#to be fair the moment i post anything i immediately forget about it. so yeah not sure what that says about me and my brain

[thoroughlymodernminutia]

This Christmas

Pairing: Benny "Borracho" Magalon x Reader

Word Count: 4,755

Summary: Benny tries to create a Christmas Eve for you during a hard time in your life.

Warnings: Kind of fluffy, but talk of grief, guilt, parental loss. Some foul language. If I missed anything else let me know and I'll add it in.

A/N: This is the first fic I've finished in over 20+ years so...it's probably mediocre at best. A lot has changed in how fics were written in late 90s and I'm still trying to grasp that. Fair warning: I am not a good writer unless it's an email. Apologies in advance if my inability to understand sentence structure is obvious and if there are any typos.

I love stupid lifetime and hallmark Christmas movies, so there are probably hints of that in this. I chose Benny because he had like 4 lines in Den of Thieves and he seemed easy to work with. The story has some personal meaning to me, so if you hate it just keep it to yourself lol

I also want to give a shout out to @mariamariquinha @the-hinky-panda @cheesybadgers @mysoulisasunflower and @bullet-prooflove for the encouragement and kind words when I posted about my hesitation in sharing this.

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

The guys are sitting in their chairs, staring at Benny like he has three heads. He’d just spent the last 20 minutes explaining why he needs their help in a few days; on Christmas Eve. He wouldn’t be embarrassing himself like some love struck fool if he had any other choice.

“This is sick, Borracho. Really sick.” Zapata shakes his head as he breaks the silence.

“Didn’t realize you were so fucking romantic.” Henderson joins in.

Big Nick slaps his hand on Benny’s back as he passes him to go back to his office, “Count me out, shithead.” 

Benny groans and hangs head. He really should have just figured out a way to do this himself. Now he’ll never hear the end of it from these miserable fucks. And calling him a “romantic;" these idiots wouldn’t know romance if it punched them in their faces. It’s not even like he’s that romantic. They’re acting like it’s a crime to be thoughtful. 

He can’t help it if being a good detective makes him more attentive, more considerate in relationships. He’s always finding himself filing away little things that you mention–or don’t mention. He has a collection of these in his mind, some even from before you started dating. And now he wants to use all these bits and pieces of information to try to create the perfect Christmas Eve for you. Christmas Eve because he knows you love it more than the actual day itself. But the guys' blank stares and biting little remarks are not inspiring confidence. Benny runs his hands over his face and rolls his chair closer to the desk.

“Forget I said anything.”

“Look at this sad, sack of shit.” Connors is laughing and throws a paper clip at Benny. “You’re going to owe us big time, you know that right?”

Benny breathes a sigh of relief. The guys are definitely going to haunt him with this for as long as he lives, but it will be worth it.

“I know.”

—-

This is Benny’s first real Christmas with you. Although he secretly counts the morning of the previous Christmas Eve when he stopped by your donut shop Glazy For You. He wasn’t working and had no reason to be in the neighborhood. But he wanted to see you without all the other guys there. If they were all there, he wouldn’t have been able to work up the nerve to ask you out. They’d harass both of you to no end. When he stood in front of your counter and asked, he’ll never forget how you laughed. You questioned him if it was a ploy for a group of cops to get free donuts. Then you were quiet for a moment and he almost started talking to fill the silence. But then he heard you say yeah okay and it was like he had been struck by lightning. You wrote your number down on a business card and handed it to him. Benny struggled to play it cool while he was leaving only to break down and text immediately from his car. He thought if he waited even one second longer you’d change your mind. 

The first date was the week between Christmas and the New Year. That week is like a brief interlude in your life where anything can happen. Benny remembers that he must have been on that night because you stared intently whenever he spoke. He also remembers how beautiful you looked when you were talking about your work. The way you lit up when talking about Maple Bars made him laugh. He’d never met someone so in love with one type of donut. He could swear at one point when you were talking about them he saw your eyes actually sparkle. There was a familiarity throughout the date that made Benny feel immediately comfortable. The first date turned into a second date, and then a third. At some point when he was loading the dishwasher at your house, he realized he had stopped counting.

You both tried to keep the relationship quiet whenever the guys had stopped by to cure their hangovers with donuts and coffee. He knows how obnoxious they can be and he didn’t want them ruining anything. Ultimately, Benny ruins it for himself when he breaks the cardinal rule of never smiling while texting. When Connors had grabbed his phone and started showing how he has your contact name as Maple Bar—he knew there was no chance of keeping you to himself anymore.

Benny was right, of course. The next time they went, they practically dragged him in while shouting “Maple Bar” at you. You laughed as your face turned red, trying to play it off, but the secret was out. After the novelty of the relationship wore off for the guys, they started calling you “Benny’s girl”. Whenever he heard, he felt like the pit of his stomach was going to drop out. Things between you and the guys stayed largely the same—you joked around with them before and you joke around with them now. The only thing that’s different is Benny feels protective of you even though he knows you’re fine. That was another thing he filed away—that you were the first woman to actually appreciate his bond with the guys. You know they have his back and that’s what’s important to you. It’s just one of the reasons Benny’s love for you grows.

—-

Near the end of the summer your dad passed away suddenly. Benny was at work, but when he got your text, he called you asking where you were. He knew your family dynamics were difficult and he didn’t want you to be alone. He thinks maybe a different sort of man would have been scared by the rawness of the situation. That it would have been too much, too soon. But Benny doesn’t scare easily, so he sat with you on the floor, in the kitchen of your closed shop. He kept you close to him while you cried and listened as you told him how you felt stupid for crying because your relationship with your dad wasn’t the best. His chest tightened when you told him you felt like you didn’t deserve to feel sad. That sadness was reserved for a relationship that had been whole. Benny anchored you to him, afraid that if he let go, you might drift away.

Benny knows you tried to hide being sad after that. You sneak off to the bathroom to cry periodically and one time he follows you. Benny knows about stuffing feelings down—it’s part of his job—but he doesn’t want you doing the same. He gets you talking, you tell him you have this guilt for not attending the funeral. You couldn’t bring yourself to be in a room with his wife of only a few years making everything about herself. Especially after she wouldn’t let you come to their house to look through his things. He didn’t judge you for making that decision; he knows what it’s like to have to make choices not knowing if you are making the right one. Still, Benny’s heart would break when you would  refer to yourself as a horrible person, a horrible daughter. He knows he wasn’t a witness to many things in your life, but he also knows you’re not a bad person. He’s seen how you always step up to help people—giving your money or your time. You even kept Connors fed while he was on leave due to an injury. You give to others what you seem unable to give to yourself and it makes Benny’s heart ache

You seem okay until Thanksgiving with his parents. It was your first time meeting his family and in Benny’s eyes, it was a success. His parents loved you right away. His mom loved the extra help in the kitchen. His sister delighted in telling you the secrets of his childhood. His dad was impressed you owned your own business. But as you both sat in the car outside the house you broke down crying. You kept apologizing while telling him how wonderful his family is; how being around them reminded you that you’d never have another holiday with your dad. You explained how Christmas was his favorite holiday. That he would spend hours stringing up lights around the house before making spritz cookies with you. You took some shallow breaths trying to calm yourself down before listing all the Christmas Eve traditions your family had. That those memories somehow always eclipse the shittier parts of your childhood. Benny held your hand while you spoke. He knows what it’s like to lose people, in his line of work it’s inevitable. But he doesn’t know what it’s like to lose a parent so he stays quiet. When Benny feels you squeeze his hand it sparks something in him. He suddenly becomes very determined to make this Christmas Eve perfect for you.

—-

When December 24th finally arrives, Benny feels as excited as he did when he was a kid. He knew you would be working which gives him time to decorate your house. The only person that backs out from helping is Big Nick—but he never actually agreed so Benny can’t really hold it against him. He puts Connors and Henderson on Christmas lights duty. Benny takes the inside, he knows the guys well enough to not trust them to go through your things. 

Benny finds all of your Christmas decorations and another string of lights in the hallways closet. When he’s grabbing a box labeled ornaments off the shelf a box, wrapped in silver and red striped paper falls to the floor. When he picks it up to place it back on the shelf he catches a glimpse of the white tag on it—To: Benny. He can’t help but smile when he closes the door. 

While he is untangling the lights, Zapata comes in with a tree. Benny looks at it and laughs. It’s so sparse and wide he can see through it. 

“It’s the only one they had.” He shrugs as he props it up against the wall. 

Benny touches one of the branches. “It is a tree, so I guess you did what I asked.”

Zapata shakes his head. “Man, this is a crazy, fucking thing you’re doing.” 

Benny smiles to himself thinking that love will make you do crazy, fucking things.

“I know.”

Zapata leaves and he can hear him shouting up to Connors and Henderson on the roof. Benny can hear them talking about him using their standard terms of endearment: dickless, crazy asshole, and idiot. Benny doesn’t care, because Benny has you. 

It only takes a handful of hours for the guys to put the lights up outside and for Benny to finish decorating inside. The tree doesn’t look as bad once he wraps some lights around it and puts your ornaments up. He’s charmed by the fact you kept all these ornaments from when you were a kid–one for every year until you turned 18. He got some frosted glass spray and tries his best to make your windows look wintery. Finally, Benny wraps your gift in some plaid wrapping paper he found. He surprises himself by the fact that it doesn’t look like complete garbage.

—-

Your car is conveniently having its brakes repaired so Benny told you he would pick you up once you closed for the evening. You’d come back to his place for dinner and a movie and then call it a night. But Benny is sending Connors to pick you up instead. Benny is going to need the extra time to do something he hasn’t done since he was a kid—make cookies.

There’s a reason why Benny hasn’t made cookies in decades. He’s lost when it comes to anything more than standard kitchen fare. Spaghetti, grilling, he can do that just fine. But baking might as well be nuclear science. He’s grateful your kitchen is 90% baking supplies, it saves him from having to fumble around a store looking for all of it.

You have so many recipe books he doesn’t know where to begin. He tries looking through them, but gives up and resorts to googling one on his phone. He thinks maybe it’s cheating to look up the recipe online, but how many variants of this could there be? Somewhere between the 1st and 10th recipe he looks at he finally notices the jump to recipe feature; saving him from the life stories of food bloggers. He settles on one that has minimal backstory, thinking that means it’s an easier.

By the time Benny is done he has what seems like 10 dozen cookies and has made a mess of your entire kitchen. He doesn’t know how he used almost every single dish you have to make one kind of cookie. He tries one of them and he can’t tell if they are supposed to taste like that or if he fucked something up. For Benny, the most pathetic part of the whole thing was that he had to call his mother. A grown, adult man Face Timing his mother because he couldn’t figure out how to work a cookie press. He didn’t realize it would be more complicated than cleaning a gun. He knows he’ll never live this down.

—-

You’re waiting outside of your shop for Benny when you see Connors’ car pull up. Your stomach tightens automatically when you see him step out of the car. Your mind goes to the worst, that something’s happened to Benny.

“Hey Murph, is everything okay?” 

“Borracho got called into work. Asked me to take you home.” 

Once you know Benny is okay your mind goes to how much you hate his nickname. It’s so totally unrepresentative of the man you know.

“Oh, he should have texted. I could have just taken an Uber or something.” 

“You can pay me if it makes you feel better.” 

You laugh as you double check the lock on your security gate. 

“I know how you drive. If you get me home in one piece, then we can discuss your fee.” 

As you get in the car you can hear Connors go on and on about how excellent of a driver he is. You roll your eyes as you put your seatbelt on. 

You’re thankful for the mostly quiet car ride to your house. Connors fills you in on why Benny had to go into work. For whatever reason he seems to be laying it on a little thick—a string of toy store robberies makes it sound like he just watched Home Alone 2. At any moment you feel like he is going to mention a woman covered in pigeons. You don’t think you’ve ever said ‘uh huh’ so much in your life. 

On the drive you see so many houses lit up with Christmas lights and decorations in yards that it starts to make you sad. Sad that you didn’t even get a tree. Sad that you won’t be able to spend your first real Christmas together, together. The Christmas Eve when he asked you out probably only counts in your mind. It still feels strange—the fact that he asked you out. From the first time he came in you developed a little crush. Initially, you didn’t know he was a cop. If you had, it might have stifled your growing crush a bit. You liked that he stood out in that pack of loud voices by not being one. The first time he spoke to you, you wondered how a man with a neck tattoo could have a voice as soft as his. And he was so handsome on that first date in his dark green flannel. You loved the gray speckled in his facial hair; it gave you the impression he was a serious kind of guy, not prone to playing games.

You sigh loud enough that Connors gives you a weird look and you try to pretend like it was yawn. You look back out to the houses and think maybe being alone tonight is better. You’ve been a real fucking downer lately and why ruin a perfectly good Christmas Eve for someone else.

—-

Connors stops at the bottom of a driveway belonging to a house that’s not yours. It looks like your house—a small, one-story, dark blue house with white trim, a small porch, and a window looking out to the street. But you know your house does not have Christmas lights. And this house masquerading as yours, is all lit up.

“This is not my house.”

“Yeah it is.” Connors points and you see Benny standing on the porch, illuminated by the lights. 

“You’re such an asshole.” You blink back the tears that are on the edge of falling. 

He laughs, “Yeah, I know.” 

You thank Connors before getting out of the car. You have a feeling he did more than just give you a ride home. When you step out of his car and close the door behind you, you stand for a moment staring at your house. You don’t think you've ever seen it look so beautiful. It looks like a painting with Benny standing there looking so beautiful too in his dark green flannel buttoned all the way to the top. 

“I knew something was up when Murph was reciting the plot to Home Alone 2 as your work emergency.” 

You give a sly smile as you walk up your porch steps. You can hear Connors’ car idling until Benny waves and he drives off.

“I knew I should’ve had Henderson pick you up.” 

You kiss Benny lightly and wrap your arms around his neck. 

“If I’d known you were breaking out the formal flannel, I would have dressed up.” 

Benny laughs as he takes one of your hands in his. He looks at you in your sugar and icing stained t-shirt and jeans. You look so pretty standing there he almost says what he’s been holding in for months, but stops himself.

“You look perfect.”

Benny squeezes your hand as he brings you into the house. 

—-

You’re overwhelmed when you see everything. You see the tree decorated with your ornaments. It’s so breathtaking, better than any tree you’ve ever seen in your life. But you know that even if it was just a branch tacked to your wall you’d feel the same way. Before you can turn around to tell Benny how much you love it, he’s next to you.

“It’s a little sparse, I know.“ 

You look at him looking at the tree.

“Benny,” you stop to choke down the sob that’s building in your throat, “it’s wonderful. This tree is perfect. It’s all perfect.” 

And everything is. The garland he’s hung around your house. The haphazard fake frostiness added to the windows. The cinnamon scented candles he’s lit all around your living room. It’s like being in a snow globe after everything has settled.

“A lot of sap in here! Looks great. A little full. A lot of sap.”

You didn’t even catch that the television was on, but when you hear it, you know exactly what it is. You turn around and see that Benny has Christmas Vacation playing. That’s the thing that finally pushes you over the edge. This movie that you watched every Christmas Eve since you can remember. The movie that perfectly encapsulates what Christmas meant to you as a kid. The sadness you’ve been feeling and now suddenly the joy you’re experiencing because of Benny finally all bubbles to the surface.

You bury your face in his neck and start to cry for everything that you know you’ll miss but also for what you have right now. His body acts as a solid mass you can lock yourself to. Benny is kissing the top of your head and you’d be embarrassed if it was anyone else witnessing this. But with Benny you know he won’t judge you. He will give you exactly what you need, even when you don’t know you need it.

You pull back and look at him. He cups your face in his hands and brushes the tears from your face with his thumb.

“I miss him, Benny.” 

“You’re allowed to miss him.” 

When Benny says it, you feel like a weight has been lifted off of you. The weight of the self-inflicted punishment for mourning something that wasn’t perfect. You take a step back from him and look around the room again. You want to remember this moment as it is.

“This means everything to me. I hope you know that.”

“I have something else. Stay here.” 

Benny can feel his heart vibrating in his chest as he goes to the kitchen to grab a plate of cookies. He holds it behind his back until he’s in front of you. When you look down at the plate he sees you smile as you grab a wreath shaped cookie off the plate.

“You made these?”

Before he can answer you, you take a bite. He can see your face changing from excitement to what can only be described as delighted horror. Benny’s chest tightens knowing he messed something up.

“Uh….what’s wrong?”

“I think you mixed up the salt and sugar measurements.”

You see Benny’s face fall and you feel so bad that you finish the cookie in your hand and grab another one.

“Don’t eat it!” 

He quickly knocks the cookie out of your hand. You grab another one and he does the same thing. He drops the plate on the floor and it’s all so magically bizarre that you start laughing and can’t stop. You try to say something but you end up in a fit of giggles that makes Benny start laughing. 

“It’s happened to me before. Don’t worry about it.” You manage to wheeze the words out as you wipe the tears–happy tears–from your eyes.

Benny gets serious for a moment, “I just wanted this whole night to be perfect.”

You step over the pile of cookies on the floor and kiss him gently on the lips. He rests his hand on your low back and sighs into you. 

You whisper against his lips, “I can’t imagine anything more perfect than what you’ve done for me.”

Benny rests his forehead against yours, “I have one more thing for you. I didn’t bake it, so don’t worry.”

You smile, “I have something for you too.” 

You break out of his hold and go to the hallway closet. Benny crouches down and gathers the cookies that dropped on the floor back onto the plate. He can’t believe he used so much salt and didn’t even notice. As he’s placing the plate on your coffee table he sees you by the tree holding the wrapped box he spotted earlier. You pick up a thin box wrapped in plaid paper. You walk over to the couch and hand Benny his gift.

“Open yours first.” Benny nods to the gift wrapped in plaid paper that you’re holding as he sits down.

Benny watches you sit down as you carefully undo the ribbon and slide your finger underneath the tape. He’s never seen someone unwrap a gift so carefully and it makes him smile.

“Oh Benny, you remembered.” 

Benny watches you run your hand over the open box containing The Polar Express book set with the silver bell and cassette tape. He remembered the time the movie came on and you complained how it could never compare to the book illustrations and the William Hurt narration. You told him that you always listened to it as a family before you got too old to think it was cool. When you said it he saw the look on your face and he did what he always does; he filed it away.

“Guess who learned about Etsy this year?” 

The face Benny makes, causes you to laugh. The thought of him making an account and searching for this is a gift in and of itself.

“I would have paid to see that.” You look back at the book, “This is the best gift. Thank you.” 

You lean across the small gap between the two of you and kiss him. It’s deeper this time and you can feel the little moan that comes out of Benny’s mouth making you smile. The scratch of his facial hair on your face is a reminder to you that even though Benny seems tough on the outside he’s the exact opposite with you.

You shift back to your seat and nod at the gift Benny is turning over in his hands. He holds it still for a moment before opening it. He takes an opposite approach in unwrapping; ripping the ribbon off, and tearing through the paper. When he opens the box he’s surprised to see a watch that looks exactly like the one he had lost while he was out working on a case. This was right around the time you two had started dating and he wasn’t even aware you had ever paid attention to it. It was a watch he had worn forever—his favorite watch. And when he couldn’t find an exact replacement, he settled on a lesser watch, a watch that never quite measured up. But this, this was it. This was his watch.

“How did you—“

“You’re not the only Etsy user around here.” 

Benny laughs as he takes off the watch he’s wearing to put this one on. You had planned on finding it for his birthday, but it took longer than expected. You can’t even remember how many places you went searching for a watch you could only describe from memory. It was a gift that you bought to hopefully express your love to him when you were afraid to say the words out loud.

Benny grabs your hand and yanks you on top of him. His arm wraps around your waist, his brown eyes looking into you, trying to determine if it’s something he should say now or if he should wait. He knows he could have—should have—said it months ago. Now, there’s something now about the way you’re cradling his face with your hands. Or how your eyes are locked on his own, that is making him loopy.

“I love you..” he stammers to correct himself, “I’ve loved you.” 

He blurts it out like a criminal breaking down and confessing a crime. You’re both still and Benny’s worried he’s made a mistake. But then you run your hand over his hair and back down to his cheek–it makes Benny twitch. You kiss the crown of his head, the side of his nose, his jaw, and then his lips. 

“I love you too, Benny.”

Benny’s skin prickles when you say his name. He shifts so he’s more upright, holding you in his lap. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He buries his face in your chest and squeezes you against him. “I love you so much.” 

You’re thinking of how Benny’s hold on you feels like you’re finally home when something catches your eye through the window.

“I think it’s snowing?”

You climb off of Benny and you both turn to look out of the window. There’s a flurry of white flakes all around your front yard. Benny sees you staring slack jawed through the window and starts to laugh.

“Come on.” He stands up from the couch and tilts his head towards the front door. 

You get up and follow him outside onto your porch. You see a layer of snow covering the grass in your yard and don’t understand how it’s snowing in Los Angeles when it’s 70 degrees out. You stick your hand out and feel the crisp flakes land and melt into your palm.

“How?” You look at Benny and he’s smiling. He points to a man in the corner of your yard with some kind of machine and you finally realize where it’s coming from.

“Compliments of Big Nick!” The man yells it across the yard.

Benny can’t believe that shithead Nick came through. He knows he’ll be paying him back for the rest of his life. But when he looks at you watching the snow like it's some kind of Christmas miracle it doesn’t matter, Benny would pay him back ten lifetimes over. He feels the sting of tears in his eyes and pulls you to him resting his head on top of yours.

“Merry Christmas, Maple Bar.”

“Merry Christmas, Benny.”

#x reader #benny magalon x reader #benny borracho magalon x reader #borracho magalon x reader

[dogtoling]

your oc lore heavily revolves around krakening you say 👀?? I really enjoy your splatoon ocs and i remember peppermint has a kraken condition of some sort (btw she’s one of my favourites i love her :3), but I don’t know much about your lore for it besides the contents of the kraken special post. can you share anything further about it, or point me to any posts where you’ve talked about it before?

Thank you! it makes me really happy when people like seeing my OCs. And to be fair Peppermint seems to be the one I draw the most lately... her lore specifically centers around the Kraken a LOT. Honestly, as for stuff about it, I don't really have much more than the Kraken post out in public (everything lives rent free in my brain). This comic i started making the other day taking place in like 2021 is extremely relevant to this topic... it's going to have at least one continuation, and i find it funny that the kraken was revealed to be re-added to the game literally 1 day after i posted this

But the gist of it is that yeah Peppermint does have Kraken syndrome, which triggered in around 2014 - she'd been playing for like four years OBSESSIVELY and she was kind of insane about turf wars. Per my story, her main was the Krak-On Splat Roller (and later the Custom Range Blaster) but uh... canonically, we don't know ANYTHING about the turf war scene prior to 2015 and whether those weapons existed at all yet, so you have to use your imagination on that. (I WISH WE KNEW, BY THE WAY.) She was genuinely going to pursue becoming a professional ink battler, but obviously her body said otherwise because involuntarily Krakening because you got too stoked about the match or got a bit too heated about an enemy player is kind of bad. Like really bad on every possible level.

So needless to say, she had to quit very much to her dismay and it was a primary reason why the blue team (which Engel was also part of!) ended as a whole. Doctors were busting their ass trying to figure out what the hell was triggering the transformations and why it was so easy, given that the drug was probably fairly new at the time and she was likely one of the first people out there to have Kraken Syndrome (Krakening like 6 times a day will do that to you), at least two years before cases of it would start more commonly popping up.

She's had meds for it for years and they seem to work fine, so it's not really a problem for her (except in the mornings sometimes and if she like, forgets to take them.) but she did go like the entire Splatoon 2 era without attending turf wars pretty much at all just because she was really worried things were going to go south, and again, none of her teammates really play anymore. She returned to Turf Wars for the first time in forever last year sort of on impulse as her and Amber happened to land in Splatsville just in time for the Rock-Paper-Scissors Splatfest and decided hey, why not. (then proceeded to be on different teams, so never mind.)

Um, she's been using the Splat Roller lately and enjoying more of a support position instead of Kill Everything Immediately, but now her actual main is coming back, WITH THE KRAKEN... I don't think she's going to be taking up on that offer and I don't think she's super thrilled about it.

however, here's a bonus picture of her from like, 2018-2019? having a kraken moment in her house.

#mailbox #dodo ocs #thanks for asking i love talking about my ocs #(at least the ones that actually have story.) #deep sea dead zone #blue team

[karaonasi]

KitKat: Present Time (Prologue)

If you need to start at the beginning, that’s here:

Previous Post Here:

💜💜💜

Present time

My eyes inspected our new neighbor. My memories of that boy’s face had faded over time, as my recollections over the years became tinted by newly-born romantic thoughts, imagination, and fantasy. But there was a familiar delicacy of features that had led my younger self to theorize my dance partner to have been some type of Fae Prince. That boy had hair the color of midnight. This boy, Baxter, had hair that was obviously dyed. But the eyes…the honeyed brown with amber highlights…I remembered those clearly since they had been amongst my last conscious thoughts before sleep for so long as a teen. And he even…yes. There was that same delicate black dot upon the fair skin of his neck. He was, indeed, the same boy.

“...at the time I was about fourteen years old. That makes it…five years ago from now, right?”

I felt a wave of…something flare up within me and I gazed at our new acquaintance with unabashed wonder.

Cove answered instead. “Are you kidding me? Is he serious? Did you really meet this guy at the country club party five years ago?”

I was still awestruck. “Yeah…I think I did,” was all I could come up with. The coincidence was too much to believe. What would be the chance of that boy being the renter for the vacant condo up the street? Of that same boy just showing up practically on my doorstep after years of dreaming about him in both my waking and sleeping mind? I knew Cove was confused and was likely disconcerted. But I couldn’t help him now. I could barely collect my own thoughts and feelings at the strange coincidence.

“It’s good not to forget a face.”

“...he said I had nice legs…” I murmured, still half within that memory I had privately cherished for half a decade.

“What?” Cove objected, though I barely heard him.

“Mm, precocious,” Baxter purred, drawing my gaze to scan over him again, wondering if this was all a dream and he would magically ‘poof’ out of existence again as he had five years ago. “But hey, if it was as true then as it is right now, I can’t see why I wouldn’t have.”

