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bluberryfields · 8 months

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"David is very easy to fall in love with." - Michael Sheen

Hi. How are you? Good, I hope. Okay, so can we talk about just how fucking beautiful David Tennant is? And by “we” I mean “I” and by “talk” I mean “babble incoherently into the void”? Great! I’ll attempt to impose a bit of organization on this just to satisfy my pathological need to inflict structure on words (thanks college/job/brain), but I can’t promise much. Also, there will be A LOT of pictures and gifs. (you’re welcome?)

And this isn’t just because I am deep in the bottomless well of Good Omens fandom and that Crowley is basically the most breathtaking creature that has ever existed. Well, not just because of that.

*cue Aziraphale's "good lord" from 1793*

ANYWAY, like a lot of people, I became a fan of (i.e., fell deeply and irrevocably in love with) DT during his run as the 10th Doctor. He was young and bright and full of just about everything – joy, sorrow, wit – making him incredibly watchable. His look was also so charming: big bouncy rooster comb of hair, absurdly cheeky smile, expressive-as-fuck eyes and eyebrows, and a tall, lanky form that seemed to be made of rubber and the kind of granulated sugar that could only be found in candy from the 90s that are now banned in all first- and second-world countries.

So yeah, I was super into him and his Doctor’s adventures. And I continued to watch him in other projects and still swoon (looking at you, slutty Hamlet)

even at characters where that was not the desired reaction (fuck you, Kilgrave, you delicious monster).

I would also always become a bit (a lot) weak in the knees at his voice regardless of which accent he took on, though always preferring him doing any Scottish brogue because of fucking course.

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Roll that tongue, you sexy beast.

But what I want to get into today is just how incredible he looks in the year of 2023.

He’s 52 years old and I am somehow even more attracted to him. Maybe it’s because I am myself older, and my tastes have matured alongside? I certainly do enjoy gray hair way more than I did 10 years ago.

He’s aged incredibly well, probably a combination of good genes and good health, and he’s clearly not clinging to the Hollywood idea of “youth”.

(insert obligatory grumble about the double standards of men being praised for aging and women being demonized…the potentially problematic nature of the term “aging well” in general…acknowledge this with my enlightened brain but ignore this with my slutty heart…fuck the patriarchy, etc. etc.)

He’s still tall and skinny, even gangly at times, all long arms and legs that can move in impossible directions with unfathomable grace.

His face is leaner, that incredible bone structure creating sharper edges that draw the eye. Speaking of the face, he’s got these creases on his forehead and at the corners of his eyes and mouth that are evidence of time spent well: smiling, laughing, living. Makes you want to trace your fingertips along each one.

Oh god that smile? Good lord. It’s weapons grade charm that can also be quite intimidating. Sweet, humble, silly, scary…full spectrum of options here! His shark smile is the definition of “irresistible” in my Dictionary of Delicious Dudes.

I am both proud of and grossed out by my own word choice.

Continuing with that face...the hawkish nose, the dimples you want to drown in, the big eyes, those motherfucking eyebrows...

I could seriously write a whole essay about those eyebrows, but I already give my therapist enough to worry about.

Oh those eyes. “Piercing” is a term usually reserved for blue eyes, but I would argue it applies to DT’s bottomless chocolate pools in that they slice through my heart every damn time.

Honorable mention does go to those Crowley snake eyes because they could have been distracting and diminishing to his overall look, but they absolutely are not.

Such a pretty shade of yellow.

Random tangent to swoon about his hands. For whatever reason, I like checking out a man’s hands, and DT’s got a set that drives me wild. I can’t even really explain why, but I just really like the way he articulates with them. Crowley is a perfect example, what with the miracle snaps, caressing globes, and holding whisky glasses. Yum.

Delicious demon digits

Fresh tangent: How does this fucker look good clean shaven, with stubble, and a goddamn beard? How is that allowed?

He's got a face that makes me wanna take up sculpting

Further, how is his fucking neck so hot? Like, seriously, show me the math. I can’t stop staring at it. And when it’s cloaked in a turtleneck? Please, sir, may I have some more?

Fuuuuuuuck

With no segue whatsoever, I am absolutely obsessed with his hair, across all contexts. Big, bold, blood-red Crowley coifs (especially in Season 2)? Check.

Proper gentleman side part? Check.

Side shave with cartoonishy springy 14th Doctor shock? Check.

Lockdown locks with and without headband? Check!

It’s a goddamn buffet of delicious options.

Oh damn speaking of that 14th Doctor look? Good fucking Christ on a buttery Ritz cracker. The whole DT collection is on display: the hair, the eyes, the bone structure, the smile, the clothes, and even the glasses!

To quote Pam on Archer, “I swear to god, you could drown a toddler in my panties right now! I mean, not that you would.”

Now that you (I) mention the clothes, I never cease to marvel at how he can wear pretty much anything and look amazing. Stripes, patterns, wild colors, etc. He just always looks…not exactly comfortable, but sort of at ease like the clothes were created with him in mind. And this goes across the spectrum of Casual to Costume to Promotional (e.g., interviews and premieres).

They are almost illegally cute together

We all know by now how ridiculously tight those Crowley pants are and how it influenced his signature serpentine swagger (thank you, Costume department, you’re the real heroes). That said, he and those slinky hips still looks so incredibly natural in them like they came from his actual closet.

Stupid sexy snek

And he pulls off the look of more ridiculous stuff like full Shakespearean costumes or that sad gray-hoodie-black-shorts-and-Wellington-boots combo from the first season of Staged. He somehow gives off the air of “whatever, they’re just clothes, man” while also looking like a damn model.

Georgia is a very lucky woman

Final thoughts: I know DT dislikes talking about how people think he’s so attractive because I’m sure it feels a bit icky if you just want to live your life and do your job. But my guy also clearly understands that he’s not some ghoul who has succeeded on incredible personality and acting chops alone. So, that said, maybe he'll forgive me for posting such a long, rambling, ode to him?

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k1t-ska · 1 year

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Confessing is Hard(Hobie Brown x f! reader)

(Hiiiii, I’m super new to Tumblr, like this is literally my first post ever but I felt like writing a Hobie x reader bc atsv was fucking awesome. Also, I love reading fics but sometimes I can’t find fics about shit I want to read so I’ve taken it upon myself for me just to do it! So yeah, this is my first fic, and I started writing this at 2:13 am 😓SO KEEP THAT IN MIND!!!!!!! anyways moving on!)(Also, I wanna make this a series but dunno)

(quick) Summary: You recently(if 11 months ago counts as recent?!?!?!?) became spider-woman on earth-420(not a real one I think, just a random number) and a few months ago were asked to join the spider society. You became quick friends with Hobie and Pavitr, yet Hobie can’t seem but to want to be a little more than just friends, but he’s too much of a pussy to fess up and tell you how he really feels.🙄But so are you so can one of you just man up and do it already god.

wc: 787

(sorry if Hobie seems ooc, idk much British slang and don’t feel like learning bc this is pretty short and yk fuck the British jkjk)

*~*~*~*

I never really realized how pretty Nueva York was until I became spider-woman.

Granted I’ve never had access to every rooftop in the city until I got bit by that radioactive spider but still, I’m able to see a city I’ve known my whole life in a new light. But honestly, if I’m really thinking about it-

A voice cuts my thinking off. “Hellooooooo, earth to y/n!!!” There’s a hand with long, lanky fingers waving in front of me. Shit. I forgot I wasn’t alone.

I focus my attention on my spider-friends. “Shit sorry Hobie, what’s up?” I’ve been spacing off a lot more frequently lately, I can tell Hobie and Pav have been getting annoyed by it.

“Not much, we were just talking and you spaced out mid-conversation. Everything alright buggy?”

“Yup!” Nope. “Everything’s fine!” But it’s really not. “Why wouldn’t it be?” Because you’re in love with your best friend? “Just a little,” A lot. “on my mind. You know, Spider things, school, friends, family.” You.

“Well me and Pav got’s to go. Right, Pav?” He didn’t believe me. I could tell in his voice.

“Oh yeah! Right!”

“Well, see you later bugs.” He turns around and steps through a portal with our shared friend.

Wait when did that get there? Ugh, whatever. ‘Bugs’ That’s a cute nickname. ‘Buggy’ I never really gave it much thought before. But now. Having these new feelings. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get it out of my head.

~~2 hours ago~~

Since I became Spider-Woman, one of my favorite pastimes is just swinging around Nueva York mindlessly. It’s even more fun with company. Which is where the scene lays out. Me and my two favorite Spider-men, Hobie and Pav, Racing around Nueva York. The last person to make it to the roof on top of my apartment from my dorm at Visions has to pay for takeout. First Place gets to choose what we get.

Obviously, I won, Pav coming in second, with Hobie behind him by a bit. He never tries at these kinds of games so Pav and I take that to our advantage. We make it to the rooftop, I blanket I laid out this morning still there. We all sit, order food (Hobie doesn’t even have to ask what I want, he just knows), chat, eat, and chat even more. It’s nice. Peaceful. I always seem to be at peace whenever I’m with Hobie. Always seem to space out.

We were talking about something. I can’t seem to remember what it was. Which is odd. I’m usually a pretty attentive listener, but something about the way Hobie’s looked so enchanting. Had he always been this… pretty? Wow, he has a lot of piercings. Wait. What? Why am I thinking about this? He’s your friend y/n! Snap out of it! Think about something else! Like uhhhh, you have a chem test tomorrow! You should probably be studying for that. Eh, whatever I'll do fine. Hobie’s eyes are like actually really pretty. Shit, fuck, we made eye contact, crap!! Omg uhh, the sky! Wait, the sunsets like actually really pretty tonight. And omg the lights in all the buildings just illuminate the sky even more!

I never really realized how pretty Nueva York was until I became spider-woman.

*~*~*~*

(AHHHH, this is so ass but wtv I did this in less than an hour. It is now 3:09. GOOD NIGHT!)

#across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #hobie brown #spider punk #hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #spider punk x reader #spider punk x you #spider punk x y/n #hobie brown x you #pavitr prabhakar

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ye-local-simp · 1 year

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Could I have a twst match-up?

I'm a 17 y/o afab non binary with short black hair that's really fluffy, it gets ratty and oily super easily so I have to wash it a lot, I don't really style my hair or anything. Small hazel eyes and freckles, lips are always chapped and I always am picking at them. My skin is tanned, and my arms and hands have scars from animals, mainly cats because I own two of them. I have really lanky arms and legs, I'm 6'7 and not that muscular, more of built like a twig, instead of being strong I'm quite agile and flexible

I usually like to wear coats, turtlenecks and sometimes sweatpants, my main style of fashion is dark academia or grunge style. Sometimes if I'm going to see a musical or some kind of show live, I'll dress up really fancy like to match the kind of theme that it has, for example, for watching phantom of the opera live I wore a mask like the phantom's and a suit.

For my personality, I'm a pretty laid back and calm person, quite hard to anger, usually in friend groups I take the role as the parental figure and keep an eye on everyone, although I'm not always good at keeping peace. If energetic enough, I'll be causing whatever chaos I can with my friends, but also being cautious and safe at the same time. I enjoy listening to people ramble on about their interests, sometimes I even get interested in the same things as them, and it's just nice seeing people be happy on a certain subject. I really enjoy reading books a lot, and spend most of my time reading or writing, and if I'm not doing either, I'm most likely drawing/painting, or even taking a hike or something. I don't exactly do much outside of those things, but at night I like to play songs on my guitar to try and make myself tired so I can sleep. At any chance I get, I try to get my friends to laugh, if the mood is bad or not, I can easily tell what my friends like and dislike, so I use that to try and cheer them up, perhaps by cracking some jokes or making them food.

I have a very VERY large interest in history and gemology! I have a super large collection of rocks that isn't completed yet, and probably never will be, but I just find rocks to be really interesting and cool. I absolutely love world history as well, taking a major interest in egyptian history and mayan history. I also love bugs, those are really cool, I favor the devil flower mantis the most, they're really pretty. On the other hand, I don't like loud noises at all, nor being that social, repeating and loud sounds and noises really get to me and annoy me, sometimes making me lash out with anger, and I just dislike being social or going out into large spaces, mainly because I don't want to have conversation with others, I'm really awkward and rude around strangers so I'd rather avoid large crowds to the best of my abilities. I also really hate showing off my talents and such against my will, it takes a lot for me to get that fond of someone that I'll play my guitar for them or show them my drawings.

Now for partners, I really just want someone that will be loyal to me as much as I would to them. I don't mind PDA at all, in fact I like it a lot, but I'd be chill if my partner didn't like it. I'm not that picky when it comes to a s/o, so I don't really have any preferences, but I do usually find the hot-heads and flirts to be a bit attractive, but like I said, no major preferences! And my love language is gift giving, mainly to show others how much I care for them. I love giving others gifts and it makes me feel really happy when I see someone be joyful from smth that I gave them. I honestly don't mind that much, as long as I'm in the same room with my partner and I know that they love me, I'm as happy as can be.

You are matched with...

Rook!!!

-He does do PDA but obviously not too much PDA before Vil kills him.

-He is definitely loyal and appreciates everything you do.

-he takes appreciation to the next level.

-Such as writing poems about your relationship and giving you amazing gifts for little things you do.

#twst matchup #twisted wonderland matchup #twisted wonderland matchups #twst matchups #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland fluff #twst scenarios #twst fluff #twst headcanons

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fyodorloveclub · 1 year

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Alright bisch , im doing this

*slams my resume on your desk

K so Hi! I'm Noodles as you know by now and I go by she/they . Currently unemployed and finishing school and 18 years old.

Appearance wise I'm pretty lanky and tall(5'11) with short grey hair and blue eyes. I wear shit ton of hoodies and casual clothes that are more practical than for looks. (Side effect is I have always smth in my pockets like pens or money or gum, it's like Blackhole)

This feels weird talking about personality but hey whatever dhdh. I'm clearly an introvert but surprisingly I can thrive in social events too. I can easily talk to strangers and I would say even charm them if I put my mind to it , it just simply has a limit and after a while I fizzle out and feel like not talking. I like to give people things and help in any way, it brings me more joy than anything which translates into not handling affection well. I'm pretty chill and laid back compared to some people , I don't involve myself into dramas or issues since I prefer to watch afar. Even though I secretly might wanna punch some people who can't take the hint.(Violence is the answer sometimes kids) It's surprising how chill and unbothered I am but when shit goes down and I'm fed up I take the reigns and tell people what to do cause they're indecisive morons. It's not often but it fills me with pride when I can take the lead like this and people believe in me to be leader.

(I did the test but it's confusing a bit? If u know the other personality test I'm an INFP but thats a bit old now)

Some of my hobbies include drawing a shit ton of small doodles but never having the patience to stick with one piece too long. Piloting I would also consider a hobby , and reading and playing video games too in spare time. But lately taking walks has taken a big part in my life I have come to enjoy them too. I do bite my nails a lot unfortunately, old habit eeee

Likes and dislikes sheesh okay uh. I like people who don't lie about their feelings. Hate lies with passion. Those small white lies don't bother me but stuff like hiding your feelings and lying to another person's face whenever u like em or not makes my blood boil. I hate blueberries, lavender and coconut , Oblivious people and of course The current capitalistic system .

I like rats , snakes , birds ,cats and dogs of course . Creating anything brings me joy, whenever it be art , writing or even just ideas. My hands need to keep doing smth and creating is one way to do it. I also like winter and cold somehow , better than heat for sure

(U can go nsfw too but Its not a requirement btw heh)

(And for characters not to match with I don't think I'm comfy with mori much or nikolai sorryy)

Thank you for doing this event hon, and thank you for letting me participate , lov uuuuuuu

⚞ noodles x chuuya ⚟

⋆ ok first of all i know you dont like pink but i think its cute so suck it up

⋆ second of all. i rly wanted to be more creative and give you someone not super obvious but chuuya just works so well like that is ur man

⋆ third of all you will always be shipped with me above anyone else ok u know this

⋆ he is so fucking. gender. and sexy we discuss this often

⋆ above all else you are a fucking people pleaser even to ur own detriment dkfjdkjdf and i truly think chuuya is among the few people who wouldn't abuse this. he'd entertain you because he knows its fulfilling for you, but make sure you arent running yourself dry

⋆ he would indulge in your praise kink at every turn. not even just sexually although he def would be telling you (depending on position/situation) how sexy you look or how good you're being or how good ur fucking him

↣ in everyday life too! how much he appreciates you and how thankful he is for u. behind closed doors this man is so fucking soft no matter how steely he acts in front of others.

⋆ chuuya will so let you peg him in fact he will request this

⋆ chuuya is also not a liar (irl, probably lies his ass off to PM ppl) and really wants someone who he can trust to always be honest with him, because he def has trust issues.

⋆ he will not hide his feelings either. again he probably has a good ass poker face just bc . pm exec and all that but he will always be so straightforward because that's just how he is. you'd never have to worry about him stewing silently or secretly being pissed off

⋆ it irks him so bad how much taller you are but he tries to not let it get to him too bad dkfkdjkjfkj

⋆ "violence is sometimes the answer kids" i am 100% positive he has said that before at some point in his life

↣ he'd be a horrible enabler tho like you'd be ranting how much you want to kill a peer/coworker and he'd be like fucking do it. whats stopping you and ur like PRISON IS ??????

⋆ he's the same when it comes to avoiding unnecessary drama. he thinks it's dumb as fuck and has absolutely no interest in getting involved. but he does like shit talking with you at home fjkdfkjdfj or going on rants abt how much he fucking hates dazai and ur sitting on the couch as he paces around the room like. uh huh yes honey for sure

⋆ you'd def always be drawing or doodling sketches of him and the paper ones he'd keep all of them and store them bc he finds it so endearing

⋆ chuuya is the same exact way when it comes to an introvert that's able to be charming as fuck. like you'd be able to attend dinners or parties or whatever and charm everyone there but you leave after like an hour fkdfkdkjfdjk and then sit in silence on the couch watching tv to recharge

⋆ i dont think he'd be great about letting you be the leader/taking the reigns in situatiions honestly but you'd also completely trust him to not be a fucking idiot and trust his decisions so does it rly matter

⋆ why do you hate lavender. i love lavender. chuuya probably loves lavender

⋆ your ability to stay unbothered would be really good for him and his incredibly short (like him) temper. you'd be like the only person who could calm him down and get him to chill the fuck out literally please do this my guy is so high strung sometimes

⋆ he'd absolutely fucking obliterate your ass in any video games

⋆ power couple. can i be the third pls

⋆ IM SORRY I JUST CANT DO NSFW ABT YOU WITH ANYONE ELSE EVEN IF ITS FICTIONAL FJDJFJDF

⋆ love u

#:D #i wanted to add a keep reading but it kept glitching out sorry guys #chuuya x reader #matchmaking

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demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 2 years

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The boys and their gay little road trip are BACK!!! And this time...with t r a u m a d u m p i n g! And Demetri owning up to the handful of times he has, in fact, been a little shit!

Anyways I told myself I was only going to write one (1) Demetri and Eli Take A Homoerotic Road Trip To Find Miguel one-shot because goddamn am I overflowing with WIPs right now but then a sequel to this fic exploded out of me like that scary little gremlin creature from the Alien movie and now here we are D:

I feel like Eli is absolutely the type to play-punch/play-hit Demetri a lot (kind of like Sam does with Miguel), but he wouldn’t really get into the habit of doing it until after he and Dem had been friends again for a while and he’s sure Dem’s actually comfortable with it. Meanwhile Demetri’s like “I should probably have a talk with him about expressing his emotions in a healthier way, but like...this is kind of funny and oddly flattering, so I won’t” XD It doesn’t actually hurt or anything, but alas, poor Eli Moskowitz cannot shake the “instinctually punching shit” habit.

Bitches will be like “everyone wanna talk about how Miguel’s fall traumatized the fuck out of Eli, but is no one gonna talk about how it had to have severely traumatized Demetri too???” and then not wait for an answer

It’s me, I’m bitches

Fic under the cut!!! Be warned, it is an even longer longboi than the last--almost 6k words!!! Once you get started writing angst about two guys dealing with their best friend nearly dying, you can’t stop, I guess?

OH, and uh. Pretty severe TW/CW here for discussing trauma, deep-seated fear, and nightmares in painful detail. The second half of this fic gets extremely heavy and I apologize in advance.

Next part is here!

***

Night Terrors

“Dude. This sucks. There’s barely any fucking room back here.”

Demetri practically shoves Eli onto the comforters sprawled over the backseat as he shuts the car door behind them. “Well, someone here said that we should get a motel room. Unfortunately, no one in this car ever listens to him.”

Eli crawls onto the blankets and sits cross-legged, turning to raise an eyebrow at him. “I’m…the only other one in this car, Demetri.”

“Like I said.” Demetri isn’t about to back down. “No one in this car heeds the suggestions of a very intelligent person who said the passengers should just pay a little extra to sleep in a normal bed.”

“Mmmm.” Eli purses his lips in a pout. “Tough crowd.”

It’s a look that Demetri has come to know well. The same one as when Eli would lose at a board or video game, or not beat out one of Demetri’s lanky arms in getting the last slice of pizza. It was, for lack of a more delicate term, the look that he put on when Eli was being a whiney baby.

He flops down face-first onto the mass of white blankets, letting out a long groan. Eli’s groans have only gotten more and more dramatic since he became bold enough to spike up his hair.

At first, it was strange. Perhaps a little concerning, even. Now it’s just amusing.

It’s probably for the better, Eli feeling like he can be open about his malcontent. Him keeping it to himself as bullies’ taunts cut deeper and deeper holes in his psyche didn’t do him any favors.

Demetri never stops wishing he found out about that sooner.

“The seats won’t even go all the way back,” Eli complains, voice muffled by fabric. “It’s because you filled your suitcase up with so much fucking Dungeon Lord.”

Demetri scoffs. “And what’s your brilliant idea to lure Miguel Diaz away from whatever enticing life of crime his dad’s inevitably pulling him into? Dangle his All-Valley trophy on a string and hope he chases after it?”

He sits down on the blankets, crawling over to Eli and giving him a gentle but firm flick in the back of the head. Eli rolls over to glare at him, but Demetri can tell a laugh is tugging on his lips.

“Give me a break. Miguel’s not dumb enough to get wrapped up in some Mexican mafia shit.”

“I don’t know.” Before Demetri can help it, a shit-eating grin is crawling over his face. “You idiots both gulped down that Cobra Kai Kool-Aid pretty eagerly for a while.”

“Hey! Shut up!” Eli’s fist shoots up, punching him hard in the chest. Demetri bursts out laughing, flopping onto his stomach beside his friend.

“You don’t…actually think he’d buy into that, do you?”

Eli’s voice softens, the nervous quality from earlier that night slipping back in. Demetri turns to face him, laying his head on a folded arm.

“To be totally honest with you, I’m a bit worried it’s going to be a Guardians of the Galaxy 2 type of situation,” he admits. “You know. He meets his dad, he seems cool, he wants to have a relationship with him. Spoil him, even. His dad tells Miguel he’s a special guy. But, you know…there’s something royally fucked up going on behind the scenes.”

Eli turns to him with wide, fearful eyes, and Demetri immediately feels guilt knot in his stomach.

“Sorry. Should not have said that out loud.”

Eli makes a face. “You really think it’s that bad?”

Demetri only shrugs. “I don’t have any more idea than you do. But you know me. Always expect the absolute worst, just in case.”

“You’re such a ray of sunshine, Demetri.”

“A ray of sunshine you betrayed the Valley’s most evil dojo for, I’ll have you recall.” He reaches out and pokes Eli in the side, earning another overdramatic groan.

“Oh, fuck off. I was worried you’d let that get to your head.”

“High time something did. I spent a good ten years or so feeling absolutely garbage about myself.”

