DE?

YESSS i never pass up an opportunity to be crazy about pixels on a screen :)

Vamp up first

oh vampire, a dear OG in the game’s history. he may not be the most emotionally complex or lore-heavy character, but he’s still a little skrunkly to many a player. i think what i like most about him is what fans have made him into. in the games, hes honestly just??? a guy. hes just a dude who loves his juice and annoys his tryhard sister. i like that he’s so simple, and i also like that like... the fact that he’s a vampire isnt really a HUGE impacting factor on who he is as a person. like hes lazy and apathetic and lowkey an alcoholic that JUST SO HAPPENS to also be a vampire. i think thats really funny.

then theres the fandom side of him. in-game, i like that hes pretty two-dimensional, but god DAMN the fandom has some slappin’ interpretations of him. ugh ugh ugh UGHHHH I LOVE IT WHEN PEOPLE TAKE HIM AND MAKE HIM SO MUCH DEEPER!!!!!! like usually i hate it when an obviously static comic-relief character is put through the “edgy backstory” wringer BUT WITH VAMP ITS ALWAYS SO GOOD AND JUICY YES GIVE ME MOREEE

i also just love that according to his description, mans was content to just die in the oven because he was already drunk when he was baked. and his lines/delivery is kingdom is fucking GODLY. i want to BE him. hes unaware of everything. mans just out here having the time of his life and getting blackout drunk. god i want to hang out with him so fucking bad. 100% on my dream blunt rotation.

also im fucking in love with this “trivia” piece from the ovenbreak wiki

ok DE next

dark enchantress is a special case. like, deep down i know i have a lot of thoughts about her, but those thoughts are still kinda coalescing into introspection of who she is.

i cant help but feel like a lot of people interpret her wrong. DE isnt a wholly evil and morally bankrupt character (at least in kingdom, that is. ovenbreak is a bit of a different story bc of the context/lack thereof) and im tired of people treating her like she is!!!!!!!! shes probably like one of the deepest fucking characters in the game and grrr i wanna tear her apart and study her in a lab. i want to put her in a maze with cheese at the end of it. i want to put a little brainwave sensor on her head and show her a selection of varying photographs and ask her what she thinks of each of them.

i just.... god every story update i hope and pray that she has a part to play in it. seriously the vanilla kingdom chapters are my fucking favorite because we learn so much about her in so little time. shes NOT this completely and utterly evil being just like white lily was not a wholly good and angelic figure. they both had their flaws but white lily when white lily was rebaked the flaws that she had were just amplified tenfold. or at least thats my theory on what happened there. DEs motivations are directly derived from those that she had as white lily, those being a desire to help cookie kind. its that whole right desire wrong reasons shpeal you always see.

okay but the one thing about her is why exactly is she waging war on cookies to “save cookies”????????? i dont exactly get the reasoning behind that. like i know she wants to rebuild the world in her image but i guess i dont quite get how that connects to her wanting to spread the truth about cookies. my only theory is that shes mad at the ignorance of cookiekind and that she wants everyone up in arms over the witches just like she is, but i still dont see why shes actively killing cookies to achieve this goal??? idk maybe i need to read into it more lol

quick mention i dont have much to add on to this but has anyone else noticed the design parallels she has with millennial tree? ok its mostly about the horns and the clothes but still im jus sayin fam

also GOD NEVER FORGET HOW HARD SHE WRECKED PVS SHIT IN CHAPTER 10

THIS IS THE ROAST OF THE FUCKING CENTURY. MANS DIDNT EVEN HAVE A COMEBACK FOR THAT SHIT BECAUSE ITS TRUE!!!!!! GET HIM GIRL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

one day ill sort my thoughts out about her. its been a long week and my brain is fried so my analysis on her is about as deep as a kiddie pool but hey what can ya do

anyways DE my beloved pls come back and talk more shit about the ancients i beg of you

#chromespeaks #thinkposting

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niaellariious · 2 years

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Sweet | Cameron Rose/Trystan Thorne

Book Series: Crimes of Passion

Rating: General

Pairing: Cameron Rose x Trystan Thorne (F!MC x F!Trystan Thorne)

Characters: Cameron Rose, Trystan Thorne

Warnings: Mentions of a deceased parent, Profanity

Words: 943

Music Inspo: Sweet - Cigarettes after Sex

Summary:

Cameron and Trystan have an emotional chat. Trystan buys takeout for her.

Prompt: "You ordered takeout from my favorite restaurant?" "You were having a bad day." from @choicesficwriterscreations

A/N: I haven't read CoP since it ended so it's possible I got somethings wrong. But this prompt gave me inspo for them.

Tagging @choicesficwriterscreations for naughty / nice prompt

Read on AO3

Cameron fixed her narrowed gaze at Luke’s computer screen. Meanwhile, the latter sat in place, eating yogurt and patiently waiting on the detective in case she needed him. Luke knew the drill—knew how the detective worked. Somewhat.

So far, Cameron is only studying the dossier belonging to a person of interest, as if an answer to their troubles was going to materialize on the screen. A loud sound from a rolling desk chair made the pair glance in its direction.

“So…?” Trystan starts, realizing she broke the silence accidentally. She looks between Cameron and Luke. “Found anything? Did those sleuthing talents of yours come into play yet?”

“Ugh, Trystan—” Cameron was in no mood to humor Trystan today—or any day for that matter. Trystan gets up from her seat to take a look at the dossier. She feigns the look of someone wanting to get to the bottom of things really well.

When it becomes apparent Trystan isn’t taking it seriously minutes later, Cameron shoos her away. “Go away, will you? I’m just trying to see if there was anything I overlooked.” Cameron grumbled as Trystan took a step back with her usual grin in place. “Fine, fine. But who else will let you know that…” she trails off, eyes squinting to read the computer screen. “The fact our perp loves to dress his puppy in human food clothing? You never know if that’s a clue.”

“Well, considering you just got that from my research, I obviously could’ve told her that!” Luke exclaimed. Trystan only laughs in response while Cameron rolls her eyes and shakes her head. The other two luckily fail to notice how endeared she was.

Idiots.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Cameron turned around at Trystan’s voice, just as she almost managed to walk out the doors of the precinct.

“I was just going to get some fresh air.”

“You mean brood somewhere?” Cameron rolls her eyes at this and manages to hide a smile daring to show. “You’re so dumb.” Exiting the building, the duo’s footsteps fill the air. Hands in her jacket’s pockets, she sighs quietly and softly. The detective won’t be able to hear herself think with her snarky companion at her side… and yet she doesn’t send Trystan away.

“I’m sorry, by the way.” Trystan’s voice holds none of the usual playful or sarcastic tones, which unnerves the detective slightly. Before Cameron can answer, the former continues. “I mean–” She swallows as if steeling herself. “I’m sorry you couldn’t get a lead on your father’s case.”

“One of those pieces of shits saw him.” The detective growls. She crosses her arms tightly- mostly to Compose herself. This outburst had been a long time coming. “We’re— I’m so close, Trystan. I can feel it.” Cameron gazes into her partner’s eyes with knitted eyebrows. Her eyes were filled with determination… or something like hate.

Suddenly, Cameron feels a weight on her shoulder. Startled, she glances in its direction, then at Trystan with her mouth slightly agape.

“I’m genuinely sorry you had to see those bad men. And that they tried to rile you up.” Trystan’s expression and tone shift to anger in seconds. Cameron can only stare silently - afraid to open up, to feel. Yet she let her composure go astray. She won’t let it happen again. It had been years since she opened up and let anyone in. Trystan knew that.

The detective looks away, squeezing her eyes shut before speaking. “I guess I don’t know what to say other than… thanks. For being here.” She says quietly.

Trystan beams at her words and Cameron realizes how nice her smile, warm and bright. Akin to the sunlight.

The pair arrive at Cameron’s place that same evening. They take their usual seats at her uncle’s bar and unwind. It was a weeknight, so it wasn’t too busy, thankfully.

“You know, I’ve never really taken a good look at this modest little place.” muses Trystan.

Cameron scoffs. Modest little place. “And what do you think?”

“It’s not bad. I admire your uncle’s craft.” She takes a sip of her drink. “I see your father’s gun and badge are back in its rightful place.” Cameron nods. “Nowhere else it should be.”

Suddenly, the bar’s entry bell rings, signaling a patron has entered. Cameron’s brow raises as Trystan flags down a food deliveryman. The detective watches as Trystan gives him a $200 tip to his bewilderment.

“You couldn’t just order here? Is it not pretentious for you?” She jokes.

“Are you done?” Her partner says, getting its content out of the bag. “Because I think you’re going to like it.”

Cameron was ready to retort until she smells the familiar aroma and then it dawns on her.

“You ordered takeout from my favorite restaurant?”

“You were having a bad day.”

It’s been years since anyone had ever done anything thoughtful for her. The walls she’s put up certainly didn’t help. It may seem small, but to Cameron this gesture meant the world. She swallows, unable to find the right words other than a “Thank you.” Trystan can’t seem to hide a smile, knowing what she did and how much she wants to dismantle the guard her detective has up. “Well,” Cameron begins, finally managing to speak another word. “Guess that explains why you didn’t let me buy food on the way.”

“I know, right? It was so obvious. I suppose you are not a good detective after all.” Cameron chuckles, shaking her head as she accepts a plastic fork from her.

The two eat their dinner; the silence is comforting and it’s all because they’re together.

#playchoices #cfwc naughty & nice #crimes of passion #mc x trystan

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weasleylangs · 3 years

Text

if you don’t know, let me go - f.w

Pairing: Fred x Fem!Slytherin!Reader Summary: It’s always seemed like they’ve been dancing the line between friends and more, so why does he take a different girl to the ball? Warnings: Some swearing, pining that one character is too much of a dummy to see, a bit of angst but it eventually becomes fluff I promise, jealousy but nothing toxic, underage drinking but it’s like one line. Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: This is my first fanfiction in literally forever, so any feedback is always appreciated! Requests are open if you like this and want more! Also this got stupidly long fast, I can barely write book reviews on Goodreads without writing a novel so my bad, I’m sorry if you don’t like long fics. (Also cross-posted on AO3 as the tumblr tags don’t seem to be my friend right now.)

- Also, thank you so much to @lumosandnoxwriting for answering all my questions on how to get back into writing!

Send me an ask or a dm if you would like to be added to a tag list!

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“Do you think he’s going to ask you?”

It’s Wednesday afternoon, late enough for class to be over but too early for dinner and Y/N’s attempt at understanding anything in her potions textbook is broken by Alicia Spinnet talking to her. Despite the fact she hadn’t said a name, Y/N knows immediately who she was talking about and she shrugs in response, closing her book and accepting that studying was not on the table for the rest of the night now the ball has been mentioned.

“Probably not.” She deadpans. Y/N’s been trying not to get her hopes up that Fred would ask her to the Yule Ball since it was announced three days ago. Alicia’s already been asked by George- who immediately did a dramatic reenactment of some muggle proposal he’d seen in a movie as soon as Dumbledore announced it. But Fred had been more reluctant to ask anyone, despite people’s assumption that he could get anyone he pleased. Y/N only hoped this was because he was too shy of taking whatever they were from friends to lovers.

No one really understood how the outspoken and mischievous redhead became friends with the snarky Slytherin girl, but 6 years into their schooling people have stopped questioning it. They had formed an unexplainable bond the second they met on the train to Hogwarts when they were eleven years old that may have included both shouting at blood purists and now it seems to have evolved into something beyond just a friendship.

Lingering stares, soft touches, the fact neither of them had really dated anyone else because they were too caught up with each other. Everyone, including their friends, have all placed bets on how long it’ll take for the two of them to ‘fess up and finally get together.

“What makes you say that?” Alicia asks, genuinely. She’s heard first hand the teasing George and Lee give Fred over his feelings for Y/N in the Gryffindor common room when they think they’re alone so she finds it hard to believe he hasn’t even hinted at them going together yet.

Y/N shrugs. “I just think if he wanted to go with me, he’d ask me by now… Y’know?” Alicia can’t really deny her logic. Fred’s never been the one to shy away from being outspoken about anything really in the whole six years she’s known him, so even she can admit it’s weird that Fred hasn’t asked her.

“Maybe he just assumes you guys are going together?” Alicia starts, and before Y/N can argue back, she holds up a hand, “I’ll ask him after dinner tonight. I can guarantee Lee or George will join in and you’ll have your date by Transfiguration tomorrow!” Y/N shakes her head and laughs, and starts packing her things, mumbling about Alicia is a meddler and that she’ll see her later.

Y/N’s walking to the Great Hall for dinner when it happens. Adrian Pucey, star quidditch chaser for the Slytherin team slinks up next to her and scares her enough to almost drop the books she has clutched in her hands. She’s never had a problem with Adrian- their parents are in similar friendship circles so she sees him at family friend events outside of school, but she’s never considered him a friend either, which is why his approach to her is so odd.

“Sorry about that,” he laughs, shoving his hands in his pockets as Y/N clutches her chest. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she starts, “You’re just very quiet. I’m used to being almost tackled to the ground when I see friends.” She laughs, but she doesn’t miss the awkward tension in the air and she can’t help but assume what’s coming next.

“I just wanted to ask if, uh, if you don’t have a date to the ball… If you’d like to go with me?”

Y/N gulps. She knows she shouldn’t be putting all her eggs in the Fred Weasley marked basket, but she can’t help but remember her conversation with Alicia only an hour ago.

‘You’ll have your date by Transfiguration tomorrow!’

Adrian senses her hesitation and lets out a breath that sounds like he’s almost laughing. “You’re waiting for one of Weasley twins to ask you, aren’t you? Fred, right?” She hates how easily he caught on.

“Adrian, I- Ugh, I’m sorry. But yeah… I am.” She feels her cheeks heat up in embarrassment at someone she’s not even friends with pointing it out. She can’t help but think maybe this is a sign though, that if everyone else is expecting it, why hasn’t he asked her yet?

“No, it’s all good. But the offers on the table if he’s too pussy to ask you out.” He gives a kind smile as he walks off to catch up with Marcus Flint who’s drilling Malfoy about quidditch plays.

She exhales slowly and finally makes it to the Great Hall. She scans the tables looking for her closest friend in Slytherin- Daphne Greengrass and once she finds her, she quickly makes her way over to her. Dinner is relatively uneventful since she’s sitting with her house, and George manages to catch her eye at one point and mouths ‘miss you’ to which she laughs and says she misses him back.

She’s about to get up and leave when the last thing she expects to happen, happens. She hears Ron exclaim loudly that Fred can’t make fun of him for not having a date because he doesn’t have one either. Y/N feels her heart start to race, knowing if anyone’s going to prove a point to Ron, it’ll be Fred Weasley. She doesn’t hear what Fred’s reply is but Harry and Ron both scoff, and one of them says ‘ask a girl out if it’s so easy then.’

Y/N’s about to approach the Gryffindor table when George’s eye catches her, and he shakes his head. Fred has already thrown a scrunched-up piece of paper at Angelina and her heart sinks.

“Angelina! Will you go to the ball with me?”

As Angelina laughs and says yes to Fred, it feels like the whole Great Hall is either watching their altercation or watching Y/N in pity. Her heart now feels like it’s in her throat, and she needs to get out of the room before she cries or yells at Fred. She pivots on her heel and is met face-to-face with Daphne, who nods in silent agreement that they’re going back to their dorm.

Y/N is halfway down the long tables with the door in her sights when she spots Adrian out of the peripheral of her eye. She can tell he’s looking at her in pity and in a weird way, she feels the need to show defiance against Fred Weasley. She needs to show she doesn’t need pity, especially right now, that she can get a date herself. So she stops in front of the Slytherin quidditch team and slightly smirks.

“That offer to the ball still on the table?”

Daphne spends the night taking Y/N’s mind off the Weasley family. They sit in their dorm together, once again trying to study for potions which eventually leads into ball talk yet again. Daphne can tell the idea of going to the ball with anyone who isn't Fred is unnerving for Y/N, but there’s no backing down now.

“That was kind of a badass move, y’know?” She starts, treading lightly as they eventually reach the elephant in the room, ‘Asking Adrian after what happened.”

It doesn’t feel badass to Y/N. She feels like she’s cheating on the redhead that owns her heart, but she knows that’s ridiculous. Fred clearly has no form of feelings for her and she’s decided to get over him.

“It’s nothing…” She starts and she sees Daphne’s eyebrows raise. They’ve been roommates every year since they started school together so they’re both aware this is a big lie. “I didn’t want to go alone. Everyone else had dates already and Adrian’s nice. Plus, he did ask me before…”

Daphne nods, not wanting to press further. “Have you got a dress yet?” It had said on their packing list for the school year to bring a dress or dress robes so everyone’s already well prepared. Y/N nods and walks towards the closet before pulling out a floor-length silver gown with lace detailing. She smiles shyly as Daphne gasps in awe.

“Eat your heart out, Fred Weasley!” For the first time all night, Y/N laughs. She knows she’s going to look stunning in the dress and while she has no ill resentment towards Angelina for agreeing to go with Fred, she can’t help but feel a little bit coy knowing Fred’s going to see her in it.

She’s sitting at her desk in Transfiguration the next day when he finally acknowledges her presence. She’s twiddling her quill in her fingers, dreading the moment the troublemaker waltzes into the class. His usual seat is the one next to her, while George and Lee sit in front of them but she can only hope Alicia takes the hint and sits with her before Fred does.

She doesn’t get her wish. She’s about two seconds away from dozing off when the seat screeches against the hardwood flooring below them and she looks to her left to see Fred smirking.

“Hi love,'' he starts, the nickname not feeling out of ordinary, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” He says, and it’s true. He hadn’t seen her since class yesterday. He had looked for her before dinner to tell her about the prank he’d pulled on Filch with George while she was studying and he’d barely seen her during dinner.

Her heart starts to speed up at the nickname, and she forces down the bile she feels growing in her throat. “Yeah, I just ate dinner and went to bed yesterday. Been studying for potions. Sixth year is hard.” She’s trying to be short and sweet and maybe a little blunt but Fred doesn’t pick up on it. “Heard you asked Angelina to the ball too.” She’s hoping to whoever’s listening to her prayers that the jealousy isn’t evident in her voice and by the dopey smile that grows on Fred’s face, her prayers were answered.

“Yeah! Ron was being such a prat, telling me I couldn’t make fun of him for…” But she drowns his voice out. It might be a bitch move, but she really doesn’t need to hear the who, where, when and why he asked Angelina out. It’s clear to Y/N that Fred didn’t even notice her existence at dinner and that stings more than she’d like to admit.

She can barely concentrate during class. Fred has never really shown to care about any academic success, so he spends the entire period trying to entertain Y/N and get her to speak to him but she’s being stubborn and Fred can’t help but wonder what he did wrong. He starts to think maybe she’s just had a bad day, but when the bell rings and she storms off without even saying goodbye to him he’s dumbfounded.

“Trouble in paradise, brother?” George teases when he sees the frown adorned on Fred’s face.

“Have I done anything to upset Y/N?” He questions and he sees the way George and Lee both give each other a look. They know something he doesn’t and that leaves a feeling of uneasiness in his chest. Y/N and himself have always been closer than her and George and especially her and Lee. He was there for her when her parents were fighting constantly when she was 11 and when Marcus Flint started bullying her in 3rd year. He was even there when she cried to him last year about the guy she loved and how he was so stupidly blind to her feelings and while she didn’t give a name, Fred was dying to go punch whoever it was for not realising he had his best friend’s heart.

“If you have, it’s not up for us to tell you, mate.” Lee states and he hides behind George when he notices the scowl on Fred’s face. Lee knows better than to get between him and Y/N, but he isn’t wrong.

“Look, Alicia said she was fine when they left the library yesterday evening,” George starts, and he knows he shouldn’t be lying to his brother and best friend, but it’s not a huge lie, and maybe it’ll push his oblivious brother to realise what he did to upset his best friend, “She was at dinner last night when you asked Angie to the ball and then she went to her dorm with Daphne. Heard something about her saying yes to Adrian Pucey asking her to the ball…” While George made extra emphasis on the fact Y/N witnessed Fred asking Angelina to the ball, Fred’s eyes glaze over in rage when George mentions Adrian and he has a feeling his twin has got the wrong idea.

“I bet Adrian did something to her. Fuck him, honestly.” And before George and Lee can stop him, Fred’s stalking out of the classroom with Adrian Pucey in his sights.