I felt my face blush, and my gaze dropped quickly to my legs just as it had then--only this time I was wearing shorts.

“I’m feeling kind of lost here.”

Same, Cove. Same.

“You see, my parents are members of The Cypress. They happened to be passing through on a trip across different states when they heard about the event.”

Oh! Well, that explained why even my parents had no clue as to who the mysterious boy had been, even when they asked around for me--as well as why I had never seen him at any events after that. It still didn’t answer how he ended up vacationing here on our street all the sudden. But at least our mystery was solved.

“Funnily enough, the entire reason they joined was for the connections they could make with other members there,” he continued on with his explanation.

That made sense. Ma often had clientele that were members of the club: formal wear for high school dances as well as for such events as the Summer Soiree.

“Looks like that perk has finally hit for me too. Originally I thought it was only any good since I could occasionally dance there.”

I looked up quickly to check his face with that remark. What did he mean? Just that the coincidence meant he had an immediate acquaintance upon arrival? Or…could he possibly be implying more…? My heart flipped with that thought, though I knew it was silly to feel anything of the kind. Even though we had met before, it wasn’t like we had known each other. Hell, he hadn’t even given me his name back then--though, to be fair, I had been too caught up in the moment to give him mine either. Baxter’s expression, however, gave no hint if anything was meant on a more personal level.

Cove was still looking at me with easily read questions in his aquamarine eyes. I gave him a subtle shrug in return, indicating that I really didn’t understand much more about this guy than he did.

Then Baxter’s expression brightened and he grinned at the both of us. “Dance, oh yes, that’s what I was going to say. I’m a ballroom dancer, hence the phrasing earlier.”

“Oh…I don’t know much about dancing, but that’s cool.” Cove was still lost, probably forgetting Baxter’s earlier comment about not ‘stepping on toes,’ which now made more sense to me. And I smiled, finding I liked the subtle but playful wordplay he had used.

“It’s not hard once you get the basics down,” he demurred.

I shook my head, remembering that the boy I had danced with had much more than ‘just the basics down.’ “That makes sense now,” I interjected, trying to pull attention away from Cove who still appeared defensive as well as unconvinced. “You were quite a good dance partner,” I continued, giving a genuinely deserved compliment as well as adding a bit of flirtation into the mix. That gave me a small thrill in itself. It wasn’t like I hadn’t flirted before. I flirted all the time as part of my naturally playful personality. But never with any intent behind it. And never before did it give me the fluttering in my chest that even reached into my throat like it did now.

Baxter’s eyes flicked to me with a small smirk that showed he had caught more than the mere compliment. But he directed his attention toward both of us. “Well-” he grinned wide like the Cheshire Cat--which seemed to be a common expression for him, indicating we might share playfulness as a personality trait. “If either of you are ever looking for a partner, I’m available.”

Cove frowned at Baxter’s forwardness. And while he hadn’t taken a physical step back, I could see that my best friend had very much taken a mental step back from this person who was a disconcerting stranger to him. “I’ll..uh, thanks? I’ll pass, I think.”

I had to suppress a chuckle, though I couldn’t keep the amusement from my face. Yeah. Baxter was barking up the wrong tree there. While Cove had gone on a few dates in High School (more than my own total of zero), it had always seemed to me that it had been to merely try out the idea--as if he felt he should be going on dates rather than actually wanting to go on them. And nothing ever came from them. We had talked about this type of thing in the past. He just wasn’t built that way--something we had in common…or so I had thought until now…

I tipped my head so that I looked at this bold, intriguing boy from under my dark lashes with a cheeky smile. “I’ll take you up on that offer sometime.” I managed to say it coolly, though my heart was hammering away in my chest.

“I look forward to that then,” he purred, the force of his heavily-lidded gaze focused squarely upon me now. ‘Wow…’ I thought again. It was hard to look away from him. He was just so…wow… And Baxter didn’t seem in any hurry to break our eye contact either--until Cove cleared his throat.

“Um. What made you decide on Sunset Bird?”

Cove…dude…now was not the time to try using social niceties. This hot guy I had dreamed of for five years just asked me out--kinda. We were having a moment! But social graces had never been Cove’s strong suit. I couldn’t be upset with him. Besides, I was curious about the answer as well. I turned back to our visitor with a look of unquestioned interest.

“Oh, yes, well my parents rented a condo, so I had a place to stay while I’m off for a semester from college and not living in the dorms.” His dark eyes flashed with a wicked amusement which only made me more interested in what he had to explain next. “Ideally, they wanted to send me somewhere that wasn’t too exciting, but lucky for me they had picked the wrong street. Considering the two of you live here.”

My smile curved to one side, liking the direction of Baxter’s thoughts--until I noticed Cove, eyes closed and shoulders tensed. He had not enjoyed the careful byplay going on.

“Why do you keep doing that? You don’t know us, but you talk like you already do.”

I felt a bit guilty about contributing to my best friends’ discomfort and gave his shoulder a gentle bump in support. Though Cove had been on actual dates, he never quite mastered the concept of flirting in the way I had. So he wasn’t able to see what had been going on here. Or what I hoped had been going on here. I would have to talk to Cove about this later, I realized.

Then I noticed Baxter, his playfully casual stance having changed to something less…familiar, his handsome features having become more cautious as well.

“I don’t feel the need to keep words of praise to myself. And when I say something, I mean it.”

Though Cove still looked wary, I found this information about Baxter’s personality extremely interesting and filed it away for later evaluation.

“Plus, what’s the point of spending my off-semester alone? The best part of being somewhere new is getting to interact with new people.” I noticed Baxter’s smile had become softer, more gently friendly as he continued. “Am I honestly the first person who’s acknowledged you’re attractive and intriguing people? True, you’re hidden away in a tiny tourist trap, but still.” He crossed his arms, looking at the stunned two of us and somehow decided to presson with his explanation. “Am I only trying to score a hookup or get a romantic fling started by saying those things? No. That isn't the point of speaking well of others. I was raised better than that. Though, would I be fussed if that’s what my words led to? Also no.”

Um…that was…a lot… I caught Cove’s gaze and the corner of his mouth turned up as he realized that even I had been taken aback by this guy’s unabashed candor.

“I am flexible, not a surprise, hm? I can back off with the lines if you don’t like the attention. But I would like to be friends, if we can.” With that, the bold boy settled back into what seemed his customarily relaxed stance: hip cocked, thumbs hooked in his pockets, awaiting the response from his new acquaintances.

Cove looked from the new guy to myself, directing his words at Baxter while continuing to meet my gaze. “Thanks for answering. I…don’t think I’m interested in that. Um, maybe not the friend thing, but the other part.”

Ah, so Cove hadn’t been entirely clueless about there being…some undercurrent going on here. And he was making it clear to both of us that anything of a romantic nature with the newcomer was of no interest to him--essentially bowing out and giving me the go-ahead if I was interested.

They both were looking at me asking that exact question--a question I had to ask myself as well. Was I interested?

While I definitely felt a strong attraction--and not just on this encounter with Baxter. I had felt pulled to him even when I was thirteen. …was that a good enough reason? Aside from that one dance, I had never felt this kind of thing…and didn’t exactly know how to handle it. Yes, he was intriguing--stylish, fun, exotic, and…sexy as hell. But, on the other hand, he was a lot to take in--how casually and candidly he spoke of things to virtual strangers.

However…I didn’t feel any malice in it. If anything, he did it with good intentions--to be upfront and honest about himself and his expectations. If I was being honest with myself, I wanted to try--to at least get to know him a bit and see…beyond the Fae Prince I had conjured in my imagination as a teen. Get to know the real person who appeared before me again just as magically as he had disappeared at the Soiree. So, I fell back upon my default when I felt unsure--humor. “I’m finding it pretty entertaining.”

Baxter laughed. And the sound was just as magical as other aspects about him, changing my smile from the joking one to something brighter and warmer. “Glad we’re working things out.”

Now that everyone’s intentions were clearer, Cove seemed somewhat less tense than he had since the whole introductions had begun. Baxter seemed to take his cue from this, shifting his stance just as he shifted the topic. “So, since you were both already out here, did my arrival interrupt anything?”

Cove and I looked at each other, then Cove chuckled at the same time that I let out a loud, “pfffttt.”

“Definitely not,” my companion snorted. I smiled at him. It was good to hear him relax enough to laugh like this.

Then I returned my attention to our new neighbor. “All we were doing was waiting for you to finally show up!” I filled in with a teasing tone and a flirty edge to my smile. Actually, I had kinda been waiting for five years, but I wasn’t about to admit that out loud--even to Cove.

Baxter laughed though, which was enough for me. “I’m getting a reputation in this town already. Not bad.”

Now it was my turn to laugh. Somehow I didn’t doubt our new acquaintance’s ability to gain ‘quite a reputation’ with or without our help.

His posture and expression seemed more…relaxed somehow--as if perhaps he wasn’t trying so hard now or something. As much as I enjoyed the prior flirting undertones, this…more natural interaction was nice as well. “Well, if either of you are free, I’d be thrilled to hang out this summer, but we can save the schedule talk for later. I should get my things inside.” He gave a small nod of his head that felt oddly formall still--almost more a small bow than a nod. Then he flashed a smile and…wow…I blinked a few times. “Goodbye for today.”

It took me a moment to realize that Baxter seemed to be waiting for me. “Bye!” I chimed automatically, still not quite recovered. But I caught him close his eyes as a soft smile spread across his handsome features.

Baxter had already crossed the street, picked up his neglected suitcases, carried them to his condo and disappeared inside before my mind had a chance to finally catch up. “...I should have asked for his number…” I realized aloud into the silence that followed. Oh well. At least this time I had a name and he wouldn’t disappear. Baxter was only living across the street.

Cove stared at me for a moment, then he let out a long breath. “I don’t know how I’m gonna explain that guy to my dad.”

I could imagine the very awkward conversation in my mind and let out a burst of laughter. It felt good to release some of the nervous energy that had built up inside of me throughout the prior encounter.

Cover just shook his head at my amusement. “At least the job is done. We saw the new neighbor, and now we can go meet up with Terri and Miranda.”

Oh shit. With everything that had happened, I had totally forgotten our original plans for the day. “Yeah…We should get going…” I acquiesced, though now I felt hesitant to go. I glanced over my shoulder a last time at the condo in which now resided my first--and only crush…who had appeared as though he was the Fae Prince I had always imagined him to be. I sighed and bit my lip before turning back to Cove and giving him a nod as a ‘let’s go.’

“That guy was kind of…a lot.” Cove observed as we made our way toward our meet-up spot.

I laughed. “I don’t know. I thought he was rather charming,” I countered in a teasing tone, though I was being truthful.

Cove rolled his eyes. “Seriously?” he said in his usual deadpan tone he used whenever I teased or pretended to flirt with him.

“...yeah…” I admitted quietly, more to myself than to my best friend.

Cove’s eyes darted to me and my heated face, indicating that he had heard me. There was a beat of silence between us before he decided to speak up. “Did…you two really know each other?”

My head tilted as I measured my answer. “Know? No. But we did meet that once and danced together.”

I felt Cove’s scrutiny again and realized that I must have lapsed back into my memories. My friend’s wavy brows were furrowed, indicating that he was processing some line of thought. His ocean blue eyes were cautious when they refocused upon me. “So, he really was that kid you talked about from that one dance? The one you even had dreams about afterward?” His gaze dropped to the pavement. “I never quite understood how you could be so…I don’t know…how you could be so hung up on someone you had barely met.”

We fell into another bit of silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable. Cove and I didn’t feel the need to fill every silence with idle conversation. We were too close for that. When I had gathered my thoughts, I looked up at the person who was practically a sibling to me. “I don’t know how to explain it better than I did then… It’s just like the world…pops…like…there is this…spark that I never felt before…”

Cove nodded at my explanation. Then his eyes shifted toward me again, having had a new thought. “Earlier we were talking about that dance when you were thirteen. But then you used the present tense. Does that mean you feel something similar now?”

I bit my bottom lip and nodded.

I watched Cove’s face as he processed all of what I had added to his already complex thoughts. His sidelong gaze returned to me. “So…” he sounded a bit uncomfortable as he looked at me from the corner of his eye. “...were you actually flirting with that guy back there?”

My face burned and I nodded again, my lip still trapped by my teeth. “...yeah. I think he was…kinda…asking me out--maybe?” Or I hoped so. Not that I was dumb enough to think one dance five years ago meant I knew him. Even if I had known him back then, I still wouldn’t know him at this point. But I would really like the chance to hang out with him…the chance to get to know him better…to see if perhaps we could hang out as more than friends.

I was taken a bit aback by that thought--simply because it was a completely foreign thought for me up until this point in my life. I only knew that there was something about Baxter Ward that…flipped a switch for me. But how could it not? Because…wow…he was just…hot--with the edgy look…those ringed fingers he hooked into his tight ripped pants…his playful smile…the way he stood, as well as his graceful swagger…and that deep voice with its drawling cadence…god…he was just…sexy as hell.

💜💜💜

To Be Continued In “Friends”

#baxter ward #kitkat #how many times can Kit say ‘wow’ when looking at Baxter? should we make it a drinking game? #our life #our life beginnings & always #gb patch games #our life baxter #our life beginnings and always #olba #our life: beginnings & always #olba baxter #cove holden

[notinmyvocab]

literally no one really asked for this but @c-nv-s07 commented on a post I made mentioning a wentworth fic so here's a snippet because I'm actually really excited to share it and that's all the encouragement I need!

The sound of scraping filled the otherwise quiet Los Angeles night in the Murder House, so named because of the crimes committed over the decades. Metal was dragged again and again, seeking purchase and finding nothing, reminiscent of a shovel searching for a grave. It was the most devastating sound Isabel had ever heard.

The ice cream pint was empty.

Heartbroken, she reached for the can of whipped cream and filled her mouth with a generous dollop.

“Why are you still awake?”

Mouth full of whipped cream, Isabel looked over at her matronly, accusing housekeeper, Moira. She swallowed. “I should ask you the same thing.”

“No rest for the wicked, dear.”

“I’ll drink to that,” said Isabel, filling her mouth once more with whipped cream.

Moira shook her head, vaguely amused. “You have a phone call, by the way.” She held up the house phone, displaying it.

Again, Isabel swallowed the mouthful of whipped cream. “And they have the right number?”

“I double checked.” Moira handed over the house phone over to Isabel.

Isabel couldn’t imagine who would be calling her at such an hour. Shouldn’t they be asleep? “Hello?”

“Isabel?”

Isabel immediately straightened up. “Vera!”

“I’m sorry to wake you.”

“Don’t be! I was uh, actually already awake.”

“Isn’t it four in the morning in Los Angeles right now?”

Isabel looked over at the clock, which did indeed read 4:00 AM. “Um yeah, yeah it is.”

“…Right. Anyway… I’m really sorry about this. I feel, well really I feel ridiculous asking. But do you remember what you said?”

The problem with that question was Isabel said a lot of things. “Don’t suppose you could be a bit more specific?” No, think. What had she said to Vera the last time they saw each other?

“You said if I needed anything—“

“I’ll come running.” Yes, Isabel remembered now. Vera had been so nice to her when they first met, and helped her so much when she wrote her last book; literally answered every single question she had, no matter how annoying (and Isabel imagined that it got to be very annoying).

“Did you… did you mean it?”

The question almost made Isabel laugh. “Vera, you’re probably my best friend in the whole world. Ow!” Isabel whipped around to see her brother saunter into the living room, having apparently heard her best friend comment. He stuck at his tongue, and Isabel mirrored him.

“Isabel, are you okay?”

“Yeah, just a poltergeist. Anyway, you’re probably my best friend, of course I meant it. Just tell me what you need.”

“It’s a big ask.”

“Ask me anyway.”

Isabel listened to Vera take a deep breath, mentally preparing herself. “My mother…” Vera started slowly. “My mother isn’t doing well. And… And I know it isn’t fair to ask you.”

Despite Vera not even properly asking anything yet, Isabel motioned for Moira to grab her laptop for her. The housekeeper did her duty, and Isabel got online.

“I thought I was managing fine on my own,” Vera continued. Her voice wobbled; stupid woman, why wasn’t she stronger? “But I just… No, forget it.” She couldn’t ask Isabel to drop everything and just come to Australia from Los Angeles. That was insane! Even best friends had their limits, right?

There was a pause. Vera checked her phone to see if Isabel hung up. No, she was still on the line. “Isabel?”

Another moment of silence, and then, “One-way ticket on a red eye from LA to Melbourne, all booked.”

Flabbergasted, Vera stammered. “You… no, I didn’t mean… I shouldn’t have even brought it up!”

“Too late, already done, tickets nonrefundable,” Isabel replied in a teasing singsong voice. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a flight to catch in a few hours. See you soon?”

Vera chewed on the inside of her cheek. It felt almost too good to be true: a friend who dropped everything because she hinted at her mother’s health declining. She wanted to pinch herself; wake herself up from this dream. She wanted to cry, feeling weirdly relieved by it all. She wasn’t going to be alone. Isabel really was coming to Australia; Isabel was willing to travel across the ocean.

“Vera?”

“Yeah, yes,” Vera replied. “I’ll see you soon.”

Isabel hung up and set the phone aside. “Well, looks like I’m going to Australia,” she told Moira, seeing that her brother had vanished. Typical. He had a habit of coming and going as he pleased, never sticking around for too long.

“When do you think you’ll be back?” Moira asked.

The smile slowly fell from Isabel’s face. “You know I can’t answer that.” It didn’t matter if she had a plan to only stay a week or two weeks or a year. Something was bound to happen; something always happened.

“Then at least do me one favor.”

“Yeah?”

“Try and stay out of trouble. For once.”

“No promises.”

#wentworth #fanfic #my writing

[lusciouslii]

actually yknow what forget that, my kink blog ill post whatever little thoughts i want. even if im just yelling into the void at least i get to yell!

longer rant incoming bc im tired and want this out of my system!!

-

so i met this guy on feabie and immediately it was super exciting because we go to the same college!!

hes also super fucking hot which was its own weird thing bc ive really never experienced like physical sexual attraction so that was weird. but yeah dude looks good and he has a nice voice so thats already not helping me

we’ve met up a couple times now, once to sorta test the waters, once just to cuddle in my room???? which looking back it was at that point i was straight up fucked because as someone who had recently gotten out of a bad relationship in which all my needs and emotions had been completely neglected, having that kind of sweet and affectionate intimacy?? all while my chubby body is being praised and adored??? never once had that in my LIFE.

the other few times has been pretty lowkey too. we did do a feeding session once but i got sick and it was the most humiliating thing. but he was so nice and caring and we continued to talk afterwards so i just try not to think about it anymore lol

we didnt talk much over the summer since i had to go back home across the country, but he reached out a few times and i was like damn ok im still of interest to him

this semester started great because i planted the seed (aka posted a pic showing i was back over here) knowing he would probably see it and if he’d say anything, and he fucking did he reached out and was excited i was back and wanted to meet up soon. schedules were a little rough but eventually we did!

i felt extra happy because it was sort if spur of the moment decision and he was moving back an online hangout he’d been planning with friends for a couple weeks. so i was like omg he really wants to see me even if only for a little bit thats so nice

and now that we have several months ahead of us we started talking about doing more of a feeder/feedee setup and things like that and im, obviously, super into the idea, and he seemed super into it too!! the dirty things he said to me that night!!!! not fair!!!!!!!

i sent pics later that night bc we talked about it and he said he’d “return the favor” lol but the. like. i sent them and he didn’t say anything until i posted a pic to feabie 🙃 and he was like oh sorry i completely missed your text! which like alright, and he asked me how i was doing and blah blah brief smalltalk

i asked if he wanted to meet up again soon and he said “Yea I’d be down, I gotta see what’s going on tho / need to play it by ear”

now heres where i get all introspective because to me, i dont see why we couldnt just schedule something in the future. unless, that is, hes trying to keep his schedule open for other stuff. i can get that to a certain degree, and i have to like. really ponder on it because i dont want to be some clingy needy girl who is fawning after a guy im not even dating, but its like….idk it makes me feel kinda sad? that im not enough of a priority to want to pick a set day to do something? so idk how to feel about that exactly

anyways i tried asking again some days later and he wasnt free, no surprise, usually when we do something its sorta this impulsive last minute thing, which again like. sorta plays into that whole im not really a priority unless idk youre horny or something

but its weird cause it seems like he does care and does want more than just horny shenanigans? we havent had sex yet and have only even had one actual feeding session. soooo worlds most patient fuckboy if thats the case but i just really dont get those vibes

but also im gullible and see the best in people i care about and thats how i got fucked over in my last relationship

im just feeling pretty sad about the whole thing right now because we talked about doing all these things and i really want that but hes so uncommunicative and im afraid of being obsessive. again, might be on me too because im going in thinking maybe theres a chance to do more

but then again even if there isnt thats FINE i just want to do SOMETHING lmao

so now im just left wanting and thinking about him a lot and oh yeah need i remind WE GO TO THE SAME SCHOOL WHY CANT WE JUST MEET UP CASUALLY ONE AFTERNOON 😭

idk but im afraid of maybe ruining the best relationship ive formed in this kink after figuring out what i wanted from it. god even now im just like “youre thinking too hard about this it doesnt matter that much, youre supposed to be flexible and chill and just go with the flow cause its just a little side thing” but welp. my brain is noisy and i dont have a good outlet. another problem of not having friends in this kink but im not good at responding to people which online is the only way to talk to people and now im just rambling

anyways ending this here and hoping he’ll reach out eventually cause boy does the heart yearn 🥲🥲🥲

#also WOW i pray he doesnt somehow find this #he doesnt have my tumblr #but it wouldnt be too hard to figure out from what he does have

[imaginethathaikyuu]

hi hello i've never left an ask here before but your tsukishima morning sex fic lives in my mind rent free. like i literally haven't stopped thinking about it since i read it last year (??? ur mind)

this isn't a request but i just wanted to share a thought i had. u know those cat ears that move according to your brain waves (these ones, they're called necomimi if the link doesn't work)

imagine whichever character who's in to pet play just . making you put those on with the maid dress and hgbjnfgnjhlknfgn

anyway i hope you are doing well :O

(for my own reference i am leaving this here: 🎐)

omg i forgot i wrote that fic...i would go back and read it but ive started cringing at my old writing so i will Not. im rlly glad u like it!!! v glad v glad 

wtf they make cat ears that MOVE WITH UR BRAIN WAVES WTF??? hold on. omg theyre CUTE....oh my god they were 100 dollars are u kidding me. thats crazy. i had no idea these existed. i want to make tsukishima wear them 

#i wrote that fic in 2019 im going to turn to dust #to be fair the moment i post anything i immediately forget about it. so yeah not sure what that says about me and my brain #i just cannot believe i have 2 year old fics on this blog. i probably should go back and delete the old ones that i hate lmao #but i dont care enough. i'll let them live on. ppl get enjoyment out of them so

[immersed-in-mischief]

Prince Charming (Loki x Female Reader)- Part 2

I was too excited to wait any longer before posting part 2! This part is pretty long but it didn’t feel right to split it anywhere. Over 3k words! 

Summary: Things with Chaos begin to develop pretty quickly now that Loki his preoccupied with is new girl.

Warnings: none, just fluff 

 "Nice of you to join us, Sleeping Beauty!”

10 minutes late. Chaos had certainly accepted the challenge, alright. The sun was already peeking through the building outside your window when the two of you called it a night. Could it still be calling it a night when it wasn’t night anymore though? You had lost track of time in the shower replaying the conversation over again. The lack of hot water quickly brought you back to reality and you grabbed the closest outfit you could reach and threw your hair up in a bun as you raced to the conference room. You noticed Loki giving you a confused stare from across the table. He pretended to pay attention while typing a message out to you from his tablet.

L.Laufeyson: You’re staring off into space and grinning like a mad man. Stop it. It makes you look creepy.

You rolled your eyes and stuck your tongue out at him when Rogers turned his back to face the screen.

Who are you calling creepy? I know you only pay attention to the parts about hostile takedowns. Maybe I just really enjoy 7am mission briefings. You don’t know me as well as you think you do Mischief!

When Tony shared a look between you and Loki from his end of the table, you both put the tablets down and made a better attempt to pay attention. You tried to quietly hide your yawn. Maybe you could sneak in a nap later since you hadn’t actually gotten a wink of sleep.

Over the next few weeks, you not only talked to Chaos every night you weren’t away for a mission, the two of you had begun to exchange a few messages throughout the day as well when you both weren’t busy with work. Since you weren’t really hanging out with Loki much anymore, it was a welcomed distraction. You had come across him on his phone on several occasions with his book carelessly discarded somewhere nearby. He always seemed to get frustrated with you when you interrupted his reading so this girl must really be special to him. One afternoon, you swore you heard him sigh after putting his phone away. It felt like a punch to the gut. If he even noticed that you hadn’t had one of your movie nights or dinners together in nearly a month, it didn’t seem to bother him. It just gave you more excuses to return the flirtatious advances from Chaos. You couldn’t say that you were really fighting it all that hard though. It may have started out as a distraction, but it felt really good to feel wanted by someone again. Being head over heels for your best friend, coworker, and pretty much roommate makes dating kind of difficult.

With Rogers away on a mission, you cut training a few minutes short to hurry back to your room. A huge grin slowly spread to see the light in the corner of your tablet flashing. Even though it was hard, you resisted the huge to check the message and made yourself shower and change first. Once you were changed into your pajamas for the night, you curled up on the corner of the sofa in your room and slid the screen on.

Dove, I know you won’t see this until late this evening, but I didn’t want to wait another second to tell you that I truly missed our talks the last several nights while I was away. I’m anxiously counting down the minutes until you arrive home from work. You’ve quickly become my favorite part of my day

This guy knew exactly what to say to make you swoon. Part of you was glad he couldn’t see how often he made you blush. You noticed the message was sent just before you returned to your room and Chaos was still logged in.

What if you didn’t have to wait until late this evening?

The fact that he was immediately responding made you smile. Although it was foolish to believe the guy would be staring at the computer waiting for you, it still gave you butterflies when he was so eager to talk to you.

I’d say that’s the best news I’ve heard all day. Not that I’m not excited to see you online, but don’t you still have a few hours of work left, darling?