“Still can’t figure out if you were more or less insufferable back then.”

“Come on! You know you love me.”

Eli huffs, turning on his side to shoot Demetri another glare. “Well, I bet wherever Miguel is, he has a proper bed, at least.”

Demetri clicks his tongue. “Too late to bitch, Mr. Moskowitz. We spent too long up there fantasizing about space aliens, and now we have to pay the price. Unless you want me dozing off at the wheel tomorrow, we are sleeping right here.”

“It’s only 66 miles to the next town,” Eli says hopefully.

“Eli.” Demetri lets out a long sigh. “It is—and I cannot emphasize this enough—2 a.m.”

“And I’m cursing your name?” Eli breaks into a smirk.

Despite himself, Demetri chuckles. “Oh? What’s this? You’re not too badass for TSwift?”

Eli shrugs, appearing to be trying very hard to look nonchalant. “It’d be a waste not to make the reference.”

“You’re so in love that you act insane, and that’s the way I loved you.”

“Breaking down and coming undone.”

“It’s a roller coaster kind of rush.”

“Never knew that I could feel that much.

“And thaaaaaat’s the way I looooooved youuuuu!”

As Demetri poorly belts out the last lyrics, Eli gags. “Please never sing Taylor Swift again. I’m not any use to Miguel if I die of secondhand embarrassment first.”

“You’re going to have to get used to secondhand embarrassment if you want to keep hanging out with me, Eli.”

“Not much choice, currently. I’m stuck in a car with you in the middle of Mexico.”

“That you are.” He gives his friend a pitying look. “But I’d bet you’d be miserable back in the Valley. I am here to tell you that Mr. LaRusso does not shy away from having us train in 90+ degree weather. The guy he got to substitute for him might be even worse.”

He reaches out and squeezes Eli’s shoulder playfully. The other boy reluctantly smiles.

Eli starts squirming around, trying to get comfortable on the slightly-sloped backseat chairs and evidently not having much luck. “What even are the sleeping arrangements going to be?” he grunts.

Demetri shrugs. “Find the least uncomfortable spot, which will probably be away from the seat crease and anywhere where those seatbelt buckle things aren’t digging into your side.”

After more frustrated adjusting, Eli sprawls out near the edge of the seats. Demetri does a fair bit of fruitless shuffling of his own before settling down behind Eli.

It dawns on him how close his and Eli’s bodies are, touching at several points. It’s only because if he scooted any further back, the seatbelts would be jabbing into his waist, he tells himself.

It would be easy to wrap Eli in his arms, pull him in and encase him like Demetri’s always wanted. Bury his nose in the crook of Eli’s neck.

He won’t, of course. They’re not trying to comfort each other about Miguel at the moment, and thus it would be inappropriate.

He settles for only inching a little closer, lips drawing up to Eli’s ear. “Probably good you’re facing out that way,” he murmurs teasingly.

“Wha—why’s that?”

Eli leans into him, and Demetri tries not to relish it.

He breaks into a smirk. “Because you might piss all over both of us otherwise.”

“Wh—Demetri!” Eli rolls over and elbows him hard in the stomach, and Demetri laughs.

“Sorry, sorry. I can’t help it sometimes. But you know I don’t care about that.”

Eli huffs, eyes narrowed and unimpressed. “Doesn’t matter anyway, asshole. I piss on your floor, and I’m still going to stink up your car.”

Demetri’s smirk widens. “Nah, I took the proper precautions.”

“What—dude!”

Eli rolls over to peek over the edge of the seat. He abruptly jerks back, and Demetri lets out a chortle.

“When did you have time to even do all that?” Eli demands.

“While you were in the bathroom at the last rest stop. I figured you would want to sleep in the car, and the last thing I need is more stains in the floor for my mom to yell at me about. So I made adequate preparations.”

“I did wonder why we were running low on paper towels.”

“They were called to a higher purpose, Eli,” Demetri explains. “I.e. protecting my car floor from your piss showers.”

Eli stiffens next to him, and guilt suddenly squirms in his chest.

“Hey.” His voice softens. “I was kidding. Promise.”

Eli doesn’t respond, and the guilt twists itself around further like a king cobra exploring Demetri’s intestines. He lets out a short breath, heart starting to pound as he remembers something.

“Hey, um…I hate to dig up this grave, but I owe you an apology for that whole stunt I pulled at Moon’s shindig.”

“Oh, what, that?”

Ironically, this seems to be what finally makes Eli relax. He rolls over to face Demetri, scoffing.

“Compared to all the shit I pulled? Dude, that was nothing.”

Demetri frowns. “It was not nothing. It was fucked.”

Eli rolls his eyes. “I was being a fuck.”

“You poured some beer on me, so what? Showers are a thing that exists!”

“You know it wasn’t just that.” Eli sighs, gaze going to the blankets. “I lost my shit over a Yelp review.”

“I mean, I was concerned about you going all alpha male, I won’t lie. But I should’ve tried to talk to you about not getting sucked into a karate cult before I went and blasted said karate cult on the internet.”

“You did try to talk to me.” Eli’s voice comes out in a mumble, eyes flicking around guiltily. “I just brushed you off every time.”

“Yeah, I got brushed off a lot last summer.”

He thinks about how Miguel looked at him after the tournament, and his heart clenches.

Demetri Alexopoulos is no stranger to being brushed aside. His peers did it for years, avoiding eye contact and inching away when it came time to partner up for class assignments. Picking him last for sports teams. He remembers watching the rest of the class get a deskful of valentines each while most of his classmates forgot he was even there to be given anything.

He never cared what they thought. They were all shallow assholes, anyway.

It was different when the people brushing you off were also the only ones who ever seemed to like having you around. It cut deeper.

And then, of course, there was the other incident at Moon’s party that set him off. He remembers the sadness and longing in Eli’s face as he stared at Moon and Piper across the room. He remembers the bitter jealousy and unexpectedly sharp rage that twisted in his gut—the anger that Moon so easily moved on, to another girl no less, but Eli refused to.

He wished Eli would look at him like that. And for a time, it seemed he might.

They talked about Doctor Who. Eli smiled like he used to. He kept inching closer, looking at Demetri’s lips. Perhaps it meant nothing, but perhaps it didn’t.

And then Demetri had the gall to suggest that maybe it was time to let Moon go. Maybe it was time to find someone else. Maybe, just maybe, there were other people out there who were ready and willing to love Eli “Hawk” Moskowitz more than Moon ever could, with her skin-deep picture of shamelessly bright hair and cool tattoos and rippling pectorals.

Eli, it turned out, didn’t care about all that. He cared about losing, and he cared about Demetri suggesting he was anything but strong and invincible. Only pussies went around trying to find inner peace and hoping their estranged best friend would somehow reciprocate their increasingly-doomed romantic feelings.

When Demetri grabbed that microphone with beer-soaked hair, he could still hear the audible snap of his heart breaking in half. Not unlike his arm a few months later, ironically.

He doesn’t say any of this to Eli. Instead, he only shrugs.

“Still wasn’t my place to say all those things about you. I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone about—well, you know.”

“And I promised in the 6th grade that if we suffered, we suffered together.” Eli snorts. “I think both of us are pretty shit at keeping our promises, dude.”

“What, so you weren’t suffering in Cobra Kai?” Demetri clicks his tongue. “You weren’t being mindfucked by an evil war criminal and tormented every minute because you missed me so much? I’d say you held up your end of the bargain just fine.”

Eli groans. “Not everything is about you, Demetri.”

“You’re right, not everything. Only most things.”

“God, shut up.” Eli punches him in the chest again, and Demetri laughs.

“Anyways, um.” Eli’s face grows serious. “About the bedwetting thing. Don’t stress about it. I mean, it was embarrassing, yeah, but I got most of my frustration out when I snapped your arm.”

Demetri makes a face, wincing. “The whole arm was a bit much, you know. I think breaking a finger or two would’ve been more appropriate.”

Eli raises his eyebrows. “Honestly you would have bitched about it more. ‘No, please, not my fingers! I’ll never be able to code again!’”

Eli clutches at his hand, imitating Demetri in what he thinks is an unfairly high-pitched and nasally tone of voice. “All right, very funny, wiseass.”

Eli’s demeanor suddenly changes—more reserved, more hesitant. His eyes flick around again, not meeting Demetri’s gaze.

Demetri wonders if he was glaring a little too hard.

“I, um—you know I’m sorry about all—”

“Hey. Eli.” Demetri quickly reaches out and gives Eli’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “You already apologized for all that. You don’t need to do it again.”

“I still feel bad, though.”

“Well, so do I.” Demetri starts to rub Eli’s shoulder, hoping the repetitive motion will help to put him at ease. “I don’t think—I don’t know if we can ever really stop feeling bad about all the karate war nonsense. But I said sorry, you said sorry. Let’s just say we’re even-steven and leave it all behind.”

He’s not sure what he anticipated happening next, but he knows he isn’t expecting for Eli to surge forward, wrapping him in a tight embrace. Demetri tenses with surprise, caught off-guard.

After a few moments, he hugs back.

“Thanks,” Eli mumbles into his shoulder. “You made it a lot easier for me than you had to. Switching sides.”

“I just wanted you back,” Demetri whispers, voice suddenly dropping until it’s barely audible. “I don’t think there’s anything you could have done that would’ve…” He trails off.

That would’ve made me stop loving you.

Eli hums into his neck, thankfully not pressing for the rest of the remark.

They hold each other for a long moment, and Demetri lets himself relax. This is the Eli he grew up with—the Eli who was stingy with physical affection with everyone but his best friend. The Eli who had no shame about clinging to him like a stubborn lemur—behind closed doors, anyway.

He feels Eli tremble against him slightly, and he pulls him closer.

“You know what you do owe me an apology for?” Eli mumbles.

“What’s that?”

“You didn’t bring enough blankets on this goddamn trip.”

“Oh? You want an extra blanket?”

Smirking, Demetri flips Eli onto his back and sprawls himself over the other boy. “Why didn’t you say so?”

Eli grunts and tries to shove him off. He’s not expecting how tightly Demetri is holding onto him—his mistake, really, for not accounting for Demetri being an insufferable barnacle.

“Not like that, stupid. You’re way too scrawny to retain any body heat.”

“Oh, come now. What I lack in girth I make up for in height. And we’re both skinny, buddy, I can protect most of you from the cold. It’s basic physics.”

“Fuck your physics, you feel like a floorboard.” Eli gives him another shove. Finally he complies, snickering as he allows himself to be removed from Eli’s stomach.

“Okay, okay, fine. Some of your hoodies are in the front seat if that would help.”

Eli crawls into the front of the car, clambering for one of the many baggy hoodies he brought along. Demetri sits up, eyes abruptly starting to feel heavy. The exhausting day of driving and worrying and fighting down his most recent bout of unwelcome gay desires is finally catching up to him, it seems.

Eli settles for a plain black sports hoodie, tugging it on and lying back down across the back seat. His legs are bent slightly, as if to leave room for Demetri. Not that he needs to, given how little space Eli takes up when compared with Demetri.

It’s also likely because Eli Moskowitz tends to sleep curled up. Demetri has never been sure why—maybe an instinct to protect himself, or maybe he was less likely to…well, relieve himself in the wee hours of the morning if he was in the fetal position. In any case, he hardly has the room to do it properly here.

Demetri wriggles around until he finds a suitable position, grunting apologies to Eli as he continually bumps into him. Even when he’s found a decent spot, they’re still close enough to get Demetri’s heart beating embarrassingly fast again.

“Sorry, buddy,” Demetri says. “No way around it. I think we’re going to have to get pretty cozy in here.”

Eli groans, leaning into him again. “Kill me, Demetri.”

Before he can stop himself, he wraps his arms around Eli’s waist and pulls him in, laughing into his shoulder. “Not a chance. There’s absolutely no way I’d be able to find Miguel on my own.”

Eli grunts disapprovingly, but it seems to be only for show. Demetri doesn’t feel an elbow dig into his stomach, or his captured best friend writhing to escape. Which, though Demetri is loathe to admit it, Eli could easily do with those terrifying biceps of his.

Instead, he presses into Demetri, wiggling around to make himself more comfortable. Demetri wonders if Eli doesn’t think he notices it, the way Eli is melting into him like an ice cream cone on a hot day.

But Demetri notices. And all it can do is make his heart ache.

Eventually they will have to have a talk about all this. Demetri knows how it’ll go. Eli will sag with guilt, tell Demetri he was confused. Tell Demetri he only ever liked girls, and a lonely cuddle now and again didn’t mean anything.

Demetri pulls the comforters over both of them, swaddling them up into the most cozy nest he can muster. He feels Eli’s body start to relax underneath him, breaths slowing as he drifts off to sleep.

Eli and his hoodie smell like gas station nachos and hot Cheetos and Axe, but Demetri can’t stop breathing them in. He buries his face in the black fabric, soaking in the warmth and dreading the moment when he’ll finally have to let it go.

“Night, Eli.”