Fred doesn’t find Adrian until later that afternoon, standing on the pitch and clad in his quidditch robes, yelling at someone who Fred assumes is Montague. He thinks now is probably a bad time to confront him, but he's blinded by the thought that he’s hurt Y/N.

“Pucey!” He shouts and when Adrian turns around, he chuckles and smirks at Fred. He was expected this later rather than sooner, specifically during dinner, but he guesses now will have to do.

“What?” He asks, but they both know why he’s here and he’s just enjoying riling Fred up.

“What did you do Y/N?” Adrian scoffs at this and shakes his head which confuses Fred. “What did I do to Y/N?” Fred stands his ground, chest puffed up. Adrian might be a fair bit shorter than Fred but Adrian hasn’t got anything to be scared of. Sure he’s seen Fred throw a punch or two and he’s definitely been on the receiving end of a bludger from the Weasley during a game, but he knows he isn’t the one that hurt Y/N here.

“I think you should be asking yourself that, mate. Y/N only agreed to going to the ball with me after you asked Angelina out right in front of her.” This causes Fred to look at Adrian in confusion and Adrian laughs at Fred again. He’s confused, why would asking Angelina out hurt Y/N?

It turns out he said that out loud, because two seconds later Adrian is responding to him, “Because she was expecting you to ask her, Weasley.”

Adrian doesn’t even wait for Fred’s reply before stalking off to the Slytherin change rooms and Fred’s left standing on the pitch, wondering why the ache in his chest is almost debilitating at the thought of hurting Y/N and questioning why he feels the need to throw up knowing she’s happily going with Adrian Pucey.

Fred’s next port of call is finding Y/N. After his talk with Adrian, he needs to find out why she expected him to ask her to the ball. He would’ve happily gone with her, but to Fred, she hadn’t even dropped a single hint at wanting to go with him and when she’s finally located, she’s in the library with Daphne.

“This is my exit cue,” Daphne mutters as she notices the redhead roaming around the library looking for Y/N. She doesn’t even have a moment to question Daphne before the seat in front of her is suddenly occupied by the last person she was hoping to see again.

“Why are you going with Pucey?” Is the first thing that leaves Fred’s mouth, and it wasn’t what Y/N was expecting. She splutters, only for a few seconds, before eventually replying.

“He asked me.”

Fred’s eyebrows furrow, but didn’t Pucey say she wanted to go with him? “A little birdie said you wanted to go with me. So, how come you’re going with him.”

Now Y/N scoffs and Fred can’t help but notice how many people are scoffing at him today just for asking questions and it’s getting annoying. “You didn’t ask me. He did. So, I said yes. Don’t understand why it’s such a big deal.” She’s intentionally being short, hopefully not spilling anything about her feelings for the boy in front of her.

“I didn’t know you wanted to go with me, Y/N. How was I supposed to know?” At this, Y/N goes from feeling hurt to angry and she can’t explain why her hands start to shake.

“How were you supposed to know?” She exclaims loudly which causes her to receive a rather nasty ‘sh’ from Madam Pince and a few O.W.L students surrounding her.

“Have you seen the way we act around each other Fred?” She’s now whisper yelling and the confused look on Fred’s face as she says this just aggravates her further and she’s convinced no one is this daft and he’s pushing her buttons on purpose. “Because everyone thinks we’re fucking dating already, Fred. You have to constantly be touching me, we’re always together, you call me darling and love and you kiss me on the forehead when I fucking bring you sugar quills from Hogsmeade because they’re your favourite and whenever you have spare money you always buy me Honeydukes chocolate because you said you like seeing me blush when you buy me things. You’re telling me now that we’re just friends?”

If the ache in Fred’s chest was almost debilitating on the quidditch pitch earlier, right now it feels like he’s about to go into cardiac arrest. Her cheeks are flushed, her fists are clenched, pieces of her hair are falling out of her bun that’s resting on top of her head and, worst of all, Fred’s noticed the tears of anger and frustration pooling in her eyes.

She sighs before continuing, trying to compose herself so he doesn’t see her crying over him, unaware he’s already noticed the tears threatening to fall. Her voice is sad and broken, and it feels like the ending point for her.

“I was just stupid enough to assume this year was the year we would finally admit we’re more than friends, Freddie. But I guess all this time it’s been one-sided. I hope you have a good time at the ball with Angelina.”

Fred grabs her wrist as she starts to pack up her things and looks at her, scanning her face for any form of emotion. “Let me go, Fred.” She looks at him with pleading eyes and he lets go of the grasp he has on her wrist.

Fred doesn’t try to stop her again as she hastily packs up her things and he sadly watches her leave the library without turning to look at him.

Y/N doesn’t care if it’s considered dramatic, but she lays in bed and cries for the rest of the day. While she hasn’t gone through a literal break-up, it feels like her friendship with Fred is over. At least, she’s decided, it’s over until she gets over her feelings for him.

Daphne tries everything in her power to comfort her. She rubs her back, plays with her hair and even puts on ABBA to try and get Y/N to dance just to cheer her up. Y/N feels horrible she’s basically conned Daphne into babysitting her breakdown but Daphne constantly reassures her it’s okay.

“Do you want me to go beat him up? I might be short and weak and he’s the size of a tree but I could take him.” Y/N sniffles a laugh at this, and smiles. She’s truly grateful for everything Daphne’s been doing for her and she makes a mental note to get her an extra special Christmas present next time she goes to Hogsmeade.

However, it turns out essentially ending the friendship with Fred ends her friendships with most of the Gryffindors. She was expecting this, but when George can’t even meet her eye in class her heart breaks into even smaller pieces. George has always been like a brother to her, someone she could tell anything too without worry of being judged. He was the first person she told when she realised she liked Fred and Y/N was the first person, besides Fred, that George told his feelings for Alicia for.

Y/N feels alone but she’s stubborn so she refuses to show it. She sits with Daphne in every class, essentially kicking poor Cassius Warrington who’s been pining after Daphne for 3 years into a different spot in class and she sometimes even sits with Adrian during lunch. It turns out they have a lot more in common than just the fact they’re in Slytherin and pure-bloods and Y/N’s pain in her chest is slowly but surely disappearing.

While her feelings for Fred still exist, her heart slowly feels like it’s being mended. It’s only when she spots Fred sulking during lunch one day that the ache returns. She was usually the one who he went too when feeling bad- him being too embarrassed to go to George. She hopes he’s okay, but she shakes the idea of approaching him, knowing he’s got Angelina to keep him company. The pang in her chest stays a little bit longer that day.

The Yule Ball arrives quicker than expected and Y/N and Daphne spend all day getting ready with a bunch of other Slytherin students. It’s nice, while they don’t all usually get along, the house loyalty between them is unmistakable.

Most of them are acutely aware of Y/N’s ‘Weasley Situation’ and while some of them give her pity looks, most of the younger girls have expressed their jealousy that she’s going with Adrian. This makes her laugh and shake her head and she often replies that boys aren’t all that and no boy is worth being jealous over. She feels like a wise mother almost, never wanting them to feel the way she’s felt the past few weeks.

Daphne and Y/N arrive at the Great Hall together, giggling about how bad Y/N is at walking in heels and placing bets on how quick they’re going to come off. While Daphne is counting her galleons in her purse to confirm the bet, Y/N catches a glimpse of Fred and Angelina. He looks so handsome, his dress robes a mixture of gold and black and she can’t help but think how well they’d go together. But when she looks at Angelina she feels like she’s going to pass out.

Angelina is stunning, and there’s no doubt about it. She’s in a floor-length dark purple gown that compliments her skin perfectly and Y/N thinks if Fred was going with anyone to the ball, she’s glad it’s Angelina.

Cassius and Adrian soon appear by the girls and take their arms into the Great Hall that’s been transformed to look like a winter wonderland. The roof tonight is bewitched to look like a winter, snowy day and Y/N can’t help but admire it. She’s grown up with magic her entire life, but she can’t help but constantly be amazed.

Adrian pulls a flask out of his dress robes jacket which makes Y/N snort and he smiles happily at her. Of course he snuck Firewhiskey into the Ball. The action reminds her of something Fred would do and she shakes her head, trying to get the boy out of her mind, tonight of all nights.

“You look beautiful tonight, by the way.” Adrian states as he takes a swig of the flask, and she feels her cheeks heat up. She can hear the sincerity in his voice. “You don’t scrub up so badly either, Pucey.”

“A dance, m’lady?” He jokingly bows to Y/N and she smiles while she takes his hand and he leads her to the dance floor. As Adrian twirls Y/N around the dance floor, albeit messily because neither of them paid attention in dance classes held by Snape of all people, she forgets about the redhead who’s stare is burning holes into the back of her head.

“You’re a shit date, y’know.” Angelina laughs and Fred’s broken out of his trance. “Shit, Angie, I’m so sorry.”

Angelina isn’t wrong. She’s a smart girl, and she’s well aware of Fred’s longing stares towards the Slytherin girl. “Did you know? That you wanted to go with her?” Angelina questions, out of sheer curiosity. Even she was shocked when Fred asked her, but she was too dumbfounded when he asked and with everyone watching at dinner, the pressure to say yes was immense but it was not worth all the pain and heartache she’s watched her two friends go through.

“At the time? No, definitely not. She’s…” He trails off as he tries to find the right words, “She’s always been there, y’know? I just assumed she’d be in my life forever and what we had was what we’d always be… It felt normal, like I didn’t feel the way I feel about her with you, or Katie or Alicia but it felt like that’s how you’re meant to feel about your girl best friend?”

He looks over at them again, and the gross feeling of jealousy rises in his throat. “But then she said yes to Pucey, and all I can think about is how no one should be holding her but me and that he'll walk her all the way back to her dorm tonight and probably kiss her and I feel like throwing up, and...” He pauses and looks at Angelina and the pity in her eyes is obvious. “And you don’t think about your best friend like this.”

Angelina watches in pity as Fred clearly drowns his sorrows in pumpkin juice and she drags him onto the dance floor. She’s not letting Fred have a bad night and she refuses to have one as well. Fred is one of her best friends, and even though she might not be the girl he wishes he was here with, she’s determined to cheer him up somehow.

Fred finally starts to have a good time when he spots George slyly leading Alicia out of the Great Hall and he loudly wolf whistles causing a red hue to form on both their cheeks and George to flip Fred the bird as they leave. Angelina spots Y/N grab her purse across the room while Fred’s distracted and she quietly leaves just after George and Alicia.

Alone.

“Y/N just left, Fred. Alone.” Fred’s confused why Angelina is telling him this when he looks over at Daphne and Adrian, who both look at him like ‘Go you fucking idiot’ and before he can even mutter a goodbye to his friends, he’s out the door almost as fast as George was.

He finds Y/N sitting on a bench in the courtyard. She’s looking up at the stars and Fred stars to recall last summer when she visited The Burrow. She spent all night trying to point out constellations to Fred and as he watches her mutter to herself, Fred wonders how he didn’t realise that they were in love this entire time.

He clears his throat, careful not to startle Y/N and when she turns Fred can see the hesitation in her face as she quickly goes to jump up and leave.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have stolen the prime make-out spot of the night.” She awkwardly laughs but then quickly realises Fred is alone. “Nevermind… Where’s Angelina?”

Fred shrugs, and sits down on the bench she was sitting on originally. Y/N stands awkwardly before sitting down next to him. As much as she hates to admit it, she’s missed being close to him. The warmth that radiates off him despite it being the middle of winter causes her to shuffle just that slightly bit closer to him and Fred can’t help but smile.

“You look beautiful tonight. I know Adrian probably told you already, at least I hope he did, but you deserve to know.” Fred could feel himself rambling and he doesn’t miss the blush that rises across Y/N’s neck and cheeks. It’s the exact same blush that appears whenever he buys her chocolates and his heart soars.

“Thanks Freddie,” the nickname feels foreign on her tongue, “you look pretty handsome yourself. I hope Angelina told you.” She retaliates and Fred hates it. He hates the awkwardness between them. He wants nothing more to wrap his arms around her and hold her close but they feel like strangers.

“Thanks,” he laughs and Y/N looks at him confused. “Did you have a good night?”

“Can we not have this awkward small talk? I’m sure Angelina’s waiting for you somewhere.” Fred’s taken aback by her abruptness and stares at her for a few seconds. “What?” She asks when she notices Fred looking at her like she has nine heads.

“Angelina’s not waiting for me. Is Adrian waiting for you?” He asks but he doesn’t want to know the answer. He’s gone through a rollercoaster of emotions these past few weeks and he truly doesn’t want to know if another man is waiting for her to sweep her off her feet and walk back to the Slytherin common room. But when she shakes her head, Fred lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.

“I need to apologise.” He blurts out and Fred wants to smack himself in the head. This was not the romantic moment he had envisioned in his head as he followed her outside into the courtyard. “I need to apologise for a lot of things. Mostly, for not realising how ridiculously in love with you I am, and also for not asking you to the ball and for ruining our friend-”

“You didn’t ruin our friendship.” She cuts him off but she doesn’t know what else to say. “You didn’t. I did, if anything.” Fred has to stop himself from starting an argument on who ruined the friendship but he wants to backtrack. Did Y/N just ignore him confessing his love to her?

“Well, I’m still sorry for not realising how ridiculously in love with you I am?” He tries again sheepishly and Y/N gives him a double-take. She heard him the first time but she was convinced it was just her ears playing tricks on her or Fred being a menace. After all, this is Fred Weasley in front of her, he’s always looking for a joke and as she’s about to accuse him of pulling a sick, twisted prank on her, she looks at him properly.

And he’s looking as serious as he did the day he told her he plans to open a joke shop with George after they graduate.

“You’re in love with me?” She asks quietly and her heart is racing again. She thinks back to the day she accidentally confessed to Fred and how she’s spent the last few weeks trying to fall out of love with him just for him to admit he’s fallen in love with her. “Fred, if this is some sick and twisted joke I will never forgive you.”

Fred almost looks hurt at this, that she thinks he’s capable of something that cruel. So instead of speaking, he softly cups her face in both his hands and runs his thumbs across her cheekbones in a loving manner. He looks her directly in the eyes and Y/N doesn’t think she’s breathed in the last 30 seconds.

She’s been craving being this close to Fred for as long as she can remember. Their lingering touches were never this intimate and right now, she feels like she can look into Fred’s eyes and see into his core, his soul. And he can do the same to her.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks softly, and Y/N gasps before nodding, wanting nothing more than to feel his lips against hers.

As he leans in his eyes flutter close, as do her’s. Y/N hasn’t kissed a lot of people in her life, but nothing could ever compare to the way she feels right now. The love and adoration Fred is pouring into this kiss almost brings tears to her eyes and she can only hope he can feel the love and adoration she has for him back.

Their lips move in perfect synchrony, neither of them pushing each other too far, but when Y/N drags her fingers through Fred’s hair and he lets out a groan, she can’t help but pull away and giggle.

“I’ve missed hearing you laugh.” Fred’s arms are now wrapped around her middle and he’s leaning down to press his forehead against hers. Now he has her in his arms, he’s never letting her go.

“I’ve missed having you make me laugh, Freddie.” She says sincerely and it’s Fred’s turn to blush. He knows they need to eventually leave their little bubble of happiness they finally have but he doesn’t want too. But he knows they need to talk about what happened, about them, what they are and Fred so desperately hopes this means Y/N is his.

She senses Fred’s thinking and she looks up at him, doe-eyed and innocent and Fred’s heart melts.

“Stop overthinking.” She mutters, running her hand through his long hair again and Fred almost looks like a cat purring as he feels her fingernails rake across his scalp and he leans into her touch. “Can’t help it. Don’t want to lose you again.”

Her heart pounds, this is all she’s ever wanted to hear and now she wants to hear it every single day. So she tells him exactly that.

“I’m yours, Freddie. As long as you’re mine? If you don’t know what you want it’s okay, I promise we can take it slow-” Fred cuts her off, laughing as he kisses her again and he feels how warm Y/N’s cheeks are, as she blushes over Fred silencing her with a kiss. When he pulls back, her face is flush, her hair is falling out of her bun. It reminds Fred of that day in the library, except this time, the happiness in her face is unmistakably there, and finally he’s the cause of it.

“Of course, I’m yours, darling. I’m never letting you go.”

Late the next morning, when Y/N is trying her best to sneak out of the Gryffindor sixth year boys dormitory with a dark purple hickey adorning her neck, she spots three 4th years whose names she doesn’t even know, giving Ron Weasley five galleons.

Ron sees her, and smirks. “My bet was at the ball. Thanks, Y/N, you and Freddie boy have made me a very rich man.”

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

#fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley x reader

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twstarchives · 3 years

Text

Let Me Go!!

Card: Dorm Uniform - SSR Characters: Epel, Rook, Vil, Idia

Chapter 1

—INTERIOR HALLWAY—

Epel: Um... This is where the film studies club meets, right?

—CLASSROOM—

Epel: Excuse me...

Rook: Hello, Epel-kun! I see Vil asked you to lend a hand here.

Epel: I’d say it’s more like I was forced... Did he ask you too?

Rook: I’m helping on my own accord. The pleasure is all mine if I’m able to be with Vil.

(Clap, clap!)

Vil: Film studies club! Everyone gather around.

I’m going to discuss the details for when we begin our next student-produced film.

I’ll hand out the script first. Everyone, take one each.

Epel: Whoa, this script is so thick. They must really go all out with their activities here...

Vil: The next film we’re producing will be about time travel.

It’s set in the present day. The students of Night Raven College use a time machine...

And travel to the era of the Great Seven’s Fairest Queen of All.

Rook: The era of the Fairest Queen of All... How très bien!

What a fascinating idea, don’t you think, Epel-kun?

Epel: Hah... I guess.

Vil: The leading role is still undecided. I’ll let you know once I’ve chosen them.

Now, the time machine is the key item in this story... Epel!

Epel: ! Yes?!

Vil: I’m putting you in charge of designing it.

Epel: What?! I-I’m just the help. Why am I in charge of something so important...?

Vil: I’ve deemed you the most suitable for this.

Epel: (What gave him that idea?! I’ve never designed anything in my life. I want to say no...)

Vil: The time machine will use a magical wheel as a base. You’ll be customizing the exterior.

This way, we can shoot driving scenes.

Epel: You said magical wheel...?!

Vil: Yes. I’ve already arranged for one to use in our shooting.

I’ve asked Ignihyde’s dorm leader, Idia, to modify it, so you will work with him to complete it.

Epel: Got it!

Vil: ...You sounded very genuine there. Well, if you’re feeling motivated now, then that’s fine.

The theme of the time machine’s design should be “something beautiful and fitting for the setting.”

Your deadline is in three days at noon. Is that clear?

Epel: Yes, Vil-san!

(I was so reluctant about having to help out the film studies club... but I didn’t expect there to be a magical wheel involved!)

(That feeling of the passenger becoming one with the vehicle as they ride on... Just watchin’ it gets me all excited.)

(Maybe if I made a design that makes Vil-san’s jaw drop, he’d even let me take it for a test run.)

(Okay, I’m gonna do my best!!)

—IGNIHYDE DORM - LOUNGE—

Epel: I’m Epel, a first-year from Pomefiore. You’re Idia-san, right? Let’s work hard together.

Idia: Ugh... The glittery Pomefioran is here, hurray...

O-Oh, um... Vil-shi explained everything to me. We’ll use this lounge to work...

Epel: Okay, thank you.

Oh, that’s the magical wheel we’re going to modify there next to you, right? It’s so cool...!!

Idia: Hah... I only agreed to this ‘cause Vil-shi said he’d compensate me...

But working with other people... really makes me irritated by the second.

I need to finish this and go back to my room ASAP before my sanity gauge runs out.

Epel: (I know Vil-san’s taste pretty well since he’s been training me for months ever since I enrolled here.)

(I need to aim for a fancy design that goes with the setting and also satisfies Vil-san.)

Idia-san. Let’s do our best designing this magical wheel...!

Idia: Yeah. Let’s get this done as fast as we can...

Chapter 2

—IGNIHYDE DORM - LOUNGE—

Epel: It took all night... but it’s done! Idia-san, the coloring for the magical wheel is all finished.

Idia: Congrats on getting it done. You told Vil-shi you’d show it to him once it was finished, right? Shouldn’t you call him?

And end this so I can be alone.

Epel: Yes, I’ll go do that!

Epel: Here’s the magical wheel, painted to look like a time machine.

The design was inspired by the peacock engraved into the Fairest Queen of All’s favorite chair.

Vil: ......

Epel: Um... Vil-san?

Vil: Epel. Are you satisfied with this design?