Grabbing a blanket off the back of the couch, you snuggled up on the couch with the charger for your tablet placed within reach.

Boss is out of town, so I cut out early today. Curling up at home to watch the rain while talking to my favorite person sounded better anyways 😉

Your secret is safe with me. Rainy afternoons curled up with a good book is on my list of favorite things, though speaking with you might have recently taken a higher position on said list. Would it be too forward of me to say that I would rather spend a rainy afternoon like this by your side instead of speaking through an electronic device?

There it goes again. You feel the heat on your cheeks as you bite your lip to control the grin on your face.

Were you really on a business trip or were you just spending time thinking of things to say to make me blush? Not that I’m complaining really. To answer your question, no it wouldn’t be too forward. I was thinking the same just now actually…

You always know how to make me laugh. Unfortunately, I’m not that smooth. I truly was away for business. I can’t help but wonder now how often I cause a blush to form on your cheeks. Maybe that will be my new mission, though it would not be a fruitful endeavor without seeing it in person. I’m sure it’s adorable

Not that smooth? I beg to differ! The number of times you make me absolutely swoon tells a different story. In order to keep my dignity, I won’t disclose what that number actually is at the moment. Let’s just say you must read classical literature and Shakespeare on a regular basis because it shows. Enough of my blushing and swooning! So, Chaos, if we were to be face to face on a rainy afternoon like this, how would we spend it? Not that I am assessing your dating skills or anything… or am I?

The fact that I make you blush and swoon often is quite flattering actually. I was raised somewhat old-fashioned I guess you could say. I was taught that a woman should be treated as a princess and that anything less is disrespectful. I guess you could thank my mother for that. If I’m being completely transparent, you tend to cause me to “blush and swoon” quite often as well, Dove. The feelings you stir within me make it nearly impossible to not let a smile grace my lips at the very thought of you…

Now that I’m sure I have a blush once again residing on your cheeks, I believe you inquired about my dating skills in a not-so-subtle way… Given the honor to have you accompany me on a date on a rainy afternoon such as this, I would say that a visit to a secondhand bookstore would be in order. I of course have a few around the city I like to frequent already. I would enjoy the opportunity to discover what books captured your attention and compare our favorites. Once we had found a few treasures and picked out at least one for the other to enjoy, we would find a place to sit and converse, just like we do here already. A quiet corner of a coffee shop would be a preferred place of mine. It would give us the chance to people watch as well. We could even make up stories about their lives and what we thought their day had entailed. If you didn’t feel it to be too intimate for such a date, I wouldn’t be opposed to finding a quiet place to curl up together to watch the rain and sit and read together.

I admit that I’m now quite curious, Darling. How does my answer fair in your assessment that you may or may not be performing on my ability to court?

You reread his answer a few times before you remembered that you now needed to write back. How could you be so flustered over….words? Now seemed like a good time to run to the kitchen for a snack. Something told you that you had already decided exactly how you wished to spend your evening.

As you made yourself a hot tea and let yourself imagine what a date like that with him would be like, you looked up to see Nat and Wanda standing there staring at you.

“I’m sorry. What did you say?”

They shared a look before turning back to you.

“Nat, I think our girl just literally floated into the room. She also hasn’t stopped smiling for days now. Could it possibly have anything to do with this mystery guy that you keep dashing away to talk to on your tablet possibly?”

Wanda and Nat laughed as they stood and waited for their answer. Nat was even more forward.

“It’s no secret. You charge that tablet nearly three times a day now. When are you just going to meet him already? You obviously are already completely smitten with each other. It’s written all over your face and if he is making you look like this all of the time, he must be pretty dreamy.”

You willed the kettle to heat up faster to escape this conversation.

“I don’t know. Maybe we will meet up at some point, but things are pretty great right now. What if we meet in person and there is no chemistry?”

Nat came and put a hand on either cheek, holding your head in her hands.

“Sweetie, if this guy was enough to help you forget that you are madly in love with your best friend, then there is zero chance that you two lack chemistry.”

They both laughed at the shocked look on your face. Wanda patted you on the shoulder and whispered as she walked by.

“Yeah, we know about that too. You don’t hide the way you stare at him very well. The only person who can’t see your feelings is Loki.”

Squeezing the bridge of your nose out of frustration, you whispered under your breath.

“Are there no secrets in this building?!”

Wanda seemed to get an idea and turned back around before leaving the kitchen.

“The costume party! That’s how you can meet him in person! Invite him to Tony’s costume party next week. If you don’t feel it in person, you will be in disguise anyways since it’s a masquerade ball! It’s perfect! Your own little fairy tale!”

Just as Nat got excited as well, you put a stop to it.

“Absolutely not! That is so cliché even for you two! Plus, I’m not meeting him for the first time in the lion’s den. That’s just cruel. Get over it. I am not inviting him to Tony’s party, end of discussion.”

“Inviting who?”

Your head whipped around to see Loki standing at the edge of the kitchen. His wet hair formed soft curls against his shoulders and left damp spots on the tight t-shirt that hugged him in all the right places. The sweatpants that hug low on his hips didn’t help stop your breath from quickening. You felt frozen under his gaze.

“Who are you not inviting, Bug?”

Before you could answer, Nat spoke up.

“Her new Boy Toy…”

You shot a warning glare to her before turning back to Loki in time to catch the smirk form on his lips.

“Boy Toy? Is that who has been stealing you away from me? Well then, sit by me tonight for movie night and you can tell me why exactly he is not being invited to Tony’s party.”

“I uh… I can’t tonight.”

He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at you.

“Come on Ladybug. I haven’t seen you in days and we both know we haven’t had a movie night in ages. Don’t you love me anymore?”

You unsuccessfully hid the squeak that escaped at his question. The pout he gave you told you that he was joking and not actually acknowledging the fact that you had been head over heels for him for way longer than should be allowed. Just as you tried to come up with anything at all to say, Wanda covered for you.

“She has a date with the Boy Toy.”

He seemed to accept that answer.

“Fine. But I expect you to attend the next one, Bug. Better not keep the Boy Toy waiting now.”

As he turned to head into the living room, the kettle started to whistle, and you let out a sigh of relief. When you finished making your tea and grabbing enough snacks to not have to leave your room anymore tonight, you turned to face them one more time.

“You two better help me find a damn good costume… I can’t believe I’m going to do this.”

They giggled and high fived as you shook your head. On the way back to your room, your mind drifted back to Loki. It was time to move on. At the mention of you dating someone, there was zero trace of jealously or emotion in his face. He didn’t see you like that and he never would. You had a guy that showed genuine interest in you and freely let you know as well. There was no wondering if Chaos wanted something more with you than a casual chat online. Meeting a stranger in person couldn’t be any safer than in a high security tower surrounded by the Avengers.

You took a sip of your tea and smiled at the flashing light on the tablet on the couch beside you.

I hope your silence isn’t an indication of a poor assessment…

Sorry! No not at all! I just stepped away for a minute to get something to eat. Although it is fun to make you sweat it out a little…

To say I’m relieved is an understatement, Dove. I thought maybe I had made you uncomfortable earlier.

Quite the opposite actually. It sounds like the perfect date to be honest. I’m quite the cuddler when given the chance. In fact, I’m curled up with a blanket and a hot tea as we speak…

Then I shall be jealous of said blanket and mug since they get to cuddle with you instead of me… Since we appear to both have the same thoughts as to what constitutes the perfect date, does that mean you find my skills adequate?

I suppose… 😊

So, Chaos, if you’ve already put thought into the two of us on a date, does that mean that you might want more than just exchanging messages online?... now I’m the one worried about being too forward!

 As the bubbles appeared and you waited for a response, you started to regret being so blunt with your questioning.

Darling, I’ve wanted that longer than I care to admit, so no you are not being too forward. I’ve thought about breaching the subject of meeting you in person for some time but could never gather the courage to do so. I’ve honestly never had a connection with someone truly as strong as I feel with you. Is a face-to-face meeting something you might want as well?

Absolutely. I’ve been nervous to bring it up too. I didn’t want to assume that the connection was mutual and end up embarrassing myself. I’ve made the mistake in the past of letting my heart get involved to find out too late that those feelings were not returned. It’s not something I wish to go through more than once.

Dove, I can assure you that is not the case with me. I assure you that any feelings you may have developed are returned tenfold. I have never seen your face or heard your voice, yet you have my heart… Does this mean I will soon get the opportunity to see the effects of this blushing and swooning you speak of with my own eyes?

That is really good to hear and I guess I need to start hiding such effects now… So … there is a reason for my line of questioning actually…

Oh? It that so? Please continue…

I’ve actually been given an invitation to a party at Stark Tower next weekend being hosted by the Avengers. Since we did meet in an Avengers chat room, it seems kind of poetic that we meet up at an event hosted by them.

It really is poetic isn’t it? I’m aware of the event you speak of though I hadn’t planned on attending. I would be willing to reconsider however if I knew that you were in attendance as well. Is it a masquerade ball in fact, is it not?

Yes, everyone attending is expected to be in costume. If I was not only in attendance, but there as your date, would it be enough to help you reconsider?...

More than enough, My Love.

Well, it’s a date then 😊

It would be my honor, Dove. There is still one matter to discuss. If we are both in costume, how exactly will I know when I’ve found you?

Would it be too cliché to attend as Cinderella and Prince Charming? It is a ball after all.

Not at all. In fact, I find it to be quite a romantic gesture to meet my princess for the first time dressed as her Prince Charming. You deserve to have your fairy tale moment, Darling.

So, it’s settled then. Next Saturday. Do you need me to get you put on the guest list?

That won’t be necessary. You aren’t the only one with connections, Love.

#loki fluff #loki smut #loki angst #loki fanfic #loki fandom #loki laufeyson #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #marvel

[storiesforallfandoms]

comparisons ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 2195

request?: yes!

“Can I get a Colson Baker one where you’re dating after him and Megan where you get a bunch of hate and they both defend you against the hate please”

description: when her boyfriend’s ex is one of the most beautiful actresses of this generation, she finds herself being constantly compared to her and receiving hateful messages

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, hate messages, insecurities

masterlist (one, two)

There was some sort of assumption that when you start dating someone, you immediately hate their ex. That could not be further from the truth for me and Colson. In fact, Colson’s ex-girlfriend introduced us shortly after their break up, and had constantly pushed for the two of us to get together.

Megan was basically the backbone in our friendship. She pushed me to pursue my dreams in acting (as well as helped you with that since she was so much more famous than you were when you started), then she pushed me to start auditioning for bigger roles. The moment she introduced me to Colson, I knew exactly what was coming next.

“That’s weird, Meg,” I had told her. “Isn’t there, like, a girl code about dating your best friend’s ex?”

“I’m literally shoving you onto him,” she had responded. “I think you’re fine with the girl code.”

A few months after meeting, I finally caved and asked Colson out on a date. Six months later, I was still thanking Megan for giving me that push.

Shortly after making our relationship public, however, the happiness slowly came to a stop. For me, anyways. Colson, bless his heart, was blissfully ignorant to the comments his fanbase started to send me.

“yikes, he really downgraded huh?”

“how do you go from megan fox to...that?”

“guess mgk couldn’t keep up his streak of hot girlfriends”

Hate comes with fame, I knew that. I had my fair share of hate comments ever since the start. It was easy to ignore them when they were just a handful of hate comments here and there, but this was different. This was a bombardment of hate that was so heavy I could barley go online.

Colson was oblivious for a while, until he found out I had deleted all my social media accounts.

“Did you delete your Instagram babe?” he asked the minute he got home the day I had done it.

“Yeah,” I responded, nonchalantly. “I deleted all my social media.”

“Why?”

I shrugged. “I just thought it’d be better for me mentally. They say being so attached to social media is bad for you or whatever.”

“But you weren’t even addicted to social media. You just liked sharing your memories - our memories.”

I shrugged again and turned back to my cooking. I wasn’t about to tell him his fans drove me off the internet. He loved his fans, I couldn’t fuck that up for him, even if what they were saying hurt me so much.

My back was to him as I cooked, so he couldn’t see my reaction when he asked, “Is it because people were comparing you to Megan?”

I froze completely. I could feel his eyes staring into the back of my head, but I just couldn’t convince myself to turn around to face him. I knew that if I did, I’d crack. I had gone too long pretending everything was okay, keeping this secret from Colson, to finally let it slip now. I just had to throw him off of his thought process.

“Where did you get that idea?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light.

He was next to me suddenly, holding his phone up so I could see it. On the screen was a picture of me at a red carpet just below a headline that read “(Y/F/N) deletes social media accounts amid hateful comments from boyfriend Machine Gun Kelly’s fans”.

I sighed in frustration. Of course the tabloid vultures had already written articles about it. I had only done it a few hours earlier, but they always had to be the first ones to write another story about me.

“I didn’t even know I was getting hate,” I said, trying to keep up the lie even though it was pretty obvious I had been found out. “I just decided to delete my accounts, it must be a coincidence.”

“Really? Because this article says you were receiving so much hate that you couldn’t even go into the comments on your pictures or replies on your tweets without seeing a mass amount of hate from my fans.”

I turned off the stove and turned around suddenly, abandoning my cooking completely as I quickly walked out of the kitchen and towards mine and Colson’s room. I felt a lump forming in my throat, and the last thing I wanted was for Colson to see me cry.

I wasn’t shocked to hear his footsteps coming after me. I forgot how much longer his legs were than mine, so it didn’t take long for him to catch up with me and stop me before I could get too far away. He took hold of my arm and turned me around to look at him. The moment my eyes landed on his face, it felt like someone had finally broke the dam holding back my tears.

Colson pulled me in for a hug and held me tightly as I sobbed into his chest. Every ounce of overwhelming feelings I had been bottling up for months was finally starting to come out, and I realized it was long overdue when I eventually began to grow tired from my crying.

I felt Colson pick me up and bring me to his bed. My eyes were starting to grow heavy despite how much I was fighting against them to stay awake. The minute my head hit the pillow, I was out like a light.

I wasn’t sure how long I was asleep, but it was obvious I had needed that rest, because when I woke up again I felt more well rested than I had in a long time.

I opened my eyes to find myself facing the window, which helped me to pinpoint that it was now nighttime as the sky was pitch black. I rolled over, expecting to find Colson asleep next to me only to find that I was alone in his bed. I was confused at first, forgetting the events that happened mere hours earlier.

I could hear a distant voice talking and was able to identify it as Colson’s. I got up from his bed and made my way towards the stairs, hearing it get louder as I stood at the top.

“I wish she would’ve told me,” he was saying. “I don’t know why she would’ve kept this a secret from me.”

“She didn’t want you upset with your fans,” came another voice. This one was distorted like it was coming from a phone. When she spoke again, I realized it was Megan’s voice. “And she’s stubborn. She was probably determined to deal with this by herself.”

“I just hate that she felt that way,” Colson sighed. “I don’t want her believing anything any of those people said to her, but I saw screenshots and fuck...they really did just bombard her with hate.”

“I know, but none of us could’ve predicted this. Your fans were so cool with us dating, I thought they’d love (Y/N) since we’re so similar.”

I sat down on the top of the stairs and peeked down enough that I could see Colson without him seeing me. He was laid out on the couch in just his sweat pants. In his hand he was holding his phone up, the other was slung over the back of his couch. I could see the guilt on his face, which broke my heart to see. I didn’t want Colson feeling guilty for something that was out of his control.

“You think what I posted will do anything?” he asked Megan.

“I don’t know. It’s hard to tell. When people want to hate, they just want to hate.”

Hearing that Colson had posted something made me curious. I felt around my pants for my phone, but realized I had probably left it in the room or downstairs somewhere. I was in too deep now to give myself away, but I really wanted to know what he had posted about the situation.

“Thanks for talking to me about this, Megan,” he said.

“Of course, Colson. Anytime.”

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Colson tossed his phone onto the coffee table and put his arm under his head. “Are you gonna come down babe?”

I wanted to ask how he knew I was there, but instead I stood from my spot and made my way down the stairs. When I entered the living room, Colson just looked up at me for a moment, almost expectantly. I smiled down at him and laid on top of him with my head on his chest. The arm that was over the back of the couch wrapped around me and he gently kissed the top of my head.

“How much did you hear?” he asked.

“Just the last bit,” I admitted. “Something about a post you made.”

Colson hummed, his chest vibrating underneath my ear as he did. “I wanted to address the issue, and I knew you wouldn’t let me do it if you were awake.”

“I still don’t like that you did it now,” I said, half joking. “Can I see the post?”

He moved his head to look down at me. “How do I know you’re not going to delete the post?”

“You don’t,” I responded. “You’ll just have to trust me.”

He smiled and reached over to grab his phone from the coffee table. He opened it and pulled up a post he had made on Instagram: it was your usual white background with text post you saw celebrities make from time to time.

It read:

“I love my fans so much. You guys are my EST family, and I’m so proud of this family that we have built over the last few years. However, it came to my attention today that some of you have been less than nice to my girlfriend to a point where she felt the need to delete her social media accounts. I will admit, I was oblivious to this at first as I am not one to go onto other people’s social media to read comments and replies, and (Y/N) kept this to herself instead of telling me about it. But now that I do know, I have to say I am beyond pissed. (Y/N) is the most beautiful girl I have ever met, inside and out. She is not Megan, and honestly - with all respect to Megan - I’m glad that she’s not. I love Megan as a friend, but truly that’s all she is to me. (Y/N) is my soulmate, the love of my life. These comparisons and jabs at her because she isn’t my ex are absolutely disgusting, especially coming from people who claim they love me as much as you guys do. Please learn how to treat the people in my life with love and respect, or else take my face out of your profile pictures and my name out of your usernames/bios as you are not a true fan of mine. From the bottom of my heart, fuck you to anyone that made my girlfriend feel like shit.”

I scrolled down to see the comments and saw that the top one was from Megan, and was already liked by Colson.

“(Y/N) is not my competition, nor is she my enemy. She is my friend and she has been since before Colson and I were ever together. The fact that people feel the need to pit two women against one another just because they both dated the same person is absolutely appalling to me. I’d like to emphasis Colson’s statement - fuck you to whoever hurt my friend.”

I handed Colson his phone back, not wanting to read any more. I could feel a lump in my throat again, but this one was from happiness. I felt so lucky to have two amazing people in my corner during a time that was otherwise very trying for me.

“I’m sorry I never told you,” I said as I rested against his chest again.

“You shouldn’t be sorry, (Y/N). I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“You don’t have any reason to be sorry either. You can’t control your fans.”

“Then neither of us will be sorry.”

I chuckled at this. For a moment we were both silent, the only sound being Colson’s heart beating under my ear. It was a soothing sound, and combined with his fingers tracing over my back, I was almost lulled back to sleep.

“I love you,” he mumbled against my hair.

I lifted my head to look at him. “What?”

“I said I love you.”

I was speechless. It was the first time he had seriously said those words and he had managed to shock me into silence with them.

He looked at me, his face slowly becoming concerned with my silence.

“I love you, too,” I finally managed.

A smile broke out across Colson’s face as he wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly to him. For the rest of the night, he would whisper those three words to me randomly, and I would whisper back my response every time.

#machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #colson baker #colson baker imagine #colson baker x reader #mgk #est #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

[isagisyoichi]

how do u think the boy would be in a party😈😈

NEW RULES!

SYNOPSIS: blue lock at a party

CHARACTERS INCLUDED: isagi, bachira, nagi, reo, rin, chigiri, naruhaya, niko, nanase, gagamaru, kunigami

WARNINGS: mentions of underage drinking and weed (but no one actually takes anything), swearing, mentions of throwing up and food, again pretend they're all friends and go to the same school because it's more fun to think that way. ooc rin maybe? idk i like pretending he's not as miserable as the manga makes him out to be 🤗 he deserves to have fun i think

A/N: no cause this was soooo fun to write tysm anon, i got through this in a flash cause i loved this suggestion sm :') literally one of the most fun requests i've ever gotten eeee!!!!! also this made me miss my irls bye corona can suck my balls fr

ISAGI YOICHI:

i feel like this would be his first big party aw lol, so he’s kind of nervous LMAO.

gets handed a beer by someone, has his first sip of it ever, and immediately spits it out. mutters “how the hell can anyone drink this?” and “discreetly” pours the rest into a bush.

mainly stays with nagi, chigiri, kunigami, and bachira and they just talk throughout the night

(bachira only sits down and talks after his energy dies down. i'll elaborate on this below the cut).

keeps asking nagi “what song is this?” throughout the night LOL. makes a mental note of what songs to add to his playlists.

slightly nods his head to the music, aw cute. goes a little harder and lip syncs/raps along when he really likes the song, though (i stand by my word when i said he loves “neon guts”)

does accidentally bump into someone, but isagi starts a convo with them after he apologizes, and they hit it off right away 🥰

but, the person left early and isagi, ever the dummy, forgets to ask for their number.

and he's actually so disappointed in himself when he realizes, too 😭

BACHIRA MEGURU:

not drunk or anything at all, but boy, the way he’s acting makes it seem like he is.

the self proclaimed “life of the party.”

can be found “dancing,” though i use that word generously because to classify whatever he’s doing as “dancing,” is a stretch, to every song, even if he doesn’t know the words LOL

really likes when throwbacks come on!!!! he does dance to the lyrics and not the beat sometimes, though 😭

but, bachira looks like he’s having so much fun, it’s so cute, he’s definitely been waiting for this moment his whole life 🥰

if you were dancing with him, bachira would 100% take you by the hand and spin you around

also forces gets isagi to dance with him but isagi’s so awkward 😭

bachira also ends up jumping in the pool sometime later that night. yells “cannonball!” and everything, like, okay michael phelps 😭

he doesn’t have extra clothes so reo has to give him some and they're so fucking big on him LOLLL

texts the groupchat “i was sooo crazy last night😂” in the morning LMAOO, okay babe calm down

KUNIGAMI RENSUKE:

takes it upon himself to make sure none of his friends die LOL

only drinks water and diet coke 👍

his mom calls in the middle of the party to ask how he's doing and bachira and nagi are doing stupid shit like yelling “pass the weed” and fake moaning 😭

isagi and chigiri tell him to tell her they say hi LOL

really likes when the dj puts on 90s/2000's r&b/hiphop songs (i'll die by my hc that kunigami's an oldies fan)

mostly sways side to side to the music, but he did also dance a little, per request of bachira, and ended up talking to a cute person a for little, too 🤗

offers to help clean up in the morning

CHIGIRI HYOUMA:

at least two drunk girls have mistaken him for their friend, and another four have asked to touch his hair.

tried to use one of reo’s many bathrooms, found a couple making out, outwardly said “gross,” and then left to find another one 😭

nods his head and taps his foot to the music, not much of a dancer.

also a people-watcher, and he points out things he sees are happening to his friends.

“guys, i think misa and her boyfriend are breaking up, look.” leave that poor girl alone bro 😭

finds himself laughing a lot that night because damn! his friends are funny, whether they try to be or not.

not really a party person, but chigiri actually had a lot of fun 🥰

NARUHAYA ASAHI:

also on the dancefloor! doesn’t really dance, per say, but he jumps up and down and does the fist pump thing 😭 he has the spirit, let's give him that.

drank a lot of soda, so he’s filled with energy. also pees in at least three of reo's bathrooms.

talks to his friends, but also makes new ones! also i feel like he takes a lot of pictures LOL. he needs the finsta content 😭

plays truth or dare, or something like that. ends up having to do some stupid shit like smack raichi’s ass and run away, but naruhaya did make out with the girl next to him, so fair trade, he thinks.

also ends up in the pool, but he’s playing chicken with gagamaru and some other people. does not win a single round, but he had fun 😇

leaves with like four plates of food and one of reo’s decorative towels for some reason???

GAGAMARU GIN:

goes through a bunch of reo's shit 😭 he's not taking anything, but he's just curious LOL

strikes up very, random conversations with a bunch of people out of nowhere, good for him!

weirdly good at darts, very good aim.

although one round, naruhaya accidentally distracted gagamaru and one of darts ended up in reo's wall 💔

“it's fine, he has the money to fix it,” naruhaya shrugs as he walks away from reo's now punctured, wall. so true bestie!

gagamaru somehow ends up giving some drunk stranger some “life-changing” advice. (whether it's good or not is debatable)

they thank gagamaru for changing their life and he never sees them again

NAGI SEISHIRO:

irritates the fuck out the dj because nagi keeps asking him to play one specific song over and over again.

it was good the first time, don't wear it out for the rest of us bae 😭

doesn't really dance, just nods his head, maybe raps along a little, too

when he talks to the girls that come up to him, nagi says stuff like “yeah, the host and i go way back, we’re best friends.”

“way back,” my ass, but whatever nagi 🤨

knocks out in one of reo’s guest rooms. someone finds him when they’re trying to look for the bathroom and they draw a mustache and a bunch of other stupid shit on him 😭

tries to leave before reo makes him help clean up in the morning. does not work 👍

dumbass also ended up losing his phone (reo bought him a new one so nagi doesn't really care)

RAICHI JINGO:

gasses himself up sooo much when he’s trying to hit on girls.

“yeah, i'm about to go D1 after high school, just wait on it,” yeah, okay raichi 🙄

also tries to show them his highlights, bye. babe, i mean this in the nicest possible way but, i do not care, can we just kiss 🙏

i feel like he’s one of those boys who likes to take his shirt off for no reason, so raichi most definitely ends up shirtless at some point of the night 😭

takes pictures with reo’s fancy cars in his garage to flex 💀 gets annoyed when reo says raichi can’t drive them. raichi doesn't even have his license 😑

plays pool and is actually not that bad. does almost accidentally blind isagi with his cue, though.