Eli doesn’t answer.

~~~

For some godforsaken reason, Demetri wakes up in the middle of the night.

Well…the middler middle of the night. It’s now 4:30 instead of 2:30.

It’s pitch dark out, no sign of the theoretical sunrise anywhere in sight. Demetri can still feel his arms wrapped around Eli, though, which brings him some semblance of comfort.

What’s not so comforting is the way Eli is twitching and thrashing around beside him.

From time to time, he makes little noises in his sleep. Pants. A moan. A whimper. A soft cry.

Demetri feels his blood freeze inside him. He knows what this is.

He’s seen Eli jerk around in his sleep plenty of times. When they were growing up, Eli was tormented by all sorts of nightmares. Sometimes they were about fantastical things—the werewolves from Harry Potter, the Sith, the giant spider from Lord of the Rings. As they grew older, they became mostly about being chased around by the bullies that made middle school and high school such a hellhole.

Demetri always hoped the nightmares went away when Eli became Mr. Tough Guy. If Eli Moskowitz wasn’t scared of anything, then no monsters could hunt him down and chase him through his dreams. A terrible Balrog could rear up in front of him, and he’d tell it it was a stupid pussy and that it should fuck off. He may have been strutting through the school acting like the world’s biggest asshole, but at the very least, he didn’t have to feel unsafe anymore.

Apparently, the nightmares had not gone away.

Demetri pulls him in tighter. His hands find Eli’s, and he wraps them in his long fingers and starts to massage them.

He needs Eli to know that he’s here.

On some level, Demetri thinks Eli does. Eli’s hands slowly reach up and clutch onto his. Another twitch, and Eli’s fingers shoot through his like water through a grate.

Eli squeezes his hands so tightly that Demetri wonders if he’s going to lose circulation. He doesn’t care.

Eli jerks again, so hard he nearly falls off the seat. Demetri catches him.

The shorter boy gasps out, for the first time dissolving into audible words. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no…”

Eli turns, eyes wide open. “Demetri? What—”

“Shhhhh. It’s okay.” He pulls Eli into his chest. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Eli twists his hands into Demetri’s shirt, burying his face in the fabric. His entire form is shaking like a flimsy paper kite.

Demetri fastens gangly arms around Eli’s back. “Whatever it was, it can’t hurt you now. Not while I’m here.”

Eli says nothing for a time, body trembling and hands clinging to Demetri like a lifeline. Demetri can practically feel the pain and fear and anguish rolling off him, and he wishes more than anything that he could make it all go away.

“It wasn’t me,” Eli says cryptically, after what feels like an eternity.

Demetri opens his mouth and shuts it again, unsure how to respond.

“Do you ever have nightmares?” Eli looks at him for the first time since he woke up, eyes haunted.

Demetri raises his eyebrows. “You mean…about the Karate Wars in general, or something more specific? Because the answer is ‘yes’ on both counts.”

“The balcony,” Eli says. “Miguel.”

Demetri sucks in his breath. “Oh.”

He remembers that day. Better than he’d like to. He remembers the guilt flooding him as he watched Eli crumple to the ground, glass shards spattering his body like shrapnel. He remembers running into an empty hallway and standing, shaking, with his head in his hands, trying to process everything that happened. He remembers his breaths coming in short gasps, thoughts spinning in circles about those glass pieces slicing into something vital and blood staining the tile floor. He remembers how badly he wanted to shatter like that trophy case, scream and cry and wail until nothing hurt anymore.

By the time word got back to him about Miguel, the paramedics had already come and gone. For all Demetri knew, the next time he’d see Miguel Diaz would be at a funeral showing.

“Not the fall,” Demetri says quietly. “I wasn’t there to see it, thank god. But the weeks after…he popped up in my dreams a lot.”

“Really?” For a moment, Eli’s terror fades, replaced with a morbid curiosity.

“Yeah, all the time, actually.” Demetri chuckles darkly. “He’d corner me somewhere. Have the same look on his face that he did when he won the tournament. And he’d just…say all kinds of awful things. That he never gave a shit about me. That he only ever made friends with me because he didn’t have other options. That I was a pathetic pussy who’d always be worthless trash to him. That you were always stronger and braver and tougher, and I didn’t deserve the likes of either of you—why would he want whiney little Demetri when he could have The Hawk?” He scoffs, trying to ignoring the growing pain in his chest.

“He said all I was was weak and annoying and no one could ever love me—just tolerate me, at best,” he goes on. “That I’d die alone with no friends, and both of you could do better. That everyone I was stupid enough to care about would run from me as fast as they could, once they found out who I really was. You know. Uplifting stuff like that.”

Eli gapes at him. “Demetri…that’s…”

Demetri lets out another humorless laugh, shaking his head. “It’s ironic, really. Sometimes I’d have these ones where I’d be hiding in the computer lab, but you never showed up. It was Miguel. But like…” He winces at the memory. “His back would be all…broken and mangled and twisted up. He wouldn’t move quite right. You know, like that lady from The Exorcist or something. He’d crawl after me and back me into some room and I’d expect him to maul me like a mountain lion or what have you, but…he never did. He just told me he hated me. Over and over.” He takes a shaky breath, throat growing heavy. “Sometimes he’d pepper in that you and Sam and Mr. LaRusso and Chris and everyone else I happened to give a damn about couldn’t stand me, either. ‘I hate you, Hawk hates you, everyone hates you. I was never your friend. I hope Kyler breaks your fucking jaw.’ And then I’d say…”

Demetri’s voice breaks, and he wonders how much longer he can hold it together before he crumples—just like he wanted to on the first day of school, all those months ago.

“I’m so—” He chokes back a sob. “I’m so fucking sorry this happened to you, man. I should have been there. I should have helped. I should have stopped Robby, and I’ll never fucking forgive myself for the fact that I didn’t. All I want is for you to be okay again.”

Demetri feels a tear worm its way down his face. He tries to swat it away with the back of his hand, but he knows Eli saw it.

“He says none of that matters,” Demetri says quietly. “He’ll always hate me. Anyone in their right mind would leave me, in the end.”

“Holy shit.”

Eli lets out his breath, staring at him. Demetri looks away, eyes stinging.

“And I thought mine were bad,” Eli mumbles.

A sob finally forces its way out, and Demetri quickly covers it with a shaky laugh. “Why don’t we say they both sucked and call it a draw?”

“You don’t—you don’t believe any of that crock of shit, do you?”

Demetri feels a hand on his cheek—rough, calloused, but the touch incredibly soft. Eli turns Demetri’s face to him, and Demetri is sure it’s blotchy and scrunched-up and utterly pathetic-looking.

“Miguel loves you, man,” Eli says softly. “He basically told me to get the hell out of his life as soon as he found out about Golf N Stuff. Really pissed me off at the time.”

Demetri laughs softly. Despite his better judgment, he leans into Eli’s hand.

Eli sighs. “To be honest, it really hurt that he chose you. I mean…I get why he did. I was a mess back then. But I felt so alone. And I just…”

He lets go of Demetri, burying his face in his hands. “God, I’m so sorry. I was so caught up in my own shit that I didn’t think about how that whole thing with Miguel must’ve fucked you up, too.”

“Damn right, you didn’t.” Demetri snorts mockingly. “I wanted to cry on your shoulder about it, but you were too busy being evil.”

“I had it in my head your entire dojo wanted to hurt Miguel. I thought you did, too.”

Demetri shakes his head, expression hardening.

“I would never,” he says solemnly.

“I think on some level, I knew that.” Eli looks up from his hands, bright blue gaze guilty again. “And you had Sam. I just imagined you two sobbing into each other’s arms, and it made me so livid, but…I don’t know. I think that’s because I was jealous. I mean.” He sighs. “I had Tory, I guess, but it wasn’t the same. She doesn’t want to be seen as anything but strong.”

“Yeah, she’s not really the consoling type, is she?”

“Not at all.” Eli smiles, shaking his head. “I felt like I had to stomach everything alone. But you…”

Without warning Eli surges forward, wrapping his arms around Demetri’s neck and pressing their foreheads together.

“I’m sorry, man. I should’ve been there for you. We should’ve both…”

He trails off. Demetri can feel Eli’s body shaking slightly against him.

“Hey. It’s okay.” He lifts a hand, running it through Eli’s buzzed hair. “It’s over now. And whatever you’re feeling, I’m here this time.”

Eli leans further into him, breaths quick against his face.

“It’s always the railing,” he says after a pause. “Those few seconds where he’s falling, and he’s terrified. It’s like it’s dragging out so it never ends. And then…”

Eli’s voice finally breaks completely, and Demetri feels wetness against his face.

“It’s the crack. It’s the fucking crack when his back hits the stairs. I can never stop hearing it.”

He trembles with sobs. Demetri’s hands slip down, wrapping around Eli’s waist and pulling him the rest of the way in.

“It’s all right,” he murmurs softly into his friend’s ear. “Miguel got better. He’s safe. And you and I…”

He pulls away to meet Eli’s eyes, wide and watery and brimming with fear. “We’re going to make sure he never gets hurt like that again. I promise you.”

And just like that, Eli is kissing him again.

It’s different than before. More tender, more effortless. Not starving and frantic like the one from earlier was.

Demetri leans into it, stomach doing flips. Eli Moskowitz is going to be the death of him.

And he knows it, the smug little bastard.

He lets himself fall back onto the car seat, pulling Eli with him. He feels his hair splay against the blankets, the weight of Eli surprisingly light on top of him.

Even with all that extra added muscle weight, he’s still tiny.

Demetri wonders idly how he’s handling this so calmly. How Eli Moskowitz is going around spontaneously kissing him and he’s not completely disintegrating.

His heart is louder than the marching band at a football game, though—that’s for sure.

Eli kisses him like he’s delicate, like he could shatter if the other boy presses a little too hard or suddenly pulls away. He kisses him much softer than “The Hawk” ever could.

It’s like one of Demetri’s embarrassing middle school fantasies brought to life—Eli pressed up against him, fingers trailing against his skin lighter than felt, kissing him like Eli’s in love with him. The only thing missing is the early promposal—“I know we don’t have a prom for another 5 years, but I just wanted to ask you before anyone else does.”

(Not that anyone else would have asked him, but that was beside the point.)

Demetri thinks he’ll dissolve into dust when Eli finally pulls away, but he doesn’t. Surprisingly, he finds himself smiling against Eli’s still-hovering lips.

“Is this just something we’re doing now?” he murmurs. “Kissing every time we get stressed about Miguel?”

“Is that a problem?” Eli lifts his head and smirks down at him. “Haven’t gotten that impression so far.”

Demetri clicks his tongue. “The only problem is that once we find El Serpiente, we won’t be able to kiss anymore. And that seems like a bummer.”

Eli shrugs, looking unfazed. “It’s up for debate.” His hand slides up Demetri’s neck, coming to cup his cheek.

His thumb brushes across Demetri’s skin, sending shivers rippling through him. It’s a small thing, but it’s enough to push Demetri awfully close to the brink of insanity.

And Demetri can’t help it. He grabs the collar of Eli’s hoodie and pulls him down for another kiss.

They end up in a tangled pile in the blankets—legs, arms, and bodies perfectly intertwined. At some point, Eli slides down to rest his head in the crook of Demetri’s neck.

They cling to each other for what feels like a long time, neither saying a word. Eli is the one to finally break the silence.

“So you want to be El Serpiente’s bodyguard, huh? I’ll be honest, you never struck me as the ‘violently overprotective’ type.”

Demetri snorts. “Uh, where have you been for the last 12 years? You seem to have confused me not wanting to inflict incredible violence on the people harassing you with me begrudgingly accepting that I was not able to.”

Eli laughs softly against him. “Actually, yeah. At the tournament you were kind of terrifying. Wish you’d had more of that for all the years we were being kicked around.”

“Oh, I had plenty. I just didn’t externalize it is all. That’s a good way to get your ass handed to you on a silver platter.”

“Ooooh, classy asskicking! I guess you’re the one doing that now.”

He chuckles. “I try to be. If you have to throw a punch, it should at least be in style.”

“Ah, yes. Demetri Alexopoulos. Master of only the most dignified of throwdowns. Never awkward or uncoordinated at all.” Demetri rolls his eyes, snorting in mock offense at the accusation.

Another silence settles between them.

“We should get some sleep,” Demetri says finally, rubbing Eli’s back. “Weren’t we going to get up at 7?”

“Eh, fuck that.”

“Fine. 9, then. That should give us a good 4 hours of shut-eye.”

Eli groans. “Do we have to? Can’t we leave at 10? We’re going to sleep like shit.”

“You know we need to get out of here before desert cops or cranky ranchers come and tell us to leave, Eli. I don’t want to get some vague ticket written entirely in Spanish.”

“Still don’t think there’s such a thing as ‘desert cops,’ but fine.”

To Demetri’s surprise, Eli nestles even closer, grip tightening.

“Can you hold me?” he murmurs into Demetri’s neck. “Don’t let go. Just…hold me until the morning.”

Demetri looks down at the boy wrapped around him, and his heart gives out for about the 7th time that day alone. “Yeah. Of course. You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Eli, come on.”

“Maybe I don’t want to, idiot.” Eli has his shirt in a death grip, and Demetri isn’t complaining. He tugs what blankets he can over both of them, and quickly changes his alarm on his phone.

Demetri laughs softly. “Like old times, isn’t it?”

There were more than a few times Eli’s bladder gave out on his “waterbed,” and Demetri had to pull his crying best friend into his own bed after he’d showered off. Many a night Demetri had dozed off still hugging him, and the two had woken up with their forms entangled.

Eli hums. “I guess so. I’ll try not to piss on you this time.”

“Thanks. Appreciate it.”

Demetri lets out his breath, finally allowing the numbing exhaustion of the night to catch up with him. The only coherent thought he can form as he drifts off is that when he and Eli are pressed together like this, he’s never felt more whole.

He only hopes it can last.

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sasarahsunshine · 3 years

Note

hey congrats! do you think you could do 📝( the blurb) for moreid where it’s their first kiss and spence says prompt 40 (“are you implying that you want to kiss me?”) and derek ig after the kiss says prompt 8 (“god, your lips are so soft”)? does that make sense? i apologies if it doesn’t! thanks!!

Hehe, yes anon, it makes sense! Also thank you so much for the prompt, this one is so cute and fun omg <333

Pairing: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid

Warnings: Mention of a case but like, no details. Just fluff! And kisses hehe.

Also on AO3.

The first time Derek Morgan noticed there might be a little more than friendship between himself and Spencer Reid was after a hard case.

He always knew he loved Reid; the kid was special to him. He was overly protective of the lanky young man who was always stumbling headfirst into trouble— as much as that terrified the entire team. Reid had a knack for bumping into things, tripping over his own two feet, and taking off his freaking Kevlar vest when Morgan told him to keep the damn thing on!

It wasn’t uncommon for Morgan to notice bruises and bandaids on Reid’s hands and arms. He was, again, always knocking into things. Whether his own desk, a doorframe, or one time he walked right into the drivers side door that Hotch just opened. Morgan tried not to laugh as the kid groaned and rubbed the bump forming on his forehead. Penelope once compared him to a newborn foal. “All legs and no balance.”

But the day Morgan realized there might be some attraction in the mix of emotions he had for Reid, he was watching the kid sleep on the jet. The victim didn’t make it, which happens sometimes. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, but Reid was taking it harder than everyone else. He always did.

Morgan’s music had stopped playing a while ago, but he didn’t seem to notice, his eyes too busy studying the way Reid’s chest rose and fell with even breaths. How his eyelashes rested upon his rosy cheeks, fluttering every once in a while as he dreamed. How his lips were a naturally pretty shade of pink.

He blinked, adjusting in his seat. When had his feelings shifted for Reid? It couldn’t have happened suddenly, but that’s what it felt like. It was like cold water was thrown onto his heated body, shocking his system with the realization that he didn’t just love the younger man— he was in love with him.

A few months had passed and Morgan tried so freaking hard to pretend everything was normal, was the same. Because he would never dare ruin the special bond he had with Reid over something as trivial as wanting to kiss him— well okay, he wanted to do so much more than kiss him— but still.

The team had decided to go out to O’keefe’s after a long week of paperwork. It was nice to go out without a real reason every once in a while. Emily was the one who convinced Reid to come out, and for that Morgan was thankful.

Because now Reid was two drinks in, his cheeks and nose flushed rosy red from the buzz in his alcohol, his eyes shimmering as he laughed at the joke Penelope just told. God he was gorgeous. The prettiest damn boy Morgan had ever laid his eyes on.

He couldn’t stop staring at Reid’s lips throughout the night. The genius had a habit of biting his bottom lip when he was thinking, or trying to hold back a quip or the need to infodump. Said bottom lip was now a little swollen and pink from the biting he had been doing and God was it doing something to Morgan. He was finding it harder and harder to focus on the conversations happening around him. All he could think about was how sweet his Pretty Boy’s lips must taste.

“Morgan?”

He blinked, glancing at Emily who was just smirking at him from over her glass. “You seem to be somewhere else tonight, big guy. What’s on your mind?”

He felt the pleasant warmth of his own buzz tingling throughout his bloodstream. It wasn’t enough to make him spill his innermost thoughts, however. He shot her a smirk in return as he held his own drink to his lips, “I couldn’t help but notice how late it’s getting. Might have to get myself on that dance floor before it’s closing time.”

Penelope squealed and shot out of her seat, reaching for his hand, “Come on my brown sugar daddy! I’ve been waiting all night for you to ask me to dance!”

He chuckled and finished his drink before taking her perfectly manicured hand, “As you wish, mama.” As much as he’d rather be holding Reid’s hand, he knew he owed Penelope at least one (or five) dances.

As the night got longer, hotter, and a bit more sweaty than Morgan had expected, he collapsed back in his chair with a laugh. His mouth tasted like sweet rum, and his brain was swimming in warmth and tingles. At some point Penelope had disappeared but he wasn’t sure where to. He was panting a little from the intensity that she forced him to dance.

Reid was eyeing him, a small smile on his lips. “Are you having fun?”

Morgan turned his attention to him, his eyes flickering over Reid’s face before meeting his gaze. Reid had to have another drink while he was dancing, for his face was more flushed than before. And he looked relaxed; something that Dr. Spencer Reid often didn’t have the time to be.

“I am,” Morgan agreed as he leaned towards his colleague, his best friend, his soulmate. His heart was pounding in his ears, his stomach doing small flips as he moved his chair into Reid’s personal space. He heard Reid inhale sharply, the young man’s eyebrows knitting together curiously. Morgan continued, his eyes once again flitting to Reid’s lips for a split second, “I think i might want to order another drink. How about you?”

Reid cleared his throat, his fingers drumming on his empty glass. “Maybe.”

“What did you have?”

“Something fruity. You probably wouldn’t have liked it,” Reid joked, laughing to himself, “It’s not a manly drink, by any means.”

“I don’t know,” Morgan eased himself a little closer, a lazy smile gracing his lips, “You should let me have a taste and then I’ll decide for myself.”

Reid blinked in surprise. If it were possible, his face seemed to grow redder, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Morgan knew that Reid wasn’t very good at picking up certain social cues, but he hoped that maybe he’d understand the hint. And if he didn’t? Then Morgan could pretend this never happened and they’d go back to being friends. No harm no foul.

“Are you implying that you want to kiss me?” Reid asked after a beat, his large brown eyes looking almost.. hopeful? Morgan swallowed thickly, his stomach filling with butterflies. God, he felt like a love struck teenager.

“I am, pretty boy,” he breathed, tasting the alcohol from earlier on his tongue, “if that’s something you want?”

It was Morgan’s turn to be surprised, as his Pretty Boy, his lanky little newborn foal who was always clumsy and getting hurt, had enough grace and strength to grab him by the collar and pull the two of the closer, their lips meeting in a hesitant kiss. It took a beat longer than he meant it to before Morgan’s brain caught up with his body, his hands shooting to the sides of Reid’s face and holding him there, tasting strawberries and peaches on his lips.

God, he was just as sweet as he imagined. Moreso. Perfect. Delicate. Morgan’s heart was racing a million miles a minute as his thoughts grew quiet, the only thing in the world right being him and his pretty boy.

From somewhere outside of their bubble he heard Emily say, “Finally,” but he ignored her. He felt Reid go to pull back, but his hands held him still, deepening the kiss.

It wasn’t exactly fireworks and fairy dust, because it was better. It was warmth and love and meaningful. Reid’s hands on his shoulders, his lips parting just enough that he could taste alcohol and fruit and sugar and everything that made Spencer Reid sweet.

Morgan finally pulled away, breathing heavily, swallowing. Reid’s pupils were blown, his lips more swollen now than he had ever seen them. He couldn’t help but chuckle, his thumbs tracing over the sharp cheekbones of his pretty boy. Reid just stared at him, panting.

Finally, Morgan spoke, “God, your lips are so soft.”

Reid’s lips quirked into a smile, his hands reaching up to cover Morgan’s, “I’ve been waiting for you to do that for months now”

“Months?”

Reid nodded, exhaling as his smile grew, “Yeah, ever since I noticed you staring at me more.”

“I was that obvious, huh?”

“Totally obvious,” Reid laughed softly. Morgan leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on his lips, “Alright then,” another kiss, “I guess,” another kiss, “I have some time,” another one, this one tugging on Reid’s lower lips teasingly, “to make up for.”

#moreid #Spencer Reid #Derek Morgan #Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid #criminal minds #all fluff baby #first kiss #criminal minds fandom #moreid fluff #moreid blurb #sarah writes

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ssavanessa22 · 3 years

Text

Bad blood

Warnings: racism, hate crime, cannon type violence, kinda but not really smutty so like 16+ as always if I missed someone pls tell me !

A/n the girls of Wattpad really liked this one so I hope you all enjoy as well!

"Y/N you and Reid are going to lead this interview even though you are together make a great team and I think you can crake him are you guys okay with that?"

Spencer and I looked and each other and smiled in unison we replied.

"Yes we are more than okay with that"

Spencer and I have been together for 2 years 324days and 6 hours well that's what he said to me when I woke up next him laying of his bare chest, even though we basically spend every day together we still needed uno special time together and oh was it special. Before we told hotch about our relationship we were able to be in the field together until one time I thought Spence died and then I started crying and it was a whole big thing but now are months not working together we got to do what we both love and with each other.

Before we walked into the interrogation room together Spence turned to me and said.

"Are you sure your okay to do this, you don't have to if you don't want to this case is close to you even if he didn't hurt your family"

This unsub was committing hate crime murders for the last nine months pretending to go on dates with balck women then brutally murder them, Garcia found his manifesto online called "the eradication of all unpure women" it took Kevin who was with her at the time to calm her down as she had to read it out loud I felt bad for her but everyone else felt bad for me. Was looking at me in that moment I wished more than ever to be where Tara was right now, interviewing a child rapist.

I replied to Reid whilst plastering on a fake smile,

"Spencer I'm gonna be fine if anything these women looking like me being like me makes me wanna catch this motherfucker even more"

He smiled and gently kissed me before we both walked in.

"Tyler Walker do you know hey your here"

He ignored my question then Spencer asked the same one only then did he reply.

"Tyler if I'm going to be in here you need to speak to both of us" I sternly replied

"Well if your gonna bring you boyfriend in here since you clearly can't do this on you own them I'm gonna talk to the man here if you'd don't mind"

Spencer interjected saying

"Tyler we found the hearts of all the women murdered in you home why were they in there?"

I don't know I didn't touch them"

He didn't ask if you touched them we asked what you did to those girls" I sternly said.

"You know what If you want to know what I hypothetically would have done to those women I tell you, but only little miss chocolate in the room and only her."

Before Reid could protest I said "yeah sure let's talk"

Spencer's POV

As I walked to the door I gave y/n a reassuring smile she turned and gave me one back but her face was filled with anger and fear, she would never tell me this but she was scared. We didn't shy away from the topic of race within our relationship I read of lot of books and educated myself before I even started dating her I would never understand but I will always try my hardest to be there. And sometimes she just wanted to come home and cry let her emotions out about what it was like being black in American and that was okay as well because I love her.

"How do you think she's gonna do in there?" JJ asked reluctantly

"If I'm being honest I don't know"

Y/N's POV

I sat down trying to make myself look bigger and take up more space within the room than I actually did to encourage my self but in my head I was fucking shitting it.

"Okay we are alone now tell me"

"Just remember sweetheart this is all hypothetical I never did anything if the thing I am about it say" Tyler replied in a menacing tone

"Yes I know get on with it then"

The next 15 minutes felt like a blur, 15 minutes 900 seconds that's how long I heard Tyler speak about all the torcher he wanted to our women like me through half way he started to refer to the women with my name making me imagine him doing these Haines and despicable things to me. I think what was the worst part was that he was smiling whilst he describe these disgusting thing to me he smiled I felt violated and felt used and felt like he had infested my personal space chipping away at the emotional armour I developed whilst having this job.

Once he finished I was on the brink tears but I never going to show him that I left the room being met only by Spencer's face he was seething but I didn't care I just wanted him to hold me to tell me everything was going to be okay.

"Y/N it's okay your okay your other now" he said whilst soothing me.

"I just don't think I can get back in there-"

As I said that Derek stormed in took one look at me and brought me to his arms even though it wasn't Spencer it just felt right in the time to hug him he would understand the most out of the team what I was going through.

"Y/N I know you said you don't want to go back in there but he got him his prints were all over the bodies we found and he had the hearts of the victims he's going to go away for a long time but now you can tell him that take back your power Y/N"

"Ok I'll do it"

"Y/N are you sure you wanna do it this you don't have to?" Spencer said whilst searching my eyes for any fear I had.

I smirked at Spencer whilst he looked at me in confusion I replied.

"Nope I'm okay and I know just what I'm gonna talk about"

By this point the whole team was in the room

"Y/N are you okay love I heard what happened"

"I'm okay Emily but right now you get to watch me drag a white supremacist to filth."

I barged into the interrogation room not letting Tyler speak.

"Okay listen Up bird brain your already done for we found your prints all over the body and that were at your house so now this is just a formality"

"So if you think you've caught me why I am not in a jail cell right now? Hmm"

"You were so nice to me and described the rape, torture, murder and the disfigurement that you would do to me so now I'm just going to repay the favour"

"You know you were right about him being my boyfriend you know"