Epel: What do you mean, am I satisfied...?

Vil: I ordered you to design something “beautiful and fitting for the setting.”

However, this piece conveys nothing from the creator’s heart.

You wouldn’t consider this design “beautiful,” would you?

Epel: ...! Well, I...

Vil: To me, this looks like you only tried to match the setting.

Redo it, Epel. And don’t think about coming back to the dorm until it’s finished.

Epel: What?! Vil-san, wait a seco— ...He’s gone.

...Dammit! How can he be angry that I made it exactly as he said...?!

But I get to work with a magical wheel, which I love so much. No way am I giving up after failing once!

I need to make something that I think is beautiful, that matches the setting,

And something that would make Vil-san satisfied, right?

I’m gonna do it!!

...... But what would that be...?

—IGNIHYDE DORM - IDIA’S ROOM—

Idia: Hehee! I got that kitty accessory I wanted! It’s a rare strength item that boosts my speed by 100!

Hehehe, now, the boss from this ultra-hard quest... You should tremble in fear of my dodging power.

(Running footsteps!)

(Epel barges in)

Epel: Idia-san!

Idia: Eee! E-E-E-E-Epel-shi! It’s rude to come into someone’s room without knocking!

Epel: Oh... S-Sorry.

It’s just, we have to redo the time machine...

Idia: Hah? He rejected that flashy design?

Epel: Yeah... So please help me make it over again!

Idia: (I can’t believe Vil-shi. He should’ve done this himself if he was going for something specific. Why’d he leave it to someone else?)

(I can’t stand them taking away my gaming time anymore. I gotta get this done now and chase out Epel-shi...)

H-Hey, Epel-shi. Do you have anything you’re good at?

Epel: Huh? Why are you asking?

Idia: ‘Cause wouldn’t this get done faster if Vil-shi just made it himself instead of having you make it over again?

But he still put you up to it... So shouldn’t you consider that maybe you’ve got some kind of secret talent?

In online games, leveling up skills you’re good at makes getting through the game easier.

Epel: But I’m just good at things like carving apples. I can’t really use that in desig——

(...Hm? Apples...?)

I figured it out!!

Idia: Ee! I-I-It scares me when you yell out of nowhere! Wh-What did you figure out?

Epel: I figured out what I can make that’s as beautiful and fitting for the setting as I can!

Idia: I-I’m glad to see you came up with an idea. Well, let’s get on with it then.

Epel: Huh? But you stayed up all night last night. Are you sure you shouldn’t rest a little...?

Idia: Heh, staying up all night is nothing to me. I stan a group of idols who look elderly but with hearts eternally 17...

And even Moirai on the Edge can do live performances for 72 hours straight.

We’ll prevail over this ultra-hard quest!

Epel: M-Moi...rai? I-I don’t know what that means, but let’s work hard!

(This time, we’ll make a design that Vil-sanーno, that anyone would approve of!)

Chapter 3

ーーThe day the time machine is due.

???: ...el... Epel!

—IGNIHYDE DORM - LOUNGE—

Epel: *Yawns*...?

Huh? Ahh! When did I go to sleep?! And Vil-san, what’re you doin’ here?

Vil: Your deadline is today at noon, so I came to check up on how you were doing. Honestly, I cannot believe you were sprawled out asleep on the floor.

So? Have you finished the time machine?

Epel: Oh... I did. Take a look at this!

There’s a story where the Fairest Queen of All made a poisoned apple, right?

So this time, I used that as my inspiration.

The color of the whole body represents a ripe, red, shining apple.

Like one you reach out to take without even realizing it... Anyway, I made sure it looked delicious!

Vil: Hmm... Go on.

Epel: Right. The other thing I worked especially hard on was this design that’s hidden when the machine is stopped, and only gets revealed when it starts up.

I’ll turn it on to let you see.

Vil: ! You painted the tire kept inside... Is that a skull?

Epel: Yes! One of the stories mentioned that a skull rose up before the poisoned apple the Queen made turned red...

So I added a symbol that can’t be seen from the outside unless you start it up.

This time machine is as “beautiful and fitting for the setting” as I can make it right now!

Vil: ...Allow me to ask you one thing. Why did you change to a poisoned apple?

Epel: Um... When I tried to use a peacock in my design, I honestly couldn’t tell if it was good or bad...

But then I thought, no one would be able to resist a design that makes apples look appealin’...!!

Vil: ......

...Heh. You finally came up with a design that reflects you.

Epel: ...! Yeah!

Vil: Now, I will leave you with the keys to this magical wheel.

Epel: Huh? Why me?

Vil: I’m heading back to our set. You’ll deliver the machine to the film studies club yourself.

You have until noon to bring it, just as we discussed. Don’t be late. Understood?

(Vil leaves)

Epel: ...If he was in such a rush, he could’ve just taken it himself... Wait, hold on?!

Does this mean I can ride it back to the set... maybe?

AHH~! ALL RIGHT!!

Idia: Ugh... Epel-shi, you’re too loud... Your voice is ringing through my sleep-deprived head...

Epel: Oh! S-Sorry, Idia-san.

I’ve always wanted a magical wheel... And I get to ride one I designed myself. I just can’t believe it...

Alright, let’s get to the school building!

—MAIN STREET—

Film Studies Student A: Hm...? What’s that? There’s something coming towards us from the front gate.

Rook: That is a magical wheel. And the one driving it is... Monsieur Cherry Apple, Epel-kun.

Film Studies Student A: It’s so glossy, like a real apple... And his Pomefiore uniform looks so nice. It’s beautiful!

Film Studies Student B: Driving that machine, Epel-kun’s got a radiance that’s different from his usual frail beauty.

Film Studies Student C: Yeah. That piercing cold look and his unconsciously curled-up lips... I’m so drawn to it; I can’t look away.

Rook: Did you hear that, Vil? Everyone is praising Epel-kun!

Vil: Hehe, these potatoes’ reactions are perfect.

Epel: Oh... There he is! Vil-san! Just as promised, I’m here to deliver this.

Let me stop the machine... Okay. Well, I’ll get going now.

Vil: Hold it, Epel. Stay right there.

Film studies club, your attention! I have an announcement to make regarding our next film.

For our undecided leading role... I’ve decided to cast Epel right here.

Epel: Wh... What?!

Vil: You all saw how he looked riding that time machine, yes?

I believe there’s no better person out there more suited for this role. Are there any objections?

Rook: It’s true, the sight of him riding that time machine up here almost felt like a scene from a movie.

Film Studies Student B: Yeah! Hats off to you for how dashing you looked. I’ll let you have my seat today.

Epel: W-Wait a second. I thought I was just helping with the design——

Vil: I’ve already made up my mind. I’ll thoroughly train you to be an actor, so do prepare yourself.

Now, you must do a costume fitting. Costume committee, take Epel to our club room.

Costume Committee: Okay!

Epel: I-I still haven’t said anything about doing th—let me go!!

Vil: ...I see now how drastically the sparkle in his eyes changes depending on whether he’s interested or not. Honestly. He’s a difficult apple to deal with.

Rook: Epel-kun was shining like a completely different person than he was yesterday, yes...

But perhaps were you anticipating this finale from the start?

Vil: Well, now. Who’s to say?

#twisted wonderland #epel felmier #personal story #dorm uniform

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alicemitch09writes · 3 years

Text

skinny love

pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x reader

summary: 6 months later. Was he too late?

author’s notes: This is a direct sequel to first love and part of a trilogy also aptly named ‘first love’ ugh, i am so unoriginal. Please go read that first before this, otherwise you’ll be confused.

also available on ao3.

disclaimer: i own NOTHING but the plot.

His feet feel like lead as he trudged to the vending machine, adamant on getting coffee. It was only Monday. The smallest sounds of coin drops and beeps were making his head hurt.

Taking his first sip of his coffee, he walked around the quiet halls.

He hated hospitals.

Actually, they weren't that bad, having everything it needed to cater to the patient's needs. But it was a façade to their impending doom. And he hated it. Hated the way doctors and nurses would say with practiced ease that everything will be alright – when it won't.

They mean well, they really do, but they were a painful reminder of how fragile life was – how easy it can be taken away.

Reaching Room #423, he turned the knob, finding (Name) in the same state she's been the past six months. The door shuts quietly behind him, back resting against it.

"Tetsu, have you been eating?"

He could almost hear her voice, filled with worry of how thin he is. She always did that, nagging him like a mom to eat if he wanted to win. Funny she thought that, thinking more of his (and the team's) welfare's than her own. (Name) was always that kind.

Instead, the image of that beautiful girl was replaced with one lying on the hospital bed – limp and lifeless.

(Name) didn't belong here, not in this hospital nor in that bed she was lying in. No.

She deserved to be home, in her room surrounded by her instruments, fussing herself with her studies, that new song she wanted to learn, or managing a pack of rowdy boys.

He didn’t know how long he just stood there before he heard a knock at the door. Lazily turning his body, he opened the door; his actions seemed robotic, staring at two familiar faces.

"Hey man," Bokuto greeted, balloons in different colors and shapes (there was one in the shape of an owl) in hand, worry in his eyes. "Wow, you look like shit."

"Thanks." He said, taking a sip of his coffee.

"That wasn't very nice, Bokuto-san." Akaashi scolded, appearing behind the salt-and-pepper-haired teen with flowers in his hands.

Too tired to argue, he stepped aside, letting them in. Closing the door behind him, he watched the two eyeing the unconscious girl, hearing Bokuto sighing while Akaashi dutifully went straight for the vase, intending to replace the flowers.

He plopped down on his seat, canned coffee still in hand.

"But seriously man," Bokuto called, tying the balloons next to the side table. "you look terrible."

Kuroo closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose.

"When was the last time you went out?"

"Bokuto-san." Akaashi called in warning, appearing from the toilet with a vase filled with clean water.

"I'm serious!" Kuroo draped an arm over his eyes as if to hide the bags underneath. "Dude, you barely left since. Day in, day out, you're here but never at home. Nowhere else but here. You even ditched your first year of college!"

"I won't want to leave her," Kuroo said, still not moving from his spot.

Bokuto frowned at his friend, arms crossed. "I'm not saying that you should, I'm saying (Name)-chan wouldn't like to see you this way."

(Name).

Sighing, Kuroo slumped forward, arms propped on his knees, staring at the sterile ground.

"We're just worried about you, Kuroo."

That must be the umpteenth time someone's told him that – his mom, his dad, his older sister, Kenma, Coach Nekomata, the team. But still, his resolve won't change.

Taking a long sip, he met both stares from Bokuto and Akaashi, who had just finished with the flowers.

"I'm not leaving her." he said in finality, turning to the sleeping girl. There were a lot of things he wanted to tell her, a lot. And he wanted to be the first person she sees when she wakes up, the first person to see her wake.

Sighing exasperatedly, hands on his hips, Bokuto resigned. His friend was stubborn, but he had an iron resolve. "I know you won't. Figured as much."

"Then why do you still bother?"

Smirking at the raven-haired teen, he says with a shrug. "Because bro, you matter to me."

Kuroo put a hand to his heart, touched. "Bro."

"Bokuto-san just wanted to act cool every once in a while," Akaashi coolly said, opening the drapes. That earned a loud, familiar call from his former captain. Kuroo smiled, some things never change.

"But seriously dude, you could use a bath because you smell like shit."

Akaashi didn't need to scold him then as Bokuto received a (friendly) punch to the gut from Kuroo.

Six months.

That's how long he was suffering, how long he had been tortured by the mere thought of never seeing her smile again, of never hearing her laugh again, of never having her around again – of never seeing her again.

The word cancer stuck to his head was like a punch to the gut, pummeling him inside out with every step he took. Never mind the burning pain of his muscles from a day's worth of match, never mind finally giving their coach the chance to witness the 'Battle at the Dumps' match even though they lost, never mind that his high school life had officially come to an end – they didn't matter at this point. He just wanted to see her.

And the first time he saw her – dressed in a hospital gown, with tubes sticking to her body connected to machines that kept her alive, he was crushed. As if he were a porcelain doll smashed into a million pieces, each fragment breaking into smaller pieces.

He nearly broke down at the sight of her. She was beautiful as ever, yet to see her in that situation broke his heart.

(Name) had been operated; the chances of her survival were slim. But the only thing Kuroo could think was how small (Name) looked in that big, white bed.

Picking her hands, he noted how small they were – how he could practically see and feel her bones. Threading his finger through hers, he brought them to his cheek, relishing in her warmth. These were the same fingers that cared for him each time he'd earn a bruise or a scratch, the same hands that brushed his hair when he was sleepy – gentle touches that made him think that she was an angel. Slim fingers that did magic with every instrument she held.

He always knew she was small – fragile, even – but it only clicked to him now as to why that was the case. Ironic that he was the perceptive guy, inside and outside the court, yet he failed to notice his best friend's wellbeing. How did he miss to notice how little she would eat, how easily tired she was, or how low her stamina was? He was supposed to be the smart guy, for crying out loud!

He wanted to hit himself, to numb himself of the pain.

The moment he found out, he wouldn't stop crying, hating himself every minute of every day.

(Name) wouldn't wake up.

(Name). Wouldn't. Wake. Up.

"Kuroo," a voice called, quiet and low, one he knew all too well. Weakly raising his head, he looked over his shoulder, meeting a familiar blonde teen.

Kenma looked at his best friend worriedly, a frown in his face. "You should go home." The raven-haired lad shook his head, Kenma sighed. "(Name) wouldn't like that."

"I'm not leaving her." he says, voice raspy.

Kenma stared, eyes narrowing. "Have you been eating at least?"

"I've been snacking on what Auntie gives me," he rubs his eyes tiredly, stretching his arms over his head. "I'll be fine."

His dark hair was greasy, sticking out to different directions – messier than usual; there were bags under his eyes. The clothes he's been wearing were days old now, but it's not like he leaves the hospital. How long has he had proper sleep or shower?

"You're not." Kenma pointed out, walking towards the bed, opposite to where his friend was. He arranges the plushies from various game characters beside her bed, dusting a few. When he was done, he stood next to the unconscious girl, eyes dancing with sorrow.

Kuroo watched his friend carefully, a question burning his head. "How long have you known?"

Kenma blinked. Deciding to sit down, he met Kuroo's gaze. "A while now." He answers as if anticipating the question. "(Name) was the most secretive amongst us three; I thought you'd have known first." Shrugging, he adjusted her blanket. "But you didn't." Kuroo wanted to laugh at that because it was half-true. They both knew he was far more observant than he let on.

Sighing, the blonde props his arm on a nearby desk, resting his head on his palm. "Knowing her secret was like carrying a heavy burden because it's her secret and your knowledge of her sickness."

Frowning, he asked. "She didn't know that you knew?"

The blonde shook his head without looking at him. "Like I said, it was a burden on my part as well. Plus, that'd be disrespecting (Name). And I can't do that to her."

Something likened to rage burned within him, he was standing before his best friend before he knew it. "And you didn't bother to tell me?"

"It's not my secret to tell." Kenma says easily, carefully setting her clamped hand aside.

"But we're best friends!" Kuroo's voice rose, earning a scoff from the blonde as he turned to meet his gaze, eyes almost challenging.

"Don't you think that'd be disrespecting (Name)'s decision?" Kuroo was practically shaking now, hands balled into a fist. "Besides, it's not like you cared to begin with-"

Kuroo had grabbed him by the collar, raising him to his level. "I dare you to say that again." He seethed hotly, eyes burning.

Kenma didn't falter, eyes glowering. "What's the matter, Kuroo? Upset that for once, you failed to gain information before me to break someone, to use it to your advantage? Or are you just mad that (Name) couldn't trust you enough?"

"Shut up!" his voice rose, grip tightening.

Steely gold hues met his, challenging and mocking. "Then are you guilty because it's practically your fault she's in this situation?"

That was the final straw.

Taking his hand back, Kuroo was just about to smack Kenma in the face when blaring sound rang through the room. The two automatically turned to her, panicked, Kuroo dropped Kenma, ran for the intercom while Kenma stared at (Name)'s body, not knowing what to do.

A little while later, a nurse came rushing in.

Kuro and Kenma stepped aside, watching the nurse attend to their best friend each holding their breath. Kuroo was wondering if he should've called for her doctor, but after a while, the nurse sedated her, (Name)'s body relaxed.

The gentle beep of the heart monitor demonstrated her calmness.

"She'll be alright, just a little stressed is all." The nurse says kindly, much to their relief.

They sighed in unison, rooted on the spot even as the nurse left the room.

(Name)'s breathing slowly through the calming silence that came, followed by the purring of the machines and quite chattering outside.

The two best friends stood there, watching the unconscious girl. Kuroo and Kenma slumped against the wall, the raven-haired teen slipping to the ground. The tension between the two was still there, something that was rare even for them. In the many years they knew each other, not once have they got into a fight this extreme. And even if a fight did ensue, there was only one person who could bring it to a stop, one person they'd bow to other than Yaku.

"She'd kill us by now," Kenma sighs, breaking the silence.

Kuroo snorted at that, hiding the smile on his face.

Eventually, he broke into fits of laughter. Kenma joined in.

"She'd give us a litany," Kuroo added, voice thick. "then she'd take us by the ear."

Kenma shuddered, rubbing at his ear. Kuroo did the same.

"You started it though," Kenma told him, bluntly.

Kuroo narrowed his eyes at him. "But you fanned the flames."

They burst into chuckles, tension dying down.

A little while later, the room was filled with members of the Nekoma team – bringing flowers, fruits, and toys. Each member, especially Yamamoto, Inuoka, and Lev, fawned over their unconscious manager while Fukunaga fussed over the snacks. Yaku had to keep everyone in line.

The best friends exchanged a look, knowing that if (Name) were awake, she couldn't be any happier.

Someone was waking him, gently shaking his shoulders. Raising his head from his folded arms, he was met with warm (eye color) eyes. "Tetsuroo-kun." The woman greeted kindly.

"Auntie," He stood up in greeting, pulling his wrinkled clothes down. "Good evening."

Her smile, it reminded him of hers, how he missed her smile. "Good evening." Walking across the room, she dropped her bag and sat on the chair next to her daughter, patting a hand over her cheek. "Any news?" she asked, looking up at him.

He shook his head, hands tightening. "Just the same."

The smile remained, eyes never losing its light. "Then she's still alright."

Just staring at the woman made him wonder how she could still be so optimistic about the situation. It must be hard on her, her only daughter was under coma after her operation, yet she never loses hope. She was just like (Name). And duh, she was her mom!

"Have you eaten?"

He nodded. "Yeah." He lied, tucking his hands on his pockets.

She stared, her smile waning a bit, worry in her eyes, then nods.

"Where is Uncle?" he asked, staring at freshly cut flowers next to her bed – carnations, care of the Fukorodani team.

"Oh, just parking the car. He'll be here in a while."

Kuroo nods, not knowing what else to say. So he sits by the couch, watching Auntie talked to her daughter, telling her how her classmates missed her (evidenced by the balloons and cards surrounding her bed), how their neighbors have as well, how quiet the house has been lately without her playing, the little things. But to her, they were all that mattered.

He hung his head, not wanting to watch any longer. He could hear the sadness in her voice, the longing, and yet, she still hopes. How could she?

"I'll be right back, Auntie." He announces, making his way out before she could reply, missing the worried look on her face.

Six months.

Six excruciating months.

He's endured and suffered that long.

But still, she wouldn't wake up.

Splashing water to his face, he then looked up, finding a miserable guy staring back at him.

Then are you guilty because it's practically your fault she's in this situation?

No matter what they say, it was his fault she was in this situation. It was his fault she's lying in that hospital bed, unconscious. It was his fault.

He wanted to punch his reflection so bad, but he was tired (physically and emotionally).

He didn't like hospitals, hated how clinically clean it was and how dreadful it was. Life came and go here.

Reaching for the door to her room, he paused.

What good would it be for him to be here?

He didn't deserve to be here keeping guard and watching her.

What was he even doing here?

"Aren't you going to go in?" a voice called behind him.

Turning, he was met with a kind gaze from a bespectacled (hair color) man. Their kind disposition ran in the family, he didn't deserve it.

At a loss for words, Kuroo mumbled unintelligent words, the man laughed heartily.

"Looks like you need a bite," although shorter than the teen, he wrapped his arm around his shoulders, steering them away. "come, you need to eat."

Kuroo gulped, staring down at the meal before him, then at the smiling man. There were a few people at the cafeteria – a few nurses and doctors on break, a kid with his mother, some teens, and them.