IMAMURA YUUDAI:

he's with some girls but, he’s a dummy and he didn’t know his other hoes would be there, so imamura had quite a few drinks spilled on him here and there.

still somehow leaves with like three new girls snaps, four numbers, and a bunch of lipstick stains. not even gonna lie, i respect his game.

actually a really good dancer, and he knows he looks good, too. knows the words to every drake song that comes on, argue with your mom.

lip-syncs the words to you when you dance together and it makes you more flustered than you would think 🙄

the type to pull you close and wraps his arms around your waist or around your neck

actually really fun to talk to. always in the loop with drama and stuff, so he's always got some interesting conversation topics. and he's funny 😭

MIKAGE REO:

obviously, the party’s at his house. what’s the point of having a rich teammate if you can’t exploit them for their possessions?

jokes, but reo did offer to throw it at his mansion house in the first place.

actually really likes throwing parties lmao, so he jumped at the opportunity.

posted on his snap, “party at my place su for address‼️” LOL

natural charm + raised with good manners = reo being an amazing host

but, reo does have a little group of girls following him around the entire night 👎

and it irritates the hell out of whoever reo’s trying to talk to because they’re all up on him, making it hard for reo to pay attention 😑

also doesn’t help that he entertains them and flirts back and dances with a couple of them, too

and looks good when he dances, too UGH!!!! he's the type to run his hands up and down your body while he dances with you 😣

i hate this man 👎 /j

ITOSHI RIN:

practicing. he didn’t come. sike! rin has a social life, too, come on now, y'all 🙄

talked a big game about how he wouldn’t show up then he still came anyways, like rin, what 😭??

super good at cup pong and he knows it. he keeps beating ryusei and if you look closely, rin has something reminiscent of a smirk on his face.

a foot-tapper, not a dancer, which sucks because he’s not even bad at dancing, either 👎

a couple of girls come up to rin to flirt, but rin doesn’t give them the time of day. no response or anything just a little side eye 😭

rin just talks to his friends and that’s it, really.

actually internally glad for the chance to kickback and relax for once, tbh.

but, he refuses to admit he had any semblance of fun. (he did, rin’s just a weenie 😒)

NIKO IKKI:

the team forced him to come 😭

niko’s already a homebody and he doesn’t like loud noises or large social scenes, so he wasn’t too jazzed about going somewhere where the both of those things combine.

also he's picky with music so LOL. does like that one remix to the pursuit of happiness, though

he’s a wall-stander, i hate to break it to y’all. just watched everything from a distance and didn't talk to anyone except for isagi and his friends.

bye, if you don’t get off the damn wall and dance (he'd dance with me i'm different 🥰🤗)

keeps opening and closing his phone so he looks busy but that mf is literally just going through the settings app 😭

called his mom to bring him home an hour and a half in 👎

NANASE NIJIROU:

i hate to admit it, but he’s the annoying first year that documents everything on snap bye

he’s just excited to be there but like, there is no reason for his story to be half an hour long.

i'm not watching all of that! sorry that happened to you or good for you 🤗

probably playing games like spin the bottle or seven minutes in heaven. is very proud of himself for kissing four people in one night #bigmoves 🥳

stays with his group of friends and they're sooo loud and rowdy LMAOO. #firstyearthings

you can literally hear them laughing over the music, but they're having fun, so it's fine (at least of those kids hits people when they laugh too)

also dances, too! has super good energy and a natural sense of rhythm surprisingly 🥰 also a good hypeman!!!!! honestly, he's just really fun to be around tbh

overall, has a lot of fun, as you can tell by his story 😇

#queued #blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock headcanons #bllk headcanons #bachira meguru #isagi yoichi #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #chigiri hyouma #nanase nijiro #naruhaya asahi #raichi jingo #nagi seishirou #reo mikage #mikage reo #niko ikki #bllk imagines #blue lock imagine #nagi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #nagi headcanons #gagamaru gin #kunigami rensuke #imamura yuudai #bachira x reader #reo x reader

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating J.D.

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous and @poruchik-logy​)

(Sorry about the inactivity lately. With the holidays coming up, I’ve been a bit busy. Plus, I’ve written a post or two on my other blogs which means no post on this one. Anyways, hope you enjoy!)

- You meet J.D. when he transfers to your school. You’re in study hall when you just so happen to look up and make eye contact with the boy while glancing around the room. 

- For the rest of the period, you feel like someone's watching you, and lo and behold, every time you sneak a glance his way, his eyes are on you. He doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he was looking, he just raises an eyebrow at you when you turn and meet his gaze. 

- You spot him in the lunchroom later that day and ask your friends about him though they don’t have much information besides his name and where he moved from which they got from one of their teachers forcing him to introduce himself to the class. He was a mystery …and boy were you intrigued. 

- You have your first conversation at the local Snappy Snack Shack. You’d just popped in to grab a little junk food, only to find him stalking through the store in his black trench coat. You figured you’d dance around each other until one of you left but before you knew it, he’d sauntered up to you and interjected that you looked familiar. 

- Before you knew it, the two of you had introduced yourselves and began a sort of flirtatious conversation. He bought you a slushy and offered you a ride home on his bike which you coyly accepted after a moment of nervous hesitation. 

- It was that same night that he returned to your house, rapping at your window and damn near giving you a heart attack. Even though it was terrifying at first, it was also sort of endearing and you soon found yourself joining him outside.

- Now, It’s your choice whether or not you sleep together that night. If you do then consider yourself kissed and claimed from then on. If you don’t, he’ll continue to show up at your house or hang around you at school until he gets what he wants. You. 

- You suppose that your first date happened at the Snack Shack so from then on, the two of you were sort of seeing each other. Well, one of his favorite things to do with you is not be at home so the two of you were hanging out in an empty lot.

- The sun went down and you were sitting in the dark, the glow of the moon being the only thing lighting up your date. You were sitting down and he was lingering on his feet somewhere behind him, sorta pacing from what you could hear. 

- He knelt down beside you and you turned your head to look at him, only to immediately get pulled into a kiss that all but had you melt into the floor. It was passionate and somewhat rough, exactly what you’d expect from him. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

- Well, he most certainly isn’t letting you go after that. I hope you like him babe because you’re not getting rid of him anytime soon. 

- This man is fully willing to makeout with you in public. So yeah, there’s a lot of Pda.

- His hands are pretty much on you at all times.

- Pecks on the lips. He loves when you just give him a kiss for no reason at all.

- Rough, passionate kisses. He asserts his dominance by hooking his arms around you and pulling you into a searing kiss until you can’t breathe.

- He definitely calls you “woman” and a ton of other pet names ranging from cute to just plain annoying. 

- He never would have imagined a girl like you would actually put up with him for so long …but boy is he thankful you have.

- He’s a little shit and that’s just something you’ll have to live with. He’s blunt, conniving and sarcastic, but he does care about you.

- He pretends like he doesn’t give a shit a lot of the time but he does, more than he cares to admit.

- Surprisingly enough, JD actually really likes cuddling. You’ll usually lay with your legs intertwined and your head resting against his chest while he wraps his arms tight around you. 

-  Jason's father sort of ignores him, they aren’t very close and certainly not close enough to be sharing affection besides; maybe, a pat on he back or something similar. So he craves attention and affection.

- He yearns for you to touch and love him but he doesn’t know how to tell you that he wants you to suffocate him with your own body. He’ll just try to repeat whatever it is he did to make you touch him or touch you until you do something to him.

- Hugs from behind.

- Husky whispers in your ear. He does it on purpose because he knows what it does to you.

- Motorcycle rides. 

- Trying to get him to quit smoking. It never actually works but he; somewhat, tries to cut down on it for your sake. He thinks the fact that you care is sorta amusing. 

- Cutting class together.

- Going shooting with him. The beer bottles and porcelain plates kind of shooting, not the Ram and Kurt kind of shooting. 

- Dark humor. Although, sometimes you genuinely don’t know if he’s joking or not. 

- He can always seem to make you laugh, even if it makes you feel guilty to laugh at some off the stuff he says.

-  Hearing an alarming amount of gun and bomb facts. 

- Going to Snappys Snack Shack with him.

- Junk food binges.

- He’s kind of a stalker if I’m being honest. He follows you around without you knowing, finds out everything he can about you, etc. You’re sort of like an obsession of his and that can be good or bad depending on the situation and to what extent you know about his feelings. 

- He knows practically everything about you, ranging from your birthday to where you are at pretty much any given time.

- He’s not too great at all that lovey dovey shit but he tries. It might take him a little while to get the hang of it but he eventually will. 

- Getting him to play the sax for you.

- Having his hand on your thigh whenever he’s driving. 

- Making out.

- Hickeys.

- He likes when you wear his clothes, it’s like marking his territory without getting in trouble for making your neck different colors.

- Listening to morbid music.

- Deep existential conversations. What else do you talk about with your girlfriend besides the meaning of life and why society will ultimately cave in and destroy itself in a violent revolt?

- Late night phone calls from him. Be prepared to rush to your landline at three a.m. so that you don’t wake up your parents. You can’t even really be mad at him because he’ll just immediately launch into either a spiel about how he missed you or ask what your opinion on Manchurian candidates are; successfully silencing you in bewilderment. 

- Getting random knocks at your window whenever he decides he just has to see you. 

- Your parents either love or hate him, there is no inbetween. He’s generally pretty good at playing the role of the upstanding young man who cares a lot about their daughter; that parts real of course, but occasionally a parent will just get a bad vibe from him and his charade; though convincing, just won’t work on them. 

- If that’s the case with your parents then you’ll sort of be forced to sneak out if you want to see him, which he’s particularly good at helping you do. 

- Getting kept away from his father. He tries to keep your interactions to a minimum, especially if you have a much different personality than to the man.

- Incredibly jealous though he’ll always try to hide just how upset whatever situation you’re in makes him. He makes jokes and “forgets about it” as soon as you join his side, convincingly acting like nothing happened or that he saw nothing wrong with it but staying up the rest of the night wondering what he can do about it. 

- Possessive. You’re each others, aren’t you? He’s yours and you’re his. Everybody belongs to someone and the two of you belong to one another. 

- Is he protective? What do you think? If you ever complain about a person bothering you, he’ll almost immediately ask if you want him to kill them. You think it’s a joke. It’s not. 

- Although it may seem like he does things just for his own benefit, he would genuinely do anything you ask of him. Sometimes he’ll surprise you with the lengths that he goes to make your life easier and happier. 

- He’s hot tempered and kind of an asshole so the two of you are; most likely, almost constantly fighting. You’ll usually be yelling at each other or arguing passionately which is a problem because he thinks you’re hot when you’re angry. He’ll usually wind up trying to kiss you which succeeds in making things worse and having you give him the silent treatment/break up. 

- He tries his best to give you your space but the instant you want him back, he’s all over you. He usually never actually apologizes but he doesn’t force you to when you’re in the wrong either so you suppose it’s fair. 

- I love you’s are few and far between. He doesn’t really want to make himself seem too vulnerable so you only get them on rare occasions. 

- The two of you tend to not talk about the future. He wants to be with you forever; which is obvious, and he wants you to be his; which is also obvious. But you don’t know if you’re entirely sure you can handle him. So, you try to just enjoy the time you’re spending together and not think about how things may end. 

- You’re either the Bonnie to his Clyde or his blissfully unaware darling. Pick your poison. 

#heathers headcanon #heathers headcanons #heathers imagine #jason dean imagine #jason dean headcanon #jason dean x reader #jason dean headcanons #jd imagine #jd headcanons #JD headcanon #jd x reader #80s movie imagine #80s movie imagines #80s movie headcanons #80s movie headcanon

[stutterfly]

Love Bytes 09 |  Trivia: 01001100 | KNJ (M)

Last time on Love Bytes 08: After a night that left your head spinning, your best friend confessed his feelings for you. Now that you’ve admitted the same, everything is different.... but is it?

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Word Count: 17K

Series: Love Bytes (9/9)

Genre: Friends to lovers, IDIOTS to LOVERS, fluff, humor, slow burn, friendship feels, angst, pining, sexual tension, SMUT, Bestfriends!au, CollegeProjessor!Namjoon, IT/Nerd!Reader

CW& Other Tags: corny humor, nipple play, an absurd amount of kissing, dirty talk, grinding, fingering, hair pulling, sexual instruction, let’s play just the tip, cunnilingus, blowjob, protected sex, sexual roleplay, unprotected sex, adoring boyfriendJoonie, suave Joonie, supportive friendships, love talk, dorks in love

Pairings: Namjoon x Reader, brot7

Posted January 2021 by stutterfly & cross-posted to ao3. Do not repost.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You’ve crossed the line you’ve been so afraid of only to discover there really isn’t anything to fear at all. Namjoon has already made you a totally non-burnt breakfast and told you about the success of his student following the release of the poetry program. When he brings up the poem he wrote as an example, you beg him to read it for you.

He apologizes again for that day when you clicked on the document containing the draft, with dozens and dozens of half-thoughts and scribbled words placed within. He wasn't ready to show you then. He settles on the couch and opens his laptop. You look over his shoulder as he clicks a vaguely familiar document labeled: Trivia_L_Final. Unable to sate your curiosity, your eyes scan through the first few lines but he quickly flips the screen down.

“Patience."

"Ugh," you complain. "But you said I could see."

"I said I was gonna share," he clarifies with a snort. "That doesn't mean I want your speed-reading ass going through it at lightspeed without understanding any of it."

"Fair." You cross your arms but stare at him expectantly, trying your best to be patient.

“Is this love?”

He pauses to spare a glance up from the screen and freezes when his eyes meet yours. Even after everything you’ve shared he still finds himself sweating through the thin tank top he’s put on. Although he’s sure he’s masked his apprehension behind a wall of stone, all it takes is your soft, reassuring smile to break through. A wave of serenity quickly douses the anxiety. It crashes against his wall, and erodes its harsh edges until all that’s left is a familiar longing to kiss your lips.

“Is this love?” he repeats with emphasis. “Sometimes I know. Sometimes I don’t.”

He can’t stop grinning at the way your smitten gaze matches his own. It’s a difficult decision, but ultimately he chooses to ignore the urge to pull you in for the hundredth kiss of the morning and continues on instead. You sit and listen, hanging on every word you know was painstakingly thought out and written for you.

You're my person. You're my desire. You're my pride.

You're my love. One and only love.

The closing words are left echoing in your head. It’s so easy for you to forget that Namjoon is as smart as he is. Right now you feel too stupid to respond. Nothing can possibly match the perfection of his poem.

“Please say something.” He quickly closes his laptop and sets it aside. “Actually, wait, don't. It was too much wasn’t it?” He reaches over and places a large palm over your forehead and begins lightly rubbing. “Delete it from your brain.”

A laugh bubbles from your throat. “What are you doing?”

“Wiping your hard drive.”

His response has you cackling. Did he really just make such a lame joke all on his own? You grab his wrist and pull him close while a big cheesy grin graces your features. “I think I’m rubbing off on you.”

He groans as he leans in and pauses before kissing you. “You are.”

His hand gently cups the back of your neck as he slips his tongue inside your mouth. You lose yourself to the rhythm of your tongues rolling across one another, hungry to keep tasting and feeling. It takes every ounce of self control you have to pull away long enough to breathe out a compliment.

“You’re incredible. Your poem is so good.”

“I had a good muse.” He smiles and moves in for another kiss but you press a finger to his lips.

“I mean it. I love what you wrote. I don’t think anyone’s ever written anything so beautiful with me in mind.”

To spare himself from the embarrassment tingling in his belly, he presses his lips to the pad of your finger with a few light, teasing kisses before moving to repeat the motion against your neck. Goosebumps immediately prickle at your flesh and you can’t help the way your hands travel along the warmth of his body, seeking to consume his heat to assuage the chill in yours.

“You make it easy,” he mumbles, kissing a line up to your ear.

“Do I? I thought I made it harder.” Your smile grows impossibly bigger as you reach down to palm him through his basketball shorts and find exactly what you’d been hoping to.

A breathy sigh warms the shell of your ear. “Fuck. You know you do.” He drags the lobe through his teeth and exhales another sigh at the way you tease his shaft. “Wanna practice?”

He whispers the words against your ear like they’re some secret he’s almost too shy to reveal and you deliver your response with equal timidity. “Please?”

Warm fingers press into the skin at your stomach and travel upward. The action disregards the flimsy white fabric of your borrowed shirt, which slides up with the rising of his arm. You think he's about to cup your breast when he suddenly changes direction and slides his fingers around your ribs to tickle you.

"Na-Namjoon!"

You're a little offended that he would do you dirty like this when you basically just begged him to fuck you for the second time today. But, if you're being honest you're also incredibly grateful. He knows how to take the nerves out of everything with such ease that you almost forget how new this aspect of your relationship is.

You grab at his hand, effectively pulling him down into a kiss brimming with laughter between the pair of you. When you try to retaliate he grabs your wrists to keep your cold fingers at bay. As his tongue dips into your mouth again, he slowly guides your hands above your head. You shift beneath him, spreading your legs so he can slot a knee between them and get even closer. It feels like it's always been this way. Nothing's going to change. This is just you guys. It's always been you guys.

At the heart of your friendship, it's always been about you being dorks together and having each other's backs. You'd never considered the possibility of adding even more physicality to it before but now you don't want to imagine life without it because it feels so fucking good. It feels so fucking right.

Instead of bearing his weight down on you, he drags your bottom lip through his teeth and lets it snap back. He hums a satisfied sound as he rises, pulling you to your feet with him. Your head feels light and for a moment it feels like you might float away, but his arms are strong and they ground you in a tight embrace. He begins walking you backwards and peppers your neck with light kisses.

“Trying to get me back into your bed, huh?” you tease.

He brushes his nose against your neck and inhales deeply, taking in your scent before expelling an airy, audible sigh. “Ah… You see right through me. I mean we could do it on the couch if you prefer. I just thought it might be a little more comfortable, you know, somewhere where I can lay you down so you don’t get a leg cramp or anything.”

You can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of his statement. “How considerate.”

“Yeah, you know, ‘cause I plan on being between your legs as long as it takes.”

“Oh?” You feign ignorance. As he spins you towards him you’re glad he’s holding you steady because it feels like you’re about to faint. “As long as it takes for what?”

The tone of his voice drops low as he leans against your ear. “To make you cum.”

You stiffen in his embrace, frozen by interwoven fears of inability and inadequacy.

“Is that okay?” he asks, guiding your stiff form towards the bed.

The large, borrowed t-shirt bunches up around your thighs as you sit on the edge. It seems like every few days he’s telling himself he’s never seen you look so beautiful. Maybe you’re really to blame for the increased frequency. Now you’re looking at him in a similar light to the way he’s always seen you, and it’s added a new layer to everything.

“Yeah.” You nod, pausing to chew on your lip. “Just… don’t expect too much, okay?”

“Hey, no pressure. I promise. I just want to make you feel good.”

You pull him into a kiss before wiggling backwards up the bed. He follows your lead, slotting a knee between your legs as he climbs over you in an attempt to chase your lips.

“You do make me feel good. All the time.”

He assails your neck with kisses until he’s hovering above your lips. “Really good, though. Like right now. Right here.”

He takes a moment to meet your eyes as he ghosts his fingertips over your stomach, traveling down towards your mound. Almost as if he second guesses himself he stops and moves his hand back up to rest just above your navel.

“Can I try again?”

An embarrassed smile creeps across your face. “You really want to, huh?”

“Of course.” He pauses and his voice drops to a low whisper. “Will you show me how you like it?”

Your palms slide up your cheeks until your fingers cover your eyes. You purse your lips and try to keep your brain from short-circuiting. “Joooon.”

“What?” He shakes his head and offers a small laugh. “Why are you so shy now?”

“Because,” you murmur.

“Because...?” he prods when you leave the explanation unsaid.

“I’m embarrassed.” The words tumble out in a whisper but he seems to catch them regardless.

Hot, sweaty palms encircle your wrists and push them aside. It doesn’t take much effort to separate your hands from your face and when he does he slides his hands up to meet yours. In perfect sync, the pair of you weave your fingers together like you have a thousand times before.

The truth is that you want him. You want him so badly that your cheeks are on fire and all you can hear is your heartbeat in your ears. Despite seeing his mouth in motion, every nerve ending in your body is preparing for his touch. Anticipation overrides every other command in the forefront of your mind as your knuckles press into the pillows beside your head.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he whispers, planting a kiss on your cheek. “Your body is perfect. I could spend all day exploring it, exploring you. I wanna learn what feels good for you. Teach me. Teach me how to make you cum.”

In a stupor you blink slowly and gape at him in wonder, offering a tiny wordless nod. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to instruct him with much success. It’s not like you’re a teacher in any sense of the word and it’s definitely not something you’ve ever tried to talk through with a partner. But his eyes seem to sparkle in the dim light and the sight floods you with the determination to try, even if you don’t know how to begin.

Luckily Namjoon has an idea to assist with comfortability. He carefully positions himself beside you and runs his fingers down your chest, basking in the sight of your areola, which are perfectly visible through the faded fabric.

“You look so hot in my shirt.”

Your ears flush with heat at the compliment. Massaging light circles around the nipple he’s chosen to tease, he watches in wonder as it grows rigid. He experiments, alternating featherlight touches with a tiny pinch between his fingers.

“Do you like this?”

Words seem to escape you at the moment so you nod and mirror his actions on your other nipple. The barrier between his fingers frustrates your growing desire for skin on skin contact. You slowly hike up the shirt past your stomach to expose your breast. His eyes widen and guiltily dart away.

You pull the shirt back down abruptly and sit up with hot embers of embarrassment heating your cheeks. Maybe he's having second thoughts now that he's seeing you up close again. Before your mind can spiral too far he places his hand over yours.

"Sorry. It's not that. I just— Promise me you won't ask me to forget? I want to remember how you look, how you feel, how you taste.”

Relief cools the fire in your face and you half-heartedly chuckle as you climb over his lap. Cupping the side of his face, he Instinctively he leans into your touch.

"Joonie, I don’t think I could ever do that now. There's not a single restore point we could go back to, and I don't want there to be. I never want to pretend like I don't love you with my whole heart ever again. Because the moment you kissed me it's like this weight lifted from my shoulders. Everything I'd been locking away in my heart finally broke free. And it felt… incredible. It felt right. There's not a doubt in my mind. You're my person. You're my light. You're my pride."

"My one and only love," he adds with a kiss to your palm.

You smile and nod, pushing down the tears threatening to spill out of your eyes with a joke. "Are you gonna change your mind now?"

"Wouldn't dream of it." He smiles at you softly, watching you struggle to regain your composure as you sit back on his abdomen.

"Good. 'Cause it's like a totally binding thing now."

"Oh, okay," he laughs and lifts himself with his elbows to get a better look at you. "You gonna type up those terms and conditions for me? I'll sign, Geeksquad. Get me those papers."

"Yeah, yeah. Let me write a draft right now.” You press him back against the bed and lean over his chest, splaying your fingers out for a moment before pretending they're tapping away at a keyboard.

"Under this agreement, I, Y/N, agree to the following conditions..."

"God, you're a dork."

"We have fun. We have lots of…" you stop to giggle and wiggle your eyebrows, "you know, sex when we both want it."

He rolls his eyes but he's smiling so big his cheeks hurt. "You're so corny and I'm here for it."

"And…" you pause and meet his eyes as you fake-type the next condition. "We don't ever feel bad about loving each other. I'm in love with you and I don't want to waste another minute of my life acting like I feel any other way."

He looks down at his chest. Your fingers have stopped moving. "Is all that going in the, uh, love contract? It's a binding thing, you know."

"Yes, yes," you agree, pretending to catch up on typing. "If something doesn't work, we will talk about it. Deal?"

He doesn’t even stop to think about it before he answers, looking down at your fingers like they'll show him an invisible dotted line. "Okay where do I sign?”

"See I'm typing on your heart because that's how this works. So..."

You bite your lip and lift your shirt over your head, watching his eyes struggle to stay focused on your face. You really don't deserve him.

"You type and sign right here." Your fingers lure his gaze down to the valley between your breasts and then slightly to the left. "Right on my heart.”

He ghosts his fingers over the area you’ve pointed to and licks his lips, trying to hide his smirk. “Actually your heart is a little bit lower and a little bit…” He massages his fingers against your breast. “Here.”

“Hmm. Educational and strategic. What a combo.”

"Do I gotta type the whole thing up before I sign?"

You roll your eyes. "Depends. You gonna type as shitty as you usually do?"

He tongues his cheek as he starts tapping away at your breast with his two pointer fingers. It’s too true to reality. “Under this agreement I, Kim Namjoon--”

“Nevermind this is taking too long,” you complain, wiggling over his lap. He quickly drums his fingers over your chest. “--Agree to everything you just said. Signed... Namjoon...” His fingertips trace his name along your breast. “It’s a deal.”

“Okay, okay.” You laugh and reciprocate. “If you break it I'll probably cry and Jennie will beat you up."

“Like I would ever…” he mumbles.

With a rut of his hips he cups your breasts in his hands and resumes gently working his fingers over your nipples. Following the slow rhythm he sets, you grind yourself down and thumb at the band to his basketball shorts, pulling them down just enough to reveal that sliver of dark hair leading below. A loud groan escapes with his breath. His heart aches to feel you against him again, without barriers.

He sits up and heaves his shirt over his head with reckless abandon. His arms are immediately wrapping around your waist, fingernails digging into the skin of your back with the hope feeling your body can assuage the ache in his chest. The heat of his mouth envelops your nipple before you can comment on his earnest behavior and you whimper instead. His rough embrace draws you closer, and his sinful tongue batters your nipple as you loop an arm around his neck and tangle your fingers in his hair.

The suction of his mouth makes you throw your head back. “Fuck, Joon.”

He moans and skims his lips across your chest to show your other breast love. Despite his adoration for the current position of his face, it’s not enough. Greed overtakes him. He holds you tight and musters the strength to flip you onto your back. The tiny squeal you make in response makes his dick twitch. You make such wonderful sounds.

As you draw him into a kiss, the barrier of silky basketball shorts do nothing to conceal his hardness. It makes you crazy. You want to feel his dick glide against your folds again. When you raise your hips to grind your clit against him he meets your motion with equal enthusiasm.

“Take them off,” you mumble. “Put it in me, Namjoon. Please.”

It’s hard to say no when every fantastical thought about you he’s ever had is now coming to fruition. How long has he yearned to hear those words? He thinks of earlier. He thinks of the disappointment he holds for his own performance, how he squandered his opportunity to make you feel the way you deserve.

“But I wanna go down on you,” he insists, slowly making his way down your torso. He plants deep kisses as he goes, working a trail of tiny dark marks into the surface of your skin.

“Joon…”  Your fingers claw at his back as he descends.

“Show me how you like it. I’m a good student. I promise.”