"so the lanky white one is you boyfriend, I've always said that pure breads shouldn't mix with you people"

"Tyler your going to prison for a very long time you racist rhetoric means nothing to me,but since you I have been so kind to me I am going to spend the next 15 no 20 minutes going in full detail about the amazing sex I had with my white boyfriend last night if we can fit it all in 20 minutes. We will just have to see won't we?"

Spencer's POV

My jaw had dropped to the floor when y/n said that I mean yes it would be hot for her to describe every single we did last night both of us have an eidetic memory so I know she remembers it all but in front of a racist unsub I had I was weirdly impressed and terrified at the same time.

"You don't think she's actually gonna do that?" I asked to the team in complete and utter shock

"Reid when was the last time y/n has ever lied to us?"

"Once JJ but she couldn't even go the whole day telling the lie she ended buying hotch a dozen of his favourite donuts even though she only ate one"

Derek and Emily started chuckling and said.

"That means she's not lying"

The unsub was seething with anger when y/n carried on speacking

" Tyler I didn't a little digging on you and I found out form you pervious girlfriends that apparently you can't put it up in one of you girlfriends exact words she says no matter how hard I tried he could never get hard"

"You don't know anything you slut"

"oop Tyler your using big words especially with someone who only has the education of a 5th grader"

But you know what Tyler lucky for you I have and eidetic memory I don't think you know what that is so I'm just gonna tell you... that means I remember everything so we're gonna have some fun together hmm"

20 minutes, 1200 seconds that's how long y/n spoke in detail about about sexual escapades from last night throughout these 20 minutes Derek started recording so he could send this back to Garcia. Light chuckles and laughs were heard here and there then oos and ahhs, then total shock was the look on everyone's face and a gasp coming from Garcia who Derek had patched in a phone call so she could listen too when y/n got to the last bit. I guess they just assumed because I'm the youngest apart from y/n and .... well I'm me that we would have a boring sex life but I guess we surprised them.

Y/N's POV

After I finished I wasted no time in leaving but before I did I said one more thing.

Tyler you are going to prison for a very long time you probably get life or even the death penalty so I want you to remember what I spoke to you about every single time you try your hardest to get it up every. Single. Time. I hope you know after your manny years in prison never getting to see the outside again and you die I will be sleeping soundly knowing you are burning in hell"

I walked out and the whole team was silent in utter shock of what I said then i realised I probably shouldn't have said any of that too an unsub.

" omg hotch I am so sorry that was completely inappropriate and unacceptable what I did in there and wasn't right at all I-"

"I'm sorry y/n I don't know what your talking about what did you say in there"

"What I just spent the last 20 minutes-"

Seriously y/n what are you talking about you went I told him what he was being charge for and you walked back out hun what are you talking about?"

Im what I'm so confused what?"

Then Spencer finally said

"Babe I know I can be dumb sometimes but please read the room"

I looked around still so confused until I finally realised.

Ohhhhh ok yeah yeah I get it now"

Okay but when are you are pretty boy releasing the sex tape cause I would like to pre order"

The whole teams was laughing including me and Spencer I replied simply with

"in your dreams Morgan in your dreams"

#wattpad #spencer ried smutt #ssavanessa22 #spencer walter reid #spencer reid x reader #cm #criminal minds #black stories #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x y/n

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johobi · 4 years

Text

Falling, Falling, Gone

Word count: 5.8k

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Warnings: None really, it’s my first ‘SFW’ fic, though there is some extremely bad language in here. And there might be an erection because I can’t help myself.

A/N: This is the fourth and final ‘drabble’ for the drabble game I ran ages ago. Prompt: “The thought of me making out with someone else is ruining you.”

Music inspo: Don’t Be So Serious, Baby Don’t Stop, Waste It On Me

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23477485

Taehyung. Captain of the soccer team. Master of your heart. You'll never tell him for fear of rejection.

So why the fuck are you about to do it in front of dozens of his peers?

Banana and peanut butter become pulp in your mouth as you glare out the kitchen window. It's so grey out there. Greyer than it has any right to be. As if your dour mood has polluted the very atmosphere. Rain lashes the exterior in leaden pellets, each one compounding your headache like a rap on the head. Don't be so serious, your bluetooth speaker croons as you chew and chew, unblinking. The bridge of your glasses slip further down your nose but you don’t correct them. Don't be so serious.

Oh, but it's all so serious.

Your final portfolio lacks in ways your mentor is incapable of articulating, and you only have so much time to fix it. Your college life is coming to a close. There are frighteningly few opportunities out there and they’re sure to spurn a sham like you. What do you do now? Where do you go from here—

"God, you listen to such depressing music," a husky voice sounds. It’s thick with sleep and horribly attractive. You hear his feet next; big and bare as they slap the tile floor and disrupt the ambience.

Yes, dismal is an ambience.

Before you glimpse the interloper himself, his fingers pilfer your next mouthful of toast. His other hand has your phone and is skipping through your carefully curated playlist of moody tunes. With all the scant energy you can muster, you glower at him.

“Taehyung.”

Soccer captain. Campus celebrity. Doofus.

Unlikely friend and unlikelier crush. But life is strange, and he is both these things. Indeed, he proclaims himself your best friend to all who will listen. As for the matter of your tender feelings, however, he is oblivious. And will remain so.

Taehyung is long-legged and limber-bodied, but round of face and feature. A kitten in a tiger’s pelt. Will mew for affection and roar when angry. Has quite literally nudged your hand for pets and raged at referees in the same afternoon. There is usually no in-between.

Your scowl goes unseen. He sidles past like the oblivious buffoon he is and continues to tamper with Spotify. Smears his peanut-buttered thumb around your phone display. Ugh. You brush back your hood and fix him again with extra scorn.

"Actually, douchebag, it’s good music for thinking. And I have a headache. I hardly wanna listen to something like—no, don't you dare put fucking Party Rock on right now. Tae!"

It’s too late. The lanky idiot is already gesticulating to the beginning beats. Your phone is an unreachable hostage in his flapping hands. You’re about to lunge for it but he preempts the attack by smothering you with your own hood. “Tae.” Your whining sounds all the more pitiful muffled. “Everyfing hurfs. ‘m hungover. Pleathe.”

Taehyung relents after further, strangled pleas. Unwraps you with a grin that grows like the sunrise. For a moment, you’re dazzled. “Sorry. No more torture,” he chuckles all low, hair in his eyes. His locks are long and always untamed. An aureate crown befitting of his celebrity status.

One swipe and he’s muted the racket and returned your phone. You turn the sticky thing over in your hands, rueing the day you met the overgrown imp. “How did you get it this dirty…?”

You go ignored and Taehyung gets closer. He scrutinises your hunched and hoodied appearance with a thoughtful hum. “Headache?” A rounded nose and two brown eyes come into focus. "Hungover? How? I didn't see you go out last night."

Averse to such study, you shy away. "Well, I did." You did not. You stayed home and guzzled $4 Prosecco while lamenting your trash portfolio. But you aren’t about to regale him with that pitiful tale. The sheerness of shame prevents you. Taehyung would be so sweet about it, too! So buoying, with his sunny smiles and fervent encouragement: "Why were you crying over that?!" He'd ask. "Your work is amazing. Seriously amazing. I love everything you do!" He'd gush. "People will be stumbling over themselves to hire you!" He'd continue, naively. And that hurts the most, because he just doesn't get it. Taehyung is a sponsored, collegiate athlete that's graduating into a guaranteed draft. He is—and always has been—praised widely as up-and-coming. The kid has had scouts scrapping for him mid-way through high school!

You, however, are small fry, swimming in a shoal of other unknowns, leaping for the hook of internship. Your dreams of animating for Disney died long back. They dwelled with Walt now.

But you don’t resent Taehyung for any of it. Ever. He’s a paragon. Born for the limelight. Has sweat and bled oceans for it. And for some reason he insists that you, too, are deserving of that same renown. Why? He’s ridiculous. Far too kind. And—Christ, he has a big dick.

"Taehyung, can you please not shove your tiny fucking penis in my face while I'm trying to eat? I'm nauseous enough as it is."

The soccer captain rests a foot on the seat next to you, giving you ungainly insight into his crotch. Taehyung, as he often, inexplicably is, is clad only in his boxer-briefs. This would be alarming were it not so goddamn commonplace. He is allergic to clothes.

According to him, he’s a naturist.

According to you, he’s an attention whore.

Taehyung points to his elevated foot, but it's a little difficult to ignore the bulge he's brandishing. "Do you understand the concept of inappropriate proximity and your current state of undress?" You rattle on, words slurred half by OJ, half by fluster. He simply points again, and with more insistence. Relenting, you follow the line of his finger to his pretty, if gigantic, foot. Then notice the ink around his ankle, black and fresh. "Oh, wow, you got a tattoo? Cool!"

"Yep! I didn't ever really think about getting one 'til I saw yours. They were so cool I became kinda obsessed with getting one. So I finally did it last night."

‘Til he saw yours? Your stomach flutters. It's not the nausea. You smother it with more orange juice. "Well, that's awesome, Tae. You'll probably want more eventually. I would've gone with you if I'd known you were gonna go alone."

Finally, he lowers his leg. It’s a small mercy. But then, for no discernible, earthly reason, Taehyung begins flexing his many defined muscles. His calves in particular catch your attention. They’re so goddamned thick. They ripple. Fucking soccer players. "Hm? Oh, I wasn't alone. I went with some guys from the team." He ogles his reflection in the microwave door.

How can you avert your eyes when his pecs dance so compellingly? It all becomes a bit too much. "Okay, what are you doing? Seriously, what? I know you're into yourself, but this is ridiculous.” He stops. Snorts. Thank God. “If you were with the guys, why did you come back here last night? I thought you’d go back to your dorm."

Finally Taehyung sits, but he’s spread-legged and that’s perhaps worse than what he was doing just now. He’s 6ft of pure, hewn sex and just so fucking casual about it. He reclines. "Some of them took girls home last night so I needed somewhere to go and you're always an open door." Finger guns follow a cheesy wink.

You scoff, but he's right. You’d do anything for the big-hearted clown. Open door? You'd be the doormat under his soccer cleats, licking them free of dirt— "You're lucky Areum isn’t here right now. Don't think she’d take kindly to having some almost-naked oaf clambering into her bed."

"You say that, but she’s tried to hit this several times.” Taehyung is smug, brows high on his forehead. Yours lower harshly. “Tell her I slept in her bed last night. She’ll cream herself thinking about it later, I guarantee you."

“You’re gross. And can you stop—why do you keep flexing? There’s just me here.” You peer about for emphasis. Taehyung is again admiring his form in some burnished surface. “No-one is looking. Or cares.” Contrarily, you’re doing both those things. But he needn’t be privy to that.

"This is serious. I need to work on my angles.” He contorts himself into something of a pretzel to peek at his back muscles. “We're holding a hook-up auction at our dorm to raise money for a graduation blow-out. And I'm on sale. Do you think I need to work on my back?"

You ease into a squint. "When you said serious, I thought serious words were about to follow."

"I am being serious!" Again Taehyung flexes, biceps bulging by his ears like an overfed turkey’s thighs. "How much do you think I'm worth?"

The world.

"I dunno. I'd take you for free, I guess, if you were the last one left."

Taehyung is unperturbed by your acerbic wit. It ricochets off him like rubber bullets would a muscle-bound ox. He is your greatest adversary. The bastard lacquers his lips until they’re plump and glossy and boasting a smirk.

He’s always doing this.

Always moistening himself.

"Oh yeah? Well, I think you'll be disappointed." A boxy smile emerges. "I got girls and guys already approaching me about it. Some of the guys literally just wanna buy me for mentoring. I mean, that’s more effort than kissing, but—" He shrugs. The thought goes unfinished.

"That makes sense. You are a God among these mere mortals, Taetae." It's not sarcasm this time. Taehyung senses it. The grin he returns is life-affirming. You're so close to reaching across the table and squeezing his hand. Telling him you're proud. Telling him you most likely, maybe, love him. But you notice you've dragged your sleeve through peanut butter—”Ah, shit,”—and you can tell him how you feel some other day.

Some other day.

"Some of them just wanna make out too, of course, and, like, I'm happy to comply. It's all for charity." His altruism knows no limits.

"Charity, huh?" You snort. Taehyung's mouth grows more square at your incredulity. "Who else is up for bidding, then?"

"Mostly guys from the team and dorm. There are some mutuals who just wanna get in on the action, too. Uh, you know Kim Namjoon?" He measures your reaction. When you give none: "Jeon Jungkook?"

Disinterest mellows your features. "Oh, right. Cool."

"So you don't like Jeon Jungkook?" Taehyung's eyes are eager, his body poised. Anticipating.

"What? No. What gave you that idea? I've talked to him, like, twice." Your face crumples as you towel your soiled sleeve. The peanut butter smears into a tragic, shit-brown stain. "Damn, that's never coming out."

"He's gonna be so disappointed. He might even cry." Taehyung heaves a hammy sigh and clutches at his breast. There’s nothing the captain enjoys more than clowning his subordinates. "Kook likes you so much. He's really into your whole androgynous fuckboi thing you got going on. He literally said, 'She's like a mystery, man. I'm not sure if she's a girl or a guy and—like, I'm not like that, but that's hot.'"

If your eyes could roll past the bounds of their sockets, they would. "Wow, what a poet. He sounds like a douchebag and I'm even less interested now. Fuckboi? Is that really the vibe I give off?" You don't fuck full stop. Nor were you aware you could dress like you do.

"I dunno. You just seem kinda like a gremlin to me. Or like that weird guy from Death Note," Taehyung is quick to reassure you. Cool. You’re fucking overjoyed that he perceives you that way. Not as a goddess, or his beautiful, sexy soulmate, or the princess that wanders the spires of his captive heart. No. A gremlin. Or L.

"Well, you got me there, son."

"What about Kim Namjoon?" Taehyung presses, urgent again. He picks at your bread crusts with one hand, head cradled delicately in the other. The boy could be a world-class model, too. His loose, dark curls hang like a Van Gogh nightscape, framing the planes of his unmarred face. It hurts to look at him. It hurts to be looked at.

A self-conscious shuffle. "What about him? I don't know who that is." You flick away his foraging fingers but he draws you into an impromptu game of thumb-war in retaliation. It's the only thing to extract a smile from you today.

Taehyung looks sceptical. "He's the physio student with our team! You literally talked to him all day during this season's semi-final." His lengthy digits best yours easily. But though the match is won, he doesn’t withdraw his hand. Instead he encroaches further. Thumbs your wrist. Encompasses your knuckles in a soft, warm palm. He’s clasping you like an enamoured suitor might their bashful sweetheart, and it’s very strange. What is he doing? His mind looks to be elsewhere, now.

"Uh...—oh. Oh." Yours ambles back to you. "Yeah, he was really nice, but you know my rule. No—"

"—dating in final year. Yeah, I know. I'll tell him that if he asks about you again." Taehyung has returned, too. His hand is gone. Your gooseflesh ebbs with it.

With a cough, you sober. "I think the auction's a bit stupid, really, Tae. You sure you wanna do it?"

"Stupid? Why?" He shimmies in close, smug on his face and intolerably naked the rest of the way down. His skin is hot and golden and just far too close. "You're only saying that because you're jealous, right?" He tickles your chin to keep you honest and your eyes on him. You seize and squeeze the offending hand because he might be right and now you’re embarrassed. "The thought of me making out with someone else is ruining you," he goes on to say, brazen as the smirk defiling his cherubic cheeks.

"Some rather large conclusion-jumping going on there," you smile, sweet as sugared cyanide. Your vice-grip tightens until he’s pouting in repentance. "I meant it's stupid to put yourself in a potentially uncomfortable situation if you don't want to kiss that person."

"I'm just joking!" he whimpers like the overlarge puppy he is and you free him of his snare. Because you would die for this big, soppy boy and his big, soppy eyes. “You’re so grouchy today.”

‘The joke won’t land if it collides with the truth, Taehyung,’ you muse. You expect him to know this despite never having apprised him of your situation. You’re jealous and cowardly and completely unreasonable. You want him for yourself but you never want him to know that.

If he wants your candour he should be a telepath. Simple.

Irritated by your own nonsense, you lash out at the unsuspecting boy. "You know what? I was joking, too. I remember Namjoon, he was hot. And smart. I think I'll cheat on my dating ban this once and bid on him. He has super nice lips, so."

Taehyung simply smiles. "Oh, okay. Cool! Glad you’re gonna come along."

Your threat proves ineffective because he doesn’t like you like that. Wouldn’t give a shit if Namjoon rawed you on stage while you stared him down. You stall on that thought because it’s kinda hot. “It’ll be great. Can’t wait to get my tongue down his throat.”

“Hell yeah! I knew you liked him.”

Yep, Taehyung is oblivious to your pining. As he should be. Because outwardly, your pining consists of nothing more than the odd, lingering look here and there. The balled-up sketches of him he will never see. A secret smile if you’re feeling particularly sentimental. Other than that, you're steely. Poker-faced. Rarely blind-sided by his allure, especially now that you've acclimated to his penchant for exhibitionism.

"Thank you in advance for your patronage." Rising from his seat, Taehyung comes to a stand behind you and leans. Encircles your shoulders with his terribly athletic arms and puts his lips to your ear. You're like a feral cat in the arms of a senseless child. You're bristling. "If he turns out to be a jerk and tries something he shouldn't, I'll protect you." For a moment, you're touched enough to unclench a little. "With these guns." And then you choke between his straining biceps and vie to repay him in kind.

----

The common room of Taehyung's dorm has been crudely transformed. Some questionable construction has taken place in order to build the catwalk centrepiece. Sofas and tables line the walls, thrust from the limelight. You've occupied the drinks table for the last 45 minutes, from the second you entered this place. You harbour an intense dislike for the chaotic energy of Taehyung's dorm. Machismo rages noisily between these walls and you much prefer less testosterone-drenched environments. Nevertheless, despite it all you're here on an endeavour this evening. One your idiot, rampant mouth has obligated you to. To buy time with a guy that's perfectly nice and all, but isn’t Taehyung.

Kim Namjoon makes eyes at you from the head of the runway, awaiting his musical cue. The beer you just slurped down bubbles up. You have to look away. Unfortunately, when you do, Taehyung is immediately there, his face in yours, his thumb and fingers pulling at your cheeks. "Hey you, don't get too drunk, okay? I don't trust a single man here. Especially not nice-as-pie Namjoon."

Nice-as-pie Namjoon has chosen some Bruno Mars track by the sounds of it. The auction-goers' excitement ramps up considerably.

Unable to move your captured face, your eyes sweep the room. "Not even your own teammates?" you scoff cynically, swatting at his hands until he’s baited into a game of slapsies. "Now who sounds jealous?"

Taehyung stops for a moment, thoughtful. "You know, you're right. I'm extremely jealous. I want Namjoon all to myself. He gives the best massages. And a happy ending when I ask nicely." And then he's back to rough-housing you, slapping your upper arms to alternating beats. "You look cute tonight. Your outfit, I mean," he offers up out of nowhere, so quiet you almost lose it to the bass. "He's lucky."

But you look exactly the same as you did earlier that day. Exactly the same as that afternoon in the cafeteria when he ribbed you for raiding Billie Eilish's Good Will donations. "Um, thanks. I guess." You're genuine, but don’t sound it. You can't look at him for fear of revealing the dopey grin that has hijacked your face.

"You're welcome, buddy." A large palm flattens your hair. His fingers get all in there, ruffling it until it probably looks more akin a bird's nest. Is Taehyung trying to sabotage you? Also, buddy? "Look, Namjoon's walking."

You turn and see that he is. Strutting, moreover, albeit awkwardly. It's obvious that the lanky boy is unaccustomed to the same attention the team he services is. Nevertheless, there are whoops and hollers aplenty for the handsome blonde dork, and you, too, catch yourself smiling. How can you not, when he pokes at his dimples so? The others seem captivated, too, though less by the finger-hearts and more by his form-fitting tracksuit.

“I’d wrap my car around a tree if he was the tree,” one auction-goer confides to her friend. “And then I’d wrap my legs around—”

“Yeah, we get it Lisa.”

Lisa quiets.

Namjoon’s endless legs sidle to a stop at the catwalk's end, directly opposite you. His bespectacled eyes meet your bespectacled eyes. For one, long second, the interest is palpable. But then he breaks, and casts his gaze down to his FILAs.

"Okay, he's, like, in love with you, I think," Taehyung whisper-yells, hands aflurry in applause. "Are you gonna bid?"

Shouts puncture the cheering either side of the room.

"$10!"

"$20!"

Neither of them are you.

The evening’s auctioneer - Taehyung's partner-in-slime Park Jimin - echoes each cry that rings out, giggling into a tinny karaoke mic. "$20 for our team physio?! Is that all you got ladies and gents? Do I have to remind you this guy can grope away pain with his magic hands?"

Namjoon spins toward Jimin's makeshift podium of an upturned bookcase and menaces him with his eyes. Well, it would be menacing were the man not as threatening as a ribbon-wrapped basket of newborn sloths.

The striker backpedals. "Okay, the massage might not be included, but don't let that deter you! He kisses like a pro!"

Screams of how do you know that, Jimin?! erupt and the throng grows ever more wild. Namjoon is redder than the cup you're strangling.

"Are you gonna bid?! You're gonna miss your chance!" For some reason Taehyung is still here, harassment game still strong. He should be preparing to walk next, but sees fit to pester you instead. And because of that, he's caught you in your lie, bare-faced and blushing.

No, you are not going to bid on Kim Namjoon.

"Uh, oh no, I forgot my purse," you grumble around the rim of your next drink, gulping it down like the bottom is your way out of this God-awful situation.

Then what are you doing here?

"It's right there." Taehyung pokes the cross-body bag hanging traitorously by your side.

"Oh, is it?" You reach for another cup even while burdened with one. Anything to sidetrack this conversation.

Taehyung intervenes with a firm hand. Swaddles your knuckles ‘til the shaking stops. You’re shaking? Beer slops over the sides, unnoticed. “___?”

Stupid, warm hand. And why are his fingers so fucking delicate for a footballer? He should model jewellery. Wedding rings.

Yours.

His ringless fingers close around your wrist when you persist in avoiding his gaze. The ruse is almost up. Fuck. There’s nothing left to do but to look at him.

You do, ever so timidly. “What?”

"What are you doing?" Puzzlement becomes him well. Why is he so goddamn handsome? "If you aren't gonna bid on Namjoon, why did you come?"

Silence, but for the pump of background Bruno Mars.

‘You. I came for you. You were the plan all along. Not him,’ your mind screams.

You, however, just stare.

"Going—going—gone! Sold for $70! Come claim your kiss!" Jimin can hardly stop himself from squealing. For a guy that beds girls on the daily, his sincere excitement over simple lip-locking is amusing.

Taehyung's teammates hail him from the drapery behind the catwalk but he won't yet go. No, he insists on searing holes into the side of your face while you watch Namjoon get sloppy on-stage with some girl you don't know. They're really getting into it. Damn, he forgot about you quick. In their fervour they edge towards the bounds of the catwalk, too absorbed in one another to notice. Thankfully, voyeuristic bystanders are on-hand to catch them before they fall.

"Kim Taehyung! How many times do I have to call you?! Get over here before I kick your fucking ass," Jungkook roars across the hubbub, halfway through the room. He enacts the violent gesture for emphasis and knees some unsuspecting girl in the ass. Immediately the macho facade drops and he's all doe-eyed and buck-toothed, prostrating himself before the girl who actually seems grateful to have been assaulted by one Jeon Jungkook. Between his hushed apologies, Jungkook shoots Taehyung a look something murderous. And then he sees you and throws a shy wave, the kind a little kid might when cajoled by his parents.

"Ew." The word comes up involuntarily, like bile.

A deep cackle emanates from beside you. "Okay, guess I'm up." Taehyung squares his shoulders. His mouth, too. He's a very angular boy. "Better get my kit on. Cheer for me!" With a pat to your shoulder, he makes for Jungkook. Leaves you with an insidious dread. His soccer kit is your weakness.

No, he is your weakness.

"Next up - and I'm sure most of you here tonight are anticipating this guy - our very own Team Captain and soon-to-be Major League Soccer player, Kim Taehyung!" Banshee-shrieking reverberates at Jimin's announcement. "Stick around, he'll be out in a few minutes!"

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. You turn from the catwalk and fully embrace the drinks table, supporting yourself with two hands and God's grace.

Nah, you aren't gonna do this.

No way.

This wasn’t an actual plan. Just a fantasy.

You're not gonna tell him like this.

You're not gonna tell him ever.

All you have to do is just say you turned out to support him. You rarely get to go out with him anyway, what with his ever-growing entourage. Taehyung would appreciate that, and he'd never have to know that you came here for cornier purposes.

You're not a big gesture kind of girl.

Nah, you aren't gonna do this.

Distantly, you wished Areum were here. She'd have slapped some sense into you, maybe even literally.

No. Wait.

The devious cow would've talked you into doing it. For sure. She has a flair for the dramatic.

"Sorry, can I just—thanks." Someone with offensively bony elbows bulldozes you aside and passes a drink to her companion. An apology is on the tip of your tongue but evaporates into the ether upon seeing the twosome in question. Both were complicit in the casual bullying you endured during your high school years. They don't appear to recognise you now. Not that they even spare your pitiful person a glance.

"Who's up next?" the worst one queries, cup snug to her bosom.

"Taehyung," the lackey answers, glee upending her petulant features. "Kim Taehyung."

An elbow jabs you again as the girl struggles with the clasp on her clutch. Her overlong claws impede her. "Oh shit, already? I thought we had more time. Shit."

"Nope. It's go time. Hurry up, girl, competition's gonna be fierce." The other one watches her digital acrobatics to get into her purse.

Oh God. She has so much money. There's no doubt in your mind she'll trump everyone present.

No. Oh, no.

Not her. Not with him.

Your mind flits through premonitions of the future. They’re all rather grim. The last one is that of a wedding. A marriage between this dreadful bitch and your most cherished of friends, Taehyung. It's garish and tacky - she's denied him input, of course - and the ceremony is filled with faces that once mocked you mercilessly. None of Taehyung's friends are there; indeed, he is no longer even part of his team. Her possessiveness and his undying loyalty have put an end to his blossoming career. He looks sad beneath a mask of happy. Eyes that once blazed with the embers of ambition are doused by despondency. He is a husk.

And their first meeting is this auction, this cute anecdotal encounter of oh, I just had to have him, and when I kissed him I knew.

Just a glimpse at this dystopian future disturbs you silly. Conviction, while tentative, burgeons in your heart.