A comfortable silence forms between them despite having fidgeting in his presence.

The smell of strong spice was making his mouth water, aptly reminding him of the lie he told Auntie. Truth was, he snacked on some fruits given by his family earlier that day, that and coffee. A little while later, his stomach growled. The old man chuckled heartily. "Go on," he encourages.

Timidly, he nodded, saying his grace before digging in.

His eyes widened at the burst of flavors in his mouth, almost forgetting what an amazing cook the man was. He chewed carefully, distracting himself with the texture and taste.

He hadn't noticed the old man leaving until he came back with a can of orange juice for both of them. Kuroo muttered a 'thanks', chugging down the beverage.

"It's so good to see you eat," he tells him, eyes crinkling. "and no, you can't lie to me. I know you, Tetsuroo-kun." He laughed.

It was like he was eight again. It was always like that with this man, this amazing man, who held instruments like magic, the same man who was the father of the girl lying in this very hospital bed, comatose, because of him.

He chewed slowly, eyes dropping. Eventually, he swallowed but didn't reach for more even though the bento box was still full.

"Oh, are you done eating?" asked the confused man.

He almost wanted to laugh.

These past months weren't easy on all of them, especially for them. They could have blamed him for why their daughter was here, but they didn't. Instead, they pulled themselves together for her and for him.

"Thank you, uncle." He says instead, meaning it. Kuroo grinned at the confused man before digging in again.

He shook his head at the teen before him, chuckling heartily. He studies the young boy before him, remembering the look on his face when he saw her comatose state – it was the look of absolute heartbreak.

When he was done eating, they packed slowly, making slow talk (although it was more of him doing the talking). They were standing outside her room, but before they entered, he called him.

"She wouldn't like it you know," he tells him, sincerely. "seeing you like this, filled with guilt and hate. She would've wanted you to be happy, even if she's not the one causing it."

There was a sharp tug in his heart at the last line. "But she makes me happy." It was barely a whisper, tears starting anew. "But I didn't let her know that."

His eyes were stinging with tears, body trembling.

The older man patted his shoulder, squeezing in assurance.

While waiting for her to wake up, he often talked to her about their childhood, some dumb memories, and some good ones. He even told her of the events that transpired during nationals, not knowing that she was watching via live television.

"You should've been there," he said quietly, letting his fingers play with her growing (hair color) hair. "the team wouldn't be anything without our manager."

Some days, he'd read to her, having scavenged through her room from her yet to-read pile. He had to endure going through books that were not of his genre (especially romance), but in the end, found himself enjoying them.

With each passing day, the hope of her waking up was waning. He feared she might never wake up. The waiting was killing him, unnerving and destroying him. But he didn't give up hope, could never. He could wait years if he has to, just to see her (eyes color) eyes again, hear her laugh again, and be with her.

"Oh my, it's that boy again! He's become a familiar face around here."

"How long has he been visiting her?"

"About six months now, since that girl was brought in. He practically lives here."

"Poor thing, looks like he hasn't eaten or slept for days!"

"And he barely leaves her room. And when he does, it's only for a few hours or a day, and then he's back."

"Seriously?"

"The poor boy, the pain he's been through."

"And she might never wake up."

"I don't care what they say," he says against their intertwined fingers. "you are perfect to me. And I'm not leaving you."

It was barely midnight, but he couldn't help it. The conversation he heard earlier was getting to him. They didn't know anything about him or her. It was none of their business.

But to say that she was never going to wake up?

No.

He didn't like to think about it.

She was going to wake up.

He knew it.

But honestly? He wasn't so sure anymore.

Shifting in his seat, he threw his head back, massaging at his throbbing temples. When he opened his eyes, he noted something from the corner of his eye. Her ukulele was lying beside her; he stared at it long and hard before deciding to pick it up. Upon closer inspection, he noticed scratches and a Band-Aid on the crack of the soundboard. Something tugged inside him; he knew exactly where that crack came from.

His grip tightened.

Kenma was right, he was selfish.

He was so selfish.

Absentmindedly, he played with the strings, filling the silence. And then, he began adjusting the chords. It used to drive (Name) nuts, especially when she found how out of tune her ukulele was because of him. He smiled, he always loved seeing her cute face pinched into a frown – she was so cute like that.

Satisfied with the pitch, his calloused fingers began to play a few strings. The song was slow, gentle.

I wanna make you smile, whenever you're sad

Carry you around when your arthritis is bad

All I wanna do, is grow old with you

I'll get your medicine when your tummy aches

Build you a fire if the furnace breaks

Oh it could be so nice, growing old with you

He loved her.

Cliché as it is, he did.

Truth of the matter is, he's always been in love with her.

From the first moment they met, the first time he saw her smile, the first time she scolded him and Kenma, the first time she fussed over them, the first time he saw her play an instrument, to the first time she made him realize how many years have passed that he was so, so, in love with her.

So hopelessly in love with (Name).

Except, he was scared to risk their friendship – scared that she might not feel the same way he did.

I'll miss you

Kiss you

Give you my coat when you are cold

Need you

Feed you

Even let ya hold the remote control

Six months without her was absolute torture.

She was part of every significant event in his life; he couldn't remember spending a day without her in it

Because life without her? He couldn't even imagine.

It was meaningless.

If he could, he'd turn back time and make it right.

So let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink

Put you to bed if you've had too much to drink

I could be the man who grows old with you

I wanna grow old with you

The last lines of the song came out barely a whisper.

Releasing a shaky breath, he hung his head, tears streamed freely. "I've waited so long to play that."

It was the cheesiest song from a lousy movie. But the song, he had to admit, was one of his low-key favorites. The lyrics to the song were so sincere and heartfelt. He finally understood why love songs were made – to say the words everyone failed to say or supplement their feelings.

If only she was awake, then she'd hear his feelings.

Putting her ukulele away, he takes her hand in his, holding it close as he cried. "Please, wake up."

He buried his face into her hand, kissing it as he repeatedly begs for her to wake up, tears still streaming. "There's so much I want to tell you, so much I want you to know."

Taking her hand, he places a quick kiss to her palm, pressing it against his chest. "Feel that? That's my heart and it's beating for you."

His heart was beating fast, as it always did when (Name) was around.

Every single thing she does wonders is magic to him, especially with the way he captivated her the moment their eyes met. He missed it all – her smile, her touch, her eyes, her laugh, in general, he missed her.

So much it hurt.

Because the possibility of her never waking up was a factor that scared him every single day for the past six months. He didn't want their last meeting to be of him being an ass to her.

His heart skipped a beat.

He looked up at her, then at the hand on his chest, he swore he felt her hand twitch.

#kuroo tetsurou x reader #reader insert #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou angst #kuroo x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! x reader #hq #hq x reader #hq fanfic #haikyuu!! fanfic #haikyuu!! angst #hq angst #nekoma #kozume kenma

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haikyu-boys-am-i-right · 3 years

Text

Self defense

Character: kuroo

Warnings: people talking bad about yn, the use of the words attention whore… I think that’s it.

Requested: no

Word count: 1,334

Reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated but please don’t repost my works.

Disclaimer: I do not own haikyuu or any of the characters.

———————————————————————

One day while yn is sitting at her desk a piece of paper slips out of her backpack. Curiously Kuroo goes to pick it up for her seeing as she hadn’t noticed that it had fallen to the ground, when he realized that the pamphlet read self defense classes across the top cover.

“Yn-chan what in the world were you doing with this pamphlet in your backpack”, Kuroo asks her as he waves the booklet at her. Yn turns to look to see what he is holding in his hand and her face turns a bright shade of red as she snatches it back from his hands. “Hey” he says with a laugh. “I was just teasing you”, he says but then he frowns lightly as a curious look crosses his face. “But really what are you doing with this kitten”?

“Well you see”, yn says and sighs as she looks back up at Kuroo with a pitiful look on her face. For the past few weeks I have been dealing with some girls in our school who are mad that I am not only the manager of the volleyball club which means that I get to supposedly hang out with the entire team, but I am also dating the captain of the volleyball club which I guess makes them even more mad”.

“Why do you need self defense classes though”, Kenma says looking at her seeing as he is sitting at the desk behind her. Yn sighs. “Well I wanted to be prepared just in case those girls ever tried to go through with physical altercations towards me”. Kuroo frowned, clearly worried for her. “Kitten I love you but I can’t see you fighting anyone”. “Nor can I”, Kenma says. “Hold on what do you two mean by that”?, yn says as a frown crosses her face. Kuroo sighs and scratches the back of his head. “Yn, let's be honest here, you have the mean face of a kitten and that is one of the many reasons as to why I call you my kitten”.

Yn gasps and she turns in her seat to face Kenma. “Kenma, is that true do you feel the same way?'' she asks. Kenma’s eyes widen as he feels like he is being cornered. “I’m not getting into the middle of your argument,'' he says with a mumble as he pulls his handheld gaming console out of his pocket and he quickly plugs in some earbuds.

“I can be mean if I really wanted to be”, yn says as she tries to make a mean face at Kuroo. He chuckles and then he leans in to kiss her cheek. “This is what I’m talking about yn, the only thing you could scare would be a kitten”. “I’m actually getting better at self defense”, yn says in retort. “See, watch this right streak punch” she yells. Yn punches Kuroo's right shoulder and Kenma and Kuroo look at her in bewilderment. Yn gasps and drops her fist. “I’m sorry, Tetsurou”, she says. “Was that supposed to hurt me kitten”?, Kuroo says weakly trying not to laugh because he knows it would hurt her feelings. Yn groans and sighs as she sinks down in her chair and she places her head on her arms on the desk. “It’s useless”, she says as she tries to blink back tears. “I’ll never be able to stand up to anyone who bullies me,” she says, trying not to cry. “Hey it’s okay yn”, Kuroo says, rubbing her back gently. “Listen the next time you hear anyone saying crap about you tell me about it and I’ll make it known that you are the only girl for me”. Yn sniffles as she looks back up at him. “Really you would do that for me tetsu”? Kuroo grins and he gives her a thumbs up. “Yeah kitten I promise that you can count on me”.

Yn goes to manage the nekoma team daily practice after school and her face falls as she spots the group of girls that had been harassing her for weeks and they are standing on the edge of the court trying to get the attention of the players. Yn looks at the clock on the wall and she notices that it is time for them to start practice. “Alright everyone let’s get started”, yn says as she claps her hands together loudly and she makes her way over to the guys who drop the volleyballs they are or acting with as they all walk over to her. “Ugh it’s her”, she hears one of the girls say. Yn ignores them and she hands Kuroo a packet of papers that list some plays that the coach wants them to try out during today’s practice. Kuroo grins as he hands each of the guys a sheet of the paper and they all nod earnestly as they read it.

“Kuroo hey over here look at me”, one of the girls in the group says and Kuroo turns to yn. “Who are they”? he whispers in her ear. Yn sighs and she frowns as she crosses her arms. “They are the girls who have been giving me trouble over the past few weeks, they are the ones I told you and Kenma about this morning”. Kuroo rolls his eyes before turning to the girls and waving at them with an irritated smile on his face. “As long as they stand over there they can’t talk to you,'' he says, patting her shoulder. “I’m waving at them only to be polite, I can’t be rude to other students or the coach might kick me off the team”. Yn smiles as she hooks her arm with his and he ruffles her hair.

“Ugh seriously are you going to rub it in our faces that you are dating the captain of the team”, the girls groaned. “I mean I never knew how much of an attention whore you can be of course you have to rub it in our faces that you are able to hang out with the team how disgusting, are you sleeping with all of them or something”?

The entire gym goes quiet and the girl who said that gasps and slaps her hand over her mouth as the entire team halts their practice and they all glare at the groups of girls. “What did she just say?'' one of the team members mutters. “Yn has never used her manager position for popularity”, Kenma says, clearly irritated as he clenches his teeth tightly.

Kuroo has a dark and almost murderous look on his face as he takes off his track jacket and he places it around yn’s shoulders and she puts her arms inside the sleeves so she can zip it up. “Hey listen up”, he yells to the girls. “If anyone has any problems with my girlfriend and our team manager they can take it up with me and the rest of team, my kitten is the only girl for me so you better get that through your thick skulls before you start talking nonsense about her again in front of all of us”. The girls' faces turn bright red in embarrassment as they rush out of the gym.

Kuroo turns to yn and he places a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay kitten?'' he asks, concerned. Yn nods with a gentle smile on her face as she hugs him. “I’m better now that I know that they won’t bother me anymore so thank you” she whispers. “You’re welcome kitten,” Kuroo says as he bends down to kiss her. “Hey”, coach nekomata yells at them. “Kuroo, get back on the court and yn, get back to work”! “Yes sir”, they say pulling apart. “I’ll see you later kitten”, Kuroo says with a wink as he heads back onto the court. “You can count on that”, yn says in a happy whisper as she goes back to studying the plays that they are working on.

#haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyū!!#hq!! fanfiction #Tetsurou Kuroo #Kuroo x reader #kuroo x y/n #Kuroo x you #my fics #sfw #tetsurou kuroo x reader #tetsurou kuroo x you #Tetsurou Kuroo x y/n #fanfiction #anime #hq!! scenarios #hq!! imagines

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ethereal-bang · 3 years

Text

Minutes

Characters: Jisung x female reader

Words: 3,071

Type: friends to lovers, fluff, smut, college!au

Warnings: fingering in an elevator, heavy making out, explicit content

Description: stuck in an elevator with a boy from your science class, what else could possibly go wrong?

This is a work of fiction and not meant for anyone under the age of 18

You really hate Mondays.

They’re always the longest, and for some reason things happen to go incredibly wrong on the first day of the week. Always.

Waking up and realizing you only have 10 minutes to get dressed and get to class, running across campus seems to be the only option if you want to make it there on time. The professor is strict, and won’t let you in even if you’re only a minute late to class.

You ignore the weird looks you get from students as you sprint across campus, just wanting to make sure today doesn’t get any worse.

The door to your classroom is already shut, and you know that if you try to walk in now, you’re going to be yelled at by the professor and kicked out anyway. It’s not a surprise to you, with the morning you’ve had, you kind of expected things to continue downhill.

Now having some extra time to kill, you head to the school cafe for a cup of (desperately needed) coffee, and then the library for some extra studying for your anatomy class that you’re going to walk into within the next hour and a half. It was your hardest class, and easily the most stressful one as well.

Luckily, your study session went uninterrupted and with no hiccups. Looking at your watch and realizing you need to get moving, you stand up from your spot at the library table only for a student walking by to knock into you, spilling your remaining coffee on your shirt. “Are you fucking kidding me?” you ask in your head, telling the girl who ran into you that it was fine, and that you’re okay once she started apologizing profusely. Of course, now not only are you running late again, but you have a giant coffee stain on your shirt.

“Are you alright?” You hear someone chuckle next to you, and you look to your left and see Han Jisung, looking at you with concern but also a slight bit of humor in his eyes. You’ve spoken to him a few times, the two of you sharing your anatomy class. He’s cute, you think, with his bright smile and energetic attitude. You also had a few mutual friends, Seungmin and Changbin, so you had heard more about him than you’ve actually spoken to him.

“Yeah, Jisung, I’m just fine. Thank you for asking,” you quip back, and he arches an eyebrow at you out of curiosity.

“Seems like someone rolled out the wrong side of the bed today,” he says, and it makes you pout. “What makes you say that?” you say while looking away from him grumpily. “No reason, just saw you sprinting through campus out the window this morning, plus you’re like..covered in coffee” he says nonchalantly, and it makes you want to smack him. You both need to get to class though, and the thought makes you groan. “Ugh there’s no way I’ll be able to get to my apartment and change in time..” you say to yourself, looking down at the giant coffee stain on your shirt.

“Here,” Jisung says, and you look up to see him taking off his hoodie and handing it to you. “Jisung I can’t, it’s really okay I’ll just change after class,” you tell him. He shakes his head, and shoves the hoodie into your hands. “I don’t want you to have to sit through class like that,” he says. You slip the hoodie on over your shirt, relishing in the scent of his cologne and how it makes your head spin just a little bit.

Not wanting the coffee to stain the inside of Jisung’s hoodie, you quickly maneuver your arms inside the oversized piece of clothing, and take your shirt off while making sure Jisung’s hoodie still covers you. Pulling your coffee stained shirt out from the neck hole of the hoodie, you look at Jisung who is staring at you with wide eyes. Before you can laugh at his state of shock, Jisung speaks up. “Let’s go, we’re gonna be late!” He says, making his way towards the library exit.

You have no other choice but to follow him because he’s right, class is going to start and you’re not even in the science building. He notices you lingering behind and grabs your hand, leaving you completely shocked as he decides to take off once he steps foot outside, with you in tow. You try to keep up with him, stumbling over your feet while yelling at him to slow down, although it seems like he isn’t going to.

You make it inside the science building and book it up the stairs, praying that you’re not late. Seems as this time, luck is on your side. You and Jisung make it inside the classroom not thirty seconds before the professor does. The two of you exchange victory smiles, still catching your breath while the professor starts the lecture.

You tried to stay focused, but your eyes continued to wander towards Jisung every now and again. He managed to sit right where the sun was shining through the windows, and to put it quite frankly, his beauty was distracting. His tan skin seemed to be glowing, and he would bite his lip in concentration every now and again as he copied the notes from the board. Something about the way his lips looked made you want them against your own, and you were taken aback by your thoughts. You hadn’t even had a real conversation with him until two hours ago, and now you were thinking about kissing him? What is this feeling?

Your eyes move from focusing on his lips to his hands, watching the way they move as he takes notes. You can’t help but imagine what those hands would feel like on your body. His hoodie was warm enough, but you were sure his hands were something else.

You hear Jisung laugh quietly, and your eyes shoot up from their current focus to realize that Jisung had caught you staring at his hands. Your cheeks flush a bright red, and you turn your head back to the front of the classroom, hoping he’ll ignore it later.

“Well, thank god my classes are done for the day,” you say once you realize Jisung is waiting for you after lecture is over. Your cheeks are still a little pink, and you’re just waiting for the boy to make a joke about your obvious staring. Jisung laughs, too, and the sound makes you feel a little lighter. “Yeah I know right? Especially since the weather is getting cooler and I seem to have lost a hoodie,” he quips, and you playfully smack him on the arm. The playful smirk on his face sets something off inside of you, but you try and ignore it as much as possible.

“I told you I didn’t need it!” you say, and he shakes his head. “It’s alright, you don’t need to worry about it,” He insists, but it still doesn’t sit right with you. “No, no I feel bad. Here, come to my place really quick? I’ll change out of this and throw my shirt in the wash so you can have this back,” you ask him. “Well, I think I have some time...” he says playfully. You roll your eyes and lead him in the direction of your apartment building.

On the walk to your apartment, you get to talk to Jisung more than you ever have before. You definitely regret not getting to know him sooner. The stories you’ve heard about him definitely don’t do him justice, either. He’s really quick witted-- able to make you laugh harder than you’ve laughed in awhile. Pair that with his soft brown eyes and his bright smile, he’s basically a knock out.

Once you reach your building, Jisung opens the door for you and it just adds to the tiny feelings you could sense growing in your stomach for this boy. You walk up to the elevator and press the call button, and the presence of Jisung behind you waiting for the elevator makes the hairs on your neck stand up. He was really, really close to you, and you could feel his warmth radiating off of him. Not to mention you were still wearing his hoodie, the smell of his cologne fogging your senses.

The doors open, and you step inside first, turning around to press the button to head to the 9th floor. Jisung follows, standing next to you and leaning against the rail behind him. It’s quiet, but comfortable.

That is, until you hear a weird noise coming from the elevator.

You look up at Jisung to see if he heard it too, and the way his grip tightens on the bar behind him doesn’t go unnoticed by you. The elevator shakes, slightly, and out of reflex you move to grab onto Jisung. His arm goes around your waist, pushing you to him while keeping a hand on the bar holding him steady. Just like you thought, the elevator shakes more strongly and then comes to a stop. The lights go off for a moment, but the backup lights come on almost immediately, bathing the small space in a soft, dull light.

You let go of the breath you were holding once you’re sure the elevator isn’t going to plummet 7 stories. Jisung feels you relax in his hold, and moves away slightly to look at you. “Are you okay?” He asks you for the second time today, except this time his voice is very clearly concerned. “Yes, I’m fine. What happened? How are we gonna get out of here?” You say, checking your phone and realizing you don’t have any cell service.