The ever present flames in your chest burn hotter, searing a path to your cheeks. He kisses along your hip and pauses to inspect the bruise from your earlier slip. He carefully creeps past it, and instead focuses on the skin of your inner thigh. Taking your hand in his, he positions it over your cunt. He rests his cheek against your thigh to watch the way your fingers settle in place.

“Are you gonna be looking at me like that the entire time?” You laugh, covering as much of your sex as you can with your hand.

“I’m a quick learner,” he assures you. “Plus…” He leans in and laps at the glistening slick in the space between your fingers. “I could taste you all day.”

“It’s after noon,” you mumble, drawing your fingers away to allow him greater access to your folds.

“Mmm,” he hums against you, letting his tongue explore every crevice of your labia. “You want me to keep going?”

Your head falls back against the pillow and you lift your hips with a whimper. “Yes.”

“How?”

Pulling his mouth back just enough to allow your finger to creep back into place, he offers a blissful sigh as you work light circles against your clit. He places a finger over yours and follows the movement, listening to your quiet breathing. He cocks his head to the side and repositions, sliding his finger beneath yours to take control.

“Like this, baby?”

It’s been so long. You’d forgotten just how good it feels to have someone else touch you, to not have to put the work in yourself to attain the reward. It feels so good. Maybe you will be able to let go.

“A little more pressure.”

You guide him again by pressing down over his finger and moving him towards the peak of your clit. He immediately gives in to the change of pace. After a little while he finds his own rhythm and you move your fingers to the back of his head where you tangle them in his hair.

“Yes, like that.”

Confident in his ability to hit that spot again, he glides his fingers down to tease your entrance and brings his lips to your clit. Your entire core tingles as he presses down and creates suction around the tiny bud. As your hips lift in ecstasy he wraps an arm around your thigh and slips two fingers into your slick cunt. Much to his delight you moan in tandem with your desperate exhale.

A proud grin spreads his lips apart and he does his best to hide it by battering his tongue over your clit instead. How many fantasies has he indulged in? How is it that they all pale in comparison to your true taste and sounds? Determined to keep himself on task, he focuses on the spot you seemed to favor and presses his lips back down while rolling his tongue along you. His fingers curl up and search for the promised sweet spot within your cunt.

You tense and clench around his fingers, body desperate to draw him deeper, to take more of him inside of you in any way that you can. Then you feel it: the unmistakable pleasurable pressure steadily rising within. You don’t want to let it slip away this time. With the pads of his fingers pressing as close to your g-spot as he can, the area of your clit you need him to hit with his tongue seems to shift.

Palms shaking, you pull on Namjoon’s hair to guide him to your newest point of pleasure. “Right there. Right there.”

He moans and expels shaky breaths through his nose. Immediately feeling guilty for being rough, you soften your grip and lovingly smooth back his hair. Disheveled, sweat-slicked strands fall against his forehead, rebelling against your touch.

“Sorry,” you mumble, cradling the sides of his face, trying to draw him up from his position. “Did I hurt you?”

He doesn’t budge. Dark brown eyes flicker upwards. The electric tingle in your heart steals your breath as you’re caught in his lurid gaze. He digs his fingernails into the soft flesh of your inner thigh and the energy contained in your chest bursts. Shockwaves of internal chills scatter throughout your body.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he whispers. “Pull me however you want, baby.”

His voice is so low and soft that it barely registers to your ears. Your brain doesn’t have time to process the words before he drags his nose over your clit and sucks on your labia. You gasp out his name as he moves back to tongue your clit. He keeps his eyes on you as he plunges his fingers into you with a renewed sense of urgency, desperate to make you say it again. It doesn’t take long for a stuttered verse of his name to sputter from your pretty lips.

Another shockwave of excitement pulses through your gut. He makes it so easy to lose yourself in the pleasure he offers. Any shame and anxiety falls to the wayside, making way for your impending orgasm. You gasp out a pitiful sound and grind your pelvis towards his soft, plush lips to create even more pressure where you need it most. There’s no doubt he feels the way you clench around his fingers and because he reaches as far as he can in search of your g-spot and looks to your face for any sign of discomfort. Instead he finds you looking back through half lidded eyes that threaten to close any moment. With your eyebrows knitted together and quivering lips parted, he knows you’re on the brink of coming undone.

You reach for the back of his head as you lift your hips and cry out. You might not make those exaggerated pornstar moans, but yours are infinitely better. It’s better than anything he could have imagined. His name spills from your lips again, tired and quiet as you come down. There’s no need for you to tell him to stop or push him away this time. His softened lips are already crashing down against your mouth.

As you glide your tongue along his, the tang of your own juices fills your mouth. It doesn’t bother you. If anything it spurs you on to wrap your arms around his back and pull him closer. You tug on his shorts again. This time he raises no argument. He inhales a shaky breath as he goes in for another kiss and works the clothing down his legs until he’s steadying himself over you and clumsily struggling to kick them off.

You take his face in your hands while he gracelessly fights the fabric caught around his ankle and he smiles at you. Another jolt of electric butterflies pulse in your gut, frazzling your senses as they travel outward from their point of origin. By the time the sensation reaches your brain, it carries along the weight of your feelings. You reflect on how he cares for you, how he’s always cared for you. Navigating the key pleasure points mapped to your body is just one more way he can show it. You’re so incredibly lucky to have someone in your life so attentive and considerate of your needs. It makes you wonder how you meandered through life without a guiding light like Namjoon to lean on for support. Meditating on that thought threatens you with torrid tears.

“I love you,” you whisper.

Before he can respond with you draw him into a deep kiss, crossing your legs behind his waist to pull him closer. His shaft presses against your sensitive clit as he grinds himself down. While your body reacts with a twitch, you still roll your hips up to meet him. His bottom lip quivers and you suck it between your teeth, slowly drawing it away from him. When it snaps back to him he chases your mouth and presses you down into the pillows.

He follows the enticing motion of your hips with a loud groan. The slippery nature of your folds promises to make his entrance effortless. Each pass his cock makes over your cunt is another strike against his willpower, but god if it doesn’t feel amazing. It would be so easy to slip in, just a little bit, just enough to satisfy the aching need of the tip that inches closer and closer to your cunt. The way you lift it for him only serves as a greater invitation.

He rolls himself through your slick folds, floating on the high of the pleasure, encouraged by the moans you breathe into his mouth. He ruts into you, coasting into your entrance just enough to make him break the kiss with a whispered expletive. You whimper as he retreats and try to beckon him back with another gentle roll of your hips. He sighs, allowing himself to rock back into you enough to coat the tip of his dick with your warmth. Your cunt pulses against him, seeking to lure him further inside.

Again he surrenders to your salacious advance, sheathing the head of his cock in its entirety within your heat. You gasp and moan at the welcome intrusion, pulling on his hair as though it will move him closer than he already is.

“Please,” you whisper. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Desperate to feel the stretch of his cock diving deep inside, you make your best attempt to raise your hips higher to take more of him in. He moans into your mouth, gently rocking himself further into your cunt and then slowly pulling back out.

Playing this game is dangerous. He knows that. But with each gasp and moan he pulls from you, the stakes rise. He tells himself he’s allowed to drive another moan from you with his teasing. Just one more time. One more sound. He tests his own resolve with each shallow thrust, never sinking deeper than before.

“Joonie,” you whine as he pulls back again. “Please. Stop teasing. I want your cock in me.”

His stomach does a somersault and it snaps him back to reality before his hips can snap forward instead. He leaves the comfort of your sweet cunt to lean over you and fish for the packet in the drawer of his nightstand. It should be right on top, but it’s not. Where the fuck is it?

The sticky wet head of his cock slips against your belly while he frantically rummages through the drawer. You shudder and reach down to take him in your palm, earning you a breathy curse in response. He spares a glance towards your mischievous eyes before looking down at the way you gather the moisture from the peak of his cock and pump it down to the base. His eyes roll back in delight for a moment and he drops onto the weight of his arm. The drawer rolls out farther than it should and promptly clatters off its track and onto the carpet below.

“I can fix that,” he announces.

“Are you okay?” You laugh, trying to sit up to help.

“Fine,” he murmurs, leading you back to the pillows with a kiss. “You just got me a little...”

His eyes wander to the nightstand. Perched on its surface are the remaining foil packets he’d been searching for in the drawer with its contents now spilled on the floor.

“Oh my god.” He sighs.

“Yes?” you press with a smile. “You good?”

“Mhm.”

He quickly snatches one up, fumbling it in his hands for a second before he recklessly rips it open. He leans back on his knees to roll the condom on, but about halfway down his shaft the rubber splits and snaps against his fingers. He vents a frustrated sound from his throat and scolds himself internally for being too excited, too eager. He wasted another one in his haste.

“I’m sorry,” he says in defeat. “Hold on.”

You’re already carefully opening the last packet while he rises to discard the bits of ruined rubber. “It’s okay. Come here. I got you.”

As he approaches the bed you reach out and begin to slowly roll the new condom down his shaft. He watches your hands roam over his cock with wonder. You seem much more confident now that he’s made a complete fool of himself for the millionth time today. Maybe you won’t think of him as so much of a saint now. He’s just as much of a mess as you are.

“You don’t have to worry so much,” you say with a slow pump of your hand over his cock. “I always have that five dollars, you know?”

It’s difficult to take your eyes off of the perfect shape of his dark cock. It’s veiny and thick in your palm, and long enough to make you wonder how it might feel hitting the back of your throat.  You manage to shift your gaze to his face and beam at him.

His worried expression melts into a dimpled smile. “Geeksquad saves the day again, huh.”

“Yeah. Pretty great, right? So, come here.” Despite feigned confidence, your jaw trembles with anxiety as you settle against the pillows once more. Nerves set your body alight with excited anticipation. “And put your cock in me.”

He slots himself between your thighs and cups your cheek, catching the subtle shiver of your body.

“Cold, baby?”

“Excited,” you admit, grazing your fingers over the expanse of his back until they’re nestled in the hair behind his neck. You kiss him.

It doesn’t matter how much time he’s had to recuperate. As soon as your lips are on his and he’s teasing himself into you, he knows he’s in trouble. You’re so tight. How is he supposed to last? Inch by slow inch you take him in, then out again. Your fingers twirl around strands of his hair until you’re sure it can’t be twisted any further.

“Oh fuck.”

Your jaw drops and you gasp a stuttered slew of nonsense as he bottoms out. He remains there, unmoving as your body adjusts to the stretch of his cock. Every executable file in your brain stops working as you lie beneath him with your mouth agape, eyes wide, and fingers tangled in his hair.

“Need a minute?” he asks, peppering kisses along your bottom lip and lightly working it between his teeth.

Finally you find the command in your brain to resume all processes. You moan into his kiss and purposefully clench around him.  “Do you?”

“Evil,” he murmurs as he begins setting a slow, steady pace with his hips. “Goddamn, you’re tight.”

You throw your head back in ecstasy, exposing your neck for his mouth to latch onto. Your hands explore the muscles of his back, digging into the sculpted flesh with your nails. He grunts against you, sucking a mark into the crook of your neck to muffle the sound. Taking time to follow the creases dividing the defined muscles of his triceps, your palms drift further down to curl around the pillars of his forearms. Without disrupting his pace, he reaches up to lace his fingers with yours.

The back of your palms press into the soft pillows beside your head. You’re connected as deeply and as literally as two people can be and still you crave more. When you moan his name into the open air he trails a line of sloppy open-mouthed kisses to meet your lips. You meet each slow thrust with a roll of your hips and a desperate need to keep him inside of you forever. Frenzied panting fills the space between you as you break the kiss.

Dark eyes full of adoration peer down at you, focused on the way the force of his accelerated thrusts shake every part of your body but leaves your gaze untouched. It’s insane just how much he cares for you. By now you must be sick of hearing his declarations of love, but he wants to say it all the same. He wishes he could make you cum for him like this. He would do anything to make you cum a second time before he does. Maybe with more practice he’ll learn your body well enough to make it happen. For now he’ll settle for making you feel good. You’re enjoying yourself at the very least.

A smile spreads across your face and a sweet laugh slips out. “What?”

“What?” he echoes, lost in the sight of you beneath him like this.

It’s like his head goes empty when you laugh like that, when you look at him like you’re shy and infatuated at the same time.

“Looks like you wanna say something.”

The serious expression plastered on his features matches the intensity of his whisper, “Yeah. Maybe I do. You wanna know what it is?”

Every muscle in your cunt contracts around him. He purses his lips, takes a slow breath through his nose and relaxes his pace.

He leans next to your ear and whispers in a quiet tone, “You’re just so fucking sexy.”

You’re so flattered that all the embarrassment resting on the tip of your tongue dissipates the moment you open your mouth. Flustered words form and then decompose the moment they’re to be spoken into existence. All that comes out is a broken sound of uncertainty.

It’s like the lights dance in his eyes as he takes a moment to straighten up and regard your features. His lips press against your forehead, then your nose and he pauses over your lips.

“I love you.”

The words fall from your mouth easier than ever. “I love you too.”

He kisses you like it’s the first time: passionate, desperate, and needy. You break off to rest your forehead against his.

“So are you gonna cum inside me or what?” You can barely conceal the smile that breaks through your pursed lips.

“Wow. So am I just a piece of meat to you, Geeksquad?” he jokes.

“I mean… Protein right?” You make a ‘yikes’ face at him and start to laugh.

He shakes his head but he’s grinning like a fool. “Well if it’s what you want…”

Just like that he calls your half-bluff. He ducks his face into the crook of your neck and begins to suck another mark over the fading mark from his earlier endeavors. Your laughter quickly turns into a string of moans as he resumes the previous tempo of his thrusts. A surge of adrenalin flips your stomach on itself and excitement pulses through your body at the thought of his cum slowly dripping out of your cunt.

“I do.”

You squeeze his hands and shimmy him away from your neck so you can sink your teeth into his shoulder to hide the shame of your desire. A broken moan rattles its way up his throat as he entertains the fantasy you’ve conjured in his mind.

“You want me to fill you, hmm?” he whispers in a breathy tone between shallow breaths.

There’s no doubt in your mind that he feels the way your cunt tenses at his words to offer a wordless answer, but you also offer a muffled hum of affirmation.

“You want me to fuck my cum into you just like this, baby?” His words are followed by the sound of his balls slapping against your ass at a new feverish pace.

“Yes,” you whimper and bring your lips to his, high off the sensation of his dick plowing into you.

“Gonna take it all for me?”

“Mhm. Cum for me,” you plead between sloppy kisses. “Cum inside me.”

“Oh shit, baby,” he gasps.

You don’t get another opportunity to coax him into letting go because he’s already slamming his hips into you and crushing his mouth over yours. He’s buried deep inside of you when his hips still but you wiggle beneath him and purposefully clench to give him the tiniest overdose of pleasure. He sighs as he leans back, finally releasing his death grip on your sweaty palms.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“You’re sweet,” you murmur, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Good lay too.”

He rolls his eyes but smiles nonetheless. “Likewise.”

When he pulls out to rise and dispose of the condom you already miss his shape, but the unmistakable ache starts to set in: the ache of a pussy pounded too well after a long hiatus. You clamp your legs together and roll onto your side to expose the skin of your sweaty back to the cold air of the room, closing your eyes as you listen to the patter of raindrops against the window.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Mmm.” You don’t bother opening your eyes. “I seriously need another shower. Sorry about your bed.”

He kneels on the floor next to the edge of the bed and carefully moves the hair from your face. “You can soak my sheets any time.”

“Hmm. I’ll keep that in mind. Sounds gross though. Definitely don’t wanna lay in the puddle behind me.”

“Tired?”

“Yeah.”

“You gonna sleep right there?”

“No.”

You’re such a liar.

He lets a few seconds of silence pass before he speaks again. “How about shower and movie?”

You peek at him from beneath one eyelid. “What movie?”

“Thinking The Kick, unless you have something else in mind.”

“No, that’s— Wait, what time do we have to be at Tae’s?”

Namjoon’s eyes widen and he rubs the back of his neck. “Later… Uh, about that. Are we— I mean on one hand I don’t wanna make a big deal about it but…”

You bolt upright. “Oh no. They’re gonna make such a thing out of it. Nevermind. I’m never seeing them again.”

“It won’t be that bad.”

“Won’t it? Oh my god, if I show up in your clothes…”

“Geeksquad.” He grabs your face.

“Joonie.”  

You reciprocate the action and squish his cheeks towards the center of his face, causing his lips to pucker. He quickly takes your hands into his own.

“Hey. Look at me,” he pauses to make sure you meet his eyes before he continues. “You’re fine. Stay. We’ll figure it out when we get there and we’ll do it together.”

“Okay,” you breathe a sigh of relief. “Okay.”

“Be my ride?” He flashes you his wide dimpled smile.

“Only if you’re mine later.” You wink and draw him into a chaste kiss.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

"Geeksquad."

His voice sounds distant and soft while reminding you you’re home. In this moment, you’re safe, you’re warm, and you’re loved. It’s too comforting to move away right now, too comforting to bring your eyes to open, so you cling to the heat of his body.

“Hey,” he tries again, gently nudging your shoulder. “Geeksquad, wake up.”

You make sure that your distaste is apparent with a loud grumble. You nuzzle against his chest with your cheek and hum like it will drown him out. He laughs softly as the sound fades away. He briefly lets silence fill the space, which allots you the precious seconds needed to hit the imaginary snooze button and doze off again. It seems he isn't having it when he lets out a loud sigh.

“You missed the end and it’s already five,” he tries to reason. “Weren’t you the one who told me not to let you sleep too long? Unless…” He carefully snakes his fingertips down to your side, hoping to remain undetected. “...You changed your mind about going home to get all cute because you finally realize you are cute, you know, without trying."

You groan against his chest and that seems to be enough to keep him quiet. Just as he feels your head begin to drop down he starts talking loudly.

"Oh, I see. You just really wanna be out flaunting how good you look wearing my clothes. That’s it, right?"

You lightly smack your hand against his chest but don’t allow yourself to let your guard down until you’re certain he's given up.

"That must be it," he continues. "Not you... Being a pain in the ass to wake up. At all.”

With your head pressed against his chest, you find it difficult to drift back off with every loud word dropping from his mouth and vibrating straight into your eardrum. Still you rock your forehead against him and try to ignore his booming voice. When his fingers dig into your side to tickle you, your body jolts up straight and you can’t help but laugh.

“Wow. She speaks,” he jokes. “...Kinda.”

You wiggle against his grip, thrusting your chest up while dipping your head back. You attempt to scold him with his name between a fit of giggles. “Stop,” you wheeze.

“But I love the way you laugh.” His fingers relax despite his words. He leans in to press his lips to your perfectly exposed neck.

Your breathless laughter quickly transforms into a subtle slew of whimpers. He swathes his tongue across a particularly sensitive spot and your breath hitches. You grab his arm and pull down like you want him to crush you like a bug. He doesn’t. Instead he smirks against your neck when he feels your nails dig into his bicep.

“Joonie…” you whine.

He offers his inquiry in the form of a hum that radiates vibrations from the point of contact with your skin.

You’re embarrassed to admit the million things you want to ask him to do right now in place of complaining about his teasing. “Come closer.”

“Closer how?” he murmurs before kissing that spot again.

You take the hand at your side and slip it beneath the worn fabric of your shirt. You don’t have to lead him very far until he’s molding the flesh of your breast with his hand and you’re panting shallow breaths into the air around you. The sweet kiss at your neck turns into a sinful demonstration. The things he could do to you, for you. Do you truly know?

You know you never want him to leave. The heat from his mouth seems to sear a path of lava straight to your core. Your fingers glide through his hair and settle at his jaw. It takes all of your self control to gently push him away from that delightful spot he’s found so that you can plant a soft kiss against his jaw.

You draw out a groan as you pull away. “Maybe we should just cancel.”

“Mmm, don’t tempt me. You know I will,” he murmurs, chasing after your lips.

You lean back just a bit further, a grin plastered on your face as you allow him to press his mouth against yours just one more time.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

The rain has been reduced to a light patter against your windshield now. You’re grateful that visibility is decent as you pull up to the familiar curb in front of Namjoon’s building. Already waiting just within the building’s entrance, he sprints out at the sight of your headlights. He eagerly hops into the passenger seat and you do your best not to look over at him. Suddenly, you’re nervous. Have your palms ever secreted this much sweat in your life? Still you keep your hands planted on the steering wheel, staring ahead like you’re playing the role of a first-time chauffeur.

Sensing a lingering apprehension, he clears his throat as his seatbelt clicks into place. “Everything okay?”

Keeping the car in park, you allow yourself to look over at him. He smells good. He looks incredible, even in a simple black tee and jeans. And he’s looking at you like all he wants to do is kiss your lips for the millionth time today. It’s like you can feel the anxiety melt from your face.

“I’m nervous,” you admit, shaking out your hands as though that will clear the sweat from them.  “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

Your sheepish laugh causes him to reach out for your sweaty palm. To your surprise his hand is just as hot and moist as yours. Regardless of how uncomfortable it is, he holds on tight and laces his fingers between yours.

“It’s okay. Me too.”

The pair of you stare at each other for a few seconds in silence, just smiling and trying to think of what you were going to say before promptly getting lost in one another’s eyes. How is it you’ve never noticed the softness in his features when he looks at you like this? It still feels kind of surreal. But your heart skips a beat and you allow yourself to acknowledge the way heat radiates from your cheeks. You want to kiss him, to reassure him you’re not going to waffle on him again, but you’re too entranced by the infatuation smeared across every aspect of his face.

When you finally speak, he starts at the same time and you both have to pause and laugh. Silence falls between you, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s charged. It’s shy. It’s excited. He bites his lip and drags it through his teeth as his eyes rake over any part of you they can.

“You look beautiful.”

You lick your lips and your smile grows larger in response. “I- Thank you. I’m. We-- I mean, you look…” A nervous laugh slips into the breath between your words. “Hi.”

He leans across the armrest and plants a soft kiss against your lips. The moment you reciprocate his tongue dips into your mouth and glides against yours. It takes all of your willpower to keep the car running instead of plucking the keys out and dragging him back into his apartment to fuck him stupid. Still you rely on him to break the kiss.

“Hi,” he whispers, dragging a thumb across your cheek as he cups your jaw. “Still nervous?”

You nod. “My stomach hurts.”

“Hey, they’re our friends. It’ll be okay.”

“I know. You’re right.” You sit back against your seat and stare blankly out the foggy windshield. “I haven’t answered Jennie all day. She’s asking and I… I don’t want to answer.”

His heart sinks. It sounds like you want to keep things a secret, even though he knows you’re a terrible liar. No wonder you’re so nervous. It’s the last thing he wants to do, but if you asked he would attempt to cover for the both of you. He sincerely hopes you don’t ask.

“It’s just… I don’t want it to be a text. I mean, do we go in holding hands?” you ask, instantly allaying his fears. “Do we just announce it?”

He breathes a sigh of relief. “Geeksquad, come on. Pretend like nothing’s changed. Things are basically the same right?”

You nod, but your expression casts uncertainty over the action. “Right, right. We can just say it like that, right? I mean, we still work at the same place. We still like to hang out together. Watch movies,It’s just a little more… intimate. You know, the kind of time you spend with someone that you care about and like… make out and have bomb sex and—”

“I’ll tell them we’re together,” he interrupts. “You’re my girlfriend. You signed the love contract.”

“Okay but you’re not going to tell them about the contract right?”

“Mmm. Maybe. Didn’t see anything about it in the terms and conditions.” He laughs.

“Uh, the fine print says you’re sworn to secrecy of its existence. You know, like fight club.”

“Must have missed that. Didn’t have my glasses on, you know?”

“Oh, here.” The lightbulb in your head flickers on. You rummage through the compartment beneath the armrest, presenting Namjoon with the glasses you’d been meaning to return for some time now. “Maybe these will help. You left them at my place.”

“Shit. I thought I lost those.” He sighs, taking them from you. “Wish I hadn’t ordered another pair.”

“Sorry, I kept forgetting to give them to you,” you admit.

He smiles. “Did you forget, or were you pining over me? Be real with me, Geeksquad.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay. I’m gonna start driving before I push you out of this car.”

“Sniffing them because they remind you of me?” he teases.

“Yeah. They smell like avocados.” You laugh as you turn your attention to the road. “You’re lucky hipster glasses are in.”

“Alright, baby.”

He hums in amusement, sparing a glance out the window beside him. It seems like the barrage of rainy days may be coming to an end soon. At least he hopes so. There’s not much he wouldn’t give to take you to his favorite hiking spots, have a picnic with you under clear blue skies, or lay on a sandy beach with you by his side.

“You keep calling me baby,” you point out quietly, pulling him from his reverie.

“Wha— I’m sorry. It was heat of the moment and it felt really natural when we were fucking you know? But if it’s weird now, I-I can stop. I’ll stick with tried and true Geeksquad.” He stumbles through his embarrassment in true Namjoon fashion.

“No, I like it. I just wanted to tell you it... makes me feel good. Way better than Geeksquad.”

“Yeah, you are.”

You smirk and reach for his hand and he gives you a tight squeeze, driving the rest of the way in a comfortable silence. Holding his hand is enough to keep you distracted from all the noise in your head.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

Knock-knockknock—-knock-knock.

The answer to your knock is the resounding pound of Hobi’s fist through the barrier of the door.

KNOCK-KNOCK.

The door swings open and Hoseok’s smiling face greets you. Namjoon’s hand falls from around your shoulder on instinct. Although Hoseok’s eyes briefly drop to Namjoon’s twitching fingers he draws no further attention to the reaction, stepping aside and gesturing for the pair of you to enter. Seokjin’s incoherent shouting carries from the other room, nearly drowning out your greetings.

“It’s about time.” Hoseok tips a bottle to his lips and the majority of the liquid sloshes back down as he makes a face and runs to shove it against Yoongi’s shoulder. “Yuck.”

Yoongi takes a hearty swig without so much as a glance away from the kitchen. The unmistakable bounce of a ping pong ball springs from the unseen room and you lean back to attempt to see around the blockade Yoongi and Hoseok’s bodies have created between you and whatever is happening in there.

“They started playing while we were waiting for you. Should be done soon,” Hobi says, walking back towards you. “Jimin and Tae put up a good fight but Jungkookie is too good.”