You can't let her have him. Anyone but this noxious cunt.

And suddenly you've money in hand, too. Bills you withdrew specifically for this purpose, and yet would sooner have left them crisp and cold in your purse than followed through. But public humiliation is endlessly preferable to damning Taehyung to a kiss with this serpent. Because it won't stop there. It won't just be a kiss but an appeal for more. She’ll say it’s no strings attached, but she doesn't attach strings. She weaves webs. You recall her high school boyfriend. He was a well-performing, jovial guy that always waved hi. And she consumed him, heart-first, ‘til he was naught but a sunken-eyed zombie. He took a leave of absence that never ended.

Sexy, dangerous synth sounds from the speakers either side the catwalk. Ah, shit. Not that song. Any song but that one. NCT U’s Baby Don’t Stop. Of course Taehyung picked that. It fills the air with a fatal drum beat and in he comes through the curtains, strutting like he is the rhythm. The room, rather than become uproarious, falls eerily quiet. Everyone breathes as one entranced being, and no one moves but him. Halfway down the catwalk he body-rolls with the fluidity of wind-rippled satin, burgeoning from his chest and snapping at the hips. Prospective bidders gasp, as do you. And then his thumb is in the hem of his shirt, luring it upwards, exposing his olive expanses inch by mouthwatering inch. You see his abs near every day, but in this context, backed by that song, you find yourself as winded as everyone else. His stomach tautens for show, feeding into loose-waisted shorts that sit far too low. Even you haven’t been privy to this much. And especially not the alluring trail of hair that thickens at his waistband.

Someone shatters the stupor and screams, “$80!”

“Geez, you’re a horny bunch.” Jimin’s laughter peals. “We already have $80. Any advance on—“

“$100!” Some breathless sap cries next. “Oh my God, look at his thighs!”

And look you do. Taehyung grooves at the catwalk’s end, shirt back in place but hiking up the hems of his shorts instead. You almost glimpse groin. He’s absolutely shameless, straining the muscles of his thighs until they’re lewdly pronounced. They’re veritable tree trunks. His calves, too, defy belief. Rock-hard and rounded and begging to be bitten. The party-goers crowding round his feet must think similarly.

What distracts you most, however, are Taehyung’s straying fingers. They skirt his crotch in a salacious manner, stretching the material where it shouldn’t. Accentuating things they shouldn’t. You may pass out.

All the while his eyes are down, maybe closed. You want to see his face more than anything. The playful smirk on his plump, wet lips and the focus in his brows.

“$120!!” You almost lose your head to a cash-strangling fist beside you.

It's her. Pointy-elbowed bitch.

But you aren't thrusting your student loan up just yet. You're in the middle of an almost holy, revelatory experience. Taehyung is still undulating and provoking the crowd, who are no longer hushed but whooping like chimps in heat. His shirt is off and helicoptering overhead. He allows one overcome girl at the sidelines to verify the thew of his biceps and bags himself another bid. You, however, do nothing but gawp, bills clutched to your chest and your eyes affixed to the glorious grin that breaks across his face. His eyes open onto you and then it's you you see at his wedding, standing afore him, bouquet instead of a wad of cash. You want to be the one. Now is the moment, while he's watching you envision this.

"$200,” you splutter. Volume is difficult when your voice is a quivering inconstant.

"What was that? Did we just get another bid?" Jimin wavers too, out of disbelief. "Did someone say $200?!"

The room is a clamour of confusion but Taehyung watched you mouth the very syllables. The shock is such that it softens his salacious movements to a dance more modest. His eyes are wider than you've ever seen them; mouth too. It hangs agape and downturned, as yours does. Because you're not quite sure whether you said something else altogether. Maybe you hurled a cuss word out of frustration? Did you momentarily black out and proclaim Hitler did nothing wrong? Nothing else can account for the scrutiny with which he punishes you with now.

Or.

You actually did bid, and that's why he's walking over, to the very drop-off of the catwalk, no longer any swagger to his step. "What are you doing?" he calls down, the music still strong and now strangely inappropriate. You simply watch the mole beneath his bottom lip move, dumb.

Louder, now, you call again. "$200!"

"Oh! It was a bid! ____?!" The flame-haired MC shares his puzzlement with the rest of the reacting room. All heads turn toward you.

But yours turns nowhere but Taehyung, your expression an open book of long-hidden liking. You watch, suspended by dissociation, as he lays a palm flat against his chest. "Me?"

It could all still be explained away. A joke. You drank too much. You just wanted to see the look on his face. Instead, you grant him the minutest of nods. A simple tip of the chin. "You," you whisper, whether it's heard or not.

Taehyung sees it in the shape your lips make. And then his gaze sweeps back upward, his chest heaving far too much for a man standing stationary.

"What's going on?" The disgruntled echo each other.

Jimin is quick to make sense of things and keep it rolling. "Okay, so, a bid of $200! Anyone else?"

A new song comes on; it's gone on too long. Something with a cantering beat that's adequately sentimental.

So if love is nothing more than just a waste of your time—

Clambering atop the platform, you counter someone's desperate bid of $220 with a measured breath. "$250." You hold Taehyung at fingerpoint. "You."

Waste it on me.

For a pants-shitting second, nothing happens. Your outstretched arm gains a tremor that could crumble it. Taehyung sifts your soul with his big, dewy eyes and then he's walking. Stalking toward you. Knocks the money from your hands and seizes your shying face with both of his. The last thing you see is his nose mole before his mouth joins with yours. His grip is like a vice and his lips are no gentler. They pry you open with little effort and then you're flooded with wet heat. Taehyung is insatiable in pursuit of your tongue. His hands drop to draw in your waist, your chest, every inch of your overclothed form. He's underclothed but burning hot, planes of honed skin beneath your fingertips. It's all so right. Feels so good. Taehyung moans that much into you when he chances a breath of air. Applause starts up as the music swells. It's so cliche but you've never had a cliche of your own before and your gloom-ridden ass needs this.

"Going—"

"I didn't know. I wish I had. This would've happened sooner," Taehyung gasps between desperate, too-short smooches. It proves too difficult to resist the pull of your mouth and he captures it again, sloppier. Slower.

"Going—"

"It doesn't matter." You pull the oxygen in, impatient. "Doesn't matter." Your fingers are a tangle at the nape of his neck, tugging on his lustrous locks. "Make up for it."

"Gone! Sold for $250!"

The two of you won't be parted for a moment. Not even when dismounting the platform. There's ruckus around you but it's so distant when his lips are on you. You sink into him like you would a scalding bath. "You don't have to pay that," Taehyung tells your cheek, smearing his saliva-slick mouth back to yours. His greed for you manifests against your stomach, and you ache in return. "This is a freebie."

Your passionate clinch takes you to the sidelines, away from prying eyes. Most of them, anyway. "What about this?" Your hands are suddenly in unseemly places.

"Th-That's also free. Everything's free. Oh, God."

#taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung fluff #taehyung scenarios #v #v fluff #v scenarios #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #v x reader #v x you #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts x you #bts x reader

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arumin-arureruto · 3 years

Text

Honeytea PT 1

Kyoya x fem reader and Hikaru x fem reader, Kyoya angst, Hikaru slowburn.

Warnings: manipulation, Kyoya angst

word count: 2k

songs to listen to while reading:

The Night We Met - Lord Huron

Everything I wanted - Billie Eilish

Bitches Broken Heart - Billie Eilish

(I'll probably make a Spotify playlist at some point)

Outfit reader is wearing:

"ouch" the boiling hot water dripped from the tip of the tea kettle and onto your hand

"Mrs Ootori let me help you with that" said one of the kitchen workers as she rushed to your aid, already grabbing a towel.

"Oh no it's ok, this is for Kyoya and I would like to make him tea myself, I haven't been in a kitchen in so long though it seems I'm a bit rusty." you laughed while running your hand under cold water.

The water helped soothe the burning but you would definitely feel an unpleasant sting later.

This time you payed more attention as you poured the water into the mug.

Looking through the assortments of tea you tried looking for Kyoya's favorite, mint and passionfruit.

You put the tea bag in the water and put back all the other tea boxes, you and Kyoya used to love buying exotic teas from all around the world and trying them. The thought of doing something as simple as drinking tea with your husband made you smile.

You picked up the mug and started walking out of the kitchen, smiling at the staff that were busy at work already prepping for tomorrow's meals.

The manor's halls were dimly lit and empty, Kyoya insisted on buying a big lavish house even though it was just you two most of the time.

Walking slowly as to not spill any of the tea all you could hear was your breathing and your bare feet hitting the cold marble floor.

When you got to Kyoya's office you knocked, and waited for permission to come in.

No answer.

You knocked again and waited.

Still no answer.

You grabbed the doorknob thinking you'd just let yourself in when you remembered what happened last time you walked into his office without permission.

A chill went down your spine and you felt a lump in your throat.

"It's okay, he said it wouldn't happen again" you thought to yourself.

Still you decided to try knocking one more time, after you knocked the third time you heard Kyoya's voice coming from behind the door.

"You may come in"

You slowly opened the door and walked inside, still holding the mug in your hand.

"How can I help you?" he asked not looking up from his laptop.

"I brought you some tea" you hesitantly put it down on his desk, your hands already missing the warmth the mug provided.

"I appreciate it, you may leave" he still wasn't looking at you.

"Actually I was wondering if you wanted to come to bed with me?" you spoke the words quickly and nervously.

"No thank you, I am quite busy at the moment and would like some peace and quiet to continue my work if you don't mind."

"You've been leaving earlier for work and staying up later to finish it, I've just been feeling lonely and wanted to spend some time together that's all"

oh no.

Word vomit.

You did not mean to say that thought out loud.

Kyoya let out a loud and annoyed sigh, he stood up from his desk and started walking towards you.

You felt your heart beating in your ears and a lump starting to form in your throat as his tall lanky figure approached you.

Already preparing yourself for the worst you closed your eyes and looked down.

"Like I said, I am busy at the moment with important work and do not have time to deal with you and your loneliness, will I have to repeat myself a second time?"

His mouth was right next to your ear, you could feel his warm breath on your neck.

"No, I understand" you said, voice barely above a whisper.

"Then you may leave"

you gave a quick nod and turned to leave, already feeling the tears in your eyes threatening to spill while he returned to his desk.

"Y/n, before you leave I ask that you learn your place in this house, you are in no position to waltz into my office and demand that I drop everything to spend time with you, do you hear me?"

You stopped in your tracks. His voice was cold and emotionless, the chill you felt earlier returning.

Your voice shook a little.

"Yes"

"Good, then we understand each other my dear."

You hurried and left Kyoya's office quickly, tears streaming down your face.

You had only been married for a year and 4 months, why was your marriage already dying? Before you got engaged you and Kyoya had already been dating for almost 3 years so you knew he did like you, what happened?

You continued walking to your room, the house's unwelcoming atmosphere making you want to ball up and cry even more.

When you got to the room you and Kyoya shared you frantically looked for your phone, turning over pillows and accidentally messing up the tidy bed one of the maids had made.

"Son of a bitch where is it" you thought while continuing to search the bed. Your vision was blurry because of the tears so that didn't help.

After 5 minutes of turning the room upside down for it you found your phone, sitting neatly on your vanity.

You quickly picked it up and hurriedly scrolled down your contact list.

Majority of the numbers were women from families Kyoya thought it would be beneficial for you to associate with, your actual friends and family took up less than 30% of the numbers in your phone.

After scrolling for a little longer you found the number you had been looking for.

You quickly called the number and waited while it rang.

"Hey this is Hikaru leave a message, or don't, I really don't care."

fuck

It was pretty late so he was probably asleep, but you decided to try again.

You paced around the room and waited while the phone rang a second time.

After what it felt like ages you finally heard a voice.

"y/n?"

Your spirits started to lift and a little smile crept up to your face.

"Hikaru? I'm sorry did I wake you up"

Hikaru let out a sleepy laugh.

"Yeah you big head it's almost midnight, its fine though, what's up? You sound weird"

"I'm-"

You froze, should you tell him?Should you tell him that your marriage was falling apart? That you felt out of place in your own home? that you felt lonelier then ever?

"I've actually been having a pretty shitty night" you laughed, mostly out of nervousness than joy.

Suddenly you couldn't hold it in anymore, tears started running down your face again and you let out a loud, guttural sob.

"Sorry I didn't want you to hear that" you laughed again as you wiped your nose with the sleeves of your robe.

"Y/n what's going on?" Hikaru's voice grew alarmed

"I don't think I can do this over the phone, I have to talk to you, in person."

"Ok I'll come over right now if you want."

It sounded like he was stumbling out of bed and putting on his slippers.

"Oh no no its fine, it can wait till tomorrow" you said quickly, even if Kyoya wasn't home you needed some time alone to think so Hikaru coming over right now was out of the question.

"Are you sure?" he asked, still sounding worried.

"Yes I'm sure, I'll talk to you tomorrow"

"Ok but are you 100% sure?"

You felt a smile creep onto your face

"Go back to sleep Hitachiin"

"Whatever you say Ootori"

You laughed again, this time a genuine laugh.

"Goodnight Hikaru"

"Goodnight y/n"

You hung up, feeling happier than you were before.

You threw your phone on the bed and went into the bathroom that connected to your bedroom to wash your face.

After splashing some cold water on your face you looked into the mirror and almost didn't recognize the woman before you.

What happened?

You had everything anyone could want. Looks, money, power, a rich handsome husband, a high status in society.

Your eyes didn't have the same glint they did back in high school, you felt as if you had aged 2 decades in just 8 years.

You and Kyoya had started dating in your senior year of high school, he was attending his first year at Ouran University and he proposed to you right after he graduated while you were starting your 4th year at the university.

You were happy, everything was going great, it all started going downhill after you got married.

Kyoya became cold, it's as if after he had you wrapped around his finger he didn't bother trying to please you. Sometimes you wondered if the only reason he targeted you was because of how it would make him look, but you couldn't think of a way in which marrying a commoner that was attending Ouran on a scholarship would benefit him in any way.

You tried forgetting those awful thoughts, no, Kyoya loved you, you guys were just going through some hard times as do any couples.

As you leaned on the sink staring at your own reflection you heard Kyoya coming into the room.

You took one last look in the mirror to make sure any traces of your crying were gone.

you turned around and there was Kyoya, silently staring at you while leaning on the door frame.

You didn't know what to do so you just leaned with your back on the sink while he slowly approached you.

He ran his hands down the side of your body down to your thighs and put this face in the crook of your neck.

He inhaled and exhaled, hands feeling the back of your thighs.

"God you smell amazing"

Just his deep voice close to your ear was enough to make your legs go weak.

No.

Sex wasn't getting him out of this.

Until he used words to apologize you weren't going to give him anything.

"I thought you were busy" You said harshly.

"I took care of things that couldn't be delayed, everything else can wait until tomorrow." You could feel his breathing speeding up.

no, nope. Until he apologized he would get nothing.

"Hmm" you said, still not giving him a reaction.

He seemed to pick up on your strategy because he lifted you up and put you on the bathroom counter.

The cold marble against your bare thigh scared you but before you could process the feeling Kyoya put his mouth on your neck and sucked the skin.

Since you were caught by surprise you couldn't suppress the moan that came out of your mouth.

"Now now Mrs Ootori, what troubles you? Giving me the cold shoulder isn't very nice." he was whispering in your ear while undoing your silk robe.

Your own breathing was starting to speed up and you could feel heat pooling at the bottom of your underwear.

"How about you try apologizing?" You didn't try to stop him from undoing your robe.

"And why would I do that?" he asked while feeling the exposed skin on your collarbone with his nose.

"For the way you treated me when I went into your office" You said, anger starting to return.

"To be fair you interrupted me while I was doing very important work and it made me upset, so who here should really be apologizing?"

He was right, you knew how much he valued his work time and you still interrupted him.

Ashamed, you put your head down.

"I'm sorry" you mumbled.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you"

"I'm sorry" this time you said it louder.

Kyoya lifted his head up to look you in the eyes.

"Good girl. Now, there are other ways you could apologize to me."

He picked you up by your thighs from the bathroom counter and carried you to the bed.

By then your robe was already discarded on the bathroom floor and you laid on the bed, just in a thin and short sleeping gown.

Kyoya took off his shirt and pants and straddled himself on top of you, arms on either sides of your head.

Although you laid there with your husband on top of you, all you could think about was seeing your best friend the next day.

A/N: Hey babes so this is just the first chapter, I'm definitely making this a slowburn so expect a lot of chapters. As a Kyoya girl this was painful to write </3, anyways love y'all!!!

#kyoya ootori #ohshc #ouran high school host #kyoya senpai #ouran high school host club headcannons #kyoya headcanon #kyoya x reader #ouran kyoya #ohshc kyoya #hikaru x reader #hikaru hitachiin #ohshc hikaru

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writing-in-april · 4 years

Text

Solaris

Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

This is vaguely inspired by @imagining-in-the-margins part 9 of Here To Misbehave - go check it out it’s amazing!

Warnings- NSFW, public sex, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, swearing

A/N- There are real quotes from the movie in here but may not be in cinematic order, I got them from a quote website. Also the real Solaris movie is not 5 hours and is 166 minutes (it just feels ridiculously long).

Masterlist

Italics are Spencer’s translations.

Spencer and I rarely had a chance to have date nights, because of our jobs we usually grabbed every spare little moment. Usually that resulted in spur of the moment 15 minute dates when we finally had some alone time away from the team. Luckily for our stressed out minds Hotch had finally put his foot down on letting the team have some vacation time. I still am not sure how he got Strauss to agree to a two week vacation.

The two of us now had two weeks to do whatever we wanted, so we agreed to a plan, Spencer would plan the first week and I would do the next. He had been tight lipped about all of his plans until we made our way to the car and he finally broke. He confessed that we were going to see an old film he loved- a Russian film to be exact from 1972 called Solaris.

Spencer always planned out the quirkiest dates, while most people would be put off by movies that I couldn’t even understand or bookstores that were filled with academic books, it made him even more special in my eyes. During the entire ride to the cinema he gave me various facts about this obnoxiously long movie we were about to see (5 hours to be exact), letting me in on all the knowledge he kept up in his gorgeous brain.

“Did you know that the film was written Andrei Tarkovsky and Fridrikh Gorenshtein to attempt to give sci-fi films more emotional depth? They viewed western works in the genre as shallow due to their focus on technological inventions.” He rambled out at impressive speed as we pulled up to the small rundown cinema. Spencer often planned out dates here because they willingly showed foreign and obscure indie films, which he found more appealing over mainstream blockbusters. Plus the yellow tinged cinema lights and old time ticket booths gave off a vintage vibe that we both reveled in.

We made our way up to the ticket booth, my heels making Spencer slow his lanky strides significantly. I could tell he really wanted to sprint to get inside as quick as possible, he hadn’t seen this film in forever and it was one of his favorites. We finally reached the gate where a obviously bored teenage worker took our money and seemingly rolled his eyes at the movie we said we were watching. To a teenager what kind of couple would consider an old Russian film as a romantic movie. We grabbed our tickets, egregiously priced soda and a large popcorn that was probably going to be confiscated by Spencer halfway through the movie.

The theatre was completely empty, not surprising considering how obscure the film was. Spencer picked out seats right in the middle which gave us the best view of the large screen. I sat down in the plush red velvet vintage seats plopping down my soda into the cup holder and letting myself get comfortable. Spencer sat to the left of me already claiming the popcorn for himself as we snuggled up to prepare for the 5 hour movie we were about to watch.

The film started right on time, there weren’t any commercials (for once) and Spencer leaned in close to me to begin translating the film once he realized there were no subtitles. He seemed almost giddy to translate every word that I was undoubtedly missing that I was sincerely glad that the theatre hadn’t turned on subtitles. I loved seeing Spencer happy over quirky things. Though instead of being focused on the translations my mind fixated on how seductive the situation was.

I wondered if he knew what he was doing to me, his lips were a ghost around the shell of my ear as he quietly translated the Russian film. He always carted around an innocent persona wherever he went, not letting it get sullied by his work or the countless amounts of books he read.

“You're human. Each in your own way. That's why you argue."

I could feel the wetness steadily pooling in my panties as he continued to speak, being blissfully ignorant of the naughty thoughts running rampant in my head. Only he could make a sci-fi movie from the 70s about fictional planets sound sexy.

“Who was it? She died 10 years ago."

“What you saw was the materialization of your conception of her.”

“Incidentally, consider yourself lucky. After all she's part of your past. What if it had been something you had never seen before, but something you had thought or imagined."

His endearing innocence was almost painful, I knew he was missing the cues of my flushed cheeks, wriggling thighs, and heavy breathing. It wasn’t like we weren’t intimate as a couple but even when he was dominate I was usually the one to initiate sex. He always told me that even though we had been together for a long time he got caught up in the fact that someone wanted to fuck him. That conversation usually turned into me showing him how much I fucking loved him and how he could be shy just not insecure in our relationship.

I decided that I would have to be the one tonight to coax him into doing something in public. I had confessed before that It was one of my kinks but this would be the first time I would attempt to do it with him.

I grabbed his hand that was situated on my upper thigh and slowly dragged it up the coarse fabric of my jean shorts. Once his nimble fingers caught on the button Spencer’s brain restarted and he pulled away slightly in protest. He was feebly trying to pretend that the idea of fingering his girlfriend in a theatre wasn’t the hottest thing in the world.

“W-we shh-ouldn’t be doing this y/n!!!!” He whisper shouted at me meekly. I gripped his hand harder keeping it in position as my other hand undid the button of my shorts.

“If you’re really uncomfortable I’ll stop, but I just find the idea of doing something so risqué exciting. Don’t you?” I shot right back at him with a coy smile and I knew I had him right where I wanted him. He still looked hesitant but started to move his hand under my shorts on his own. I gasped quietly as his fingers bypassed my shorts and snuck right under my panties. His full attention was on me now totally forgetting his previous job of translating the film for me. He finally breached my folds feeling just how wet he had gotten me just from translating an obscure Russian film.

“See how wet I am Spence? It’s all for you.” I purred, grinding my hips onto his hand to try and gain some delicious friction. He seemed to be in a trance his only goal to please me, his gorgeous fingers started to circle around my entrance teasing me ever so slightly.

“Spencer stop teasing if you aren’t prepared to be punished” My threat got through to him and he slowly entered his middle finger making me quietly moan out. I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a heated kiss to muffle my moans. The kiss was all tongue and teeth as he curled his finger to hit my g-spot which made me gasp into his mouth.

“More Spence-“

He thankfully listened to my plead and added another finger, my walls stretched around them giving me pain added with pleasure. To give me even more stimulation his thumb found my clit running in tight circles. I was approaching my orgasm almost embarrassingly quickly, Spencer knew my body better then I did at this point. Both of my hands pulled at his hair trying to force him as close as possible to my body. I screwed my eyes shut as I was shoved off the proverbial cliff. I could hear the faint sounds of Russian scientists from the film in the background which only added to the high, the idea of getting caught just made it so much better.

Spencer continued to stimulate my clit until I rode out my high, he then turned back to the film. He was trying to hide the fact that he was rock hard from watching me fall apart in a matter of minutes on his fingers. An evil idea snuck inside my brain, he had given me an orgasm but I wasn’t done with him yet. After I had recovered My hand moved over from my lap and gripped his thigh mimicking his earlier position. He hadn’t started translating the film again and was uncharacteristically silent. I waited for a few minutes before I enacted my plan the only thing I was doing was slowly inching my hand up his thigh.

“Start translating the film again pretty boy” I whispered while pawing at the button on his pants, I wanted to repay the favor of a mind blowing orgasm. He looked at me with slight hesitation when I dropped down to the floor but he was to far gone to stop me at this point.

“Y-yoou want to destroy that which we are presently incapable of underssstanding? Forgive me but am not advocate of knowledge at any price."

I smirked to myself as I freed him from the confines of his slacks and boxers, his translations had become a stuttering mess and I hadn’t even touched him yet. He was already painfully hard, the head was an angry red with precum dribbling down. I firmly gripped him relishing in the little gasp that already escaped his mouth.

“Spencer we are in public, your going to have to only translate if you want me to touch you at all” My voice took on a deadly sinister tone reserved for unsubs or Spencer when he was being particularly subby.

He nodded and I fully immersed myself into giving him the best blowjob of his life. I slowly dragged my tongue up his length savoring every time he choked on his words, his thighs were tensing and his hands were white knuckle gripped around the arm rests. My mouth then finally fully enveloped his length finally giving him the relief he was looking for. As I began to take him further into my mouth his quiet whispers jumped an octave, he didn’t let himself moan, he knew what kind of punishment he would get if he dared to break my rules. The head of his member hit the back of my throat and spit started to drool out of my mouth, I looked up at him menacingly, daring him moan out.

“Remember Tol-stoy? His suffffering over the impossibility of loving mankind as a whole? How much time has passed since then? Somehow I ca-nn’t figure it out. Help meeee-Fffuck! Y/N!”