Jisung steps away from you, letting his arm fall from your waist. You miss the feeling of protection, but watch him anyway as he makes his way over to the elevator door. Taking a look through the gap, you hear Jisung mutter some curses under his breath. “Looks like we’re stuck between floors, which is why your phone isn’t working,” he says, trying to further inspect the situation.

“So what do we do then? Sit here and wait for someone to come save us?” You ask, eyes wide. He shrugs, and turns back to the door. “Hey! Can anyone hear us? We’re trapped in the elevator!” He shouts, and it’s quiet for a moment before a stranger’s voice is heard from a few feet above you.

“We heard the rattling of the elevator! We’ve called maintenance and fire, but they said it’s going to be about 20 minutes until they can get here. We hope you’re okay!” The voice says. Jisung nods his head and yells a thank you to the stranger before making his way back towards you in the small elevator.

You’re happy to know that help is on the way, but what if something happens before they get there? What if the elevator -does- decide to fall before they can get there? You don’t want to live out your final moments in your college apartment’s elevator.

You start to freak out a little bit, and Jisung can sense it. “We’re gonna be okay, you know that right? Help is on the way,” he says, and moves to take a seat on the floor. You join him, hoping it will calm your nerves even just a little. “Yeah, I just hate elevators..” you say, and he doesn’t answer you. You want to say the quiet is calming, but you can’t help the anxiety you feel in the pit of your stomach. You start picking at the carpet of the elevator out of nervousness, and Jisung takes notice.

He scoots a little closer to you and grabs your hand, the size difference of his hands compared to yours is almost baffling. You feel that blush rise up again, reminded of what happened in class earlier. Jisung is playing with your fingers absentmindedly, both of his hands grabbing at them and lightly pulling them in different directions, the pad of his thumbs smoothing over the back of your palm. You can’t look at him, too embarrassed for getting worked up at the gesture.

It seems like God is out to get you today, because Jisung laughs that teasing laugh of his again, and this time a finger under your chin brings your head up to make eye contact with him.

“Y’know, I was going to let it go earlier, but now I don’t think I can..You seem to be pretty fascinated with my hands, huh baby doll?” He asks confidently, and the tone of his voice makes you want to jump down the elevator shaft out of shyness. The new pet name brings those same feelings back to your stomach, and you’re at a loss for words. Jisung takes notice of this, and his smile turns from playful to something a little more serious.

‘Awe now why are you getting shy? You sure weren’t when you were checking me out in lecture earlier,” Jisung says, his tone condescending as he moves closer to you. “I promise, Y/N, I’m not going to bite. I mean, not unless you want me to,” he whispers. He’s not even an inch away from your face, and now you can’t seem to break eye contact with him. His hand moves from your jaw to the back of your neck. “If you don’t want this, you need to tell me..” he insists, but you don’t even need to think twice. “I want it. I want you.” you say quietly, and that’s enough for him to close the distance and pull you on top of him.

Being seated on Han Jisung’s lap is nothing short of an out of body experience. His lips are soft against yours, nipping at your bottom lip and asking for entrance which you gladly grant him. The kiss is fast and passionate and full of tongues but neither of you seem to care. You can’t think of anything except that you were right; the feeling of his hands roaming your body is better than you could’ve imagined. By now your fingers are tangled in his hair, pulling slightly every now and again and listening to the beautiful sounds of Jisung groaning against your lips.

“You are absolutely gorgeous,” he says, his fingers trailing to the button of your jeans. You busy yourself with moving your hands underneath his tshirt, his skin warm and soft under your fingers. You can feel the ridges of abs that you didn’t know existed, and as Jisung is whispering sweet nothings into your ear, you whine at the sensation of his fingers that have found their way into your underwear.

“You look so pretty like this for me,” Jisung continues, his fingers rubbing circles on your clit in slow circles as you whine at him. “I knew I wasn’t going to be able to control myself the moment you slipped this damn hoodie on. You look so small, baby.”

You’re sure that you’re going crazy the more that Jisung talks to you. In order to preserve even the tiniest bit of your sanity, you connect your lips to his once more. You hear him chuckle into the kiss, Jisung sensing your urgency as you grind down onto his fingers with a newfound energy.

“You really like my hands that much, huh? Gonna get off just on my fingers baby?” He asks once again, this time inserting a finger into your core. You moan at the new sensation, but Jisung isn’t having it. “Words, baby. Tell me how you’re feeling,” He orders, and something about his tone sends you up a wall. “S-so good Jisung.. I.. fuck,” you breathe out.

Jisung snaps back to reality for a moment and remembers: You’re on a time crunch. Maintenance could get the elevator back up and running at any moment. He adds another finger inside of you and quickens his pace at the same time. The speed has you reeling, the knot in your stomach tight but not quite ready to snap.

“I need you to cum for me baby, someone could walk in any minute. We don’t need anyone else seeing how much of a slut you are for my fingers alone, now do we? Or would you like that?” He asks, and the idea has you clenching around him. Jisung senses this, and laughs. “Something to keep in mind for another time,” he says to himself. You bury that comment at the back of your mind, focusing on the pleasure that’s rising in your core.

Once Jisung starts rubbing harsh circles on your clit, the combination of that and his fingers inside you has you arching your back. To Jisung, you are the most ethereal being on the planet right now; the soft light of the elevator highlighting your features, making you look oh so beautiful and almost unreal as your orgasm washes over you.

Jisung helps you ride out your high, your hips slowly coming to a stop as you begin to catch your breath. “Th-thank you, Jisung..” you say quietly, moving your hair out of your face. “Trust me, baby doll. The pleasure was all mine,” he chimes, and a small laugh leaves your lips as you finally gain your composure once again.

The two of you stay sitting like that for a few minutes, basking in the glow of this new found relationship until you hear voices a few feet above you again. “Hello? Are you alright in there? This is the fire department, we’re going to get you out of there, don’t worry.” The faint voice says. You both sigh in relief, Jisung’s arms falling around your waist once again.

It doesn’t take long for the elevator doors to be opened, and you’re both pulled up by the firemen who came to your rescue.

Once safe and sound, it doesn’t take long for you to pull Jisung into your apartment to make up for something very, very important, either.

Masterlist

#han jisung #stray kids smut #stray kids scenarios #jisung smut #skz #ryn’s work: stray kids #ryn’s work: jisung

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lovelylogans · 3 years

Text

the himbo chronicles

part i | part ii

part of the wyliwf verse.

warnings: kissing, underage drinking, kissing with consent while under the influence, please let me know if i’ve missed anything else!

pairings: roman/logan, offscreen patton/virgil

word count: 8,877

notes: i simply could not resist writing about these good good boys for a moment longer. i love them. this work takes place in the late summer/early fall between logan’s freshman and sophomore year of college, or almost four years after the main storyline. if you need a quick rundown of the characters (i know seven new characters might be a lot to digest!) here’s a quick guide to each of the boys. please enjoy!

⁂

one had a certain expectation when it came to many college-aged boys living in the same house together. partying. general revelry. chaos. messy surroundings. the loud blaring of video games. more than just a touch of hedonism, certainly.

logan sanders is a rather atypical college-aged boy. in his past reveries when considering college, he'd thought of the libraries he'd spend hours in, the books he'd pore over, the professors that would come to mentor him. perhaps the occasional errant thought of a party he'd be dragged to, but then his brain had moved to college newspapers and their framing on pieces when it came to excessive drinking and how to interview fraternity presidents concerning their unsettling hazing rituals.

during his senior year, a fair amount of his fretting had transitioned into how to handle the distance from his father, patton, and pseudo-father, virgil, back home in sideshire, which proved itself solved quite handily; yale is close enough that it's not even a notably long drive. the other worrisome part, though, were how to visit his long-term boyfriend, roman, who was no longer even in the same state. but they'd made it work, over the past year, and logan is currently sitting in an armchair he'd dragged over to the front window of the house, trying and miserably failing to pay attention to some of his class reading.

once he'd gotten to college, though, those social expectations for the rest of his peers had certainly been proven, if simply by virtue of examining the rest of his classmates. his life, however, seems ill-contented to have left it at that; he can safely say that his social circle is not entirely like he'd expected his college friends to be.

for instance, as he hears the creaking of the old wood floors behind him—

"if you start making fun of me for waiting by the window for roman again i will take points from your good noodle chart," logan threatens, and adam scampers off with barely-contained snickering.

he had not expected to have to say that sentence during his college years at all.

there's a hastily-stifled laugh, and logan swivels around to see jordan, who is certainly paying very studious attention to his own class reading.

logan's eyes narrow at him.

"you usually study in the kitchen," logan says, just barely keeping an accusing tone out of his voice.

"more natural light in here," jordan says, nodding to the window, his lip caught between his teeth.

logan scowls.

"...okay," jordan relents, "and—"

"i knew it."

"c'mon, none of us have met him before!" jordan protests, even as logan is calculating the chances of being able to kick jordan out of here. they are not particularly good; he can hear andrew, derek, and edward loudly talking about their SQUH-SQUH-SQUH SQUAT CHALLEEEEEENGE! in the living room, which is open to the kitchen. the counting of the squats they can do is very noisy, not even factoring in the trash-talk.

"privacy would be appreciated," logan says.

"in this house?" jordan says skeptically, which is a fair point; there are nine of them crammed into five rooms. logan's room is technically a single only by virtue of it being an attic that can barely fit a lofted bed with a desk and a dresser warring for space underneath. logan is fairly certain that janus's shared room with matthew in the basement was never intended for long-term human habitation, either.

"i knew i should have met him at the station," logan says, ruffling the pages of his book.

"is logan talking about us?" matthew shouts from the living room. his feet pound against the hardwood as he poked his red head around the corner, his eyes going as teasingly pleading as jordan's. "you're not gonna make us miss meeting our step-daddy, are you, mom?"

the "mom" thing is somewhat new, too, and also an aspect of college life that logan had not foreseen. perhaps logan should have seen it coming when he started instituting a chore chart and a chart for good behavior with plastic dinosaur toys as rewards. for reasons that elude him, the boys named it the "good noodle" chart.

he had mostly started the chart after what might have been a joke from janus, in retrospect, but he certainly isn't going to stop now, not when it's been proven to be so effective.

what he says instead of respond to matthew's question is "have you finished the dishes?"

matthew hesitates, looking back over his shoulder to the countertops.

"...yyeesss...?"

logan arches an eyebrow at him. "if i walk in there, will there be dishes in the sink?"

matthew attempts to model his eyes after jordan, widening them and trying to look innocent. he isn't as gifted at it.

"it would be a shame if you had to be demoted on the good noodle chart because you didn't finish your chores and—" he glances at a notecard— "chirped me about roman."

a pause.

"was that accurate?" logan says. "is it 'chirped?'"

"cory!" matthew bellows over his shoulder.

"yeah?" cory shouts back.

"hockey trash-talk is chirping, right?"

"yeah!"

"thank you!" matthew shouts back and turns to face logan. "yeah, it's chirping."

"hockey," logan mutters, scrawling this onto the notecard. the influx of sports-related slang to his notecards is another unforeseen aspect of college life. "it's hockey-specific, that's what i was missing."

a beat.

"the sooner you can get them done you can pass it to the next person on the chart. do the dishes," logan adds severely, and matthew stumps off to the kitchen, grumbling something under his breath that sounds a lot like “ugh, mom.”

say what one will about the good noodle chart—it certainly is a successful motivator.

perhaps the plastic bag full of dozens of mini bubble-wands that the boys saw logan receive in the mail this week is doing more of the persuasion rather than the necessity of the chores, or logan himself, but it works.

“logan?”

“hmm?” logan says, distracted by wondering if derek vacuumed the living room or if he dragged around a dining chair make lines in the carpet again.

jordan, grinning, nods to the window, and logan whips his head around just in time to see a taxi pull into the driveway.

the sudden surge of excitement and happiness and eagerness is enough to make him stand up, because roman is right there, logan can distantly see him in a red shirt in the back of the taxi. logan hastily tosses his book onto the nearest table and goes for the front door as quickly as he can without running outright.

by the time he is near enough to roman to see the details of how he’s styled his hair that day, a piece of lint on his shoulder, the way he’s slung his bag on his shoulder, he’s paying the taxi driver.

he turns around to face logan, and logan loses his breath.

god he’s so handsome.

logan doesn’t know if it’s a month’s absence, or if roman has indeed grown more beautiful by the day, but roman is so lovely. his skin glows in the late summer sun, grinning at logan wide and bright, and logan can’t stand there and drink in the sight of him, chronicling every single miniscule difference that he can, because roman grabs logan in a hug, pulling him close.

logan wraps his arms around roman as tight as he can, burying his face into roman’s shoulder and inhaling; the familiar scent of his cologne, his floral body wash, the gel he uses in his hair.

“i missed you,” roman whispers, breath warm against logan’s ear.

“me too,” logan mumbles, squeezing him tighter. usually, roman hugs him even tighter back, but today, he falters.

“um.”

logan pulls back enough to see the quizzical look on roman’s face. roman nods at something behind him.

“i think we have a bit of an audience.”

logan glances back over his shoulder in time to see all seven of the boys—plus a peek of janus in the back, surely egging on the chaos—jostling for the best view at the window where logan had just been keeping vigil.

“it’s not too late to call the taxi back and go somewhere private,” logan says, turning to face roman again. “i could show you the library.”

roman grins at him. “are you kidding? i’ve wanted to see if you were exaggerating about them for ages.”

logan scoffs. “as if i’m the one prone to exaggeration in this relationship.”

roman’s grin widens, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. “fuck, i’ve missed you so bad.”

what else can logan do but pull roman in by the waist and kiss him?

even muffled by the closed door and the thick glass of the window, logan can hear the boys hooting and hollering and yelling “GET IT, MOM!!!” and “ow OW!” and roman laughs against logan’s lips.

logan smiles into the kiss, and he thinks that roman’s weekend visit probably couldn’t have gotten off to a better start if he’d tried.

⁂

the first thing that someone says when logan and roman walk into the front door is “what the FUCK, mom, you didn’t tell us he was HOT!”

roman swivels to face logan, offended.

“of course i think he’s hot,” logan says, bemused. “i’m dating him. he’s obviously my type.”

“yeah, but,” adam says, and he gestures to roman’s body at whole. “he’s fucking hot, though.”

there’s a rumbling of agreement from the other boys—sans janus, who has obviously met roman before—and roman immediately preens at the attention.

because roman is undoubtedly hot. his brown skin is glowing—logan has seen him wearing facemasks on their video calls enough times that he knows it’s not incidentally clear, perfect skin—and he’s maybe not quite as bulkily built as, say, derek, who can pick up logan and janus simultaneously without breaking a sweat, but roman is strong by virtue of his profession and it shows.

“thanks,” roman says, grinning.

“i mean,” adam adds hastily, “all respect to you and logan, i mean this in, like, the bros-appreciating-bros way, not the i’m trying to steal your man way.”

“i figured,” logan says dryly, considering that adam, notably lacking in a sense of impulse control, has never offered any romantic inclination towards men before.

“well, roman, this is—everyone,” logan says, and points at each housemate as he says their name.

“adam rothschild—”

“hi,” adam adds belatedly.

“—matthew van doren—”

“'sup,” matthew says, with an upward nod of his red head.

“—cory hollingsworth—”

cory flashes a peace sign from where he stands beside janus.

“—jordan arlington—”

“nice to meet you, man, logan’s been looking forward to this for fuckin’ ever,” jordan says.

logan, refusing to blush, continues with, “edward morton—”

“shalom, bro,” he says.

“—andrew de loughrey—”

“hey, dude.”

“—derek carmichael, and you remember janus, of course.”

“nice to finally meet you all,” roman says, an arm wrapped comfortably around logan’s waist.

“you’re fucking yoked, bro,” derek says, appreciative. “what does your leg day look like? your quads are insane.”

“thanks, man,” roman says, extending a denim-clad leg with all of his typical grace. his legs are insane, to be fair. “part of the job—has logan mentioned i’m a ballet dancer?”

there’s a chorus of agreement, and so as they relocate, unspoken, to the living room. all of the other boys listen to some of the exercises roman discusses, and roman offers demonstrations of barre warm-ups upon request, his hand on the kitchen island, to great enthusiasm.

logan probably should have guessed that hearing about the workout regimen of a ballet dancer would go a long way in convincing this house full of “jocks” that roman was worthy of their adoptive, same-age mother. he’s pleased that by the time this line of conversation is winding down, it has been proven to be a very effective icebreaker.

even if he is a little grumpy to lose the warmth of roman’s hand where it had been resting on his knee.

however, once that conversation does trail off, logan gets to his feet.

“how about i take you on a tour of the house? i can show you my room.”

“ooh, mom, get it,” andrew says, to great whooping and a wolf-whistle which elicits more laughter from the other boys.

“remember, house rule, sock on the doorknob!” says someone who can surely only be adam.

“i’m making a bad noodle chart now,” logan says, attempting to fight the blush that’s surely creeping onto his face, “all of you have been demoted to the bad noodle chart.”

roman reaches out and takes logan’s hand. “you actually have a noodle chart? i thought you were kidding.”

“i am not kidding,” logan says sourly, directing a glare toward the boys.

jordan, mercifully, provides a very handy distraction by order of shouting out “MARIO KART TOURNAMENT I CALL ROSALINA,” which immediately descends into chaos as the boys fight over who gets peach, or yoshi, or else fighting over their “lucky” switch controllers.

janus meets eyes with logan, rolls his eyes, and promptly siddles his way into one of the four coveted spots to play as wario. somehow janus never has to engage in this arguing, even though logan, the house mother, has to fight with the boys to get to play with isabelle—

whatever. it’s fine. as adam launches himself at jordan to literally wrestle him to the ground for the honor of playing as rosalina, logan takes advantage of this to slip further into the kitchen with roman.

“we could probably make a getaway attempt now, it would be an ideal time,” logan says, a touch anxious; this is roman’s first time meeting the boys, and logan knows better than most people that being in the (boys-and-janus-dubbed) himbo house can be overwhelming.

“no way,” roman says warmly, squeezing logan’s hand, and logan’s heart flutters in its chest. “show me the rest of the house, c’mon.”

logan shows roman the good noodle chart in its place of pride in the kitchen, taking a moment to detract a gold star sticker from adam for tackling jordan, writing unnecessary violence (mario kart) on the line beneath specifically meant for the reason for the latest detraction in red dry-erase marker.

he adds a star for jordan without writing exactly why.

roman takes a moment to survey the chart and immediately barks with laughter at the bottom line.

“don’t,” logan grumbles.

“but c’mon!” roman says, delightedly pointing at the section of the chart that has special microscope stickers instead of gold stars.

it says logan workaholism

and then, in different handwriting and a different colored marker, (and drunk shenanigans).

“yes, well, you’ve seen the chart now,” logan says evasively, tugging roman along, and roman follows with a smile on his face that’s a bit too big for logan’s liking.

logan hadn’t even been on the chart. but no, he listened to adam’s recommendation for a drink one time (he should have realized that would turn out to be a horrible idea) and now he was on the good noodle chart, specifically so they could detract a sticker. he shouldn’t be on the chart, he runs it!

he still has the most stickers of anyone, though, so there.

logan shows roman their kitchen, which is more well-stocked than one would expect a stereotypical a college kitchen to be. there’s two mini-fridges so that edward can keep kosher. within the normal fridge, and in the cabinets, there’s an overwhelming supply of protein bars, shakes, and powders, in addition to plenty of fruits and vegetables.

he slips with roman up the stairs, unnoticed by everyone screaming at the four lucky players of the first leg of the mario kart tournament. from a glance at their ridiculously oversized flat screen, janus seems to be swiftly overtaking the lead due to taking advantage of a secret passage.

logan gestures vaguely to the rooms leading off the landing, telling roman who occupied which, as well as the communal bathrooms, but as there are no common spaces on either of the floors that roman has not already seen, he essentially leads roman straight up to the attic.

his room.

he tentatively opens the door for roman to look in and behold it, which roman immediately does.

logan’s lofted bed is crammed against the wall that divides the attic at the apex of the roof, as the opposite wall slants with the angle of the roof. everything is lit by the window opposite the door; logan debates flicking on the overhead light, and decides against it. the afternoon sun does just fine.

logan’s bed is made, his indigo duvet tucked neatly over his white sheets. his desk is pushed beneath the bed, with his laptop, a notebook, and a mug from remy’s café full of pens resting on it, the shelves above the desk that the boys had helped logan install nearly toppling under the weight of all their books. logan’s backpack sits in his desk chair, logan’s dresser shut. the rest of the floorspace is overtaken by a comfy rug and a pitiful excuse for a beanbag chair, which roman promptly sits on, wiggling to get comfortable.