“You didn’t have to wait. We could have met you there,” Namjoon says, rubbing the back of his neck and stealing a sideways glance at you.

Hoseok raises an eyebrow and smirks, his eyes following Namjoon’s to you. His bony finger pokes your spine and you instantly tense and straighten your posture.

“I think we all wanted to wait.”

He knows. Even as you spin towards him you feel it. Despite the words left unspoken, somehow he already knows.

Yup. It’s time. Just get it over with. Easier thought than done.

“Why?” you blurt.

“Well...” Hoseok begins, ghosting his fingers over your shoulder as he walks towards the couch to put his shoes on. “We wanted to see you guys. Had a feeling we might not see too much of you as the night goes on. Figured you might want some,” he pauses to finish knotting his shoelace, grinning at you as he stands, “hmm, alone time?”

“I— Pssfht. What?” The unexpected shrillness of your voice cuts through the space between you. You clear your throat and do your best to dampen your anxiety. “I mean, like, why would we—? We’re—We, uh, whew… Is it hot in here?”

Words are no good right now. Anything else you say will just be another unnecessary embarrassment to endure. Your heartbeat resides in your ears as your flight response kicks in. Namjoon must hear it too because drapes his arm around your shoulder and pulls you towards the comforting mass of his chest.

Your fingers fidget with your keys even though you know you won’t need them tonight. You consider tossing them in the bowl Tae keeps on the counter, but that would require walking past the rest of your friends and abandoning Namjoon. You agreed you would face them together.

Namjoon smiles softly and gives your arm a reassuring squeeze. “We’re good, man.”

“Are you?” The look on Hoseok’s face tells you he’s hoping you’ll expand on Namjoon’s short answer. “How are you doing, Y/N? Has that douche tried to contact you?”

You almost forgot about Jihoon. It seems like such a distant memory now. The sting of his words echo in the darkest corner of your mind, but not for long. A smile forces those thoughts to scatter as you look to Namjoon for support. You take a breath and exhale a relieved sigh.

“Nope. He’s gone for good, I think.” You reach for Namjoon’s hand, using the courage his touch instills to fuel your confession. “If he comes back around I’m sure my boyfriend will try to kick his ass.”

“Wait. It’s finally happening?” Hoseok’s eyes go wide and he springs from the couch in an instant to poke his fingers against your sides. He didn’t expect to be totally correct in his assumptions, but he hoped for it. “For really real?”

You said it first. Out loud. Namjoon’s stomach churns in excitement as he looks at you. You’re grinning like a dork and nodding even though he knows you’re embarrassed as hell. Yeah. He’s pretty sure he’s never been more in love with your goofy ass smile. Hoseok covers your entwined fingers with both of his hands and practically drags you both towards the kitchen.

“Guys, guys! It’s official!”

The ball leaves Jungkook’s fingertips, launches across the table and circles the rim of the final cup as his opponents turn away. The room goes quiet, save for the airy spin of the ball slowly decelerating into the contents of the cup. Namjoon adjusts his glasses and you swallow hard under the burning spotlight of your friends’ eyes.

“Drumroll, please!” Hoseok demands with a smile, rolling his tongue to begin the buildup. “Bdrdrdrrdrdrdrdrdrdrdrdrdr--”

Yoongi presses his lips together to hold back a smile and begins drumming his fingers on the wall beside him. Not willing to be outdone, Seokjin and Jungkook join in, pounding their fists on the table, followed by the light tap of Jimin’s hands against his thighs, and the smack of Taehyung’s palms against his face.

“I present to you the moment we’ve all been waiting for…” Hoseok ducks behind the pair of you and lifts your arms like you’ve just tied for victory in a boxing match. “Joonsquad!”

The inflection at the end of his tone makes you cringe almost as hard as the nickname.

“Nope. No. We’re not calling it that.”

“Joonsquad? Really?”

The combined cheers from your friends drown out your objections.

Jimin’s arms are the first to wrap you both into a tight bear hug. “I’m so happy for you both.”

The statement seems genuine, but you’re flooded with the embarrassing memory of drunkenly slobbering over his face. Namjoon had always reminded you that Jimin was used to keeping things casual but still you find yourself ashamed for going there. Harmless flirting and games of chicken ruled your friendship with Jimin for so long. You used to fantasize about his lips exploring your body, but it seems so preposterous now. You’re not sure when it happened, but things changed.

Despite your mind’s acknowledgement of his beauty there is no worry accompanying it, no butterflies wreaking havoc on your senses. Your simple crush has faded into surface appreciation. It seems easy to recognize that now that you’ve stopped trying to push down the feelings you have for your best friend. Any lingering affections you bear resemble nothing more than a strengthened friendship, much like the one you’ve shared with Jennie for years.

Even with all the back slaps and fistbumps, Namjoon’s eyes are trained on you in a smitten stupor. Embarrassment does nothing to steal the light in your eyes or the joy in your laugh. All of the congratulations in the world can’t reach his ears when you’re looking at him like that.

“I knew it!” Jennie comes running from around the corner, pushing past all the men in her path to throw her arms around you. “No wonder you’ve been dodging my texts. I wanna know everything.” She attempts a whisper, but softness doesn’t translate through the liquor already clouding her voice. “In detail.”

Namjoon clears his throat loudly to combat the redness spreading along his ears. “Where are we headed? Seesaw?”

Everyone looks at one another like they hadn’t really thought about it.

“Sure. Your first drink is on me.” Yoongi throws an arm around Namjoon.

Hoseok weaves his arm beneath Yoongi’s from Namjoon’s other side, beginning to walk them towards the door. “It’s a dancing night, don’t you think?”

“How about we hit up the strip club after?” Jungkook suggests, already tugging his sneakers on and stumbling towards the door.

Seokjin rolls his eyes and claps a hand around the youngest’s neck. “Do you really want to break up a couple so soon?”

“What? They can look together, right? Wings doesn’t discriminate. It’s like a bonding thing. You don’t mind, do you, Y/N?”

“Don’t worry, Y/N. We’re not going there.” Seokjin turns back to Jungkook to whisper, “Not every celebration needs to be at a strip club.”

“I’ll remember that on your birthday,” Jungkook mutters, already on his way out the door.

The others begin to follow suit but before you can get too far, Taehyung latches onto your elbow. “Keys.”

“Right.” You produce a tangled mess of keychains and keys. Namjoon hangs back to wait with you, leaning against the doorframe as Tae disappears.

“You’re always welcome to stay here,” Tae offers as your keys clang against the others in the bowl.

Namjoon chews on his lip and looks to you. As long as you’ll lay next to him he doesn’t care where he sleeps tonight.

“Depends how drunk we get,” you reply with a smile, lacing your fingers with Namjoon’s to lead him out of the apartment. “Thanks, Tae.”

He grins and pats Namjoon’s shoulder after locking the door. “Don’t worry, Jungkook washed all the sheets yesterday.”

You flip up the hood of your sweater and tighten the strings to cover your face. You’re definitely not coming back here tonight.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

You’ve done your best to balance your attention between your friends throughout the night, sharing food, drinking and laughing together. But as the night continues you feel your energy draining with each attempt to remain social and engaged in conversation. You’re grateful when Namjoon steers the conversation away from you, leading most of the table towards the bar to collect more drinks for everyone. Only Hoseok and Yoongi are left to hold down the table with you. You’re pretty sure Namjoon is counting on the majority of the group getting distracted and splitting off. At least you’re hoping that’s what he’s playing at because you’d really like to get away from all the questions and stories.

When you yawn Yoongi nudges your elbow out from under you, forcing you to catch yourself before your chin slams against the table.

“Tired?” he asks with a smirk, eyes focused elsewhere.

“Mmm,” you agree with a nod. “I guess I should get up before they come back or I’ll be stuck here forever, huh?”

“You know, you’re not being rude if you want to head out. You don’t have to stay and prove anything. We’ve all been rooting for you to get together. If you wanna slip away for some privacy, you should.”

It’s funny how well your friends know you. You can’t even remember what life was like before they came along.

“A break from questions would be nice,” you admit with a stretch of your arms.

Hoseok, who’s been nursing the same drink all night, brings the glass to his lips and gulps down a rather large sip and scrunches his features together. “Blegh. Ooooor you can come dance with me.” He wiggles his eyebrows for good measure.

You stare him down, tonguing the straw to your tequila sunrise and trying to steal the last sip of the drink from the ice that remains in your glass. Is he trying to fuck with you?

“Don’t worry, I’ll be good.” He laughs, offering you his hand. “Namjoonie’s not much of a dancer, but I think he’d be willing to learn from you more than me. Think I can teach you something to show him before he gets back?”

“Hobi, I know how to dance,” you say with a laugh, although you’re already taking his hand.

“Mmm, do you though?” Hoseok flitters his free hand back and forth. “Ehhhh.”

With a roll of your eyes, you spare Yoongi a glance. “You coming?”

Yoongi leans back in his seat with a shake of his head. He casually pops a fry into his mouth.“Go on. I’ll send Namjoon your way so Hobi will keep his hands above your waist.”

“That’s just rude,” Hoseok scoffs, pulling you towards the dance floor.

He’s true to his word, dancing as respectably as someone with hips like Hoseok can. He guides your hips with his hands as he sways behind you.

“You’re perfect for him,” he says.

“What?” Your rhythm falters and you lose your sense of balance, stepping on his foot as you try to keep yourself from falling. “Sorry.”

He laughs, tickling your sides. “See? That’s what I mean. Took you dummies long enough to realize it.”

“It’s my fault. I was too scared and stupid to see what was right in front of me this entire time.” You sigh and lean back, surprised to find his chest a decent distance away. “I still think he’s too good for me.”

“Oh, pffft. Stop it,” Hoseok chides in your ear.

“I hope— Ugh, nevermind.”

“What?”

A small chuckle escapes with a held breath. “It’s dumb.”

“So?”

“I just— I hope my love is good enough for him.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.”

His hands hug around your stomach and push you closer to him, but the way they subtly tremble as they descend to rest on your hips feels different. When Hoseok steps around and hands still clasp you from behind, your heart soars. If not for the familiarity of the stiff chest at your back and the loving embrace enveloping your form, you might be nervous.

Namjoon’s lips caress your ear as he whispers, “You know it is.”

Even your best attempt to hide your embarrassed smile would fail, so it’s a good thing you’re not even trying. Hoseok wears a satisfied grin as he watches you turn towards Namjoon for a shy kiss. He thinks about leaving you with dancing advice, but instead he decides to slink away wordlessly. There isn’t anything he could say right now that the two of you would hear, not when you’re in a world of your own like this.

It’s easy to lose track of time as you grind against him, teasing him with every swaying motion of your hips. Every sigh against your ear spurs you on to press him further. Even with all the layers between you, the hard length grinding against your ass is ever-present and obvious enough to make you want to bend over so he can take you right here.

Instead you dance and feel his body move against yours until exhaustion starts to set in. Tae and Jennie are already waiting for a ride by the time you step outside. Your cheeks ache from smiling so much and every muscle in your face is too tired to speak. She looks just as tired as you but she gives you a small greeting.

It’s funny how you don’t find anything odd about the way she leans into Tae as they sit near one another, or the way Tae is absentmindedly stroking her hair. You feel like it should be odd, but the world is so far away that you can’t hold the details in your brain long enough to make a connection. Between the haze of alcohol and sleep, you’re too far gone to think too much about it.

Namjoon keeps his arm around you as he talks to Tae, but you don’t catch much of their conversation. Sleep threatens to take you where you stand. You count yourself lucky that Namjoon cares for you so well. You close your eyes to rest for a moment, but when you open them again he’s unbuckling your seatbelt and helping you out of the lyft. You shuffle past the threshold of Tae’s home.

Namjoon leads you down the hall to the guest room and pulls on the dangling chain on the lamp  near the bed. A soft yellow glow fills the room as you start to sleepily yank the clothing from your body. Namjoon quickly goes for the open door, but Tae is already in the doorway averting his gaze with one hand and holding a small quilt in the other.

“Thanks. She, uh, gets really cold,” Namjoon says, blocking your body with his frame as you bend at the waist to untie the shoes you now realize are blocking your pants from sliding over your feet.

“Sorry. Let me know if you need anything else,” Tae mumbles, clearly embarrassed. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” Namjoon murmurs back, clutching the quilt as he softly closes the door and turns to you. “Baby.”

“Hmm.”

Your foot is stuck in your shoe but you can’t get your foot out because your shoe is stuck in your jeans. This is a conundrum.

“Baby, you’re gonna fall. Sit down. I’ll help you.”

“I can do it,” you mumble, plopping down on the edge of the bed.

“I know,” he says, already on his knees before you.

He frees your legs and gives you a kiss as he helps you wiggle below the bedspread, setting the quilt on top of your side.

“It’s hot,” you mumble.

“I know.”

“Too hot for blankets.”

“I know. How about the sheet?” he asks, rolling everything back except for the topsheet. He knows you. You’ll want them again soon enough.

“Mm. Come here.” You reach your grabby hands out for him as he flicks the light off.

“I’m coming.” He laughs and slides beside you. “So needy.”

Although you know he can’t see you pout, he pulls you toward his chest anyway and it turns into a smirk against his warm skin.

“It’s ‘cause I needy--you” you slur with a giggle, planting your lips against his chest in a drawn out kiss.

“You’re a hot mess and I love you,” he says, shaking his head.

“Love you, too.”

It’s clear you’re already falling asleep but he gently strokes your arm until the world around you begins to cool and fall away. When you roll away with a shiver, he carefully secures your body in a cocoon of blankets and drapes his arm and leg over you. Not even overheating could keep him from your touch. A wave of calm overtakes him.

This time he knows: this is love.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

Months into your relationship,you’ve have prepared for the end of the semester by planning a little vacation for just the two of you. Namjoon struggles to get through his last day of work, daydreaming about staying at Tae’s summer home and laying on the beach with you. His favorite hiking spot isn’t too far from there and he’s been dying to take you and show you the clearing of wildflowers he loves so much. Hopefully they’ve bloomed beautifully.

He yawns and stretches out, flipping the binder on his desk. It’s been a long day, commemorating the end of a long week. He’s exhausted, but he’s graded every last paper and is in good shape to submit final scores by the deadline. His phone buzzes against the dark wood in the only spot bereft of errant papers. He flips the screen around, finally allowing himself to check the time and give in to distractions.

You: Still working bae

He smiles, thumb gliding over the screen effortlessly while attempting to organize the mess on his desk.

Namjoon: Just finishing up. You: 😏 You: can I You: come before you finish You: it’s only fair

He halts his efforts to stare at his phone.

Namjoon: … You: yes?? Namjoon: 🤦‍♂️ You: what? I’m serious You: 😈😈😈 Namjoon: You on campus? You: I mean... You: who else is gonna be your ride 😘

He shakes his head, smile growing wider as he glances up at the monitor before him. He definitely doesn’t miss running to catch the last bus on late nights. He’s nearly done logging final comments. He’ll be done sooner than you can get here, but this might be as good a time as any to make the reveal.

Namjoon hits the icon to call you, swooning at the familiar image of you stealing his drink. He straightens his glasses and types away at the keyboard while trapping the phone between his ear and shoulder. It doesn’t ring for very long.

“Joonie?”

“Hey, I gotta upload these grades but I’m having trouble.”

You sigh. The last thing you want to do tonight is work, especially not with what you had planned. “What kind of trouble?”

Even as he types away on the keyboard, his mind searches for a term, some kind of red alert to get you off the phone and into his office so he can tell you in person.

“Uh… blue screen.”

“Blue screen of death?” You rub your temple. “What does it say?”

“Uh,” he swallows, pausing to proofread the comment along with the grade he’s about to submit. “It just restarted.”

“On its own?”

Submit.

“Yeah.”

“Is this the first time it’s doing this?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, see if it starts up okay. We can always come back before we go on vacation.”

“Baby, I really want to get these done tonight. I was so close to being done so we can start tonight.”

You sigh heavily and check your makeup in the rearview mirror. “Is it starting up?”

“No, it’s beeping.”

Even straining your ears doesn’t help you pick up on the sound.  “Are you sure?”

“Can you come here? Please?”

Your heart melts. “I’ll be right there.”

You turn the car off and grab one of Namjoon’s oversized hoodies from the backseat. You slip it over your skimpy outfit and carefully make your way to the library, tugging on the hem like it will somehow magically cover all the exposed flesh down to your knees. No such luck. Regardless of how many times you’ve practiced wearing these awful heels, it’s not like you expected to be walking up several flights of stairs in them.

There’s no security guard at the station across the quad. You don’t know if you should feel as happy as you do about that. Despite the voice in the back of your head telling you to get in your car and demand an escort to his office, embarrassment outweighs any fear for safety and you push on. Only a familiar yellow cardigan draped over a chair greets you at the receptionist’s desk, its occupant long gone for the night.

Adrenaline pumps through your veins as you climb the stairs, passing stack after stack of dimly lit bookshelves until you’re standing outside of the only office still illuminated. Thankfully the door is propped open and you power walk as fast as you can towards it. The faster you can fix it, the faster you can head home and celebrate the end of the semester the way you originally planned.

He nearly tips the chair as he stands. It hits the back wall of his office with a graceless bang. “Y/N? Are those heels? Did you drive here in those?”

It’s difficult to keep your lips as they are when he adorns that expression, features battling between where they might settle: aroused or awestruck. You’d rather not screw up the perfect lipstick application you worked so hard to achieve— not yet at least. The plan is to be on your knees when that happens.

“You look—” he pauses as his traveling eyes try to glean any information they can. His voice lowers to a whisper and he quickly attempts to sate his curiosity with a wandering hand up your thigh. “Are-Are you not wearing anything under there?”

Before you can answer his fingers find the pleated fabric hidden beneath the hoodie and a new, eager question fumbles from his lips. “What are... you wearing?”

As much as you’d like for him to keep exploring, you muster enough willpower to smack his hands away. It’s only fair that he has to wait while you work.

“Computer first. You said it was beeping. Did it ever start back up?”

He swallows hard as you round the desk and start troubleshooting. It’s hard to think when all the blood in his brain is quickly evacuating in favor of inhabiting a far less intelligent location. He’s supposed to say something. He knows that much. But you look so beautiful he forgets how to say it. Your brows furrow in frustration and you sigh his name.

You’ve done your makeup, your hair is down for the first time in a long time, and you even put on a cute outfit as far as he can gather. But here you are in his hoodie, donning a pair of blue-light blocking glasses, rolling up the baggy sleeves, and tying your hair into a tight ponytail as you start to go into full on geeksquad mode. Even with your hunched shoulders and irritated tongue clicking, you’re trying to help him, still beautiful in the way he loves.

Underneath all that skin-deep beauty that fades with time, within the wrinkles that have already begun to crease the edges of your eyes and the corners of your mouth, you shine. You shine brighter than any star he’s ever seen. Months of reflecting your light haven’t been enough to show you the true glow of your soul, but he’s confident that one day you’ll see it.

He’s pulled back to reality as your scowl settles on him. Repeatedly pressing the power button with your finger won’t change the fact that he’s purposefully unplugged it, a fact it seems you’ve come to realize when you reach for the VGA cable and there’s nothing there.

A charming, dimpled smile graces his features and he picks up the monitor with ease. “I, uh, think maybe something fell off before you got here.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your computer, is there?” You lean back in the chair and sigh as he stands there like a fool on the opposite side of the desk, cradling his LCD screen like a bouquet.

“No,” he says sheepishly. He gently lowers the monitor to the floor and sighs. “I planned on presenting this better, but you distracted me. There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about for a while now.”

Your stomach is spinning and you take in a deep breath. Oh fuck. Is he really going to break up with you? No, he can’t be. He wouldn’t be smiling about that. Would he?

“Nothing bad,” he quickly adds, circling behind the desk and your chair in one large stride. His thumbs dive into the fabric of your hoodie to rub circles into your shoulders.  “At least I don’t think you’ll think it’s bad…” Terror strikes at his belly and he adds, “Unless you do...”

“Joon. Please. You’re stressing me out. Whatever it is, just tell me.”

He spins the chair around and squats down onto one knee. He straightens his tie and reaches for your hand, sending your stomach on another rollercoaster ride, only this one is running in the complete opposite direction and you’re equally as unprepared. You’re not really a marriage kind of person. Well, maybe you are, but you’re not sure. It’s too soon to know! You’re more of a limbless amoeba at this point, stuffed into heels and floating with the other protozoa in the petri dish of the universe, unthinking, just existing.

The world stops as he reaches into his coat pocket and you find yourself too petrified to speak. You close your eyes and slump into the chair like you’ve become a being comprised solely of pudding. Your skirt rides up as you sink and your panties shrink into the world’s thinnest thong. Have you ever held a breath for this long? Maybe you’ll melt through the mesh seat and evaporate into the cheap carpet below. It takes him too long to realize his latest mistake.

It was probably the pudding hand that tipped him off.

“Oh. Shit. Okay. No, look at me. I’m not—” He laughs and sets something in your palm, closing your fingers around it and holding them there. “Look.”

You finally settle on the floor before him and squeeze the item in your palm. It feels unremarkable, like a basic wire or plastic cap. The most remarkable part about it is that it is definitely not a ring.

Relief washes over you with the breath you exhale. “Joon. You’re killing me. Please.”

“Here’s the thing.”

He releases your hand so you can look at this unremarkable thing that has caused you so much panic. It’s the plastic head of a CAT5 plug, pins and all. You tilt your head to one side and inspect it with childlike curiosity and bewilderment.

“I’m not that bad with computers. I mean, I’m not like you-level, but I’m not as bad as you think.”

Things begin to click into place. This isn’t just any ethernet plug. It’s the first one, the one you couldn’t fathom disappearing like it did, leaving a mess of wires in its wake. Namjoon just seemed so clueless that you naturally blamed drunken students vandalizing campus property for shits and giggles. It never crossed your mind that the sweet, quiet professor could have staged the whole thing.

“Before I knew you, I wanted to know you. But I felt like I needed an excuse to talk to you so I…” He reaches into his pocket and adds various bits of broken plastic and screws to your cupped hand. “...did this.”

You blink stupidly at the pile in your palm, watching busted pieces of plastic slide off the side of the tiny heap of junk and fall onto the floor beside your knees. “Oh my god. You…?”

“Breaking things seemed like the easiest way to spend time with you,” he admits. “At least at first. I started doing less destructive things after a while. Deleting empty documents. Unplugging my keyboard. Turning off bluetooth. Moving my email shortcuts. I mean, damn. I thought you caught me more than once. I kept waiting for you to call me out. I dreaded it. I hoped for it.”

A cackle bubbles in the back of your throat but you suppress it with a snort. “So you held onto these? This whole time?”

“I didn’t know if I should like, recycle them or not and it’s not like I could ask you. And I mean googling that just seems suspicious. I’m not about to land myself on a watch list or something. But like, for real, you should definitely tell me if I can recycle them though because I have more and I would really like to clean out my drawer.”

Laughter breaches your lips in full force. “You faked being bad at stuff this whole time? Joonie, are you serious? I can’t believe I fell for the way — the way you type!” You cough and wheeze, trying to catch your breath between laughs. “With two fingers! I should have known. Only dads type like that. Oh my god. “

He offers a sheepish smile. “Actually, I really type like that. Something about the keys.”

“Oh.” Your laughter dies. “Sorry. I mean that like… mmm. You know what, I meant what I said. Kinda crazy, considering you text faster than me.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes. “Okay. Texting is different.”

You cross your arms, burying the broken pieces in your clenched fist. “Have you ever needed my help? Should even come running anymore?”

“Hey, sometimes I really do. I’m still clumsy. Plus, it’s out there now. I have no reason to waste your time... unless you want me to. I won’t stop you from climbing under my desk in those hot pants you wear with all the little pockets.”

You furrow your brows and scoff, an incredulous grin spreading across your face. “My cargo pants? Those pockets are huge.”

“Not compared to your ass.” He shakes his head with a smile, holds up his hands like he’s cupping your ass and pretends to squeeze it a couple times.

“Why are you like this?” You laugh with a roll of your eyes.

“Excuse me, who’s the one getting so drunk she’s going on thinking it’s hot to talk about making guacamole with my avocado dick?”

“Vaguely remember that. Smeared it all over me though, didn’t you?” You grin and wiggle your eyebrows.

He purses his lips and takes a breath. “If you mean watched you drink too fast on an empty stomach while we waited for takeout, sat with you while you dry-heaved for 20 minutes untiI I carried you to the couch and held your hand till you drank enough water to fall asleep, then yeah. Smeared it good.”

“And that’s why… I love you.”

You lean in and stop short of his lips, sitting back enough to narrow your eyes at him.

”Wait a minute. Projector.”

If you’ve been living on a ramen and cereal diet for two years because of a man’s inability to properly express romantic interest, you’re going to be pissed, regardless of how much you love said man now.

“Oh, hey, no. Hold up. The projector was a real accident. I cried,” he reminds you. “I will proclaim you as my goddess and savior for all time on that one.”

“Goddess, huh?” you smirk and close your fist around the busted pieces, leaning in for a kiss. “You gonna call me that instead now? I think I like that better than Geeksquad.”

He hums disagreement against your lips, “Mmm-mmm.”

You rest your forehead against his. “Promise me you won’t purposefully break anything else going forward.”

“I promise. That includes your heart,” he whispers, cupping your chin and pressing his lips against your cheek.

“You are so corny.” You pull at his tie, grinning as you lure him to your lips again. “And I’m so here for it. Now are you gonna help me up so we can start our vacation? Or are you gonna sit there with a hard dick and pretend like you still have work to do?”

He clicks his tongue and rises to his feet to extend a hand to you. As you attempt to pull yourself up, he reaches for your sides and lifts you with ease until you’re perched on the edge of his desk. He didn’t ask you to part your legs yet they spread for him anyway, wrapping around his waist and pulling him close.

“Are you gonna make me guess what all this is about?” he asks, tilting his head to the side and giving your crude ponytail a soft tug.

You smirk, staring at the red streaks of your lipstick circling his mouth while you try to ignore the heat between your legs that begs you to take him right here. You’ve imagined fucking on this desk thousands of times, but at least you still have enough sense to realize the risk in playing out that fantasy. He’s got a perfectly good desk at his place anyway.