He whimpered out, I smirked around his length in satisfaction- I had broken him. I evilly released his length with a pop, he whined pathetically in protest at the loss of stimulation.

“If you had just followed the rules baby boy maybe I would’ve let you cum” I teased while sliding back into the theatre chair and turned back pretending to enjoy the rest of the movie. He still hadn’t torn his beautiful caramel eyes away from me, it almost looked like he was going to cry.

“Please Y/n I’ve been so good until now! I made you cum earlier, please please!!” He was unashamedly begging now, I quirked my eyebrow in surprise, he usually didn’t beg this fast. I leaned over to whisper in his ear mirroring his position from earlier.

“I’ll let you off easy this time pretty boy- but- when we get home you better put in the work and please me. Understand?” His head bobbed up and down eagerly, he was relieved he would actually be able to cum tonight. I dropped back down to my previous position in front of him and took him back into my mouth, he immediately went back to translating the film not wanting to get edged for the second time that night. One of my hands gripped his hips while the other felt underneath his boxers and caressed his balls, I could tell he was close. He came soon after in hot spurts down my throat, I swallowed every drop while I looked up in awe at him savoring how I made him fall apart. Spencer’s breath was ragged as he came down from his salacious climax, I tucked him back into his slacks and once again sat back into the plush velvet seats.

“Holy fuck” he said uncharacteristically after he snapped out of his reverie.

“Shh, Spence I’m watching the film!” I said cheekily, he glared back at me with a glint in his eye. I could tell even though he initially protested he thoroughly loved our carnal adventure. Spencer resumed his translating and I was surprised that we were only around halfway through the movie.

Once the movie was over we passed through the cinema as quick as possible ready to continue the nights adventures at home as promised. We got into Spencer’s Volvo and he stopped to stare at me for a moment before we left the parking lot. My eyebrows furrowed as i looked at him curiously wondering why he suddenly paused.

“See, I love you. But love is a feeling we can experience but never explain. One can explain the concept. You love that which you can lose: Yourself, a woman, a homeland. Until today, love was simply unattainable to mankind, to the earth. Maybe we are here to experience people as a reason for love." I recognized the quote from the movie we had just seen, and even though we said declarations of love often this one felt a little more special.

“I love you too Spence” I said through my watering eyes. He gave me a loving smile and started the car so we could go home to continue the night.

—————

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #imagine #solaris #criminal minds x reader #spencer #spencer reid blurb #mgg #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler smut

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daveyjacobss · 4 years

Text

skeletons in the bathroom

racetrack higgins x reader

summary: it’s spooky season, and is there anything scarier than having to confront and admit your feelings for one of your closest friends? (or, in which y/n is helping race get ready for a halloween party and desperately trying not to think about how much she wants to kiss him.)

a/n: i did it!! a halloween fic out for october 2020!! sorry it’s so late in the month, life has been very hectic with an overload of assignments and plenty of politics induced stress. anyway this is unedited so sorry in advance but i hope you like it :)

masterlist

__________

This had been such a bad idea. Why on earth had she agreed to this? What kind of astounding lack of brain cells had led to her saying yes to attending her own goddamn funeral?

"Albert, you would leave flowers at my grave, wouldn't you?" She turned to look at him just in time to see him roll his eyes. Jojo and Finch, sitting across from them at their table in the library, both stared at her with equally confused and amused expressions.

"Y/N if you tell me you're gonna die one more time, I'll literally kill you myself." Albert fixed her with a halfhearted glare, brushing his hair out of his face. She groaned and dropped her head down on top of her arms, resting lazily in the tabletop. Jojo laughed quietly at her, but she didn't have the heart to give him a death stare in return.

"Out of curiosity," Finch started, effectively abandoning his work, "what kind of flowers would you want?" She lifted her head, pursing her lips in concentration as she thought the question over.

"I don't know, either something really pretty or something ridiculously dramatic." Albert sighed beside her, finally putting his pencil down. Jojo had stopped actually trying to get work done a half hour prior. "Like, some pretty marigolds or daisies would be cool, ya know? But, also, a single red rose would have a very nice effect." Jojo nodded along with her.

"What about black dahlias?" He asked. Y/N perked up at that.

"Oh, yes! Definitely achieving that she-was-probably-murdered-and-the-killer-is-leaving-flowers vibe." She high fived Jojo while Finch shook his head at them. Albert hit her from her right side—lightly, but she let out a loud "ow!" anyway.

"Can you stop moping and acting like you're gonna die? You're the one who got yourself into this mess." She went back to being miserable immediately, groaning again for effect.

"Will someone please explain why she's dying?" Finch asked, directed more at the other two boys than at Y/N. Albert rolled his eyes again.

"Race asked her to do his makeup for his skeleton costume before the party tonight and she said yes, but now she thinks she's gonna die when she does it." He punctuated his words with a pointed look at her which effectively communicated all of his exasperation as well as the sentiment he had been expressing to her for almost two years, that she should just go for it and ask Race out. She ignored it completely.

"I am going to die!" She threw her hands in the air for dramatic effect, giving Finch and Jojo her best 'I'm in despair' look. "I'm gonna have to be ridiculously close to his face—and his lips—for way too long! I'm gonna either go insane and launch myself out the fucking window or die of embarrassment."

All three boys laughed at her. Insulted, she crossed her arms over her chest and pouted at them.

"Y/N, it'll be fine," Finch said, pretending to wipe tears from his eyes. "Anyway, why can't you just ask him out already and not have to deal with the funeral arrangements?" She offered him her best deadpan stare.

"C'mon, Y/N," Jojo chimed in. "What's the worst that can happen?"

"Oh no, don't get her started," Albert groaned.

"The worst that could happen? Are you kidding?" She looked at them incredulously. "Well, for starters, I could tell him I like him and then he could be disgusted because why would he ever like me back when he's him and I'm me, and then, because he was your friend first and things are super awkward between me and him, we drift apart, and then I lose all of my friends and I die alone with no one to leave black dahlias on my grave in order to entertain my dramatics." Finch blinked, staring at her with wide eyes as if he couldn't quite believe what he had just heard.

"Hold on," Jojo spoke up again, face contorted with anger. "He would not be disgusted. Even if he didn't like you back, which he does—"

"Does not," she grumbled.

"Does too," they all answered in unison.

"He wouldn't be mean about it," Jojo continued.

"And we wouldn't stop being your friends," Albert added.

"Plus, even if we suddenly become arch enemies I'm totally still leaving black dahlias on your grave for dramatics," Finch grinned, winking at her. That got her to laugh a little, smiling back at him.

"I just..." She sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I don't want to ruin anything, and I don't want everything to change between us. I'm fine being his friend, that's enough for me. It's just hard to keep my feelings in check when he gets too close to me." Her eyebrows furrowed while she fidgeted with her fingers, not liking how vulnerable she felt while telling all of them that. Albert's arm slid around her shoulders, bringing her into his side. It was awkward and uncomfortable leaning across the gap between their chairs, but she enjoyed the comfort anyway.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," he said gently. "You have our support either way." Jojo and Finch nodded, both smiling encouragingly at her. She smiled back at them, moving to gather up all of her papers. The boys followed suit, shoving everything back in their backpacks.

"Thank you," she said quietly just as they were all pushing their chairs in.

"Anytime," Albert grinned brightly, throwing his arm around her again and leading them out of the building. A wind blew as they walked out into the October sun, sending a chill through her body and causing her to lean into Albert's body for warmth. They all started walking in the direction of their on-campus apartments, pointing out the most colorful trees and joking about the upcoming party with easy smiles.

"Speak of the devil," Jojo muttered from behind her. She went to turn back to look at him and ask what he meant, but Albert pulled her more securely against him and she laughed.

"Hey guys!" Finch called out, waving wildly. She looked in the direction he was facing and saw Race walking in the opposite direction with Romeo across the street from them. She felt heat rush to her face automatically, lifting her hand in a small wave while sporting a shy smile. Albert and Jojo waved enthusiastically with Finch, receiving an equally energetic wave from Romeo and a small wave from Race. Y/N tilted her head in confusion, frowning. Race never missed the chance to make an ordeal out something as small as seeing his friends across the street, was something wrong? No one else seemed concerned, though, and their small group kept moving. If anything, Finch and Jojo seemed amused, snickering quietly behind her and Albert.

They parted to go to their respective apartments, all three boys giving Y/N a hug goodbye. She took full advantage of their attempts at comfort, holding them tightly and burying her head in their chests. Once she was back in her apartment, her roommates thankfully back home for the weekend, she dropped her bag on the floor and took a deep breath. Race was set to come over a little while later to get ready for the party, that left her some time to clean up a little. He wouldn't care if the apartment was dirty, but she couldn't get rid of the urge to make sure the counters were decluttered and the bathroom where she would be doing his makeup smelled nice. Plus, at least it would give her something to do to distract herself from her ever growing anxiety.

She was definitely going to die.

__________

Race was ten minutes late, but Y/N had already figured he would be when his "omw" text didn't come until a minute after he was supposed to be at her apartment. He grinned at her when she opened the door, arms (adorably) holding the straps of his backpack that she assumed was carrying his costume.

"I wasn't sure if you would want me to put on the costume before or after the makeup," he said as he walked in. "So I just brought it to change into." She liked the way he looked so comfortable in her apartment, facing her casually with his hair messy from the wind. She smiled softly at him, unable to contain her ever present joy at seeing him.

"Before, definitely. If you put it on after you might mess your face up." He nodded, already shrugging his bag off his shoulder.

"Your room okay?" He asked, gesturing in the direction of her bedroom.

"'Course. Just don't mess with anything in there." She playfully pointed a finger at his chest and he laughed as he moved into her room and closed the door behind him. She walked into the bathroom, taking deep breaths and trying to tell herself everything would be okay. Her and Race were friends, and she was perfectly capable of helping him with his Halloween makeup like a normal person. Maybe. Hopefully. Kinda. Probably not. God, she was hopeless.

He found her in the bathroom obsessively reorganizing the makeup, dressed in his full skeleton getup. She smiled when she saw him in it, happy that he hadn't picked something with a good that would have concealed his beautiful curls. With his lanky stature and gangly limbs, the costume worked perfectly for him. He grinned back at her, doing a little shimmy that made her laugh.

"You like?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her and she shook her head in a amusement.

"It looks good," she confirmed, their usual joking banter hindered by her nerves. "We should get started so we have enough time, I still need to get changed and finish my makeup, too." She patted the bathroom counter and he followed her hand, hoisting himself up so he was sitting on the counter facing her, swinging his legs.

She tried not to think too hard as she started on his face, going in with a layer of white before anything else. She could feel his breath on her wrist, but she tried not to think about it. Thinking about it meant her own breath would hitch and then, because their faces were so close, he would notice. She brought a hand up to his jaw to steady his face and resolutely did not think about how easy it would be to pull him to her and kiss him.

Part of her wanted to listen to the boys. She wanted to say fuck it and tell him how she felt about him. She wanted to flirt with him while she had him at her mercy like this, wanted to lean in and put a hand on his thigh for balance just to see how he would react. She wanted to know if his breathing would change, if his heart would skip a beat, if he would look at her with wide eyes or if he would simply smirk and carry on. Or maybe he wouldn't do anything, because it would nothing but a meaningless gesture to him. But, god, she wanted to try. And she wanted to kiss him so badly.

Still, the other part of her triumphed. The part that told her he didn't feel the same way about her, that to him she was just a good friend and if she went and did something stupid she would ruin that.

She asked him to close his eyes and he did so obediently. She took the chance to look at his lips while he wouldn't be able to notice, realizing how quiet he'd been the whole time so far. Once his face was fully covered with white he opened his eyes and she took a small break, giving herself some time to calm down her erratic heart beat. He kicked his legs out again without her standing in front of him to block them.

"So," he started, staring down at his feet instead of looking at her. She tilted her head slightly, waiting for him to continue. "You and Albert, huh?" Her eyebrows furrowed and she stopped short as she went to grab a brush, paused in confusion. "What's going on there?"

"What do you mean?" She asked, trying to laugh to diffuse whatever tension had just overtaken the room but only managing a nervous chuckle.

"You two looked pretty cozy earlier, outside. Do I gotta start preparing myself for you to be acting all gross and couple-y whenever we go out now?" His voice sounded strained, like he was trying to force the question to be casual. She figured it was because he was upset Albert and her wouldn't tell him something like—which, they totally would if that was at all a possibility. Which it wasn't. The whole idea was so ridiculous a strangled laugh bubbled out of her throat.

"Oh, god no. There is nothing romantic happening between me and Albert." She looked down at her hands, avoiding having to look at his face. "No, it was just cold, you know? And he was trying to comfort me because I was upset." Suddenly he was there, standing in front of her. He gently tilted her chin up to look at him and used his other hand to grab hers.

"Babe, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

She was going to cry. She was going to burst into tears, standing in her own bathroom with Race's touch overwhelming her senses. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that he was so handsome and funny and kind and loving. It wasn't fair that whenever he looked at her she felt like no one else existed. It wasn't fair that she couldn't breathe with his hand still resting just under her chin. And the universe was just playing dirty having him call her babe like it was nothing, like it didn't make her heart swell in her chest. Like it didn't absolutely break her. She was definitely gonna cry, her eyes already watery.

His concern only seemed to increase when he saw the distraught look on her face. He tried to take another step toward her but she moved backward, detaching herself from his hands. She breathed deeply, running her hands through her hair as she tried to keep herself from sobbing. He looked so worried—so sad—and it just wasn't fair.

"I'm—" Her words got caught on the lump in her throat. "It's nothing, really. I'm just being dumb." He looked at her disbelievingly.

"Y/N c'mon, you're clearly upset, let me—" He cut himself off at the way she back away from him again while he reached out, hurt flashing across his face. "Here, why don't we just skip out on the party? I'll stay here with you and we can watch old Disney Halloween movies or something." She wanted that so bad, she wanted that more than anything she had ever wanted. But she couldn't, it would only hurt her more.

"No," she sniffled, regaining her composure. "No, you should go. I might stay back, I dunno. But I don't wanna keep you from having fun."

"Hey." His voice was soft, the corners of his lips turning upwards just slightly. He was so beautiful she could have died over it. "I always have fun with you, party or not. If you don't go, I don't go."

"God, Race. You can't just—you can't say things like that." She huffed while he blanched in confusion. "It's not fair."

"What? I don't—"

"Listen, I'll finish your makeup, yeah? And then we'll go to the party and we can pretend like this never happened. Okay?" He nodded mutely, slowly positioning himself back on the counter. The concern wasn't gone from his eyes and his mouth was set in a frown, but he complied.

Not crying was a constant effort the entire time she finished his skeleton makeup. She felt her lip quiver at more than one point and Race's eyes kept darting down toward it. She did her best to keep it steady, not wanting him to see her cry. He had seen her cry before, of course, over classes and movies and the like, but there was a special kind of shame associated with him seeing her cry over him.

It wasn't until after she was done that he spoke up again. "Do you not want to be alone with me?" He asked it so quietly she was sure it must not have come from him, used to his loud, boisterous voice. Her heart broke all over again.

"That's not it, Race. You know that, right? It's not your fault I'm upset." It wasn't, really. If she was going to blame anyone it would all be on herself.

"What, then?" The joking tone was back in his voice, clearly trying to diffuse the tension and brighten the mood. "Too afraid you won't be able to control yourself around me?" Yes. "I know you'd love to jump these bones." She laughed despite herself, playfully hitting his arm. Her reaction made him smile again, and she was glad. He always knew how to cheer her up.

It only took a little while longer for her to change into her costume (just a regular witch in shades of black and purple) and put on her makeup. Race watched her as she put on her dark lipstick, making her nervous and subsequently causing her hands to shake, but she made it through alright.

They left just a bit before the party was supposed to start, Y/N shivering in the cold air as they walked. Race glanced at her a few times, seemingly conflicted, before cautiously wrapping an arm around her. She leaned into his touch and he gripped shoulder more firmly, pulling her into his side. When they stopped to let a car go by she turned to him and wrapped both her arms around him, basking in his warmth. Race was like a heater, generating warmth from the day she met him. He returned her embrace, rubbing her back soothingly.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He mumbled into her ear. A shiver went down her spine at his voice so close to her ear, but she nodded, holding him tighter. They were later to the party then they should've been, having spent a good amount of time in that embrace. It had made her heart all fluttery, not to mention the way it did somersaults every time Race looked at her for the rest of the walk (which was a lot, he must have been really worried).

She expected him to split off once they entered, going to look for some of his other friends, but he stuck by her side. It made her smile, the butterflies in her stomach going wild. They went to grab drinks together and ran into Finch.

"Hey!" He smiled dopily, clearly a little tipsy already. "The makeup looks great," he gestured at Race's face. "And you two look so cute together." Heat rushed to Y/N's face as she quickly took a sip of her drink in order to avoid having to respond. Race simply laughed.

"Yeah, Y/N did an awesome job, right? I knew she would, though. I could feel it in my bones." Y/N groaned and Finch cringed.

"That was awful, dude." Race grinned proudly anyway, waving as Finch left to go back to the friends he was with.

"Did you pick this costume just so you could make bad jokes?" Y/N turned to face Race, raising an eyebrow. He winked, which was all the answer she needed. She wanted to give some sort of sarcastic remark in return, but the wink made her giggle nervously. He seemed content with her response all the same.

About three thousand skeleton jokes later (he had literally greeted Davey by saying "bonejour." Davey had promptly turned around and left the two of them without saying a word), Y/N and Race were sat on the couch together, chatting amicably. She felt better with a bit of alcohol in her veins and a few buckets of false hope from the fact that Race hadn't tried to leave her side once the whole time they'd been there.

"You're such an idiot," she laughed uncontrollably as he relayed a story about him following a squirrel across campus the week prior.

"What can I say?" He grinned cheekily. Her smile dropped.

"Don't you dare—"

"I'm a bonehead." He knocked on his head for good measure.

"Okay that's it, I'm leaving." She moved as if to get up before Race reached out to grab her arm.

"Y/N, no!" He managed to get out through his laughter. "Don't leave me bonely!" She stared at him in disbelief.

"You're the worst," she groaned as she let him pull her back into her seat next to him.

"But you love me anyway." He poked her side and she looked at his face. The makeup looked good, she had to admit, but she wished it had been able to mask his face better. Because looking at his face was still looking at his face, makeup or no makeup, and she had a bad habit of getting caught up in looking at his face. His features seemed to tense, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed harshly. "Drinks!" He said suddenly, breaking their staring contest and practically jumping out of his seat. "I'm gonna go get us more drinks." She nodded, eyebrows furrowed as she watched him scurry off. That had certainly been strange.

"Fancy seeing you here." She turned to see Albert falling into Race's spot beside her, grinning around his own drink.

"Hey," she smiled, adjusting her witch hat.

"You and lover boy work things out yet?" She punched his arm and he gaped at her.

"Shut up," she hissed. "It's not gonna happen, let it go." He rolled his eyes.

"You sure? Because, from what I've seen, he hasn't stopped staring at you all night." She glared at the redhead, pouting.

"Stop giving me hope, asshole. It just makes this worse."

"Makes what worse?" She looked up to find Race standing in front of them, two drinks in hand. She took one from him with a smile.

"Nothing," she shook her head. "Albert's just being annoying."

"Isn't he always?" Race asked with a smirk the same time that Albert said "hey!" Deciding this would be her best chance at payback for teasing her about her crush on Race, she pushed Albert off the couch. Race laughed loudly, stepping over his friend to return to his seat. She smiled brightly at him and he grinned back, bumping her shoulder with his. She had to take a drink to stop the flustered laughter from escaping her throat.

"You two suck," Albert groaned from their feet. It only made them laugh more, still giggling even as Albert stood up grumpily and walked away without saying goodbye.

"Your costume looks really good, by the way." She turned to Race, her smile faltering. "I didn't tell you earlier, but I like it." He said it so earnestly, looking right into her eyes. The only thing she could think of was hoping the boys were ready with those black dahlias, because she was a total goner.

"Thank you," she said softly, lost in his gaze. She thought about them in the bathroom, how she had wanted to put her hand on his thigh just to see how he would react. Thinking of what Albert had said and taking another gulp of her drink, she did just that. She leaned forward and put her hand on his thigh to steady herself. He froze. It was hard to tell over the noise of the party, but she thought she might have heard his breath hitch. She couldn't look away from him, her eyes once again finding his lips.

"You spent so long on this makeup," he muttered. "And it looks really cool." She tilted her head in confusion.

"Huh?"

"I really don't wanna ruin it. I'm sorry."

"Why would you—"

But then he kissed her, so no question she could have asked mattered anyway. He was kissing her. Oh, Albert was gonna laugh so hard when he heard about this.

She kissed him back fervently, one of her hands tangling in the curls at the back of his head while the other remained on his thigh to keep herself steady. One of his hands rested lightly on her waist, squeezing just slightly, while the other caressed her jaw. It felt like in the bathroom earlier that night when he had tilted her chin to look at him, but so much better.

He pulled back before she was ready, eyes still closed as she unconsciously chased his lips. She opened her eyes to see his makeup smudged and definitely some her lipstick on his lips, a warm feeling settling in her chest. But his mouth was pulled into a frown and it sobered her quickly. He was pulling at his hair, his eyes wide with panic and sorrow.

"I'm sorry," he panted. "You're upset, I shouldn't have done that. I've been trying to cheer you up and now I've, like, totally taken advantage of you when you're vulnerable and—"

"Race." He looked at her, face practically begging for forgiveness. She reached for his hands with a small smile. "You're not taking advantage of me. I was only upset because I thought I didn't have a chance with you." She shrugged slightly, averting her eyes. He gaped at her.

"You didn't have a chance with me? Are you kidding?" He tightened his grip on her hands, pulling himself closer to her. "Y/N, I've been pining after you since, like, the day we met. You're ridiculously out of my league." She looked at him with wide eyes, meeting his gaze. They both broke out into grins at the same time before she was leaning in again and he was following.

He tasted like candy and alcohol and she couldn't have asked for anything better. They slid closer to each other on the couch until her hands were clasped together behind his neck, playing with his curls, and his were holding her waist. She couldn't get enough of him. She didn't think she would ever get enough of him. They were both breathing heavily when they pulled away again, foreheads resting against each other.

"You know," Y/N breathed. "If that whole 'just the two of us spending the night at my apartment and watching old halloween movies' offer is still on the table...." He laughed quietly, his head falling to the crook in her neck.

"Definitely still on the table." He pressed a light kiss to her neck and she was dragging him into a standing position immediately, fully ready to get away from all the other partygoers. She wouldn't be able to handle it if his hands wandered any further than they had already gone, she needed time to breathe and process—preferably away from the crowd.

He held her hand and lead her through the sea of people to the front door. Jojo caught sight of them as they made their way out and, presumably seeing their joint hands and messed up makeup, whooped at them. Y/N laughed and Race stuck his tongue out at his friend.

"Which movie do you wanna watch first?" She asked as they walked back, holding onto his arm and leaning into his side.

"Oh, definitely Halloweentown." She smiled, pulling him in for another kiss. He chuckled when they pulled apart. "You know, I would say a skeleton pun right now, but I don't have the guts to ruin this moment."

"Oh my god, Race."

__________

tag list: @isarants @tomanybandstolove @seriously-ceci @bens-platt @earlyjunes @broadway-trashh @interwebseriesfan24 @returnoftheborle @cozykleinman @timesarehardfornewsies @jackclyde @last-an-eon @annabethgranger123 @musi-xals @notyouraveragegryffindoor @magic-made-by-melody @i-also-miss-our-talks@linfuckingmirandaaa @shatteringinprogress @storytellersun @psych-stereo @books-cats-sprinkles @me-andthe-sky @connor-is-my-sunshine @merediths2003 @papesfordavey @larryisinfactnotstraight @casifer-is-cute @gem-evieve @actually-lizzy @broadwayobsessedteen @majo16199 @sarkitsm @suffering-bi @tommy-braccoli @starryrevelations @woolfhrd @thesleepingandthedead @cruelnatalie @bencookisagod @abovethyfold @mycollectionofnuts @gayrightsansa @dorkydavina

#racetrack higgins x reader #racetrack higgins #newsies #newsies imagine #race x reader #newsies x reader #race higgins #finch #jojo de la guerra #albert dasilva #happy halloween :)#as always come tell me what you think!!#racetrack x reader #bambi can kinda write

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sweetlysavory · 2 years

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It's about time I made the Baked Feta Pasta.