“i like it,” he proclaims. “it’s cozy.”

logan tries to smile at him. the room is cramped and logan knows it.

all the other occupants of the house come from, to put it in plain terms, the same world of wealth and status that his grandparents occupy. as a matter of fact, his grandparents had been incredibly pleased that logan’s roommates had been “up to snuff,” a roundabout way of saying they’re of an appropriate caliber for our ivy-leaguer grandson.

logan knows that it was no coincidence that his roommates offered him his “cozy” room and therefore a lower amount for rent, all of them reasoning that as he had the smallest and least convenient room and if he was not there to supervise the house would surely explode, as part of this offer was surely due to the fact that they knew that his budget did not stretch as far as theirs did.

for one, he is the only roommate with a job. for another, he is the only one who knows how to budget.

well, janus would likely be able to figure it out, but he’s never needed to, which is the point.

derek hadn’t even recognized what “those little slips of paper” in logan’s hands were when logan attempted to discreetly coupon during a grocery outing.

educating them on what coupons were was... an experience, to be sure.

logan’s musings are interrupted when roman takes hold of his hand and gently tugs at logan. logan obligingly sinks onto the ground to join him, settling practically on roman’s lap.

“hey,” roman says, voice husky.

“hi,” logan says, in a tone that strikes him as strangely shy.

roman reaches out and makes a grabby hand, to which logan rolls his eyes and settles more decisively on roman’s lap, unable to keep the smile off his face, which roman can surely see, given the way that logan is now directly facing him.

“better?”

“much, thank you,” roman says graciously, settling his hands at logan’s waist and gently squeezing.

“i must agree,” logan says, resting his hands on roman’s shoulders and squeezing back. roman offers him a slanted smile.

“love, what a long way, to arrive at a kiss,” roman says, pausing to pick logan’s hand off his shoulder and press a kiss to his palm, achingly soft, “what loneliness-in-motion, toward your company!”

“you can’t just quote neruda off the bat, it isn’t fair,” logan complains, despite the fact that his heart has been sent aflutter, but he is cut off when roman’s lips meet his.

oh, how logan’s missed this. he’s familiar with the pressure of roman’s lips against his, the warmth and breadth of roman’s hands wrapping around him, the way logan’s hands fit perfectly on roman’s shoulders, and missing it has been like an ache.

languid, unhurried afternoons in the summers by the town’s lake; inexperienced hands slipping up shirts in their childhood bedrooms; illicit kisses in the gazebo when they were both meant to be at home; his memories seemed to pale in comparison to having the real thing, right now. roman’s heartbeat and the rush of logan’s pulse in his own ears and the sweet, perfect slide of their mouths. they break to breathe, staying forehead-to-forehead.

“but you and i, love,” logan murmurs, “we are together, from our clothes down to our roots: in the autumn, in water, in hips, until we are together—only you, only me.”

“you skipped a few lines,” roman teases.

“i editorialized,” logan says. “taltal is not particularly applicable to our situation, is it?”

“and i suppose it isn’t raining,” roman says, mock-thoughtfully. logan smiles and leans in for more.

roman responds, sliding his hands down logan’s back and eventually coming to grip at logan’s thighs, and logan arches into the touch—

—"ow!”

—and logan leans back, careful to avoid the slant of the roof he’d just hit his head against, putting a hand on where his head throbs in complaint.

“oh, i’m sorry!” roman says frantically. “i’m so sorry, c’mere, c’mere, let me look—”

“it was just a bump, it’s not so bad,” logan says, but he squirms and twists so that roman can see the point of impact.

roman cautiously runs his fingers through logan’s hair, paying close attention, and gently presses his fingers down. logan winces.

“tender?”

“a bit.”

“i’m sorry,” roman repeats, now running his fingers through logan’s hair, careful to keep his touch light.

“i hit my head getting out of bed and getting up from my desk for a full week before i got used to the angle,” logan says with a shrug. “kissing you is the most pleasurable way this could have happened.”

“well, now, still don’t like that clever little brain of yours getting bumped around,” roman says, frowning.

logan points to where, at this angle, roman can see the protective pool noodle secured to protect himself from hitting his head against his bed while standing up from the bed. janus had cut it for him with an exacto knife. logan is unsure where janus keeps this exacto knife. he hopes it’s hidden somewhere safe; sharp implements were just asking for trouble in this household.

“better now,” logan says, then, when roman’s still frowning, “i’m used to it, really. and besides, i’m the second-shortest in the house; no one else would take this room. well, janus would be the only other person who wouldn’t be constantly hitting his head, but i think he prefers the basement.”

“like an evil lair,” roman grumbles.

“precisely what he said,” logan says dryly. “can you imagine derek in here?”

they both take a moment to imagine derek, who stands at six feet and seven inches tall, slouched over at most points of the room.

“yeah, that’d be a bit of a tight squeeze,” roman acknowledges.

“besides,” logan says. “there are plenty of ways to be comfortable.”

he adjusts to sit on the comfy, fluffy rug—bought specifically for floor-sitting in mind—and pulls roman along. roman, getting the idea, moves the beanbag to use as a pillow, and lies back against it. logan curls up on the ground with him, resting his head over roman’s heart.

roman takes a moment to switch to scratching his fingernails against logan’s scalp, and logan tries not to shudder with pleasure too obviously.

“i like it in here,” logan says. “i like that i can go out of the window to sit on the roof, if i wanted. i like that i have the clearest view of the night sky. i like that i have a single room. and—”

he points to the side of the rafters that would not be visible to someone standing in the doorway of the room; only from within it are the stick-on, glow-in-the-dark stars surrounding the photographs of logan’s loved ones are visible. the one most visible from here is himself and roman eating lucy’s at the winterfest where they had their first kiss.

“—i like that there are unique decorating ideas i could only put into function in this room.”

roman kisses logan’s head, and, with that, curled up together on logan’s bedroom floor, they start talking about everything and nothing at all, and logan’s heart feels full and fit to burst with happiness.

⁂

look. matt’s fully aware that he’s cynical about love. it’s a bit hard not to when, growing up, his primary example of love was his dad and his revolving door of brides.

he’s pretty sure he’s on stepmom number eight, by now, he isn’t really sure, he hasn’t met the latest one.

(dad scheduled the wedding during peak crew season and matt’s dad, a yale alum himself, is all proud about him being on the team of the first rowing club formed at an american college. so matt didn’t go and his dad might have just assumed he had a regatta then. whatever. matt isn’t too fussed about it, seriously. he thinks her name might be tina? tara? fuck, he should probably work that out before thanksgiving break, shouldn’t he.)

(wait. goddammit. the last girlfriend was trisha. did he end up marrying trisha? he thought his dad dumped trisha because trisha got pissed at him for doing something in a dream of hers. fuck he seriously needs to do some googling before thanksgiving break.)

(wait. shit. it was tori who did the dream thing, because she was super into the astrology-dream-palm reading deal and she’d tried to figure out matt’s birth chart, so now he can flex that he knows he’s a leo sun taurus moon sagittarius rising to the girls he tries to pick up. that happened years ago, god damn it, who the fuck is his dad married to right now?!)

ANYWAYS. he doesn’t really have an optimistic view of love, especially at their age. so back when he’d first been getting to know logan, he’d been pretty surprised to hear that logan had a long-term boyfriend. logan didn’t really seem like the stereotypical college kid clinging to their high school sweetheart, like, at all.

there had been a girl on his floor freshman year who woke up half the dorm during her kicking-and-screaming fight with her high school boyfriend that she’d tried to long-distance with and ended up dumping after a month. he’d kind of been expecting to hear that logan was going to break up with his boyfriend, because, like, how many childhood sweethearts actually make it?

but no, no screaming fights for logan—honestly, matt’s pretty sure if he heard logan actually yell it would be the scariest thing ever—and now the boyfriend is here.

who is, like, not exactly what matt had expected? he’d thought roman would maybe be a copy of logan, someone else crazy smart and crazy dedicated to school, and, in the kindest way possible, a major nerd.

roman seems... cool.

like, first of all, he’d immediately understood and talked training routines with the rest of the house, which, like, respect to logan, who goes on runs and keeps his shit pretty tight, but he isn’t exactly the most gym-rat kind of dude.

roman’s routine sounded really interesting. matt’s got pretty good legs himself—you kind of have to, to be on the rowing team—but roman’s calves and quads and glutes look unreal. man could probably beat them all in a squat challenge tournament without breaking a sweat.

also, logan keeps himself looking like a eighteen-year-old tax accountant, with his polo and tie, but roman is dressed, like, suave. casual enough, sure,but his short-sleeved button down shirt looked like it was made of silk or satin or some fancy shit like that. it’s unbuttoned to show off the gold necklace he’s wearing. he’s wearing dark jeans at the exact right place on his waist.

logan has not exactly stepped into “going out” clothes, except for like combing his hair and wearing blue jeans. they’re going the pub that logan invariably picks on the rare nights he goes out with the rest of them—a coffee shop by day, a bar by night, and very unfancy.

logan is absently fixing roman’s collar so it sits straight as roman examines himself in his phone’s camera to check out his reflection. he flashes a smile toward logan in thanks.

logan smiles at him, something in his eyes going soft that matt’s never seen him do before, and—

and, okay, if anyone he knows is smart enough to figure out how love works this early on, it would probably be logan.

⁂

"you sure, bro?” andrew says, leaning against the open car door, not yet sliding into edward’s bmw. “’cause i can dd this time, i think it’s my turn anyway—”

edward’s already shaking his head. “shabbat’s tomorrow, dude. gotta get up early to go to temple anyway, gramps would derail the whole service if i turned up hungover.”

andrew shrugs. “if you’re sure,” he says, and at last he slides into the car that is absolutely filled up with people over the legal capacity.

usually, logan picks a fit about this, talking about things like seatbelts, but right now he’s perched on his boyfriend’s lap and doesn’t seem to mind at all.

janus, sitting beside them in the very back, is eyeing them like he’s ready to start elbowing them if they get too lovey. which like. logan, getting lovey? unlikely.

(however, the seven of them have made a pact to be as obnoxious as possible if the boyfriend gets too lovey. they didn’t include janus on this, because apparently janus and roman had a brief rivalry Thing in high school and it would probably piss logan off if they started fighting, but anyways. bros take care of bros.)

“are ya ready, kids?” edward asks as he starts the car.

“aye aye, captain!” the other six of his bros and, a little surprisingly, roman, call back. logan looks confused at this, as he usually does, and janus rolls his eyes, as he usually does.

“to the pub!” edward declares, and so they’re off as cory and jordan frantically play rock-paper-scissors to see who gets the aux cord.

jordan wins and as such immediately puts on his playlist, a few of the boys starting to sing along to nicki minaj—oh, sick, it’s the pump-up playlist. hell yeah, that means that beyoncé is coming up. edward fucking loves beyoncé.

edward peeks into the rearview mirror, and he sees roman pressing his face into logan’s shoulder, like he’s hugging him, and logan smiles, looking very pleased.

and as edward drives on, everyone joining in when “love on top” comes on, even over the raucous performance of ther rest of his bros, he could swear he hears roman’s voice, floating up to the driver’s seat even from where he’s singing in logan’s ear.

“baby it’s you, you’re the one i love, you’re the one i need...”

damn, edward thinks to himself, impressed. he’s got a good voice.

logan’s cheeks go a little bit pink, and he smiles, ducking his chin; roman takes a moment from singing into his ear to kiss him on the cheek.

also, that’s cute as fuck.

⁂

“shots?” cory demands. “shots, shots, shots?”

“we just got here,” logan says, usually the sole voice of reason and also being boring, but he doesn’t seem to be standing as firm as usual. that might have something to do with his boyfriend, who has an arm going over his shoulder, saying “hell yeah, dude!”

“getting shots my treat!” cory says, and he rushes into the scrum in front of the bar before logan can protest and try to pay for himself.

janus catches his elbow and allows himself to be pulled along with him, which is cool. janus is probably cory’s closest non-sports friend ever, because he and jan are, one, roommates, but two, kids adopted from other countries as symbols of their white parents’ supposed generosity (he’s chinese, janus is haitian, they handshake meme over white people misunderstanding the culture and history of their countries of origin) so they tend to get each other’s deal more often than other people in the house.

they’re already planning their “oh so sorry we’re busyyy” excuse and activities so they don’t have to go home over thanksgiving break.

cory leans down to talk into janus’ ear—it’s a friday night, so it’s as busy as it gets here—and practically shouts, “how long have they been dating again?”

“four years,” janus says back; cory has no idea how, but janus can always be heard in any crowd, he never has to shout.

“are they, like,” cory says. “i mean. are they like. i dunno what i’m even asking. is their relationship, like, nice, i guess?”

janus arches an eyebrow back. “do you happen to remember my previous relationship?”

mm, yeah. asher fleming, resoundingly shady, but very willing to dole out the cash whenever janus so much as pouted at him. which janus seemed to like, so good for him, cory guesses, even though asher fleming was sketchy as fuck, in his opinion. dude could rest in fucking pieces.

“what about that makes you think i am a good person to ask.”

cory opens his mouth, closes it. opens it again.

“hey, what can i get started for you?”

oh thank god. “uhh, nine—wait, ten—ten shots of vodka? boyd and blair, if you’ve got it. and open a tab,” cory adds, forking over his card.

“you got it,” the bartender says, taking it, and then pauses, taking a moment to take stock of cory.

cory flashes a smile at her. she smiles back, and turns for the bar, going to hunt down ten shot glasses and a tray, her brunette ponytail bouncing as she goes.

janus nods after her. “she’s cute.”

“yeah, but she’s working,” cory says, turning to lean back against the bar and scan the pub to see where the rest of his dudes have gone. “i’m like ninety percent sure not asking out a girl when she’s trapped at work is part of bro code.”

janus follows his lead, leaning against the bar.

“they’re adorable,” he says abrubtly, his eyes fixed on the table that the rest of their roommates have claimed, jostling each other for space.

“huh?”

“logan, when he’s with roman. they’re adorable. it’s disgusting. he gets all,” janus’ mouth twists. “sappy.”

“really?!” cory says, stunned. logan, sappy? the closest they’ve ever gotten to sappy logan is after running the full gamut of logan’s stages of drunkness.

“bet you fifty bucks logan initiates pda within ten minutes,” janus says.

“i’ll take that bet,” cory says immediately.

as he approaches the table with the tray of shots, logan reaches over to squeeze roman’s hand and then just hold it on the table. he realizes what he’s started to realize every time he makes a bet against janus, which is that he probably shouldn’t have made a bet against janus. cory literally never wins.

⁂

"hey, man, they made this wrong,” andrew lies cheerfully, setting the glass in front of logan. “you like peach schnapps, right?”

this is a thing he and the other dudes like to do, and logan gets into a snit when they do, but c’mon. andrew has literally unlimited access to cash, why shouldn’t he use it to spoil his friends?

and then logan usually says something about taking care of himself, but like, it’s covering your drinks, dude, it’s not a big deal.

logan gives him a look, a i know what you’re doing here look, a i am about to throw a fit because you paid for me look, but before he can say anything roman breaks into the conversation.

“oh, damn, i was gonna pay for logan’s next drink,” he says, sounding a little disappointed that he couldn’t treat logan to his drink of choice. “how much was that? i’ll cover it and you can get my next one, l, like we’re on a date.”

andrew, skeptical, waits, because this kind of tactic doesn’t work with logan, but—

logan relaxes back into the seat, turning his eyes to andrew.

“oh,” andrew says, and turns to crane at the menu. “uh, since it’s wells night, five or six bucks should cover it.”

“nice,” roman says peaceably, and forks over a ten. “just to cover my bases for my next drink on the tab—hey, who opened that, anyway, and what’s their venmo? i wanna be sure i have it so i can pay my share in the morning.”

“cory did—i’ll pull it up,” logan says, taking roman’s phone from his hand and searching for cory’s venmo profile.

huh. crisis averted.

andrew gives roman a thumbs-up over logan’s head, and roman grins back at him.

⁂

look. there are certain stages of drunkenness, right.

derek could be called a party—what was that word janus said? cone-is-sour?—connoisseur. like, he knows these things, okay. he knows that people have certain telltale signs of what they do when they start getting drunker.

for him, he gets all overheated and red-cheeked first, then he kind of stops having the concept of volume control, then everything sounds like the funniest thing in the world, there’s a bit about hugging his bros and singing along to whatever song the bar’s playing super loudly thrown in there most nights, and then he gets really sleepy, and after that his memory gets blurry. easy, simple way to tell how drunk he’s getting.

logan’s stages of drunkness are... pretty wild. like, holy hell is logan a lightweight. he got, like, very past tipsy after drinking two wine coolers once. they’ve all kind of taken it upon themselves to improve his drinking tolerance, gradually.

anyways. derek thinks he’s got logan’s stages figured out by now, along with the rest of the dudes, and the stages are as follows:

rambling when he talks

Science!

I Love My Friends

wandering off, most likely to fall asleep in a weirdass location

it turns out there might be a stage 1.5, but this stage might only be unlocked when his boyfriend is here.

stage 1.5 of logan drunkness is cuddly.

they’ve been playing the “who can pay for the most drinks for everyone but mostly for logan” game, which means that they’ve been mixing their alcohol (careful to steer clear of beer, though, ‘cause that could turn to beer before liquor during the next round, beer before liquor, never been sicker; liquor before beer, you’re in the clear, derek knows his fuckin’ booze) and trying drinks of what everyone else is trying, seeing if they can come up with a new favorite drinks combo before the night ends.

with one hand, logan’s currently stirring his plastic straw in a cocktail called a bramble. with the other, he’s got his arm flung across roman’s shoulders, occasionally adjusting his stance, and any time he catches anyone’s eyes during a conversation he beams, like, this is my boyfriend, isn’t this so great?!

and, like, look. he knows it’s basically dude code to kind of haze each other a little bit, whenever a new significant other comes around, just to make sure they’re up to snuff, but c’mon.

their uptight, workaholic house mom, drinking on a friday night like he doesn’t have a care in the world? practically unheard of.

derek’s pretty sure he can pin the sudden lack of tension in logan’s shoulders and jaw on the man that logan is currently staring at. roman is telling a story about a drag show he and his girl friends went to see in new york, and logan’s looking at him like roman hung all the stars in the sky, grinning whenever roman looks over at him.

like. come on. how is derek meant to haze that. it’s too fuckin’ cute.

⁂

logan is putting in an order for waters at the bar because while the boys are good at remembering to hydrate for sports reasons, no one ever remembers to hydrate for drinking reasons. a hand gently touches his waist, and, with a whiff of familiar cologne, roman slides in next to him at the bar.

“hey,” logan says, a little too aware that this is the closest they’ll get to a private conversation for the rest of the night.

“hey,” roman echoes, loose and easy with alcohol. something low in logan’s belly thrums pleasantly at the sound.

“check-in?” logan requests. “i know that this can be a—a lot.”

to put it delicately.

roman grins at him. “your friends are cool, this bar is cool. you’re cool. i love you so much.”

logan, who would later put this decision down to being plied with alcohol, pulls roman in by the collar and kisses him hard.

roman seems surprised, just for a moment, before he responds in kind, pulling logan in at the waist and kissing him back, equally enthusiastic.

his boyfriend is visiting, he’s making out with him in a bar like a normal college kid would make out with a significant other, and everything seems wonderful.

roman, looking thoroughly kissed, handles the ribbing and joking the boys start as soon as they get back to the table with good humor, grinning at logan like it’s a private joke between the two of them.

god, logan’s so in love with him.

⁂

"hey, babe?” roman says.

logan hums around his straw, looking at roman with half-lidded eyes. fuck he’s so hot.

roman shakes himself a little, trying to focus, before he asks, “on a scale of one to ten, how chill would the guys be if i suggested we go somewhere we can dance?”

logan swallows, and roman’s eyes follow the of his bobbing adam’s apple.

“probably very chill about it,” he says dryly.

roman smiles. “and how would you feel about going somewhere to dance with me?”

logan bites his lip, but still smiling.

“probably very enthusiastic about it,” logan says quietly.

roman grins at him. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

with a swiftness that probably belies how eager roman is at the very concept of holding logan close in his arms, roman calls out to derek, “hey, dude, is there a good club around here? i kinda wanna see y’all dance.”

derek puffs out his chest.

“oh, bro, you are not ready,” he says gleefully.

adam leans across the table.