“Take me home and maybe you’ll get to find out,” you say, pulling your keys from the hoodie pocket and letting them hang from your finger.

He groans as he takes them from you. “You know I can’t do highways.”

“Backroads are fine.”

“It’s gonna take forever,” he complains, dropping his head to your shoulder.

“It’s a good time to practice. Come on.” You pat his back a couple times and hop down from the desk, making sure to grind yourself against his erection. “I promise I’ll make it worth the wait.”

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

As soon as you’re in his apartment, you remove the hoodie to reveal your very crude surprise: a slutty schoolgirl costume. Eyes wide and jaw slack, he stops loosening his tie to imitate a lifeless statue of a drooling neanderthal.

“Y/N, what is… Why?”

“Because,” you begin in a low, sultry tone as you drag your fingers over the soft silk still in his hand. “I want you to teach me a lesson.”

His soft exhale fills the space between you and he stumbles to form a response. He laughs nervously, unable to compose himself. “What?”

You bite your lip, suddenly feeling stupidly uncertain. “You… watch this porn all the time, don’t you? At least I thought you did. Oh. Oh god. This is stupid. Sorry.”

He grips your shoulders to keep you from running towards the bedroom. His eyelids flutter for a

second as he struggles to compose his thoughts. “No. It’s fine. I’m all for roleplay. I’m just... I’m not into the teacher-student trope.”

You frown and reach into the hard-drive files of your brain for any porn you’ve seen on his computer. He’s lying and he knows you know it. He wilts under your puzzled gaze.

“I’m not that into it. Like a lot. I’ve seen some, but only when the story is there.”

“Oh, the story?” You hold back a giggle.

Is he really trying to tell you he’s watching porn for the plot to cover for some terrible porno choices? He should know by now that you don’t care about that. You’ve watched more than your fair share of terrible videos just to get off and immediately hated yourself after. It shouldn’t come as a surprise considering he pretended to be a total idiot with technology for years to cover up his feelings.

“What? I’m serious. I think it’s great when the woman is the teacher and the guy is her equal, you know? She definitely makes as much as he does, if not more because she does it in tight clothes because of the dress code, you know? And he comes in one day after hours and is like how does all this work, anyway? And she starts explaining but you know a button snaps and there’s tension. Baby, you know I’m a feminist. I would never—”

“Joonie. I’m not judging you. I wouldn’t do it if I wasn’t into it myself. I thought it might be fun. And I mean… I really wanted an excuse to have you bend me over your desk, but if you’re not interested I can just—” As soon as you start to work at the buttons of your blouse, he reaches out to stop you.

“We can try it,” he says, bashfully taking a step back and tapping his fingertips against yours. “I’d like to, if you’re down.”

You see an opportunity to break the tension and put him at ease, donning your best valley-girl accent. “Oh em gee, Professor Kim! You are, like, my favorite teacher. Is there some way I can get some extra credit? Puhleeeaase.”

“Nope, none of that,” he says with a laugh, twining his fingers with yours. “As a rule you cannot use that voice.”

“Fair enough.” You lead him towards the desk and gesture to the chair nearby. “How about I’m the teacher since you like that plot point so much?”

He chews his lip to hold back a toothy grin and watches with eager eyes as you bend at the waist to inspect the desk before him, giving a clear view of your ass and panties as your skirt rises. You relocate anything valuable to the nearby bookshelf and work on gathering the papers strewn about the surface.

“Sorry just let me gather up all my extra paychecks,” you mumble.

Once the desk is clear you perch yourself on its edge. Namjoon is already holding out a hair tie and a pair of glasses.

“You forgot these at the staff meeting.”

You roll your eyes and grin, working your hair into a messy bun and resting the glasses atop your head. “Thank you, Professor Kim.”

“Professor Kim is my father. Call me Namjoon.”

You purse your lips and try your best not to laugh, uncrossing and recrossing your legs purposefully. “I suppose you can call me Y/N, then.”

He makes no attempt to hide his lurid gaze, but his eyes travel to your face and he smiles. “Can I call you beautiful, instead?”

“Very smooth, Joonie,” you chuckle, breaking character for a moment.

“Joonie. Hmm. I like the way that sounds in your mouth.”

“I think there’s something else you’d like in my mouth. Maybe you’d like to put it in?”

Namjoon straightens in his seat as you approach, chest heaving in anticipation as he spreads his legs further so you might slot yourself between them. He dips his tongue into your mouth and you work his belt off, slowly sinking to your knees as you try to will yourself to break away from his kiss. He’s eager to unzip his pants and free his cock for you. It stands at attention, eagerly awaiting your touch.

Your breath warms the tip as you skim your lips across him, teasing him just enough to have him twitching, aching to thrust into that pretty mouth. He bites his lip as he looks down at you and inhales sharply through his nose the moment you grip his shaft. The moan that follows is like music to your ears and you grant him the flat of your tongue to reward such a sound.

He combs his fingers through his hair and clutches your shoulder as you take him into your mouth. The dark swollen head of his shaft is thick enough to make your jaw ache, but the sound of him cursing and losing all sense of coherence makes it worth it. As he sinks further into your mouth, he tilts his head back and squeezes his eyes shut in ecstasy.

You take him as deep as you can, allowing your spit to coat his cock. He likes it when it’s sloppy, when you’re drooling over yourself while he fills your mouth and you’re more than happy to oblige. Your eyes water as he flirts with the back of your throat with a soft, shallow thrust. When you choke his head snaps up to focus on you but you wave his concerned look away and grip his shaft tightly.

A thin string of precum and spit still connects your mouth to him as you lean back for just a second to compose yourself.

“Hope you don’t have any other meetings planned.”

“Why’s that?” His palm gently cups the back of your head, waiting for the moment you’re ready to take him again.

“I’m gonna make a mess of you.”

“Good.”

You meet his eyes and gather as much spit in your mouth as you can, allowing it to dribble down his cock before pumping your fist over him. He doesn’t have time to guide your head back down because you’re already on him again, working him over with your hand any place the warmth of your mouth can’t reach.

He chokes out an expletive and buries a hand in your hair, taking in the sight of your perfect mouth offering the bliss he craves. “You take me so well.”

You bob on his cock until he snakes his fingers down to undo the first button of your blouse, granting him access to a sliver of cleavage. He’s eager to see more of you, to feel more of you. Even after months of being with you, it doesn’t take much to tip him over the edge. He won’t last much longer if you keep going, but he’ll be damned if he blows his load in your mouth before even getting an opportunity to touch you.

“I wanna feel you,” he murmurs, leaning forward to coax you away from his cock and back to his lips.

The moment you press your lips against his he reaches for your waist to help you stand. He’s about to follow suit when you surprise him, straddling his lap and grasping at his tie to pull him towards your chest. His cock throbs as it grinds against the slick barrier of your soaked panties, begging for entrance as he buries his face in the splendor of your cleavage. A roll of your hips tempts him to push your panties aside and plunge into you like this. His fingers work as quickly as they can to pop open a few more buttons before slipping down to grip the meat of your ass.

“Fuck me,” you plead, grinding yourself down.

His arms tense and before you can entice him further he stands with a grunt, hoisting you onto the desk. You barely have time to react as he yanks your panties down and plunges a finger into your dripping cunt. Planting an arm behind you and keeping the other clasped around the back of his neck, you weakly attempt to keep yourself somewhat upright.

“How about you make a mess for me instead,” he whispers, leaving your cunt in favor of rubbing quick circles against your clit. “And then I’ll fill you up. Walk you out of here past everyone so they can see my cum dripping from your thighs. Everyone will know what a filthy slut you are for me, won’t they, beautiful?”

The way your muscles tense up nearly gives you a cramp. You bite your lip and nod with a pathetic fucked out grin as he fucks his fingers into your cunt, continuing to rub against your clit. Your elbow wobbles and you frantically grasp at his shirt instead, balling the material into your fist, desperate to undo the buttons but too close to nirvana to remember how to perform such a simple task. Your legs shake against the surface of the desk, and while the steady rhythm of his finger against your clit is heavenly, you’re ready to cry when his fingers leave your hole empty and aching to be filled.

“Joon, please.”

As soon as the desperate plea leaves your mouth, the tip of his cock teases your entrance, providing small, shallow thrusts that send you soaring past the threshold of your release. He can’t help but smile against your kiss as you drag his bottom lip through your teeth and melt into his form. Your walls spasm wildly around him and he gradually lets the pressure off your clit, instead increasing the pace and depth of his thrusts. He fucks you through the shockwaves of pleasure that follow your orgasm, stilling only when your eyelids stop fluttering and you’re able to meet his gaze with a fatigued satisfaction.

“Why’d you stop?” you wonder, lazily opening the buttons on his shirt. Pert brown nipples poke out from beneath the soft fabric, with the silky tie still swaying between them.

He watches you with a smile for a moment before pursuing the last few buttons of your blouse. Quickly working it off your shoulders, you give him the opportunity to reach for the clasp of your bra. It doesn’t take long for him to sweep you into a deep kiss, entranced by the way your skin feels against him while he’s still buried inside of you.

“Bend over this desk for me, baby. Show me that sexy ass.”

You whimper at the loss of his cock but do as he asks, knowing you’ll soon be full again. He lifts your skirt, takes both cheeks in his hands and squeezes before giving one side a slap. The moan that escapes you is embarrassing and it spurs him to repeat the action.

“Fuck,” he whispers, finally allowing his cock to press against cunt once more. “So fucking wet.”

Your own juices coat the expanse of your thighs, slowly trailing down them. Without warning he slams into you hard and fast. Wet slapping sounds fill the room as he holds your hips, driving them back to meet his thrusts.

“So fucking tight.”

You grip the opposing edge of the desk and moan. “You’re so deep, baby.”

“Fuck...” The word is exhaled through a shaky breath.

“So deep you could read me poetry,” you whisper, unable to stop the joke even though you know he’s on the cusp of cumming.

He huffs out a strained puff of air as he tries his hardest not to laugh. He gives in to the laughter after you begin to giggle. Unable to save himself, he leans into the joke that threatens to ruin his orgasm. “You’re my person. You’re my desire. You’re my pride...”

His thrusts are sloppy, his legs tense. You crane your neck to look over your shoulder to make sure he’s not mad. It must be your own grin that is contagious because he’s smiling even though he’s shaking his head at you.

“You’re my love. One and only love,” you recite for him, reaching back for his hand and pushing your hips back into him with force.

His grip on your hip tightens and he squeezes your hand. He slams into you a final time with a moan, ensuring he’s as deep as he can be before filling you with his seed. The pleasure amplifies every time you try to wiggle back for some sort of movement and he moves his hand to your ass, digging his fingernails in like it will keep him grounded. He leans over your form, kissing any bit of skin on your back his lips can reach.

Regardless of the sensitivity he keeps himself buried in you, hoping by some miracle he’ll stay hard enough to fuck you a second time. He can’t tell what’s his mess and what’s yours anymore as it drips down his balls to his thighs. As he finally slips out, you turn to face him with a sweet smile on your lips.

Your fingers glide through his hair and trail down to cradle his cheek. “I love you.”

Namjoon leans into your touch, pressing his lips to the inside of your palm. “I love you too.”

Maybe it’s the endorphins, but he can’t remember the last time he felt so comfortable and happy with another person, someone he can be so unapologetically himself with. He’s completely certain that he’s bound to you by fate. The love you share is destiny, a gift from the universe he never intends to take for granted.

No matter what the future holds, he knows he wants you by his side through it all: his one and only love.

#moonchildnetwork #smutcentralnet #namjoon smut #namjoon fic #bts fic #bts smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #bts x reader

[today-only-happens-once]

out of focus

title: out of focus

word count: 3955

summary: 

The actions of a Fire Nation admiral during a meeting causes some problems for Sokka. The words of that admiral causes some problems for Zuko. They try to take care of each other. 

“What did the admiral mean,” Sokka blurts out without really thinking about it, “when he talked about insubordination?” 

Zuko freezes, the rag half-out of the bowl and his other hand still bracing Sokka’s (not quite holding it… far too gentle to be holding it). “What—uh. I, uh.” Zuko stops. Takes a breath. Tries again. He still doesn’t look up at Sokka. “When I was younger, I spoke out at a meeting.”

Warnings: burns (description of), violence, threats of violence, discussion of canonical child abuse, characters curse but no curse words are written, character is non-permanently injured, yelling/arguing, trauma

A/N: me? writing a zukka AtLA fic and posting it an hour short of midnight? Apparently, it’s more likely that you’d think. 

Read on AO3

--

Zuko has the patience of a saint, Sokka thinks to himself.

It’s an unusual thought, he realizes. A year ago, if you’d told Sokka that he’d come to think of the Banished Prince as ‘patient’, he’d probably have thrown his boomerang at you. A year ago, Zuko was one of the most short-tempered people he knew. A year ago, Zuko was the face of the enemy.

A lot changes in a year.

Sokka barely stifles a frustrated sigh. The attempt does not seem to go unnoticed by Zuko, who glances at him quickly before the corner of his mouth twitches with something like amusement. The meeting had been going on for hours, and Sokka can’t help but feel that very little progress on the treaty had been made. It wasn’t for lack of trying, Sokka knows, but war leaves messy problems in its wake. He knows that both the literal and metaphorical shrapnel left behind by a century of conflict can’t be swept away in a night or a week or a month.

It doesn’t make these meetings any easier to sit through.

“I want immediate release of all prisoners of war,” an Earth Kingdom ambassador demands.

“I second that,” Sokka hears his father--sitting across the table from him--add, a bit more calmly but no less firm. “I have men in those prisons that haven’t seen their family in a decade.”

“Of course,” Zuko replies at the same time a Fire Nation soldier snaps, “absolutely not.”

Zuko levels a hard look at him. “Admiral, people who were arrested as prisoners of war have no need to remain so after the war has ended.” He looks to Hakoda, then to the Earth Kingdom ambassador. “I’ll draft that mandate tonight and will ensure it’s circulation as soon as possible.”

“This is an outrage!” The slam of a fist against the table makes Sokka’s hand fly to the boomerang strapped to his hip instinctively. The admiral is on his feet.

“Admiral,” Zuko says, his voice steely as he rises from his own chair. The Fire Nation soldier cuts him off.

“Where is the justice for the Fire Nation families whose sons and daughters were slaughtered by those criminals?”

“Admiral--”

“I remember a time when you cared about Fire Nation soldiers! And it’s hard to believe you’ve forgotten, seeing as you ought to be reminded every time you look in the mirror--”

“Enough!” Zuko snaps. “You will watch your tongue or you will be escorted out. You approach insubordination.”

“You are a child,” the admiral sneers. “Though one that ought to know a thing or two about insubordination, given your father’s attempts to brand you with a permanent reminder of its consequences--”

“Warriors!”

“Then again, he always was twice the leader you will never be. Long live the Phoenix King!”

Sokka sees the warning signs—the slight shift of weight, the clench of the man’s fists—and leaps to his feet. “Zuko--!”

“Sokka!”

There’s a blinding light and scorching heat. Sokka feels something slam onto his shoulder and he dives instinctively for cover as the familiar roar of a fireball explodes in front of him. The flames are bright and lick around him, and Sokka throws a hand up to protect his face. He blinks the spots from his vision as he yanks his boomerang out of his belt.

Zuko is standing beside him, his stance ready and his hand outstretched, having evidently dispelled the fireball that had been launched at him. Sokka leaps back up to his feet and hurls the boomerang in his hands towards the Admiral, hitting his hand right as he moves to launch another attack and forcing it to go wide. A burst of flames slam against the wall to the left.

The room is in chaos.

Sokka barely hears the shouts of alarm and curses over the roar of dying flames. He sees his father, already on his feet, diving underneath a bolt of red fire. Across the room, the Earth Kingdom ambassador jerks their hand. There’s a rumble in the ground before it rises and anchors around the Admiral’s feet, holding him in place.

Sokka sees the admiral’s gaze meet his own and narrow. The Fire Nation soldier bares his teeth in a snarl, his fist shooting out. Before Sokka can blink, Zuko steps in front of him, dispelling the flames just as the door ricochets open. Two Kyoshi Warriors flood in and in a series of quick strikes, the admiral drops. Awake, but limp.

Sokka thinks idly that he’s grateful that Ty Lee taught them how to block chi.

“Your father should have killed you that day!” the admiral shouts as he’s dragged through the doors. “He showed mercy on your pathetic, worthless—” the door slamming shut cuts him off.

The silence that follows makes Sokka’s ears ring. He can still feel stale adrenaline coursing through him, his heartbeat pounding in his chest. For a moment, nobody moves. Zuko awkwardly clears his throat.

“Apologies for the, uh, disruption. It shouldn’t happen again.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Firelord Zuko,” Hakoda assures him, but there’s something odd in his father’s expression when he looks at Zuko that Sokka doesn’t understand.

Zuko says something in response, but Sokka doesn’t catch it. As the adrenaline bleeds out of him, his muscles relaxing, Sokka realizes that his fists are still clenched. Sokka forces them to relax, and hisses as it sends a jolt of hot pain through his left hand. When he looks down, he realizes that the skin on the top of part of his hand near his knuckles is a blistering, angry red.

Sokka’s hiss doesn’t go unnoticed. Zuko looks at him over his shoulder, his brows drawn together in confusion before his eyes fall to Sokka’s hand. Then, they go wide.

Zuko turns back around suddenly to address the room, his back straighter. “We will adjourn the meeting for the afternoon. We will reconvene tomorrow.”

“Firelord Zuko—” an ambassador from the Northern Water Tribe protests, but Hakoda interrupts him.

“I think we could all use a breather, Kovrik. Coming back tomorrow with a clear head is a good decision.”

“Yes… yes, I suppose that’s fair.”

Sokka is finding it increasingly difficult to follow the conversation. His hand hurts, and it’s taking every last drop of his willpower and pride to grit his teeth and swallow back the whimper that wants to push up his throat. It’s not until Zuko’s face is taking up his entire field of vision that Sokka realizes everyone but the two of them and his father have left the room.

“Let me see,” Zuko says quietly, then curses under his breath when he looks at Sokka’s hand. “Where’s Katara when you need her.”

“Do you have anything that can help?” Hakoda asks from behind Zuko.

“Yes, sir,” Zuko replies, his brows still furrowed in concentration. “Though it’s not quite as immediate as waterbending healers. But it should help with the pain, and prevent infection. Follow me.”

Sokka feels Zuko take his elbow and guide him out the door of the meeting room and down the hall. He’s distantly aware that Zuko is moving quickly—not quite a jog, but only barely shy of it—through a network of corridors. His hand feels like it might still be on fire, and Sokka looks down at it again just to be sure that’s not actually the case. He tells himself that he’s endured injuries more painful than this. The broken leg was worse, he thinks, though it does little to actually help with the burning sensation in his hand.

He’s vaguely aware that Zuko says something quickly to two guards that are flanking a set of doors before he rushes in. Sokka looks up and realizes it’s Zuko’s chambers. He’d only been in here a couple of times before, largely while Zuko was still recovering from Azula’s lightning strike in the weeks following the end of the war.

“Wait here,” Zuko tells him before disappearing through another door on the far side of the room.

“You had good reflexes in there,” Sokka hears his father’s low, soothing voice speak up. He’d had almost forgotten he was there. Hakoda moves the chair that had been beside the bed closer to Sokka in a clear direction to sit down.

“Lots of practice,” Sokka replies as he sits. He hisses a little again as his hand flares and grits out a swear behind clenched teeth.

“Easy,” Hakoda says softly. He places a bracing, comforting hand between Sokka’s shoulder blades. It’s grounding, and he’s grateful.

“Wish Katara was here,” Sokka tells him, echoing Zuko’s comment from earlier.

“I know. Unfortunately, I don’t think she’s coming to Caldera for a while. She’s still in Ba Sing Se with Aang.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Her magic water comes in handy though.” Sokka gives his father a tight smile. “Get it? Hand-y?”

Hakoda snorts just as the door opens again. Zuko has his arms full of a large bowl, his hands fisting a few vials and some bandages. There’s something pinched about Zuko’s expression, and the way he doesn’t meet Sokka’s eyes as he kneels in front of him feels odd. The bowl is full of water, Sokka realizes, as he sets it on the ground and begins to empty the vials into it.

“Can I see your hand?” Zuko asks, and the question—for some reason—catches him off guard.

Sokka blinks. “Yeah. Sure.” He grimaces as he places his hand in Zuko’s, but the excessive gentleness surprises him so much that Sokka almost forgets that his hand hurts.

Zuko was many things, but Sokka can’t remember a time—even after he started to get along with the Fire Prince—that he would have described Zuko as gentle. But his grip on Sokka’s hand is careful. Almost excessively so.  

Zuko hums in the back of his throat as he inspects the burns. “I don’t think it’ll have permanent damage,” he says quietly. “But I still need to treat it so it doesn’t get infected. It… might hurt, a little. But then it should feel better.”

“No permanent damage. That’s good,” Sokka says. He swallows, and nods. “Okay.”

For a long moment, the only sounds that fills the room is the quiet splash of water in the bowl as Zuko submerges the cloth rag again and wrings it out. Sokka lets his gaze float around the room.

Zuko has left it mostly bare. There’s a portrait of Iroh and a woman that Sokka remembers being the Fire Lady—Zuko’s mother—hanging on the wall near the headboard of the bed. On the dresser beside it is a drawing that Sokka did of the group of them months ago. He sees a pile of papers on the desk across the room. He thinks one of them has Aang’s signature at the bottom, but it’s too far away for him to know for sure.

Bright, painful heat searing his hand slams his attention back to Zuko in front of him and Sokka yelps, yanking his hand away. Zuko grimaces, retracing his own hand.

“I’m sorry,” he says, sounding more earnest than Sokka expects. “This part is painful, but it’ll stop hurting in a minute.”

Sokka fights to pull his breathing back under his control. In through his nose, out through his mouth. “Right,” he manages, his voice tight. “Right, sorry.”

“Don’t be. I know it hurts.”

Something about that line—and about the fact that Zuko still hasn’t met his eyes since returning from the other room—drags Sokka’s thoughts back to the conversation in the treaty meeting. There were several things that the admiral had said to Zuko that Sokka didn’t quite understand. He could only remember pieces of things said, but they repeat in Sokka’s head like disjointed pieces of a puzzle that he can’t quite make fit together.

seeing as you ought to be reminded every time you look in the mirror… insubordination… your father’s attempts to brand you… consequences…

Sokka’s gaze falls back to Zuko, dutifully bowed in front of him. There had long been pieces about Zuko that Sokka had found puzzling. Things about him that didn’t quite fit together. Sokka considers himself a person pretty good at figuring out how things worked together, and that extended (with less success) to figuring out how parts of people make up the sum of their whole.

Zuko, though… Zuko had always been something of a mystery. But as the words of the admiral ricochet in his mind, there’s a picture beginning to come together that is still just a little too hazy, a little too out of focus, to fill in the spaces that Sokka felt were missing.

“What did the admiral mean,” Sokka blurts out without really thinking about it, “when he talked about insubordination?”

Zuko freezes, the rag half-out of the bowl and his other hand still bracing Sokka’s (not quite holding it… far too gentle to be holding it). “What—uh. I, uh.” Zuko stops. Takes a breath. Tries again. He still doesn’t look up at Sokka. “When I was younger, I spoke out at a meeting.”

Sokka’s brow furrows as Zuko presses the rag to the back of his hand again. Sokka realizes that his hand has stopped hurting, but he’s too preoccupied with what Zuko said to pay it much mind. “After the stuff at Ba Sing Se? When you went home?”

“No, I, uh.” Zuko clears his throat. “Before that. Before… yeah. Earlier.”

Your father’s attempts to brand you…

“What happened?” Sokka asks. The way Zuko’s shoulders seem to tense doesn’t escape his attention, and there’s a part of him that wonders if perhaps he shouldn’t have asked. But it also feels like a question that once asked, is too late to take back.

Zuko pats Sokka’s hand dry with another towel and begins to gingerly wrap a bandage around it. He keeps his gold gaze steady on the work. Sokka keeps his gaze steady on Zuko.

“My uncle allowed me to attend a war meeting where they were talking about some battle strategies to use against an Earth Kingdom battalion. There was a general that wanted our newest fleet to serve as a distraction while we mounted an attack from the rear,” Zuko begins. There’s something off about his voice, though. Something detached and careful. He keeps wrapping the bandage. Around and around and around.

Sokka frowns. “That’s not fair,” he says. “Your newest recruits? They’d be slaughtered by an experienced battalion like that.”

Zuko sighs, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Exactly,” he says in a low voice. “And that’s what I told them. I wasn’t thinking. I just… yelled at him.” Sokka opens his mouth to disagree—it sounds like Zuko was thinking, unlike anybody else at that meeting—but Zuko cuts him off as he secures the end of the bandage to Sokka’s palm. “My father didn’t… take it well. I was challenged to an Agni Kai, and I thought I would be facing the general in it, so I accepted.”

Zuko gathers the bowl and empty vials as he stands, crossing the room to set them on the edge of his desk. Sokka stands up slowly as Zuko does so. The pieces that had been out of focus for so long are starting to come together, and Sokka feels his stomach rolling with a leaden weight against what he can sense is coming.

“No…”

“It wasn’t the general,” Zuko continues, his voice so quiet that Sokka is sure he would have missed it if it hadn’t been dead silence around them. “It was my father.”

“You faced your father in an Agni Kai?”

“Not exactly. I…” Zuko stares down into the bowl of water beside him, his gaze distant. “I couldn’t fight my own father. Instead, I begged him for forgiveness. I was met with a fistful of flames.”

Zuko gestures vaguely at his face, and Sokka’s blood turns to ice.

“He…” Sokka’s throat closes, cutting off the rest of that sentence. All this time being chased by Zuko—all this time being friends with him—and he’d always assumed that the scar was the result of a training accident, or a fight with a firebender he lost. Sokka thinks bitterly and viciously that the second assumption wasn’t far off but his own father—

“I was banished after that,” Zuko says, and his voice is hollow and empty and wrong. And he finally, finally, meets Sokka’s gaze. “I was told to bring the Avatar back and all would be forgiven, or to not come back at all. That was before you and your sister woke Aang up from the iceberg.”