My question to my past self is: why didn’t I make this sooner?! I don’t usually do food trends, except this one on TikTok (from 2021) included everything I love: feta, tomatoes, and pasta. I made my own tweaks on it, and tried a new method for cooking pasta.

In honor of 1 year for Sweetly Savory's YT channel, which was a few weeks ago, I decided to do a food trend to celebrate! I settled on making the "Baked Feta Pasta" TikTok trend. I know that it was from last year, and it was really big – and then it kinda like fizzled off, but I'm here to bring it back! (or try to)

This was my version of the #TikTokBakedFetaPasta!

Method:

Start off by thinly slicing the onion, leaving it in long lanky pieces. I opted for onion instead of shallot in this recipe because of cost. What you get for a large shallot versus an onion is probably twice the price, and while we splurge with the feta, the onion swap isn’t too much of a deal breaker for me.

As for the block of feta I found that it was dang expensive. I usually get a pre-portioned container that’s only a few bucks, and I’ll most likely get it that way if I choose to make this recipe again.

I chose a lovely 8 inch by 8 inch glass baking dish for aesthetics, but you’ll see it makes it a little tough for mixing and bake times.

Finish adding all the seasonings, and it’s pretty enough to eat – not before baking in a pre-heated 400 degrees Fahrenheit, or 204 degrees Celsius, oven.

Bake time is going to vary from this video to what you cook, since everything was crammed in my baking dish….

Time for PASTA!

I learned of a new method to prepare pasta from Ethan Chlebowski, who’s incredibly in-depth video I highly recommend and I’ll link it below. The gist is to shorten cook time for the same al-dente result.

I won’t get into the specifics of it, as my results didn’t come out as expected. Here are a few take-aways from this first-time trial:

1. Don’t worry about weighing the pasta and water for exact ratios

I understand that cooking and baking do heavily rely on exacts and have experienced these results. But as a home-cook who doesn’t have the luxury of time (anymore), I tend to stick to tried and “true” methods. My prediction would be if you have enough water to cover the pasta, rather than weighing it out, you might get the same results. I say this because I follow the steps of using a shallow pan and checking the temperature for cook times. Which brings me to point number two:

2. Alternate pastas, gluten free or chickpea, cook differently

I cook chickpea pasta over regular pasta for the overall health benefits. Everything is fine in moderation, but I found for my diet, the best change I could make to still enjoy pasta was to swap in chickpeas. As you can see, the water gets far starchier than if it were prepared normally with the big pot of boiling water for 7 to 8 minutes. And for this application, I would at least try it the first time (or second time now) with regular pasta. With that being said:

3. Try this method a few times before disregarding it

Science wasn’t figured out in one day. Food science is the same way in my opinion. I’m learning new methods, like this one, all the time. I might tweak it by using the cast iron skillet, or just running the water over the pasta to cover instead of taking out the food scale. But I hope this part illustrates a new approach for you to try out cooking pasta.

Since the goal of the pasta was to cook it in about half the time, it’s going to be a while before the feta and tomatoes to be done. Originally this recipe was to bake for 40 to 45 minutes. Although this is a jam-packed dish, and I took it to check and stir, since it didn’t look like much was happening. Back in the oven it went for another 15 minutes.

I'm still asking myself: why didn’t I make this sooner?! Because this is *so* delicious! I don’t know why I waited. I am so mad at myself! But I’m happy now because I am definitely going to be making this again. I am going to be using a bit smaller block of cheese (or the crumbled kind), cause I realized that I had like 10 ounces or 14 when I only needed 8.

This pasta was different than the pasta that was used in the other video, and I had only tried out that method for the very first time. I’m definitely going to be testing this method a lot more.

I’m definitely going to be making this (again). *fancy dinner night*.

Make sure to subscribe to Sweetly Savory! Thank you and I will see you for the next food trend – a year too late with Sweetly Savory.

#tiktok food #tiktok #homemade #feta #foods with feta #feta cheese #pasta #whatsfordinner #youtube #subscribe to my youtube channel #sweetlysavory #baked feta pasta #feta pasta #adobe premiere pro #food blog #food recipes #food aesthetic

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kojinnie · 3 years

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tis is ranon! i wanna try the twisted match-up eventho it'll probably hurts. my worst traits would be

1. Not knowing myself well enough, having to ask others how i actually am from their eyes instead of looking through my own lense because I care of other's judgement better than mine.

2. I suck at handling compliment. Everytime anybody says anything good about me, I always get defensive by saying no, change the topic of the conversation, or saying "thank you, but [insert why i don't deserve compliment]"

3. Similar to the 2nd one, I have horrible horrible self esteem. I never really look at myself in a good light, I think I am horrible. Sometimes I feel like "im the worst" yet some of the times I feel like "woah I'm a queen". Even worse, sometimes I don't have the motivation to better myself in order to raise my self esteem.

My favourite(s) would be reiner and jean, you can choose the one with the worst(or whoever you prefer) compatibility with my traits. tears up already as I slip 1 dollar to your hand, whispering happy ending please..

Pairing: Jean x Reader

Summary: You accidentally meet Jean, your high school sweetheart, thirteen years later. While he has turned into a successful man whose face you'd see on TV a lot, you think of your life and what could have been with him, if only...

Tags: Angst/Fluff, coming of age, slice of life

Word Count: 3.6K

A/N: Oh Ranon my sweet child, hereby I present to thee... hopefully an antidote to the despair Yams had given us with 138. Hope you like it love!

Song mentioned: Linger by The Cranberries

"It's nice to see a familiar face 'round here."

There was no word that could describe the feelings you had upon hearing that voice. A voice that was once the first sound you hear in the morning and the one you say goodbye to before falling asleep. A voice that you had not heard for what felt like forever.

You didn't have to turn around to tell who it was, "Jean?"

The two of you erupted in laughter, both surprised by the mere coincidence of meeting each other at this old and ran-down department store, on the outskirt of the town you both grew up in.

Jean was quick to pull you into a big embrace that you gladly came into. A familiar piece of warmth was his hug, and yet it had struck you as odd that it did not feel foreign at the closest, although it had been years since the last time you met him.

Jean had grown very tall. There was no longer his signature undercut as he had let his hairs to grow past his ear. His chiseled jaw hid beneath dark brown beard he now had. You pretended to check him out and be shocked with the view, "You really grew! Like grew, GREW!" as if you hadn't seen him on the news station or the daily mail. As if you didn't follow his Instagram with your second account. As if you never thought of him at all.

He held your shoulder and pulled away to look at you, "Thirteen years and you don't look any different."

Your face grew hot and the compliment sent an uncanny discomfort to your guts, "Ah the lighting sucks here - to my advantage, fortunately."

There was a disapproving look in Jean's eyes for a passing moment before he carried on with the conversation. He didn't expect to see you at the old department store the two of you used to roam in after school, he said. Neither did you to ever meet him again, especially here. A place so awfully ordinary for someone who had grown to be the best version of himself. Jean had finally achieved his dream to be a household name in the country as one of the rising young attorneys.

The celebrity status he had achieved, all the actresses and models he had dated - it all inflicted you with some kind of inexplicable pain. One that made you feel worthless, to say the least. Someone who used to be so close to your heart, had grown so magnificently, leaving you with the painful fate of being ordinary. Yet, still your face lit up in distant pride each time a mention of Jean’s name surfaced, be it from the passing conversation your friend had, or to see it announced by the news anchor for some big public case he was working on.

Jean said that he returned home for a funeral. His uncle died, and he needed a spare sandal. He didn't know any other store, as the area both of you grew up in had changed a lot. Leaving this old department store the only place he could remember.

You passed your condolence but he was more curious with what you were up to. You chuckled because he seemed so serious when he asked, "Didn't you move out to the city? Why the hell are you coming back?" as if the misplacement of seeing someone so glitzy in this boring, dilapidated town didn't apply to him.

So you answered, and Jean turned silent for a moment. He tilted his head downward, and you noticed that he was the same person with the same mannerism. Although he was no longer the 17-year-old boy who used to get all ruffed up in school fight, trying to defend you from some stupid jocks; nor was he still the tall, lanky kid from your Home Economics class that you gave your first kiss to.

Your mind couldn’t help but to race to all the what-ifs, and the presence of Jean before your eyes right now only made the wonderings more palpable.

Jean smiled faintly to your answer, “Congratulations,” he still made his way to pat the side of your head, something he used to do every time, “big step, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s scary.”

“So, who’s the lucky guy? Anyone I know from school?” Jean said, faking the enthusiasm in his tone, but you didn’t notice. Because in your mind, it would be an absurd idea to think that you would still have the tiniest bit of effect on Jean, for he had outgrown all the memories he ever had with you.

“No, no,” you tried to mask the bitterness that suddenly emerged on the back of your tongue, “we met at work. He’s a great guy.”

Indeed, he was. The reason why you returned home was because you were getting married, and your fiancée wanted to be close with your family, for he didn’t have one growing up. He was an exceptional man, he had this magnetism in him, with the way he perceived things, to the abiding tenacity he had in him.

Your fiancée was a man you knew you could lean on in the eye of adversity. That’s why you agreed to marry him. But then again, there was always a void inside your heart that had no resolve to it for so many years. Your fiancée was your foundation, and yet, perhaps selfishly, you still yearned for the childish laughter and the irreplaceable feeling of freedom you once had with the man standing tall before you. Whose glance never failed to make you feel the most at ease with.

“He must be a pretty great guy to get you,” Jean’s faint smile grew into a grin, he was trying to down play the commotion he started to feel within his chest, “what’s his name? So, I can picture him.”

You laughed, because it was only natural for you to do so in the presence of the first guy you had fallen for, the first guy to ever told you how pretty you were and how all your imperfections never mattered to him, the first one to bring your teary face into his embrace after a gruesome day, before saying, ‘I never thought it’s possible. But, crazy, seeing you cry hurts me too.’

However, you knew, that all those memories had passed by and you were happy with where you were now. “Reiner,” you smiled at the mention of his name, “my fiancée’s name is Reiner Braun. He’s… amazing.”

“Wow. Tough name. Probably someone I’d stay clear from in high school.”

Both of you laughed, and the two of you continued to talk, as you walked him through the desolated alleys to find the sandal that he wanted to buy, and Jean walking you to the towel aisle that you had meant to buy one for Reiner, only to find out that they had stopped selling towels since long time ago. The laughter and reminiscing persisted until the cashier row when Jean heard your stomach grumble. Both of you exchanged glances and broke into yet another laughter.

“Salerno’s?” Jean said, suggesting the pizza place off the highway, where you had spent so many dates with him back then.

“How could I ever say no to that?”

“Settled, then. Did you drive here?” Jean’s eyes gazed afar to the parking lot, strangely looking for the old car you used to drive back in school, before realizing that thirteen years had passed and there was no chance that sickly car could ever survive the time.

“No, actually Reiner dropped me and—” As if staged by the universe, your phone rung and Reiner was calling, “—right in time, it’s him!”

You walked away from Jean for a moment as he looked for his car key inside jacket. Across the line, Reiner was gruntling, his voice was hazy, “Babe—”

“Reiner, I bumped into an old friend!” there was a sing-songy tone in your words. Through the phone, Reiner chuckled, picking up the excitement in your voice, even though it was getting more apparent that Reiner was drowsy, “Anyway babe, can you get an Uber? I took the cough syrup your mum gave me, and now I’m sleepy as fuck. ‘Fraid I won’t be able to drive.”

You turned to Jean and saw him jingling his car key at you, before returning back to Reiner on the phone, “Rei, I think my friend can drive me home. I’ll be stopping at Salerno’s, do you want anything? The calzone maybe?”

Reiner yawned, “That sounds nice but—” yet another yawn, “I’m gonna pass out. Come home soon, okay? Tuck me in.”

You cackled at the buff man whining before you said goodbye and followed Jean into his car.

The trip to Salerno’s was nourishing with memories. The poplar trees along the avenue had been replaced by lines of billboards – from advertisement of real estate agent to divorce attorney, they all reminded you of how much the town had changed. Yet the sense of comfort you shared with Jean as you joked about all of the absurd things you saw along the way, had not changed at all.

If for one second you forgot that you were driving in Jean’s expensive car, and that you imagined he was wearing a shabby soccer jersey instead of a tailored-fit shirt – if you closed your eyes and thought that thirteen years hadn’t gone by between the two of you, it almost felt like you rode a time machine to a time when Jean was yours and you were his. And something about the thought of it just broke your heart.

When Jean pulled over at Salerno’s and found out that it’s past the time for dine-in, the two of you decided to eat at his car instead. Jean didn’t even ask what you want and he returned with exactly what you had in mind, the classic calzone, something you always used to have. He remembered.

The two of you laughed, bantered and joked at each other. It felt almost as if no distance had ever been laid out between the two of you, like you hadn’t lived an entirely different life, like he was the same person after all. He hadn’t once made you self-conscious like you thought you would, considering the amount of success he had attained for himself. You felt bad for accusing Jean of the worst, when all it was just a projection of your own insecurity.

“So, you’re getting married on the 15th, and your annoying aunt is not invited?”

“Yeah, thank God for the pandemic somehow. Legit excuse, when all I wanted was not to have her talk shit about Reiner on my wedding day,” you munched through your calzone, talking mindlessly, “as for you, sir, you’re invited. That’s a no-brainer. Hereby I invite thee to my humble dwelling. Bring your model girlfriend, please, so I can brag to my cousins.”

His grin subsided into a weak smile and then into nothing at all, as he sipped on his coke. Suddenly awkward silence loomed within the small space of his car.

“Jean,” you shifted in your seat as the guilt grew on you, realizing the error in your judgment, “sorry I was being presumptuous.”

“No worries, it wasn’t serious. None of it ever was.”

You nodded, engulfed in your own guilt for bringing a bad topic up. The silence let the radio’s murmur to become noticeable, and an old song had just been played through the local radio, a tune that you used to listen with him on the back of your old creaking car after a make-out session filled with enraging teenage hormones.

And I’m in so deep~

You know I’m such a fool for you~

You got me wrapped around your finger I—

Do you have to let it linger?

You sighed and finally looked at Jean with his head hanging low, “Do you want to settle down someday?”

“Eventually.” Jean answered nonchalantly, “Not even sure about the whole relationship thingy.”

“Oh.” An acknowledgment you voiced, before succumbing to yet another silence.

Jean called your name softly and when you turned to face him, he was looking at you. Even in the darkness of the parking lot, you could see his honey eyes gleamed in a look that was so familiar to you—a look of disappointment, “Tell me, how could you never end up working where you’ve always wanted to be?”

You were pulled even deeper into your silence as you looked away. Suddenly a hot rash of sadness started to swallow you whole, “I—”

You tried to voice out a tangible reason, but you had realized that all of it was your own doing. Your insecurity, your self-consciousness, the thought that you were never good enough for the thing you once wanted so bad; all of it led to a life unlived, and to have someone finally putting you in your place was embarrassing, if not painful, “—wasn’t sure if I really wanted it and—”

“—wasn’t sure if I was good enough to pass the test.”

“So, after college, you never ended up applying there? Not even a try?”

You shook your head embarrassed, looking down at your shoes.

Jean sighed and laid his food on the dashboard, before reaching for your right hand and held it warmly into his grasp. He called your name which propelled you to look back at him, “Weren’t you the one who talked me into getting into law school? Even when I thought it was impossible? Weren’t you the one who wrote on my yearbook to-my-future-attorney when everyone was convinced that I’d end up working a mediocre office job? Or a mechanic in my Dad’s shop?”

Jean carried on, “I just… I just don’t understand. How could you have so much conviction for other people but—but yourself?”

You passed a grim smile, as vulnerability started to catch up with you, “Nevermind Jean, it’s passed. I am where I am now.”

“But, wasn’t it your dream?” Jean grew antsy on his seat, it was obvious that he truly didn’t understand, “The pages and pages and pages of diary you wrote about wanting to work there? What happened?”

You sighed, running out of words to say, until you caved in, “Maybe I never knew what I truly wanted.”

“Is that why?” Jean shot another look at you, there was an intensity in his eyes that you had never seen before. There you wondered what had happened to Jean’s life in all those years passed at your absence, had he led a difficult life before getting the success he was enjoying now? “Is that why you left me—because you didn’t know what you truly want?”

Jean understood the consequence of his action, he was a well-accomplished attorney after all. He also understood the vivid pain painted all over your face, but he was taking his shot. Years of wondering where had you gone, what kind of live had you lived – you never ceased to haunt him, all the what-ifs with you he always thought about whenever he broke off yet another meaningless relationship with yet another woman he’d never cared for in his life. Over the years, he’d taken a close look at you. He’d find you on the internet, he’d asked about you to friends of a friend that was still in touch with you, he’d ‘accidentally’ found your legal documents just to see that you had gotten your college degree one year earlier than him. He didn’t know why the thought of you lingered, you just did. Arriving into his dreams where he was seventeen again and unassuming, only for him to wake up disappointed at seeing a woman that wasn’t you in his bed.

For the longest time, Jean had fended for himself to be where he’s now. When survival had finally bore fruits, what else could there be for him? Still, he felt lonely in the embrace of another woman, still he felt the void persisted even if he spent his money on things he didn’t need. Jean never thought, that after years of dreaming to be the person he’s now, all he yearned for was to have a piece of simple, ordinary and innocent happiness he once had with you.

You were, after all, the only thing that could remind him of the innocence Jean had lost after years of grueling work as an attorney—seeing how corrupt and insidious men can be. So, when his wearied eyes landed on the sight of you this evening, in the alley of that long-forgotten Department Store, Jean had no choice but to finally face his haunting.

“Jean, it’s a long time ago,” you smile, cupping his hand with your free hand, “besides, I’m no longer your type, right?” A grin, a playful grin, painfully fabricated and Jean saw right through it.

You could feel the air had gotten thick in his car, and you shifted closer to the door. Jean let go of your hand as he moved closer to you, running his long fingers through your hair. His voice had gotten deep and you could sense a hint of pain in his words, “Maybe I never had a type.”

He dragged his gaze all over your face; your eyes, your nose, your lips – the way he used to reassure that you were so beautiful in his eyes despite the self-hate you inflicted upon yourself, “Maybe all I ever wanted was you and all I ever did with those girls was to try finding you in them,” he forced a smile, so stale, so painful, “to no avail.”

You could feel the air into your lung was compromised as you battled the tears, “Jean…”

“Out of so many things that I have been brave for, I was never brave enough for one thing that I needed the most: to tell you that it’s always been you,” Jean slithered his hands through your waist and pulled you into his embrace. He laid his head, heavy with loneliness and exhaustion on to the nook of your shoulder. For lack of better term, Jean was finally back home, as he muttered, letting go of all his inhibitions, “Baby, it’s always been you. It’s always been you.”

Your whole body was weak with emotions. The thoughts, the persistent ones – the what-ifs you could have had with Jean, the life you could have lived and the dream that could have been fulfilled. Without your permission, the tears fell to your dismay as you thought of one last thing remaining in your heart: Reiner. The way he smiled and listened all through your nightly despairs, caressing you close until you fell asleep, exhausted with tears dried up all over your face. The way Reiner whispered on to your ear, amidst your drowsiness, that he loved you and that he promised to make you whole, to fill the void you had always feared for. All the little things he had done without you asking, or the way he loved your family as if they were his own.

You cursed yourself for being surprised at how much you realized that you truly loved Reiner, even when you were in the embrace of someone you wondered about often. You realized, the best way to prove to someone that you love them was to stick around. And Reiner had stuck around, as much as you stuck around for him.

You left Jean long time ago for reasons you only vaguely remembered now, but life went on and sooner or later you should make it in your heart to accept it. You smiled and thought of your life. Sure, there was a lot of thing you need to patch up, but what is life if not persevering?

You pulled away from Jean, surprised to see a beaten look on his face. Far away from the dandy and sharp young attorney you would see on the news. Once, you loved this man, but years had passed and the one he wanted was no longer there. You were no longer the person you were thirteen years ago. You were no longer the girl Jean longed for, all he wished for was a passing ghost that you have left behind in your adolescence.

You caressed his cheek for the last time and landed a kiss to his forehead, “Jean, I’m so proud of you. How far you have gone. I’m sorry I wouldn’t be the one you’d share your future achievement with, but for all the things you have done to me, for seeing the good in me when I could hardly see it… I want to say thank you,” you smiled although pain was searing within your chest, “there’s a world out there where this would work out. But not this world.”

The unexpected rendezvous you had with the man whom you had given your first love to ended with both of you crying at each other’s embrace, until Salerno’s closed and turned off their lights.

When Jean finally dropped you at your childhood home, the place he used to spend all the times in, Jean smiled and pointed at your room with the lights still lit, “He’s waiting?”

“I think he’s asleep. He’s a deep sleeper, he forgets to turn off the lights every time.”

“Does he even fit in your tiny bed?”

“Well, you did fit.”

“For a time.”

“Yeah, for a time.”

“So, you’ll be Mrs. Braun?”

“Yep, Mrs. Braun I will be.”

Jean scoffed, pretending to be annoyed, but smiling nonetheless, “Lucky bastard, that Mr. Braun.”

#jean x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirschstein #aot jean #snk jean #aot fluff #snk fluff #aot fanfiction #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #kojins twisted match-up

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huniebunny · 2 years

Note

Hello there! I just followed and noticed your matchups were open. Is it alright if I get a creepypasta matchup please?

• My name is Evan but I also go by Arlo. Any of those names are preferred honestly. Arlo is usually the first name people know me by.

• I am 18 years old.

• Pronouns are He/Him. I’m a male.

• I’m Heterosexual and Heteroromantic.

• Appearance: My appearance pretty much follows the theme of a slightly disheveled mad scientist who’s constantly in pajama clothing or just home-clothes in general. My wardrobe usually consists of dark clothing, mostly ranging from hoodies, sweatpants, and basketball shorts. I stand at a height of 5’9, although according to my doctor I am nearing 5’10 area, so I’m not sure what that would count. My hair is black, or at least natural black according to my Mom. My hair is pretty long for a guy, not to mention really thick, so I often tie it back into a simple ponytail. Occasionally, my hair can still look a bit messy and uncombed unintentionally, even if I’ve combed it before. I also wear clear-framed glasses that I pretty much way every second of my day, combining it with my ponytail that I often put up. Sometimes I’ll let some of my bangs hang out if I tie my hair back, usually whenever if I feel like looking good (for some reason my glasses + ponytail + slight messy bangs combo makes me feel really confident). I’m also Filipino, and my skin is usually at a fine tan. My eyes are an incredibly dark shade of brown to the point where it looks black. My eyebrows are usually either furrowed from being too deep in thought, or just straight which pretty much gives me a poker face most of the time. Speaking of eyes, my eyes do look a bit tired half of the time, mostly being accompanied by some slight eye bags. My voice is very deep, pretty much to the point where it’s at least the second thing people notice about me (aside from my long hair). My voice usually comes as a surprise for others, mostly whenever I’m in any type of voice chat. People will usually end up expressing how they didn’t expect my voice to be that deep, not to mention I’ve also had a few give me compliments on it too (and if I recall, I had a few form a momentary crush on me because of my voice). Aside from my jawline and hair, my voice is probably one of the most attractive things about me. My figure is quite lanky and skinny, which is why I tend to cover myself up with hoodies and other slightly baggy clothing. Because I wear those baggy clothing, I often look more muscular than I actually am. I’m a tad insecure about it and am planning to start working out more soon.

[Personality]

• I’ve been told that I usually speak in a formal and polite way, often giving others the impression that I’m a mature young man, monotone, and sort of expressionless. It mostly pertains to my poker face, so I often at first have that chill, calm, and often really quiet energy. I’m an introvert and I usually wander off from people a lot. You’ll either catch me just staring off into space, wandering around aimlessly, pacing quickly while mumbling to myself, or just glueing my eyes to my phone.

• I may or may not tend to unintentionally coo my own voice, so there have been moments where I unintentionally sounded flirty when that’s pretty much the complete opposite of what I am. Although there are also times where my pitch is sort of expressionless without any flirty nature at all. It once again pertains to my unpredictable yet quiet nature that others often tell me about.

• Pertaining to the point above, I’d actually describe myself as a social introvert. When people talk to me, usually asking why I’m so quiet, they end up getting shocked that I can speak more than a few words (although that depends on the topic). People tend to mistake me for mute, shy, or just a bit dark. Although if the conversation strays from stuff like the weather, what I had for breakfast, how my day went, that’s usually when I tend to stray away from the conversation (mostly by either saying ‘I need to leave,’ or by just making my lack of interest known).

• I’m a pretty blunt guy, not to mention I tend to word my sentences a tad harshly, although I’m quick to re-word or apologize if the other expresses discomfort with my tone. Depending on who I’m talking to, I can adjust my demeanor to fit the room. This tendency of mine is mostly to keep others from getting mad or causing a tense atmosphere, mostly because I dislike things of that sort. It’s a pretty bad combo with my bluntness and honesty.