“hey, wait, you’re, like, a professional dancer, right? maybe you can teach us a routine!”

oh, now roman has the perfect routine in mind.

⁂

adam has been known to get down at a party, okay. he’s a pretty decent dancer. his party trick is being able to swing around on poles installed into frat basements for “structural integrity.”

but, like, adam also knows that a literal professional probably has some tips, so he’d asked, right, which has now turned into—

“okay, again, from the start, ready?” roman asks, standing at the front of the group. janus and logan are at the edge of the room. adam’s pretty sure janus is recording this on his phone.

they’re also, like, in the center of most of the club’s attention, but roman seems very cool with it. which, likes, makes sense; dancing professionally, crowds come with the territory. the other six of his roommates are standing in loose lines, spaced out so they don’t kick each other in the heads.

“five, six, seven, eight,” roman starts, then, over the sound of six dudes who are all over six feet tall jump-kick then drop rapidly into what roman called a grand plié, which you would probably do slower for a stretch but this is CHOREO, sings, “now from the top, make it drop—”

⁂

logan, after trying so hard not to laugh at the sight of his boyfriend teaching tiktok dance choreography to what, ostensibly, looked like a group of typical frat boys, is attempting to catch his breath and hydrate at the bar.

well. dehydrate, technically. a vodka soda is certainly working to dehydrate him.

“hey,” roman pants, appearing from the crowd, flushed, with at least two more buttons popped than he’d had when they entered. “hot over there—can i—?”

before he can ask, logan offers his vodka soda, and roman says “thanks” before he gulps down a good portion of it, fanning himself.

“i love dancing,” he says happily.

“i know, dearest,” logan says, perhaps not as dryly as he would if they were not both intoxicated.

“oh! and i love this song!” roman says brightly, as the dj transitions into a new song.

logan smiles at him; the song is not a recent release, and logan thinks he might be able to place it.

“dance with me?” roman says, his eyes pleading. logan finds himself helpless to resist, and so he drains the rest of his drink.

roman smirks at him and takes hold of logan’s tie, gently leading him to a corner of the dance floor, rather than in the midst of the scrum of it, which logan appreciates; while he is perfectly willing to dance with roman, he is not so adept as to not make a fool of himself in the case of any impromptu dance circles.

there is, logan realizes once he listens to the lyrics, perhaps another motive of roman’s for dragging them into a less populated corner.

i’m telling you to loosen up my buttons, babe, but you keep frontin’, say what you’re gonna do to me, but i ain’t see nothing...

roman’s hands slide from logan’s tie to wrapping around logan’s shoulders, pulling logan so that they’re pressed up against each other, and logan grips roman’s hips, which are shifting sinuously to the beat.

“couldn’t dance like this at the chilton winter formal, could we?” roman says lowly into logan’s ear, and logan snickers.

“not unless we wanted to be lectured by mr. gardiner, no.”

“ugh, he was a fucker, i still haven’t forgiven him for being so strict about your math quizzes,” roman says, scowling. then, with a laugh, “no drawing lots to see who gets breathalyzed, no snooty rich kids to judge us—”

“i’m still surrounded by rich kids.”

“yeah, but your rich kids seem nice,” roman says thoughtfully. “‘cept for janus.”

“he’d take that as a compliment.”

“why did i bring up janus when i’m trying to grind on you,” roman mutters to no one in particular, and he then proceeds to handily distract logan by pressing impossibly closer.

roman’s hands slide up logan’s shoulders to briefly cup logan’s face, then slide back down to squeeze his shoulders, using the movement to roll his hips against him, and logan’s world narrows down to the heat of roman’s body, the scent of roman’s sweat and cologne, the beat of the song thrumming through to his very bones.

roman twists in his hands, leaning forward, then standing back upright to lean against logan, swaying his hips all the whlie. he reaches a hand lazily back, dragging it down logan’s face before cradling logan’s jaw.

logan twirls roman back to face him again, his grip on roman’s hips tight and possessive, and logan leans in to devour roman in a kiss. he can feel the pounding of hearts against his chest, and they’re so close he’s uncertain whose pulse is whose.

⁂

“—I DON’T GIVE A FUCK WHO TALK BEHIND MY BACK ‘CUZ A BITCH KNEW BETTER THAN TO LET ME HEAR!” jordan screams at the top of his lungs, along with the rest of his bros. all ten of them have piled back into edward’s car, and roman has taken over the aux, which is actually a phenomenal move, he has put on banger after banger.

edward—the sole sober one in the car—is grinning to himself even as he turns into his parking spot near their house.

they all groan when he turns off the car, and therefore turns off the music.

“yeah, yeah,” edward says, good-natured. “everyone out, i wanna go to bed!”

everyone pours from the car, logan stumbling slightly when he jumps down from the suv.

“i’ve got you, my love,” roman says grandly, and squats before logan. logan snorts, slightly, but then proceeds to clamber onto roman’s back, accepting his piggy-back ride.

“onward!” roman declares, and jordan grins a bit, shaking his head, before he jogs ahead so he can open the front door for them. he watches logan giggle and mash his face into the side of roman’s neck, and he watches roman’s face glow.

the rest of the dudes kind of split off, from there. edward, true to his word, goes to bed; adam, derek, cory, and and andrew sit in front of the tv to start up a drunken game of mario kart; matt pours himself a glass of water and starts chugging it; jordan goes to grab his own water bottle from his room, because he has dish duty next and he doesn’t want to give himself too much trouble.

by the time he’s changed into more comfortable clothes and gotten his water, he runs into roman on the stairs.

“oh! hey, dude,” he says.

“hey,” roman says. “uh, hey, do you guys have spare blankets and pillows and stuff, and where do you keep them? i figured i’d probably crash on the floor or the couch or something.”

jordan surveys him.

“yeah?” he says, in a tone that’s carefully neutral. they continue down the stairs together.

“yeah,” roman says casually. “uh—i know he’d wanna cuddle, but we’re both a bit drunk, so. got him some water, got him into bed, he fell asleep pretty quick.”

jordan knows it’s the bare fucking minimum to take care of your drunk significant other, but he feels his respect for roman rise, even just a little bit. that’s a bro move.

“yeah, man,” jordan says. “uh—we’ve got blankets down in the living room, but some of the dudes are playing mario kart, so you might have a while to wait to free up the couch.”

roman brightens.

“oh, sick. does anyone play peach?”

jordan snorts. “you’re gonna have to fight someone for it.”

“bring it on,” roman says.

⁂

roman hums to himself, quietly, as he ascends the stairs. he has to take a couple minutes to juggle the plates in his hands to be able to open the door, but he succeeds eventually.

“rise and shine, nerdo,” roman sings, careful not to be too loud.

he sees logan stir, and, before roman can say anything in warning—

thump.

“fuck!” logan snarls, flopping back in bed with a hand to his forehead, glaring up at the ceiling that has grievously injured him.

“oh, baby,” roman says, setting down his plate on logan’s desk before he rises on tip-toes so he can see logan’s face. “lemme see.”

logan groans and pulls his pillow over his head.

“still a morning person, i see,” roman teases, before he nudges a plastic water bottle into the bed. “drink that, baby, it’ll make you feel better.”

“nerdo isn’t your best work,” logan grumbles, muffled by the pillow.

“yeah, well, i stayed up until three with the dudes playing mario kart,” roman says dryly. “birdo, nerdo?”

logan peeks out in time to grab the water bottle, squirm as upright as he can, and proceed to chug it as mechanically as possible.

“how’d you sleep?” logan says, once he’s drained about half of it.

“eh, fine,” roman says. “the couch is pretty comfy.”

logan frowns.

“it was couch or floor,” roman says, before logan can say anything. “i think we could maybe squeeze to fit up there, and considering we were, y’know—”

“i get it,” logan says.

“i was gonna make you a big breakfast, but,” roman says and hands over a plate with two pieces of toast sliced into triangles and slathered with crofter’s. “figured you’d like this better.”

logan smiles, taking the plate, and then leans wildly out of his bed in order to cup roman’s face and kiss him good morning.

the kiss is good. it’s very good. but—

“your breath stinks,” roman says, and logan chucks a pillow at him.

“you aren’t exactly a morning rose, either,” logan grumbles, and roman snorts, taking a bite of his own crofter’s with great fervor.

over their breakfast—logan in the bed, roman on the beanbag—they talk about their plans for the rest of the weekend; going on a walk around campus, going to see logan’s favorite spot in the library, getting tacos from the best little spot in town for lunch.

“granted,” logan says thoughtfully, “i have these ideas in place today, but we’ll see how the boys interfere with it.”

“i’d be fine if they did,” roman says.

“yeah?” logan says.

“yeah,” roman says. he grins up at logan. “wanna explain why they kept calling me step-daddy when i was making us toast?”

logan flops back on the bed with a groan, and, even with all of his theatrics, roman can tell logan’s very pleased that his boyfriend and his friends get along.

(they absolutely get along. roman has already promised to record a dance tutorial for them to “dancing queen” next.)

⁂

notes: major thank yous to @teacupfulofstarshine and @airiervessel for helping me flesh out the boys! songs in the order they’re mentioned: “love on top” by beyoncé, “wap” by cardi b. ft. megan thee stallion, “buttons” by the pussycat dolls, “thot shit” by megan thee stallion, “dancing queen” by abba.

#my fic #my fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #the sideshire files #wyliwf #logince #logan sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides

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flameo-firelord-hotman · 3 years

Text

Fortune Cookie — Zuko x GN!Reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: one (1) swear word and some implications at the end (characters are aged up)

Words: 2k

Summary: the Gaang orders Chinese takeout, and everyone reads their fortune cookie fortunes. Yours and Zuko’s spark a little something.

A/N: I had a fortune cookie the other day, and it reminded me of that episode in S1 when they go to the fortune teller. Fun fact: I used to collect those little fortunes! 🥠 Anyway, enjoy the fic :)

Masterlist

“What can I say?” Sokka shrugged with a mouthful of takeout, “I know the best places to eat around campus.”

“I hope you aren’t full yet. We still have our fortune cookies to eat,” Suki said, dangling a wrapped cookie from her hand.

You took it from her. “Oh please, like I’d ever pass on dessert.”

She then tossed a fortune cookie to everyone else.

“Let’s share our fortunes!” Katara suggested as she unwrapped her cookie.

“Don’t tell me you actually believe these things,” Sokka sighed while rolling his eyes.

“What? They’re fun to read! I’ll start.” She broke her cookie open, removed the tiny slip of paper inside and read her fortune aloud. “Mine says ‘you will be showered with good luck.’ Maybe that means I’ll do well on my midterms!”

“Hmm...mine says ‘nothing is impossible to a willing heart.’ That’s inspiring, I like it!” Aang said with a sweet smile.

“I’ll go next!” Suki said with a mouthful of cookie. “‘If you always do what you’ve always done, you’ll always get what you’ve always gotten.’ That’s quite true!” She nodded. Everyone hummed in agreement.

“Alright, you know what. I’ll read mine,” Sokka decided. He squinted his eyes at the tiny piece of paper. “It says...‘you will be hungry in one hour.’ Seriously?!”

Everyone burst out laughing. “I think we can all agree, of all the fortunes so far, yours is the most true,” you chuckled.

“Okay then, [y/n], what does yours say?” Sokka sneered.

“Let’s see,” you said as you delicately held the slip of paper to your eyes. “‘Your love life will soon be happy and harmonious.’”

“Oooh, that’s quite a fortune, [y/n]!” Katara commented.

“I wonder who you’ll be with?” Aang pondered.

Suki nudged you with her elbow. “Someone handsome I bet!”

You never really believed these things, but you wished it was true, and you wished it was Zuko. You’ve always had a crush on him. Since you met him, there hasn’t been a single day you didn’t think about him. You hoped that someday he would confess to feeling the same way about you.

For just a second, you glanced at Zuko. He was staring at you, so you quickly averted your gaze to not seem obvious. Was that a hint of blush on his cheeks? No, it must’ve been your imagination, or maybe the lighting.

Heat built up in your face from feeling a little embarrassed, not just because of Zuko, but also from all the teasing. “Oh, stop guys,” you giggled.

“Yeah, stop guys. I wanna hear Toph and Zuko’s,” Sokka said in a bored tone.

“You’re just upset that your fortune is so stupid, it’s true,” Katara snickered.

“Well, you won’t believe what mine says,” Toph said. “It says ‘you will win a million dollars!’” She cheered.

“What?!” Sokka shouted. Everyone stared at him with raised eyebrows. Then, the look on his face shifted as he realized. “I hate you, Toph.”

“Ha! Blind jokes never fail,” Toph said proudly.

“Here, I’ll read it for you,” you said, taking the tiny slip of paper from Toph. “Your fortune is ‘you will never know your full potential until you try.’”

“So what it’s saying is, I should try punching Sokka even harder,” Toph said, cracking her knuckles.

“Please don’t,” Sokka quietly begged.

“Toph!” Aang cried, “no violence allowed!”

Toph groaned, “you guys are no fun. But I don’t care, I’m going to kick your ass.”

“Anyway,” Katara interrupted, “that leaves you, Zuko!”

“Um...okay. It’s kind of weird though,” he said hesitantly.

“It can’t possibly be as bad as Sokka’s,” Katara jeered.

Zuko gulped before bashfully reading aloud. “Mine says...‘now is the time to pursue that love interest.’”

If you thought you were blushing before, you were really doing it now. Your face was like a tomato. Fortunately for you, everyone was staring at Zuko. They didn’t know your secret. Sokka began laughing.

“Okay, I admit that I don’t believing these things, but I know for a fact that that fortune is completely true. I mean, come on, buddy! What have I been saying for the past—“

“Ugh, shut up, Sokka!” Zuko barked, “it’s just a stupid fortune.”

“Wait, do you actually have a crush on someone?” Katara asked sincerely. He didn’t respond. Instead, he blushed and avoided everyone’s gaze. “It’s okay, Zuko, you can tell us. We can help you!”

“No,” Zuko grumbled, as he stood up. “I’m going home now.” And with the slam of the door, he was gone.

“Sheesh, Sparky sure is a drama queen,” Toph said, crossing her arms.

“Sokka, do you know who he likes?” Suki asked.

“Yes, and if I told you, he would give me a matching scar.” Sokka pointed to his left eye.

“Well, clearly he’s really upset about it,” you started as you stood to leave. “I’ll go talk to him.”

As Zuko rushed back to his apartment, he couldn’t help but think of you. Sokka and that stupid fortune were right. He should’ve asked you out long ago. But what if you didn’t feel the same way?

He felt so humiliated. It was bad enough that he was a coward, and that he had to deal with Sokka’s teasing on a daily basis, but now he had that little sheet of paper mocking him too.

He wondered what you thought of your fortune. Did it mean anything to you? When he heard it, he immediately thought of you and him together. But it was wishful thinking. So, he wondered if it was about you and someone else...and he felt jealous.

Zuko slapped his forehead. “I can’t believe how stupid I am. I’m getting worked up over some fortune cookies that probably don’t mean anything at all. This is pathetic!” He cried.

You should’ve brought a coat. The autumn night air was chilly. Nevertheless, you hurried to Zuko and Sokka’s apartment. You hoped to find him on the way—he couldn’t have gotten too far—but it was hard to see. Only the nearly full moon and the street lamps dimly lit the way for you.

Surely, he would tell you why he was so upset. You two always talked about your problems with each other. One of the best things about your friendship was how comfortable you felt with him. You could tell him anything...anything except that you liked him, and that you thought he was cute, and that the way he smiled made your heart flutter, and that whenever he whispered funny things about Sokka to you in that low raspy voice of his, you felt shivers run down your spine, and that you just wanted to hold him or be held by him, and that you wondered what it felt like to kiss him...no, actually, you could tell him anything except that you loved him.

You desperately wanted to ask Zuko what Sokka was talking about. Was it true? Did he really have a crush on someone? Who? And for how long? But maybe it was best not to know. Fear of finding out he loved someone else crept into your mind. Ignorance is bliss, after all.

Suddenly, you considered turning around and going back. Being so comfortable and open with each other might mean Zuko would tell you about his crush, and, had it been you, he would’ve said something by now, right? Sokka seemed to imply that this had been going on for a while. That meant it had to be someone else.

You stood outside his apartment building, staring at the door, debating whether to press the buzzer or not, debating whether to have your heart broken or not. Before you could decide, the door opened.

“[Y/n], what are you doing out here? You’re shivering,” Zuko said with concern.

“I j-just wanted to make sure y-you were okay.”

He gestured for you to come in, and you did.

“I saw you walking over in the front window. Why didn’t you just text me?” He asked as he poured a hot cup of tea.

You took the cup and shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think of it.”

“Well, I’m fine. I’ve been a little stressed lately over studying for exams, and I kind of exploded, because Sokka was being, well, Sokka. You know how annoying he can be,” he chuckled before taking a sip from his own cup. What a lie that was, but you wouldn’t know it.

“That makes sense. I was worried when you left so suddenly.”

You wanted to ask him, you wanted to know so badly, but you didn’t know how to bring it up. Zuko couldn’t help but wonder as well. His mind raced as he tried to think of a way to talk to you.

“Um, Zuko, I—“ // “[Y/n], there’s som—”

Both of you stared at each other for a moment.

“Sorry, go ahead,” you said.

“Um, okay.” Zuko took a deep breath before continuing, “there’s something I need to tell you. I wish I had told you long ago, but I was too afraid. And I’m tired of keeping it bottled up, so I’m just going to say it now. I kind of...no, I do, I mean, I—ugh...I have had...uh, feelings for you...for a while. Like, I think I...I love you.”

By the time Zuko finished rambling, his face was flushed and his heart was pounding. You stared at him, stunned, elated and relieved. But he didn’t dare look at you, instead he dropped his head to stare at his feet.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that to me.”

Zuko shot up. He saw you smiling brightly and approaching him. You reached up to cup his cheeks. He rested his hands on your waist. His hands were slightly trembling from all the anxiety he felt in this moment.

“Really?” He asked in a shaky voice.

“Yes, really. That’s actually what I was going to talk to you about. I love you too, Zuko. I have for a while now.”

Zuko smiled. Without a second thought, he crashed his lips on yours. You leaned in and tangled your fingers in his dark, shaggy hair. Running a hand up your back and wrapping the other around your waist, he brought you closer and squeezed you like you were the only thing he had left. His arms were warm, his chest was warm, even his lips were warm. You melted right into him.

A moment later, the two of you pulled away, panting. The kiss was so passionate and long overdue, that it left you both exhausted. You rested your head on his chest and listened to his fast-beating heart. He rested his head on yours and rubbed circles on your back with his thumb.

“So...is your love life happy and harmonious now?” Zuko asked.

“Yes, all thanks to you pursuing that love interest!”

He laughed. “I can’t believe this happened, because of some stupid fortunes in a cookie.”

“I wouldn’t call them stupid. They’re the only fortunes that I’ve known to be true.”

Katara checked her phone for the fifth time. “[Y/n] still hasn’t responded, or even read my text. It’s been a half hour now!”

Suki rested a hand on her shoulder, “I’m sure they’re fine.”

“At this point, they’re probably making out,” Sokka mumbled as he mindlessly scrolled through his phone, not even bothering to look up. The room fell silent as everyone turned to him. “Shit, I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“Zuko has a crush on [y/n]?!” Aang’s jaw dropped.

Toph shrugged, “it makes sense. I’ve noticed that Sparky’s heart rate goes through the roof whenever he’s with [y/n]. Theirs gets pretty high too when Zuko is around.”

“Well, that explains a lot. Those two are definitely making out then,” Katara nodded. Everyone else hummed in agreement.

“So, Sokka...do you want to stay the night with us then?” Aang asked.

“Yes, please.”