• I have a big problem so with emotional repression. My reactions can vary a lot, so my reactions to things have been described as unpredictable. I could be mad at you throwing toilet paper at my house, yet I could also be totally calm at you losing my house keys. My anger moments are also quite intense to, usually consisting of me shouting and swearing violently at whatever’s causing my stress, followed by huge regret afterwards or just a train of negative feelings afterwards. It’s probably my worst trait that I’m still trying to tone down.

• Because of the whole emotional repression thing, I tend to look in the rational side of things instead of emotions. It’s not really something that’s important to me, but it’s mostly something that just happens. It’s how my brain naturally handles information.

• Once you get closer to me, my quiet and monotone demeanor is replaced with a bit of a jokester theme. The closer you get to me, the more I seen to loosen up as I often start cracking jokes and occasional dark jokes that you’d most likely expect from a 10 year old. Most of my jokes consist of clever wordplay, yo mama jokes, or just threats that are purposefully non-threatening (non-threatening as in me threatening that I hope your entire pillow is warm and not cold). Occasionally I’ll make a few reference jokes as well, mostly pertaining to my special interests.

• I become a bit of a rambler if I ever get the chance to talk about my interests. Most of it is writing, and I usually can be caught writing one shot stories to experiment with my story plot ideas, or making little documents of my OCs. My online friends have called me a mad scientist when it comes to my story ideas. In a private discord server of my friends, I’m pretty much known for my creativity by shooting out odd fanfic ideas from the things you say. Sometimes they’re serious ideas, and sometimes they’re not so serious.

• A good example for the point above is one of CrackFic ideas of a Chair X Couch lmao. A serious one I’ve made up is a story where humanity is quite literally full of small people the size of an ant and they have to survive that way.

• To put it straight, at first I’m a quiet, dark, monotone guy who eventually becomes more of a dry jokester who comes up with whack ideas for his stories and sometimes never goes through with them.

• I do like playing flirting games, whether it’d be platonic or romantic, I do like charming other people as a way to shock the other. I only do this if the other person initiates first so that I don’t unintentionally lead people on.

[Interests]

• Video games. Destiny, Call of Duty: Modern Warfare series, Roblox.

• Creative writing. It’s mostly what I spend half of my time on. I’m most likely working in fine-tuning my writing skills, grammar knowledge, and other things pertaining to it.

You’re Matched With…

Eyeless Jack!!!

What's your relationship to them?

How did you meet?

Jack honestly can’t remember how the two of you met. Were you one of his victims?? No, he’d certainly remember that. It must have been something casual then; like the two of you randomly sitting together while he had a glamour up. Most of what he can recall was that you truly entertained him through conversation, even if he didn’t add much to the conversation himself.

First impressions?

There wasn’t much to say on Jack’s behalf upon meeting you. He couldn’t exactly SEE, so he had no comment on what you looked like. But he deeply appreciated your head-over-heart demeanor as the two of you talked.

General Dynamic:

After that first meeting, he attempted to return to that same place to memorize how frequently you came around.

Everytime you did, he’d use his other senses to clue in who you were, what you were doing, and when you left.

He’d hear the scritch of a pen or the tapping over glass during lulls in the conversations. At some point, you admitted you wrote stories.

Jack listened as you read your stories to him, and it quickly became one of his weekly highlights. There was just something about your voice paired with your stories that he enjoyed.

He doesn’t mind your emotional repression and stoicism. He’s not much better in that department.

TMI:

Once he knows you well enough, he’ll lead you somewhere private where he can show you what he truly is.

In return, he feels along your face to get a better idea of what you looked like, taking his time to discover every little bump and crevice.

He’ll say your name so softly, even when he’s alone, like it’s the most reverent thing on his tongue.

Other notes:

The two of you are such good, calm friends! Even with Jack’s own stoicism, he’d probably kill for you if you simply asked. And he’s the best at keeping your friendship secret from everyone else.

#hunie speaks #matchups #creepypasta matchups #eyeless jack #eyeless jack x reader

4 notes · View notes

lets-get-kraken-boys · 4 years

Text

FatGum (Taishiro Toyomitsu) X Chubby! Confectioner/Baker! Reader: Sweets and Treats~

(Description: Woo, I’m so excited for my first story on this account! This inspiration came to me after thinking about our one and only, favorite chubby pro hero and me wanting to see some puppy love for you two. Also, the title says Confectioner/Baker, I want to clarify that Reader isn’t truly a baker but I feel like “Confectioner” wouldn’t reach as large of a crowd as “Baker” would, not a big deal but just FYI. I hope my first fic is enjoyed by those who choose to read, thank you for the support.)

Fanfiction Lingo

(Y/N) - Your Name

(H/C) - Hair Color

(E/C) - Eye Color

(F/C) - Favorite Color

“Normal speech.”

‘Inner thoughts.’

Requester: No One!

Reader Gender: Female (She/Her)

Style of Story: Oneshot // Entirely fluff, a pinning love on both ends, and a happy end to boot! There is one little heartbreak moment, but it’s over in a second.

Word Count: 4.5K Words

WARNING(s): None, unless you see adorable, tooth-rotting fluff as a crime!

“Morning, Tammy! Lovely day, isn’t it?” you greeted your employee with a bright smile as she stumbled through the door into your bakery.

She huffed, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, “Sure, but I’ve hardly been up long enough to notice it. How are you always so peppy this early?” She pointed to the mechanical clock ticking from the left wall that read ‘4:04 AM’. You glanced outside and saw hardly anyone walking through the streets, except the occasional drunkard or lonely soul.

You bashfully shrugged your shoulders, “Well, after years of suffering waking up at three in the morning, you kinda get used to the torment! But, hey, so happy we got the shop far away from the center of the city, you can actually see the sunrise from here!” you tried to help her look on the bright side as you handed her one a cup of one of your homemade coffee brews. She took a sip of the drink and let out a content sigh through her nose, a small, but thankful smile on her face.

“You know, for being a confectioner, you make some pretty solid coffee. What is that?” her eyebrows furrowed as she asked, taking another swig to figure out the secret intense flavor.

You giggled, “That’s probably the nutmeg I added. Is it good?”

“More like fantastic, (Y/N). Trying out new recipes again?” she asked over her shoulder, hanging up her light jacket that protected her from the early morning breeze while grabbing her apron. Though, it being July in Japan, she probably wouldn’t need it again for a while.

“Yeah, I think this one will really please the early risers. It gives a special sort of kick to the taste, don’t you think?” you asked while gently sliding open the glass case that held all of the beautifully decorated pastries, grabbing a pair of tongs and a small floral ceramic plate, carefully placing a fresh Apple Strudel onto the plate, and setting it down on the counter.

“Totally. Hey, can I have a--,” Tammy stopped mid-sentence as she turned around to see the delectable treat already waiting for her.

“Your breakfast awaits, m’lady~,” you slurred out in a fake British accent with a cheesy smirk and a dramatic bow.

She scoffed, “You dork. Am I really that predictable?” she asked, scarfing down the pastry in a matter of seconds as she leaned on the counter.

“Yeah, you kinda are,” you joked as she playfully shoved your plush side.

“You know,” she continued, looking down at the gooey food, “It’s a shame you aren’t more popular with the people. You have a great location, an amazing personality and work staff, if I do say so myself, and don’t even get me started on the incredible stuff you make,” she praised.

“Oh, stop it, Tammy. You’re gonna make me blush,” you flushed from her sincere words, “Besides, I’ve only been open for two weeks, it’s going to be slow for awhile. It’ll ramp up eventually.”

“Yeah, I guess, but you can’t deny that your baked goods are better than most of the others in the country! One day, when people get their heads out of their asses, these little gifts of magic are going to make you RICH!” she threw her lanky airs up into the air and around your shoulders. She spun your smaller frame in a circle while the two of you laughed.

“Ha! Yeah yeah, I know! Now, stop your messing around and come help me fill the rest of these Cream Horns.” you concluded while you pat her taller shoulder. She groaned at the request but gave you a tiny nod. Tammy turned around while tying her short, brown hair into a messy bun, readying herself for the busy day ahead. You smiled while she retreated to the kitchen but before you went to follow her you decided to look out the window again.

Shuffling your legs over to the windows, you got a clear view of the rising sun and all its glory, the hints of yellow, orange, pink, red, and even blue from the night's previous dark veil still clung onto the brightening sky. Somehow you had this weird feeling that today something life changing was going to happen. You didn’t know if you should be excited or worried, but you decided to push those thoughts aside and continue on to the back of the shop where you could already hear the clutter and clang of falling pans, no doubt Tammy’s handy work.

Oh, if you only knew how right your hunch was…

~ Timeskip to a little later in the day and a P.O.V change to FatGum ~

“How much longer do I have for patrol?” I asked myself, pulling out my phone to check the time. The time read ‘9:12 AM’ and I huffed, still a couple more hours to go. Putting the device back in my pocket with a grimace but quickly faked a smile as I continued down the bustling street. The active community, excited civilians, and eager children usually never fails to put a smile on my face, but today everything just felt like a drag. I was sluggish, unfocused, and I couldn’t understand why. I shook my head, get your head in the game, Taishiro. You don’t have time to let your mind wander on duty.

After what seemed like hours, but was more than likely only 15 minutes, I felt my stomach let out a rumbling growl which made me groan. I stopped walking on the sidewalk and took a second to consider the situation, wandering the city for a couple of hours with nothing too exciting to do really works up an appetite, and I do need to keep up my strength. I’m a hero after all, and denying myself is like ignoring my civic duty to protecting the people! At this point, I’ll take any excuse to get out of this pointless shambling. But the REAL question is, what to get? I glanced around the street and noticed a few shops further down the block that looked to be food related. I smirked, perfect.

I wove through the few people occupying the area, past a few excited teenagers who asked for autographs, and eventually made it to the shops. Looking around I saw some insurance shops, an enticing Pad Thai sit down, and few others, but the one that caught my eye was a cutesy, (F/C)-painted bakery named, “Queen of Tarts”. Chuckling at the interesting name choice, I looked inside the establishment through the plexiglass windows.

The inside carried a light, fluffy atmosphere, pastel colored walls combining with the checkered tile floor caused a small smile out of me. A few small tables with delicate iron chairs here and there, but the real prize were the copious amounts of sweets that were displayed in the glass cases. Each were different colors, sizes, but they all looked delicious. Feeling my stomach grumble, I grabbed the door handle, flung it open, and walked into the scrumptious smelling shop. After walking in, the tiny jingle of bells alerting the workers of my presence, I finally saw the most stunning sweet of all.

“Hi, welcome to the Queen of Tarts, how may I help you today?” the gorgeous woman at the counter asked but it didn’t register in my brain because I was already lost in thought. Her adorable (H/C) hair framed her face to show her soft, chubby cheeks, her eyes glistened in the sunlight, and her smile, oh, it completely lit the room with its radiance. Curves in all the right places, I felt my cheeks heat up as I let out a nervous laugh, cursing my inner self for not holding it together. Seriously, I can face the nastiest of villains but throw one pretty lady in front of me and I fall apart? Fantastic. Realizing I wasn’t answering, I quickly stepped forward and cleared my throat.

“Uh, yeah. Hi,” ‘Wow, so smooth, Taishiro,’ I criticized in my head, “I...haven’t seen this store here before, you new?” I offered a smile, which she returned tenfold, making me even more flustered.

“Yes, actually! I set up shop here only a few weeks ago, finally settling in with the hustle and bustle of city life.” she finished, leaning in closer against the marble counter with her arms crossed.

“City life? You didn’t grow up here?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “Grew up on more of the countryside style of life. I love the city though, do you?”

“Yeah, you gotta get used to it when you spend all your time protecting it.” I let a hint of boasting attitude out, hoping she’d realize who I am.

“Ha, I hear ya! I do my own share of ‘protecting’ around here too. Well, if you count making goodies, that is.” she giggled, standing up and walking over to the glass containers. I deflated a little, guess that wasn’t going to work this time. I shuffled over to where she was standing and looked down at the treats they offered.

“So, kind stranger, what is it you’ll be having?” she asked after a minute of me inspecting the pastries. The problem with not being picky about what you eat, means there are tons of more options than that of others, and when all the items look equally as delectable, you get a little overwhelmed. Plus, the fact that a beautiful woman whom I would very much like to not embarrass myself in front of is waiting for my answer doesn’t help.

I gulped, “I don’t know, they all look amazing. What’s your favorite?” I asked, hoping to know a little more about her.

“Oh, gosh, let me think…” she pouted, resting her head on the palm of her hand while looking deep in thought at the treats. The adorable crease of her eyebrows scrunched together, the tip of her tongue poking out in concentration, her lovely, curvalicious body...that’s it, I’m so screwed.

“I think I’d go for the Chocolate Cream Puff,” her answer drawing both me and her out of our distracted states, “My dad taught me years ago this amazing chocolate ganache recipe and I drizzle that all over the tops of homemade pastry puffs and the whipped filling, ugh! It’s to die for, seriously!” she finished, a sparkle in her (E/C) eyes that fueled the fire in my gut. She spoke about food just as passionately as I did! She’s perfect.

Without thinking, I quickly said, “I’ll take ten.”

~ (Y/N) P.O.V ~

“Alright, there you go, 10 Chocolate Cream Puffs. Have a wonderful day, sir!” I said with a bright smile.

“Please, call me Taishiro. And you are..?” he asked.

I flushed, I’m such a klutz, “(Y/N), pleasure to meet you, Taishiro. I hope you enjoy them and come back to visit m...us! Come visit us again!” I hastily fixed my wording.

As he smiled and waved goodbye, I rolled the tension out of my shoulders and breathed a sigh of relief. It’s okay, he was nice...and cute...and...really handsome. Wow, I am I sweating?

“HOLY CRAP!” I jumped as I heard Tammy squeal out behind me, I spun around to look at her standing in the doorway to the back, watching the leaving guest with an awestruck face.

“What?! Where’s the fire?!” I shouted running up to her, grabbing the edge of my apron.

“(Y/N), look at me,” she grabbed my shoulders and forced me to stare into her hazel eyes, “Do you know who that was?”

I shrugged my shoulders as best as I could under her vice grip, “A customer, right?”

“A custom--ugh, curse you for not keeping up with the media,” she yelled while flinging her arms to the sky in exasperation before shoving them back on my shoulders, “(Y/N), that wasn’t just any old customer! That was the FatGum!”

I blinked, “Uh, who?”

“Aarrghh! The rank 58 Pro Hero in Japan! What did you say to him?!” I paled as her words sunk in. My legs felt like jelly and I wanted to lie on the floor and die of embarrassment as she raved on about my ignorance.

‘Oh, so I’ve fallen for a Pro Hero. Awesome.’

~ Timeskip to a few weeks later, same P.O.V ~

Who knew meeting a Pro Hero and potentially having a crush on him could be so amazing? After Taishiro, who is apparently a hero named FatGum, left the store, he personally posted on his main platform of media about the shop and how incredible the desserts were! Of course, to get a compliment from a hero who's Quirk is literally based around food, who’s eaten hundreds of thousands of different dishes, for him to specifically point out your’s brought the media swarming. Business went from nearly dead to tons of people coming in at all open hours! It was fantastic, and the handsome gentleman kept his promise of continually coming in and buying heaps of pastries.

You sighed, leaning against the marble counter after helping a few beautiful ladies buy some tarts, watching their desirable, attractive forms leave the shop and walk past the window. Looking around the busy lounge area, all of the customers were stunning, unique, and most of all thin. You glanced down at yourself, insecurities filling your mind about your appearance and unsurprisingly flickering back to the man plaguing your thoughts. You poked the chub, would he? No. He probably already has someone and even if he didn’t, why would he go for you? You’re a no one to him, someone who just sells him baked goods to fuel his Quirk, nothing more.

“Hey, boss man, what’s up?” Asher, a friend and employee of yours, asked while spinning you away from the counter to face him, drawing Tammy’s attention from her place on the stool behind the counter.

“Oh, it’s nothing, Asher. Just distracted is all, I’m fine!” you sighed and faked a smile.

Asher pulled a skeptical look and without looking at Tammy he said, “She’s thinking about him again, isn’t she?”

Tammy, like it was her sixth sense to pick up on gossip, flung herself to Asher’s side with the same skeptical look, “Yep, it’s so obvious.”

“I-It is?!” you yelped, pulling your hands up to your cheeks to hide your growing blush.

“What are we gonna do about them, Tam?” he asked, still not looking at her but instead grabbing your chin and tiling your head from side to side to inspect you.

“I don’t know what else to do, Ash. He so likes her back but both are too scared to make the first move. Truly a dilemma.” she said, twirling a lock of your (H/C) hair.

“Wait, he does?! How do you know?” you pleaded but they weren’t paying any attention to you anymore, making you puff out your pudgy cheeks in frustration. Opting to ignore them, you listened to the aimless chatter of the seating area. The ambiance of the confectionery made you smile because it was exactly how you’d pictured it as a little girl, the sweet smells, the laughter, it finally felt like home after all these years in the making. All your hard work was paying off in the end. Suddenly, the ringing bells of the door opening drew your attention. Glancing back, you caught a glimpse of a familiar yellow and orange clad figure whose head almost touched the ceiling. You gasped and shoved your friends off of you and to the backroom, spun around, and greeted your favorite customer with a bashful smile.

“Taishiro! How lovely to see you again,” but you quickly noticed it wasn’t just him. Two teenage boys, one with striking red hair and a warm smile and the other trembling and hiding inside of his cloak’s hood, were by FatGum’s side, which made you ask, “And who is this with you?”

“(Y/N), this is Eijirou Kirishima and Tamaki Amajiki, they are training under me for hero internships. I wanted to bring them here so they could try your wicked sweets!” he finished, making you blush even harder.

“Aw, that’s so sweet of you, FatGum! It’s a pleasure to meet you, boys.” you finished, holding out your hand for them to shake.

The red-headed boy, Kirishima, shook your hand with a gentle, but strong grip, “Same here! I’ve heard all about this place because of the news, sorry I couldn’t come sooner!”

“Oh, that’s alright, and it’s wonderful to meet you, Tamaki.” you held out your hand, but all you got from him was a curt nod as he shrunk further into his suit.

“You’ll have to forgive, Amajiki, he’s sort of shy.” Taishiro chuckled, rubbing his hand behind his head.

You pulled your hand back with an understanding smile, “No problem, I totally get social anxiety. Happens to the best of us, I’m afraid.”

“No way,” you suddenly heard Tammy mumble behind you, no doubt to Asher, “He brought his kids to see her. Did not expect that. I respect the flex.”

“Isn’t that a little far for first base material?” Asher whispered back to her. You proceeded to shoot them a terrifying glare and subtly kick both of them in the shins, a symbol for them to scram. They gulped and hobbled off to the back to avoid your wrath while you huffed and whipped your hair out of your face with a smile.

“Anyways, since the three of you are here, what would you boys like? It’s on the house!” you confidently boasted.

Taishiro gasped, “(Y/N), no. I can’t do that to you, we’ll pay.”

“Ah, ah, ah, Taishiro. You are by far the most paying of customers and since you’re my favorite of all I want to give this to you. Call it, uh, thank you present for all the publicity you’ve given my store! I couldn’t have made it this far without you.” you grinned.

He sighed and, though it could have been your imagination, blushed a little, “At least let me pay for my portion. I get considerably more than them.”

“Nope, it’s already been decided! Kirishima, what would you like?” you changed the topic before Taishiro could argue with you again. He rolled his eyes, clear girl.

“Hmm,” Kirishima thought, “Do you have anything with strawberries?”

“I got just the thing for you. How about a Strawberry Turnover?” you directed him over to the case with the pastry. He took one glance and excitedly nodded his head and you smiled, grabbed the sweet with a clean pair of tongs, placed it on a napkin, and handed it over to the young man. He grinned and shoveled the pastry into his mouth without hesitation.

“Thanks so much, Miss (Y/N)! It’s delicious!” he praised through a mouth full of food, making you giggle at his silliness. Walking back over to the registrar, you saw Tamaki looking at you. When he was caught, he gasped, quickly spun around, and hid himself away from you by pressing into FatGum’s body.

“What would you like, Tamaki?” you patiently asked. Taishiro looked at you with doubt and started saying something but you quickly shushed him and continued to wait for the teen’s answer.

Knowing that you weren’t going to give up, Tamaki quietly mumbled out, “D-D-Do you...have anything with...b-black raspberry? I-If you don’t that’s fine too, I-I didn’t mean to sound too rude or--”

“I believe I do,” you quickly interrupted so he didn’t go into a spiraling haze of self doubt, “Would a Black Raspberry Lychee Cake suffice, Tamaki?”

“Y-Yes, Miss (Y/N)...” he sighed in relief, glancing at you with tears in his eyes. You gave him a reassuring smile and grabbed the treat for him, handing it to FatGum so he could hold on to it for Tamaki.

“And now, what’ll you have, kind stranger?” you grinned as he chuckled.

“I’ll take my usual then, 10 Chocolate Cream Puffs, please.” he concluded while giving a sweet grin.

You snarked, “You always get the same thing every time, Taishiro. Don’t you wanna try anything else? I promise they’re poisoned.” you smirked.

He quirked an eyebrow at you, “Are you sure about that?” he joked.

“Taishiro! What kind of business would I be if I poisoned all my guests?” you laughed at him.

“Okay, okay, I’ll try something different, ma’am. Do you have anything with pineapple?” he asked with curiosity.

“You betcha. How does a Pineapple Poke Cake sound, sir?” you interrogated. You saw stars glisten in his eyes and you giggled at his excitement.

“How many?” you joked.

“I’ll take 12!” he concluded, blissfully staring off into space.

You packaged up his request in a cutesy (F/C) box with your confectionery’s logo and, biting your lip in apprehension, decided that if he wasn’t going to make his move then you would. You quickly wrote down your phone number on top of the box in Sharpie and signed off your name with a small black heart. As you finished the lettering you stared at the box and thought about your previous insecurities. There was still time, still time to take out the pastries, put them in a new box, and forget the whole number thing ever happened.

“Hey, don’t you dare take out those treats and put them in a new box, you hear me, girl?!” you heard a tiny male voice whisper above you. Startled, you looked up to see Tammy and Asher peeking through the window that let the customers see into the back of the bakery to watch the baking happen. You glared at the two, so they had been watching you try and confess your feelings to the fluffy hero in a discreet way.

“What am I supposed to do? What if he doesn’t like me and all the signs I’ve been getting from him are me making up a love story that is never going to happen between us?! What if by doing this I ruin our relationship and he makes sure the business tanks?! This is my life's work and I’m putting it on the line for a stupid chance at love!” you whisper yelled at them, the familiar feeling of fear and pain coursing through your system from previous failed love confessions.

“You really think a sweet man like that is going to make your life’s dream completely fall to pieces?” Tammy questioned and you exhaled, shaking your head ‘no’.

“Then go out there and get yo mans! You have to at least try and snatch that, I have to see my OTP become canon!” she sent a determined glare at you, grabbed the box, shoved it in your hands, spun you around, and pushed your forward. You stumbled and almost tripped onto the floor but caught yourself on the marble counter. Standing up tall, you took a deep breath in and urged your legs to move forward. Getting to the registrar, you smiled at Taishiro and the boys and handed over the box to FatGum after giving a subtle cough.

“Thank you for everything, Taishiro, you’ve helped me in ways you could never imagine. Now, I hope you boys come back sometime!” you spoke to the teens, Kirishima grinning at you with his shark-like teeth.

“Will do, Miss (Y/N)! I couldn’t stay away from this place even if I tried, your desserts are the BOMB!” he laughed, punching his fists together in excitement.

“...Thank you, Miss (Y/N).” Tamaki shyly whispered, giving you half a grin before cowering away once more.

“Don’t mention it, loves! Now, Taishiro, remember that I said this is on the--whoa! Are you okay?” you asked the man. His face was almost as red as his student’s hair, his eyes wide and unfocused as he stared at the top of the box, where your number neatly sat. You gulped, maybe it was the wrong decision after all.

Waving a nervous hand in front of Taishiro’s face, it seemed to break him from his spellbound state as he glanced at your eyes, “Are you...feeling okay, Taishiro?”

He looked at you with a shaken gaze as he laughed off his nerves while saying, “Y-Yeah! Just, um...yeah...you...let’s go, boys! Gotta get back to the patrol! Bye, (Y/N)!” he said while ushering the confused boys away from the counter and to the door. You felt your heart shatter into dozens of pieces as you turned your head down to conceal your sorrowed expression from the rest of the lounge area. You felt your eyes wet with tears but you used the sleeve of your white button down you dry them, you have to stay strong. At least you got it off your chest. Sniffling, you turned your head back up only to see FatGum’s face, only he was suddenly a lot more chiseled in the face and body and wow, did it just get hot in here?

“I forgot one thing.” he said with a flustered smile. You, less heartbroken then before just more confused, shrugged your shoulders in question. He then grasped your shoulders, tilted his head to the side, and planted a loving and firm kiss on your right cheek. You felt your face melt into a puddle of red as he held the kiss for a few seconds longer than anticipated but eventually released your cheek, staring back at you with the same expression as you.

“Did you really think I was going to leave without paying you back, cream puff?” he chuckled with a grin.

“I-I, um…” no longer sorrowed, your brain couldn’t catch up with the fact that he most definitely liked you back.

“Heh, you’re cute when you’re flustered for me. I’ll text you later, okay? Keep on the look out for me!” he said, backing up from the counter, only to grow immensely in size as he returned to the state you had met the hero in. He waved goodbye as he walked back to Kirishima who was practically bouncing off the walls in his excitement.

“Congratulations on the relationship, Miss (Y/N)!” the teen sang out as the three of them left the store to patrol the streets for their hero duties once again.

The entire restaurant was silent as they watched your chubby form turn into a puddle of emotions and ditzy giggles, the only thing that was heard was a loud, “YES! IT’S CANON, BABY!”

~ The End ~

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