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porcelain-soupspoon4 · 3 years

Text

Put in His Place *NSFW* (Bottom!Dazai x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: Bondage, Tiny bit of Knifeplay, Choking, Use of Aphrodisiacs

~~~~~~~~~

No one could put Dazai Osamu in his place, no matter how hard they tried. The suicidal maniac could never be controlled, he was always free to do whatever he wanted because he could always get what he wanted, even in the unluckiest of situations. After meeting you however, his wild ways became a bit more calm; just a bit. He still got what he wanted when it came (ah ha ha) to the bedroom. It was hard to control him when he was the one doing all the controlling. Dazai refuses to be controlled, he refuses to be on the bottom simply because he enjoys the amount of power he has on top. Although, this “power” he had was going to change tonight. You prepared your plan before he could arrive from work, wanting to ensure that he will certainly be surprised and caught off guard. You were tired of the amount of teasing he did, tired of how he made you wait for what felt like hours until he allowed you to orgasm. You desperately wanted to make him feel the way you did, the feeling of tiny revenge driving you crazy. The lock on the front door clicked, signaling that Dazai was home. You felt your heart racing, nervous that the plan might work. Dazai plopped on the living room couch and let out a long sigh.

“Belladonna, where are you? Come hug me, work was sooooo tiring,” he said. You sat down next to him and engulfed him with your arms.

“By work was so tiring, do you mean annoying Kunikida and scaring Atsushi instead of finding more cases to study?” you giggled. Dazai was smart, yes. But he always showcased his goofiness way more than needed.

“Pfft, no way I totally had to fight bad guys today,” he replied, giving you a pouty face. You responded with a grin.

“Well since my boyfriend claims he had some back-breaking work to do today, I got him some chocolates,” you said, taking a chocolate box from the coffee table. Dazai gasped, looking at you with heart eyes.

“You’re the best girlfriend ever!” He gave you a big kiss on the lips and lunged towards the chocolate, eating every piece he could find. You internally smirked. What your boyfriend didn’t know is that these chocolates were infused with aphrodisiac, a type of drug that could increase someone’s sexual desire by a pretty good amount. Since Dazai was practically eating the whole box, he was sure to be completely hot and bothered later.

“Oh oops, I didn’t save any for you,” he said with a mouthful of chocolate.

“Ugh, babe finish your food before talking. Why don’t we watch a movie? Do you want a scary movie or a comedy movie?” you asked while Dazai thought to himself.

“Hmmm, how about an action movie? I enjoy the character deaths and bloody battles thoroughly.”

“Of course you do,” you scoffed, handing him the remote so he could pick. Half an hour into the movie, you felt your boyfriend start to shift next to you. You turned your head and got shocked to see how red his face was.

“I-Is it just me, or is it getting really hot in here?” Dazai removed his coat, but still continued to move uncomfortably. You saw his legs close tightly, rubbing against each other. His lips parted slightly, letting out heavy pants. His eyes were wide, he felt as if he suddenly became sensitive to every touch, every movement that was happening to him. He threw his head back against the couch and let out the most lewd moan you’ve ever heard from him. Wow, those chocolates are really taking an effect on him, you thought.

“D-Darling......” Dazai turned his head towards you, “s-something’s happening to me......I need you.....please take care of it.” You cheered in your head. Dazai had never said the word please before, so this was a fun start. You gave him a smile and lifted his chin with your fingers so you could see eye to eye.

“Take care of what, Dazai? I don’t really know what you mean, so I can’t help you.” You trailed your fingers from his chin down his body, stopping at his chest. He moaned again, feeling pleasure from just the tiniest touch.

“N-need you.....touch me there.....so hard f-for you,” he could barely form a full sentence, his body shaking from this new stimulation. You smirked and started to chuckle, Dazai getting confused by your reaction.

“My my, those aphrodisiacs in the chocolates worked so well on you,” you said, “so worked up over one touch.” Aphrodisiacs? In the chocolates? So that’s way I feel this way, Dazai thought to himself. I’ll get you back for this belladonna.

“Hurry u-up! I want to f-feel you already,” he stumbled on his words while you hummed in response.

“To the bedroom then.” You dragged Dazai along with you while he had trouble standing on his feet, almost falling while the two of you ran up the stairs and into your bedroom. Dazai frantically undressed himself whereas you did the same. Despite how much taller Dazai was, you were able to push him on the bed, crawling on top of his body. You reached for the silk ropes attached to the two poles of the bed’s headboard, tying them to Dazai’s wrists.

“Heh, it’s like you planned ahead,” he grinned weakly.

“And that’s exactly what I did, darling,” you replied, making your boyfriend shudder from the nickname. “After all that teasing you’ve done to me, you think you wouldn’t be punished for it? How silly of you, really. Thinking you can have all the control, so selfish. At least share some power with me you naughty boy.”

You grabbed ahold of his throat, wrapping your hand around his neck and squeezing tightly. Dazai gasped, going wide eyed. Seeing you act this way was thrilling, he never knew he would want you to be the one in control until now. You took ahold of a sharp, long knife from the drawer next to the bed. You brought him closer, hand still around his neck while your other hand dragged the side of the knife’s blade against his cheek softly, being sure to not leave a cut. You started to grind down on his hard cock, the wetness of you pussy increasing the pleasure of the friction. Dazai let out a shriek, his hips bucking up to try and make things go faster. You continued to drag the knife lazily along his body, stopping at his abdomen and pressing the blade flat against it. The coldness of the knife made his body jolt. You leaned in and kissed his lips, letting your tongue explore the inside of his mouth. He kissed back, wanting to feel his tongue against yours. Your tongues danced together while you grinded on him faster. Dazai moaned in your mouth, tugging at the ropes that held him back. You started to kiss his neck, sucking as many hickeys as you could so he’d have to hide them when he went back to his agency. You pulled away, earning a whine from Dazai.

“Darling, why’d you stop? I was feeling so good,” he looked at you with lust in his eyes.

“Fast sex isn’t my forte, babe. You got yourself a well-deserved slow paced session for all those times you’ve pulled with me.” You climbed out of his lap and sat on the other end of the bed, spreading your legs wide and open for him to see. You reached down and toyed with you clit while dragging the knife across your chest, the coolness of its blade making your nipples harden. Dazai sat back in pain, pain from his ridiculously hard boner and pain from being forced to watch you pleasure yourself because he couldn’t do anything about it. Then, you mouthed one word that he never thought would be asked of him.

“Beg.” Dazai gulped, this power that you had over him was so overwhelming.

“D-darling.....I’m begging you.....please.....climb back on top of me. I want you to r-ride me so I can feel inside of you. I w-want you to press the blade against my skin.....p-please darling.....I’m b-begging for it.” You obliged to his wants and climbed back onto his lap. You lifted yourself up and sank down on his cock. The both of you moaned at the feeling, both of your bodies finally coming intact. You began to bounce slowly as you dragged the knife against his thighs, applying more pressure as you pressed the blade flatly into his skin. You dragged it back up his body and pressed it roughly against his neck while your other hand grabbed his hair and pulled his head back. Dazai was moaning like crazy, the sensitivity and pleasure all coming together. He moaned your name, praising you for how good you’re riding him, how good you touch him, how turned on you’ve made him feel. He felt the knot in his abdomen tightening, bucking his hips up into you so he could orgasm soon. You let out a yelp, not expecting him to try and fuck into you. You felt yourself reaching your orgasm too, your walls tightening around Dazai.

“So c-close darling.....keep going.” Dazai felt himself getting closer and closer and finally; the knot in his stomach disappeared, he arched his back as he came into you. His orgasm felt so long, his legs twitching from his release. You came on top of him, climbing off after you rode your high out. You flopped next to him on the bed, panting from earlier.

“Uh, belladonna? You forgot to untie me,” Dazai chuckled, tugging against the ropes. You used the knife to cut the silk ropes, your boyfriend’s hands finally free.

“Where’d you learn to dominate like that, huh?” he grinned at you.

You giggled, “Only from the best.” You kissed him on the lips, running your hands through his hair while he placed his arms around you.

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd #bungou stray dogs imagine #bsd imagine #dazai #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #dazai x reader smut #bsd x reader #anime #dazai imagines #dazai smut #bsd smut #bsd fanfic

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4aloysius-porteu · 3 years

Text

i really wish i hated you || tsukishima kei

masterlist | 1 | 2 | chapter 3

pairing: tsukishima kei x f! reader

sypnosis: It was an accident that (Y/N) met a certain tall, blonde male; a memory she isn't fond of remembering, but it is where it all started. And ever since, she magically makes her to his path. The image of the bespectacled man dwelled in her mind more than she thought. Tsukishima pushed away his softer emotions and denied their existence, or at least that's what he told himself. But then, he couldn't believe that this girl he labeled as a clumsy, unlucky creature who smashed his glasses is slowly bringing these strange emotions back to him. She might be irritating and dumb sometimes, but he couldn't get himself to completely hate her. Either that destiny was stupid, or he was blessed or cursed.

genre: fanfiction, fluff

wc: 2.6k

She has met the tall, blonde, and bespectacled male yet again.

"Oh, the midget stalker is here."

"You again?! Seriously, I think it's you who's following me!"

"Hah, what do I get from following an extremely short person like you?" He said, borrowing her words from yesterday.

(Y/N)'s eyebrows creased further in irritation. "Why do you keep mentioning my height?!"

"It was you who started it. Anyways, can you shut up? Do you know that you're in a library?"

She didn't retort back and simply sat on the chair with her arms crossed. It was a fine day then —BOOM— this giant decided to appear out of nowhere. She was trying to forget this person who's associated with some of her embarrassing moments but those just got smashed back to her mind. (Y/N) sighed and pulled a book at the bottom of the stack to start reading, but noticed that the blondie is still standing near the edge of the table, hesitating to sit down while glancing somewhere and back to her.

"What?" (Y/N) frowned.

"Why am I unnecessarily stuck with you on this table?" He sighed, pulling out the chair.

"Because all of the tables here are taken? If you're worried about your glasses being knocked off, don't worry, I won't do anything reckless anymore."

"That's a nice reassurance," He settled down and brought out his studying materials.

Both of them shared the table in the crowded library. Ignoring the people, between them was a silent atmosphere. No one was talking as they both minded their own studies; he was reading quietly and turning pages of a huge book while (Y/N) wrote key points from the printed work and highlighting her notes. Sometimes, the other would leave to return books to their shelves and came back with new stacks. This went on for a few hours until her pen ran out of ink. She scribbled at the back of her notebook in hopes that the ink just got stuck, to no avail. She sighed, resting her head on the notebook. But she really needed to take down notes for her upcoming entrance exam.

"Hey." (Y/N) reluctantly said.

The blonde male looked at her, confirming if he's being called, "What?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt your business but... do you have a spare pen?"

He stared at her with a straight face and placed his chin on the top of his knuckles, implying his refusal to lend one.

(Y/N)'s mentally gritted her teeth. I'm just going to borrow a pen and he's making it hard for me?!

Swallowing her pride, she said, "Look, I need to finish my notes. I'll return it to you right away when I'm done. I promise. Please?"

He scoffed as brought out a pen, "An inkless pen is all it takes for you to become a less lively puppy? You better keep your promise."

A puppy?! "You didn't need to compare me to a puppy but, thanks."

She continued her work but her focus was a bit shaken. This happens whenever she's interrupted or took a break away from writing. Soon, her focus vanished and boredom took over. She tried to read a book to review ideas but her brain won't cooperate. She groaned, her head and arms fell to the table again. The blonde saw but chose to ignore her.

She closed her eyes for a second, however, her gaze fell to the blank paper in front of her face. Her hands are itching to do something other than reviewing and writing, so she put down the pen she borrowed and took a pencil out of her pocket. She placed a pile of books near her notebook so that the male won't notice what she's doing. There, she started to sketch the base of the figure.

She would observe the four-eyed guy who's busy reading some sort of article while taking notes. He has a calm expression on his face rather than an irritated scowl or a mocking grin he usually has. He wears a long blazer and probably a long-sleeved shirt inside. His blonde hair is short yet the edges are a bit curly and his upper eyelashes are prominently long. This was the first time she stared at the jerk's face who she kept bumping into random places that irked the hell out of her, but for some reason, she felt that she had seen this person before the accident in the park, albeit she doesn't know where. (Y/N) came to a conclusion; he was a little good-looking.

The girl looked back to her drawing and shook her head at her own ideas. I can't believe I actually thought that this guy is handsome. How can such a mean creature be blessed with such looks?! Ugh, don't mind, (Y/N). I'm only drawing him because he seems like a great canvas subject, it's not like I haven't done this to other people before...

She went on drawing and drew details to the sketch similar to the boy in front of her. To make the drawing more accurate, she stole small glances at him. She kept things low key because it'll be another embarrassing event if he found out what she's doing. She made the lines smoother in one swift move. The hair and clothes' folds are already well-drawn while she focuses on the detail of his eyes and glasses. She was about to shade when the male finally caught her.

"What is it?" He questioned, closing his book with a low voice and creased eyebrows.

(Y/N) froze on the spot. As much as she doesn't like it, she maintained eye contact with him, thinking of the best alibi that he couldn't argue with. Then, she remembered that she doesn't know his name.

"Uhm... nothing. I was just wondering if you have a name." While talking, her finger subtly moved to grab the nearest object it could get to cover her drawing.

"I have, but why would I mention it to you?" He cooly replied.

"It's alright. I'm not asking you to. Unless you want to be referred to as he/him or the tall, blonde glasses guy all the time?" (Y/N) countered.

He silently turned a page before answering, "Well, it's not like we'll meet every day."

"Oh," was her only reply. Looks like he will stay a nameless guy in her head for a long time. She was about to get back to her business when he spoke.

"Tsukishima Kei."

(Y/N) looked at him in surprise. "I'm not going to repeat it." He added.

She smiled, having clearly heard it right away. "Can you tell me how it is written?"

He looked at her to check for ill intentions but found nothing in her eyes. He hesitantly wrote the characters of his name on a piece of paper.

"I'm (L/N) (Y/N), nice to meet you again, Tsukishima-san." She'd like to initiate a handshake for peacemaking, but she knows how he'd only decline it. She wrote her name for him to see as well.

Tsukishima Kei. She repeated in her mind. What a nice name.

With a notebook covering the upper portion of the paper where she had drawn his portrait, she wrote his name at the bottom. She proceeded to the shading and background features. Backgrounds are one of the things she hates in art because it takes too long to draw one compared to the subject itself. Luckily it's only a sketch so she won't have to suffer. Although she doesn't know if Tsukishima had seen whatever she's doing so she's still cautious. She peered at him for the nth time so she could distract his peripheral vision. Maybe to test the social initiative skills she hasn't used for a long time too.

"Uhh, can I ask something?" She started.

"Hm?" He responded without taking his eyes off the page.

"What school are you from?"

"Amemaru Middle School."

(Y/N) hummed, thinking of another question, "Then, what school are you enrolling to? It must be an upper class one since you had to read those large books and all."

"Not really," Tsukishima closed the book, "I plan to go to Karasuno High School. They may not have a difficult entrance exam, but these readings are for decent grades and some stock knowledge."

"Decent grades, huh... you look like you could achieve more though. I'm pretty sure you'll ace it." She answered, "I was from Kitagawa Dai Ichi. I'm taking an exam in Shiratorizawa soon."

"You're going to that high-class academy? I see, I failed to notice that because you don't look like one. Have fun clashing with other elites there."

"Elites? What are you talking about, you still believe there's such a hierarchy?" (Y/N) chuckled.

"There is though. A gap between them and mere humans in terms of skills and power."

"In the end, they're still humans though. Be it numbers, hard work, or some unique strategy, those 'mere humans' you say will always struggle to step on equal levels with those on the highest rank."

Tsukishima only hummed and stared down at her, "Perhaps I was wrong on assuming you're an elite. You're clearly not."

"Are you underestimating me?" She challenged.

"No, I was just saying. Can I ask something though?"

"What?"

"Why are you suddenly talkative?"

She was caught off guard but tried not to stutter, "Me? Talkative? I'm always like this."

"Really?" He raised his brows, totally not buying it.

"Ugh, fine! I'm tired of studying!" She sighed, "I was scribbling some doodles on my notebook because I'm bored so I thought it wouldn't hurt to talk to Mr. Beanpole in front of me. Forgive me and my awkward social skills."

"Your social skills are not bad. I'm just thankful you aren't using the precious ink of my pen for drawing." He said, stacking the books he used.

She gasped, panicked inside, "You aren't looking at my drawing, are you?"

He got up to return the books,"Don't worry, it's none of my business."

She exhaled in relief, spared from another memory of embarrassment. Her eyes followed his walking figure and watched his movements. She looked at her drawing to compare and used her fingers to define lighting. When Tsukishima got back and placed new reviewers on the table, (Y/N) asked him once more.

"Do you ever get tired of studying?"

"Sometimes I take a break, but I can only do that if I have finished everything."

"What a diligent student you are."

"I hardly see any benefit in being dumb and slacking off all the time."

"Eh, I hardly see any benefit in studying Algebra and Calculus. I have a lot of questions. Do you use derivatives in counting money or salary? Do you use trigonometry in dividing pizzas or corn chips? Why do I need to find the limit of a function if numbers are infinite? Why do I need to get the formula of a certain point in each line or curve I draw on the graphing paper? What is the correct answer for?" (Y/N) complained.

Tsukishima looked at her blankly, doubting her chances of passing the Shiratorizawa's board exam. "I couldn't argue with that, I'd rather read a book composed of words than formulas, but you don't have a choice. Although, if you plan to be an engineer or something, that'll be a different perspective."

"No, thanks, I won't eat math books for breakfast. Other subjects are interesting enough to keep me awake in class, but numbers don't really entertain me."

"Then, what do you do?" He asked, writing on his notes.

"Not much. I just draw, paint, listen to music, and watch anime."

He let out an amused hum, "How about you? What do you do other than to study?" (Y/N) asked.

"I play volleyball, listen to music, and read narrative books."

"Volleyball? So that's what your height is for! I thought it's just for cleaning and reaching high places."

"That's rude."

"If I am, what do you call yourself? Besides, I don't want to make wrong assumptions."

"You just did."

"...right. I'm sorry."

The sense of familiarity took over (Y/N)'s brain, telling her that she definitely had met this Tsukishima guy before. Her face scrunched a little, trying to search her memories and connect the dots. Her eyes found his face again.

"Why do you keep looking at me?" His eyes narrowed, his annoyance towards the girl slowly rising.

"I HAD met you somewhere... before that accident, where did I see you?"

He was about to say something when (Y/N) stopped him, "Shh, I'm thinking."

He crossed his arms and frowned at her. Volleyball, Amemaru MS... She was about to say it but Tsukishima spoke first.

"Were you one of the audience who watched the middle school volleyball inter-high a year ago?"

"I was! Wait, you remember?"

"That was the only place where I could find someone from Kitagawa Dai Ichi." He confirmed.

"Correct. I was a part of the school paper where I was assigned in the sports category. I took a picture of you when my senior was interviewing you! You were the tallest middle blocker in the games! How could I forget that! So that's why whenever you irk me, it was familiar!"

"How am I annoying you? Aren't you the one who kept on talking right now?"

"I've figured out that there's no kind bone in you. And the way you keep on stuffing the spikes from the opposite team. It was never-ending that they didn't have a chance to score properly." She pouted.

"What do you expect from a middle blocker? It was my job to block spikes."

"You could've gone easy on them."

"The game would lose it's sense if that's the case."

"Fine. You're not wrong." Their conversation was cut short after she ceased talking. At least she found out where she first met Tsukishima. She finished the portrait sketch. Grinning, she believed that she captured his features accurately in her drawing. She'd like to hold it near him and compare to make sure though. Satisfied with her work, she went back on turning pages.

"So, you've finally decided to continue to study?" Tsukishima prodded.

She smiled, "I guess. Thank you for talking to me. That was a great stop."

Both of them worked quietly, but now, the irritation they felt towards each other lessened. After some time, a person in the speaker announced that the library will be closing before 6 pm. Tsukishima returned all the books he borrowed and packed his things.

"You're going home?"

"I don't want to come home late. You aren't finished with your notes yet?"

"Yeah, maybe I'll leave five minutes before six."

"Alright. I'll get going now." He swung his bag over his shoulder.

"Hey, wait! Your pen!" (Y/N) abruptly remembered seconds after.

"I don't need it anymore. It was useful, apart from its close on running out of ink."

"But it's yours and you told me to keep my promise!"

"Whatever. Keep it or throw it." He walked out and wore his headphones, having no intention to listen to anyone.

She sighed and checked the ink. More than half of it is gone, but she can use it again if she wishes. (Y/N) placed her fist to her cheek while writing.

Random Tsukishima Kei facts:

In the second prototype chapter (unserialized, one shot, the first idea of the author on how haikyuu will go) Tsukishima was a second-year, which was changed in the serialized version where he's a first-year. His initial height in the prototype chapter is 184cm, a little shorter than his official height (190.1cm). In an extra sketch, Furudate commented, "Tsukki and Tanaka being in the same year would spell chaos!

#haikyuu!!#tsukishima kei #haikyuu tsukishima #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #kei tsukishima #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyuu headcannons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima scenarios #tsukki

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