Sokka stands very, very still. He glances down and realizes his hands are trembling. He curls the non-bandaged one into a fist to get the shaking to stop. “How old were you?” he asks, and he doesn’t know why—of everything he could say—that’s the question that tumbles past his lips, but he feels like it matters.

“Thirteen.”

“Thir—” Sokka cuts himself off, scrubbing a hand across his mouth and swallowing hard. “Thirteen. Tui and La, when I was thirteen—”

Sokka breaks off again, his throat closing, his gaze falling to his father. When Sokka was thirteen, his father had left to go fight in the war and told Sokka he couldn’t come along. He’d protected Sokka, and though Sokka had found his way into fighting in the war regardless a few years later, he knows his father had only been trying to keep him safe. The idea of his own father striking him—let alone with a fist full of flames to his face—was incomprehensible.

Hakoda doesn’t look back at Sokka. His gaze is trained on Zuko, and there’s something in his eyes that Sokka doesn’t quite understand. But he’s seen it before. It was the same look Hakoda wears when he hears other water tribe soldiers recount war stories. The late-night ones. The ones where their voices betray the weight on their shoulders and tremble with the generations of nightmares on their backs.

Sokka takes a sudden, faltering step forward, and Zuko instinctively tenses. Sokka freezes. “Zuko…”

Zuko shakes his head. He coughs a little, as if trying to clear his throat. “Anyway. That’s—that’s what the admiral was talking about.”

“You…” Sokka tries again, his voice carrying just the barest hints of hysteria. “You were his kid.”

“Yeah, well.” Zuko’s gaze meets Sokka’s again. “He spent most of my life wishing I wasn’t.”

“Zuko,” Hakoda speaks up, his voice a low, soothing rumble to Sokka’s trembling nerves. “I… hope you understand that you didn’t deserve that.”

“I know, sir,” he replies, sounding steadier than Sokka feels. Sokka feels a little like the ground has shifted beneath his feet as he stares at his friend across the room. Zuko continues, frustratingly calm. “It… I didn’t at first. It took me a long time to understand that it was wrong of my father to do that. But I know now.”

“Where is he?” Sokka demands, flushing with a sudden and intense fury.

Zuko blinks, looking taken aback by the vehemence charged through Sokka’s voice like a steel rod. “Where’s who?”

“Ozai.”

“Sokka, what are you gonna do? Fight him? He already lost.”

“Against Aang, not against—did Aang even know?”

Zuko’s brow furrows and he rubs the back of his neck. “Um. I guess I don’t know. I never told him. I… never told any of you.”

“Yeah—and what’s that about, huh?” Sokka demands. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Sokka,” Hakoda warns, but Sokka’s words are already bubbling up throat and spilling past his lips, hot and bitter and angry.

“What, did you think we wouldn’t care? That it wouldn’t matter?”

“It doesn’t matter!” Zuko waves a hand towards the window that overlooks the courtyard. “My father already lost to the Avatar, Sokka. The war is over. The fighting is over. Aang took his bending. And that—I don’t know about you, but that’s the best, most justified end to his legacy I can think of.”

Sokka is still shaking. He can’t explain why. He knows, logically, that Zuko is right. He’s right. But Sokka can still feel his hands shaking, can still feel his heart hammering in his ribs with the urge to run something through with sword, can still feel the way his eyes sting with tears he won’t let fall. Sokka clenches his jaw and rips his gaze away from Zuko out towards the window, where he can see the sun setting on the horizon and painting the palace courtyard in an orange light.

“Wherever he is, I hope he rots,” Sokka says finally, and yet it still doesn’t feel like enough. “He deserves worse.”

Sokka looks back at Zuko, whose gaze is a little wide. He looks… taken aback. Sokka cocks an eyebrow.

“Don’t tell me you disagree—"

“No,” Zuko replies, shaking his head. “I just… Nothing.” The corner of his mouth tugs upwards in the barest hint of a smile. Sokka doesn’t understand why, just like he doesn’t understand why it uncoils the tight knot of burning anger in his chest.

Sokka takes a deep breath. Wills himself to relax. It helps… a little. There’s a beat, and then Sokka hears his father take a step forward. “Thank you for helping Sokka’s hand, Firelord Zuko.”

Zuko blinks, and Sokka swears his cheeks take a faint pink tint as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh. Uh, of course, sir. And… just Zuko is fine.”

Sokka glances over and sees Hakoda smile, inclining his head. “Understood.” He looks to Sokka. “I should draft a letter to Bato tonight to update him on the treaty. Will you be okay without me?”

Sokka rolls his eyes teasingly. “Yeah, dad. I think I can manage.”

Hakoda squeezes his shoulder, nods to Zuko again, and quietly slips out of the room. The silence afterward seems to stretch, and Sokka feels the lingering tension bleeding out of him as he looks at Zuko, who quietly shuffles through the papers on his desk. Sokka watches him for a beat, his gaze lingering a little on the scarred tissue across his face. Sokka swallows.

There are other questions Sokka thinks he could ask. Like why—after doing that—Zuko was still so bent on returning home to his father. But there’s a part of Sokka that thinks he maybe understands.

Spirits know that he understood what it was like to crave the approval of your father.

“Hey,” he says, and Zuko’s gaze snaps over to him. “I… thank you for telling me. I… know that wasn’t easy, and… it means a lot that you trust me with that.”

“It… it wasn’t a question of trust, you know,” Zuko replies quietly, averting his gaze. “Not telling you, I mean. It was just—”

“I know,” Sokka says, and means it. “But I also know what it’s like to have things you don’t necessarily… want to relive. So it means a lot that you told me.”

The corner of Zuko’s mouth twitches again. He takes a deep, slow breath. “Thank you for listening,” he says.

“I like to think I’m a pretty good listener,” Sokka teases, shrugging.

“You are,” Zuko says, with far more sincerity than Sokka felt was warranted for what he’d meant to be a joke. Sokka blinks at him, and Zuko clears his throat, ducking his head a little. “I was thinking of getting some tea. There’s a place just outside the palace. It’s not as good as Uncle’s, but um. Did you want to come?”

“Yeah,” Sokka replies with a small smile. “I could use a cup of tea.”  

#avatar the last airbender #zukka #zukka fanfiction #zuko fanfiction #zuko #sokka #not ts #we interrupt your regularly scheduled broadcast to give you this fic for an unrelated fandom woops

[kanene-yaaay]

Sentence Starter - Part 2

I decided to gather all my Sentence Starters in a post. This is the second round!

I know I already said thankys before but, really, thank you so much for your support, it means the world for me. <3

[~.~]

[Gee these covers are lumpy, better fix the covers up!]

"Gee, these covers are lumpy, better fix the covers up!" Mina wormed her hands under the giggly boy, fishing a loud shriek as she vibrated her thumb between his shoulder blades and her other hand squeezed his sides, resulting in a more desperate wiggling from her victim. "Squish, squish, squish the squirmy Ojiro to fix all the lumps!"

"I AHAHAM NOT A COHOHOVER!"

"Hmmm, I don't know if I am convinced," her eyes glinted when the blond arched his back and her hands immediately dashed to scratch his incredibly, horribly ticklish lower back. "I mean, why else would I find such a cute squeaky toy, oops, I mean, cover in my bed?" Bubbly squeals painted Ojiro's laughter almost as strong as the red that painted his cheeks as he shook his head, protesting.

"I ahaham not s-squeheheaky!" Mina's nails scribbled and grazed on his ribs, the quick, high pitched sounds that flied from his lips contradicting his own words. "That doesn't prove anything!" The tailed teenager managed to breath out before descending in belly laughter again.

His pink friend matched his laughter in response, slowing her silly tickly attack as tears began to form on the other's eyes, pinching and poking his tummy in order to keep the adorable giggles filling the air. The cute wiggles from him and his tail were a bonus, as well.

"Hard day?"

Ojiro nodded, a smile still plastered on his face.

"It was. Your behed is fluffyhihihi. Sorry fohohor intrudihihing."

She waved his worries off, "it's no problem! Just give me a warn next time so I won't lay on you again, okay?"

Ojiro snickered, remembering the scared screams from they both when a few minutes ago Mina decided to jump on her bed and didn't even realize the strange lump that was Ojiro sleeping under all the comforters and plushies.

"I will."

"Good." The pink haired girl then cracked her fingers, a dangerous smirk spreading on her face, probably an effect of being Bakugou's friend, and making goosebumps ran freely on Ojiro's spine.

"No no nohoho!" He shot his hands up in an a placating gesture, excited giggles already falling from his mouth. "I already agreed with you! Please!"

Mina pouted in faux empathy. "Sorry, friendo, but your squeaky squeaks and wiggly wiggley wiggles are just too much cute for me to not tickle you again!"

"Ihihi don't," a snort cut his sentence, "I don't dohoho any of that!" He says, in between his wiggles and squeaks.

"Well," She attacked his armpits, a blinding smile taking over her features as the other began to giggle and snicker non stop. "I am sure we can compromise, eventually."

[~.~]

[I wouldn’t say that with the position you’re in, star student]

"I wouldn't say that with the position you're in, star student." Sero grinned, the non said threat falling heavily between them.

Todoroki blinked, stopping his struggles to lay limply on the floor, still staring the black haired friend on top of him, the fake dagger pressed on his neck.

"It doesn't make sense." Sero threw his hands up, exasperated. Shoto turned to look at Momo, who signalized at Jirou to stop the filmation. "If he's just got into my house in the middle of the night to kill me how does he know about my grades?"

"Well, maybe you just look like a super genius or something!" The other actor retorted, shoving his face on his hands and then on the floor as Todoroki stared at him with an unconvinced expression.

"Or," Kaminari jumped in, ignoring his friends dramatics "he can be his archenemy, building his hate and revenge plan since Todoroki did.... Something bad at him in the school."

Todoroki piked up at the opportunity to put another conspiracy in the movies' plot. "That could make sense."

"Don't encourage him." Jirou smirked at the protesting 'hey!' shouted by the other, preparing another snarky remark before being cut by Momo's voice.

"We're not making any more changes on the plot. We will just remake this scene and then everyone can go home, okay?"

"I think Izuku would lose it if we asked for him to rewrite another part." Nods and mumbles of agreement to Sero's words filled the room as all the occupants remembered the boy's determined rant of why the dagger's blade shouldn't be completely straight nor silver. "Anyway, I still need to buy that new Fatgum's game that came out. Let's move on."

"I can't," the dual haired actor claimed, a blank face "you're sitting on top of me."

And, for a moment, as the pun sank on his friends' brain, only silence met him.

Then Jirou and Kaminari immediately broke in loud laughter, Momo hiding her own chuckles behind her hand.

"Oh my god," Sero bit his own laughter in order to try to look at least a bit serious as he attempted to glare at Shoto. "You think you are so funny, don't you?"

Smugly, Todoroki let the corner of his lips twitch.

"Let me help you to show what is funny, then!"

"Wait-" but he was too late, before the words even came out from his mouth Sero was already dancing his fingers on his sides, switching between squeezing them quickly to scribbling and prodding at his ribs, yelps and guffaws already spinning in the air. "Dohohon't! Wait, wahahahait!!"

The black haired friend laughed with him, his blinding smile and uncontrollable giggles being too much adorable to resist. "I think you actually meant 'I am very sorry for ever complaining about your great performance, my amazing friend Sero.', right?"

Todoroki shook his head, gasping and squirming harder when Sero experimented clawed at his stomach, a series of quiet nononono's and pleaseplease's spilling freely from his lips.

"Tsk. Not even close, man. But don't worry, we have aaaaall the afternoon." A snort escaped from Todoroki and he hid his face on his hands, making Jirou 'aww' and Kaminari shout a 'wait wait make he do it again!' "So take your time, OK?" And then, in a quieter voice "If I go too much far just hold my wrists and I will stop."

A barely there nod showed that the other had heard him, however, as his hands continued to hid his face, bright laughter and shy giggles still filled the studio for much more time.

[~.~]

[Oh yeah! I told you’d they’d win! Ha! Pay up, Midoriya!]

"Oh yeah! I told you they'd win! Ha! Pay up, Midoriya!"

"B-but this is not fair! Tokoyami bought the victory by offering to do Shoji's dishes! That is not a-!

"There is nothing against this in the rules." Tokoyami shrugged, still panting from the sparring. "And I just remembered there is Midnight-sensei's paper for tomorrow that I didn't even start."

"Sorry, Midoriya. But we will have much more training in the future, still, and your analysis really helped me! You're right, maybe starting to use some weapon, since a hand to hand combat can give my quirk some damage, will be a good advantage." The taller teenager waved at them, Dark Shadow mirroring him enthusiastically as they followed Tokoyami back at the dorms. "I should search for options before choosing. Thank you for the cheering."

Kaminari waved back before turning to Izuku, his smile getting bigger as he saw his protesting pout. "Aww, is someone angy?" He hugged him from behind, snickering when he saw a glimpse of a smile on the other's expression before an exaggerated frown took over, green eyes deviating from his teasing grin.

"I know you want to smile. ~" Denki delivered a couple of pokes on his stomach, an evil idea full of wiggly fingers and giggly squeals blossoming on his mind. "Maybe the 1-A sunshine need some cheering up after being such sore loser? ~"

Midoriya turned on his embrace, now being face to face at him, determination burning on his features.

"Maybe I do!"

And then he blew a raspberry right on that spot where his neck and collarbone met. A loud, surprised squeak answered him and he was quick to dig on Kaminari's hips, being so careful and so mindful to give plenty of attention and tickles to every sensitive inch of flesh, don't forgetting to still deliver smaller raspberries at random spots on the blond's neck, successfully ending with all his coordination to get revenge.

"Whahahahat!! That is nOT-" A snort, more bubbly giggles. "That is not fahahhair!!!"

"But you're helping me to cheer up. See, I have no more pouts and no more frowns thanks to you!"

"Then stop!"

Kaminari tried to squirm his way out of the ticklish embrace, finding that maybe bringing Midoriya to his lap when he decided to tickle-hug him wasn't his best idea.

"I don't know. I think I am still a bit grumpy..." He stopped his attack in order to gently trace that spot right on the blond's right third rib, drawing circles around it and trying to not giggle together when Denki's bubbly snickers filled the air. "Maybe you amazing laughter can help me with that!"

[~.~]

[You know, this fluffy duster feels a lot like your tail...]

"You know, this fluffy duster feels a lot like your tail..." Izuku said, thoughtfully, a particular idea shining on his mind that may or may not was inspired by yesterday's Great Tickle Fight.

"Really?" Ojiro, (un)fortunately, didn't notice the danger hidden on the smaller's words, petting the duster and the fluff on his tail for a bit in comparison. "It really is. But it's not stronger like mine tail!" He made a show of flexing the aforementioned, both chickling at his silliness. "Oh, are you going to clean the curtains? I can help!"

A plan formed on Izuku's mind. He controlled his features to not show the playful grin that threatened to take over his face.

"Yes. Could you hold that part right there?" He pointed to a high spot on the fabric. "I can't research it."

"No problem!" The blond smiled and did as asked, not realizing the way Midoriya stepped closer nor how his shirt exposed a small patch on his stomach with his new position. "Like this?"

"Yes!" Izuku, then, shoved the fluffly, soft, tickly duster under his shirt, instigating a loud squeak to escape from the other.

"Midoriya!!"

But he didn't let go of the curtain, a smile spreading on his face.

"Yes?"

"Dohon't"

The green haired boy slightly moved the duster, quick enough to make the bristles of the feathers to barely tease the skin, but only that. Another yelp and a few giggles leading Ojiro to try to hide his red face on his shoulder.

"Don't what?" He beamed.

A small shook of head, a shy giggle. "Ihim not falling for thahat."

"Aw. But I am going to tickle you anyway!" Ojiro yelped, trying to curl on himself, however immediately regretting his decision as the movement shot light shocks across his torso, every feather following his squirms. "Yes! I am going to tickle, tickle, tickle you until all those cutes squeals and nice laughter trapped inside are free. As a future hero, it's my job to help them!"

"Dohohon't say that word." His words were in vain, especially because now Midoriya carried that determined look, thoughts racing on his mind as his hands continued to keep the duster on the same place.

"Maybe I should try to tickle his stomach first? I could start wiggling the duster there and then change to his sides and ribs or maybe I could start on his sides and ribs going up and down a few times and then tickle his stomach as I change from a side to another. The element of surprise is always a powerful tool so I should always change from going extremely soft and low to more quick attacks! I wonder if I can try it on his tail too? I could-"

"Ihihizuku, please!" The one being called snapped out of his rambling by a very flustered, giggly Ojiro, who still held the curtains as if his life depended on it. "J-juhust do it already, plehease."

And Izuku was happy to oblige.

[~.~]

[As nice as this is, we really should get up]

"As nice as this is, we really should get up." Tokoyami said softly, patting the green hair of the head which rested on his shoulder, - it was really as fluffy as it looked! - almost snorting when Midoriya squinted his eyes at the credit's playing on the screen. "Everyone else already went to their room."

Izuku looked around, as if he just realized all his friends decided to call it a night when President Mic - who has been called both due his good taste in movies and to keep an eye on them and their ability to cause chaos - woke up half of the class as he fell asleep in a bad position and started snoring, accidentally activating his quirk.

"It's not-" A yawn cut Izuku's words and pulled Tokoyami away from his thoughts. "It's not a movie night if we can't watch at least five movies."

"Oh no, the horrible punishments that the Universe will bought upon us after such terrible offense. What we shall do in the face of that helpless fate?"

Midoriya lightly shoved him away, a sleepy smile taking all the seriousness from his frown. "N't f'nny."

Tokoyami started to softly scribble his fingers on the other's neck, following him as he tiredly wiggled away, no real fight on his movements.

"Then why are you laughing?"

"Tohohokoyami! Naha!"

"What? Wait... Is this the punishment from the Universe?" Maybe it was because it was so rare for his friend being this playful, or because the drops of faked seriousness painting his words, but Midoriya found himself giggling harder, a bubbly tittering escaping as the tickling traveled to behind his ears. "Giggling and wiggling until we inevitably give up and decide to watch movies until the end of our brief mortal existence, oh, the pain."

"You're so sihihihilly!"

"Me, the embodiment of darkness ‘silly’? Oh, Midoriya, what have they done to you?" His tune was bathed in faux pity.

"Plehehehease!" Tokoyami decided to travel to the smaller boy's sides, scratching and poking them lightly enough to keep the flow of airy laughter and rare squeaks as a reward for the sudden, quick pinches. "It tickles! It tickles so much!"

"The Universe is tickling you? Will the cruelness ever end? Ah, the struggles someone as ticklish, so, so ticklish as you must be going through... Do not give up, Midoriya!" He did his best to not huff in amusement as the aforementioned hugged him, hiding his face oh his chest and muffling his louder laughter due the teases. "Don't let its darkness to dim your light."

His fingertips grazed the back of his ribs, Izuku only giggled harder, "Okahahay, Okay! We- no, not there! - we can go slehehehep!"

Tokoyami stopped the light tickling, waiting for the moment green eyes locked on his before proceeding, a deadly serious gaze on his face.

"Don't." Izuku warned.

"But the Universe's punishment-"

"O-oh my GOD!"

[~.~]

[i did not say that!]

"I did not said that!" But the giggles were already spilling out.

"Yes!!" Izuku, the traitor, couldn't be any more happy, basically sparkling as the feathers of his wings fluffed up in amusement. "You did! You did! You did! I am totally going to do that, now!"

Kirishima was quick to retrieve a pillow and prepare it to a fight, pointing it at his guardian angel with a half groan, half giggle. "That is not fair, man!! You can't ask questions when I am about to sleep, I always say the first thing that pops in my mind!"

"It wasn't really my original intention," the angel smiled sheepishly. "Humans' need to sleep are still confusing to me... But!!" He crept closer, fingers wiggling. "That only means that when you said yesterday..."

"No."

"That you likes when I-"

"No!" Big smiles, small giggles. "Come on. Shut up!"

"-that you like when I tickle you-" The rest of the sentence was a squeak as the red haired boy jumped at him, his soft weapon firm on his hands, and both dashed across the room in a chase. "I knew it!" Izuku laughed, - laughed. Not shyly giggled or awkwardly grinned, - pleased that one of his theories about his protected human (and friend) was right.

Damn, Kirishima wanted to at least fake a pout and put on a real fight, but how could he when the magical being was acting so happily? When he was so full of joy?

That didn't stop him from tackling his friend on the floor, both rolling in a playful roughhousing and playing fair until Kirishima felt something incredibly, impossibly soft on his neck, wide eyes as he realized only now how Midoriya's wings were stretched around him, almost engulfing both beings on its length.

The soft feeling came back, now scribbling all over his neck, sending tickly shocks through his body and weaking his strength, something which allowed the other launch his arms around his waist, hugging Eijirou from behind and leaving him to freely stare at some free feathers that slowly swung on his direction, aiming for his tickle spots.

Izuku felt a bit worried when the human stopped squirming.

"If I last 30 seconds without laughing you will let me go to that Parkour classes on Monday."

"But they're dangerous," Eijirou interrupted him, "you can use your magic feathers."

He could almost feel the angel thinking, analysing his options.

"Forty-five seconds."

"I will get you back and ask Shinsou to help me."

Pout. "You're mean."

A feather wriggled on his bellybutton, cutting any snark answer that the human had to that.

More feathers appeared in front of him. Adrenaline ran on Kirishima's veins at the idea of his new challenge.

"Deal."

[...]

Sidenote: Shinsou is Kirishima's cat. He loves to randomly lay and nap on the angel, but for some reason his purring tickles Izuku. He likes to purr a lot. Izuku is almost sure the feline knows what he is doing. Kirishima think the whole situation is hilarious.

#Ler!Mina #Lee!Ojiro #Ler!Sero #Lee!Todoroki #Ler!Midoriya #Lee!Kaminari #Ler!Tokoyami #Lee!Izuku #Lee!Kirishima #Ticklish!Ojiro #Ticklish!Todoroki #Ticklish!Kaminari #Ticklish!Izuku #Ticklish!Kirishima #feathers #bnha tickles #bnha tickling #Kanene's Fic #Kanene's AU #Sentence Starters #Sentence Starters Part 2

[waka-chan-out]

Ballroom Dancing

(Tsukishima Kei x Fem!Reader)

I wrote a Tsukishima dance fic and I’m here to make it everyone’s problem

post-timeskip, obviously.

word count: 4.4k

content warning: SMUT, semi-public sex, degredation, taunting because he’s a little shit, brat!reader, oral (m. recieving), hair pulling, fingering, alcohol consumption (nothing crazy), slight orgasm denial, light choking

also featuring: kuroo and kenma

“I cannot believe you talked me into this,” you said, turning into your friend as you scanned the huge ballroom.

“What do you mean? You look great.”

“I know I look great, Tetsu, but I still feel ridiculous.”

“Why? Once you start dancing you’ll feel better.”

“Whatever you say. Please dance with me first or I will combust.”

“As you wish,” Kuroo said with a laugh. You moved towards him as he took your hand, starting to move you around the room. The other couples on the dance floor were pressed against each other, hands slipping down from their partner’s waists and faces leaning in close to whisper who knows what in each others ears. Kuroo held you respectfully, knowing that he dragged you here and you could run off at any moment if you felt like it. The music swelled, filling the ballroom with a beautiful hum. The room was huge and silver. A giant chandelier dangled from the ceiling and cast lovely shattered flecks of light all around the room.

You had practiced this dance so many times that you could go into autopilot and observe your surroundings without missing a beat. Kuroo spun you quickly as your eyes passed over the crowd. You recognized a few faces as Kuroo’s friends from college. Some of them he had known since high school. All of the friends of his you had met so far were fun. If they could put up with Kuroo they could put up with anything.

You saw Kenma in the crowd and cast him a smile. He held up a hand to greet you. You knew he’d find you later and talk your ear off, but there was no way you could get him in the middle of the room for a dance. He looked handsome in his tuxedo. He was never as strong as Kuroo, but he still filled it out nicely with his newfound confidence.

“Hey, Kei is here!” Kuroo said happily. You looked back at him with confusion. You knew the name, but he was one of Kuroo’s high school friends that you hadn’t met yet.

“Where?” you asked.

“Right next to Kenma. The blond.” You spun around again and looked over to where Kenma was. A giant loomed over him, his back to you. He had shaggy blond hair and looked relatively thin, but you could see muscle through his tight-fitting dress pants.

“Jesus, how tall is he?” you asked. “He looks huge compared to poor Kenma.” Kuroo laughed.

“He’s always been big. Last time we saw each other he said he was over 6’4 but who knows at this point.”  Your eyes widened.

Kuroo let out his hyena laugh in response and the blond - Kei, though you didn’t know his last name - turned at the clearly familiar sound. He wore a wide pair of glasses that framed serious eyes. His face was cold as he turned, but as soon as he saw Kuroo it softened into a smile. He held up a hand, long fingers twitching slightly in greeting. Kuroo’s hand left your waist, waving eagerly back at his friend.

“After this song let’s go say hi,” he said. You nodded, eyes still fixed on the man. His face settled into a slight smirk as he observed you, then turned back to Kenma, running a hand through his blond hair.

The song ended and you and Kuroo made your way to the edge of the ballroom, but the blond was nowhere to be found. Kenma greeted you with a hug and a shower of compliments. He had really come out of his shell since college.

“Where’d Kei get off to?” Kuroo asked.

“No idea,” Kenma said, glancing around. “He’s hard to miss, though. I’m sure you’ll find him easily enough.” He laughed. “I think he’s grown even more since we last saw him.”

“Are you serious? That’s hardly fair.”

“Agreed. No man deserves to be 6’5.” Six fucking five. It wasn’t often you ran into someone that could dwarf Kuroo. Jesus. You needed a drink.

“I’m heading to the bar, Tetsu,” you said. Kuroo nodded and waved you on, chatting happily with Kenma as you walked away.

Even the bar sparkled with silver. The man behind the counter wore red velvet, looking more like an employee at the Tower of Terror than a bartender.

“What can I get for you, love?” he asked.

“What can you make?”

“Absolutely anything you’d like.”

You laughed. “Can you make a mojito? Pineapple, if it’s possible.”

“Absolutely.” He turned and began to skillfully rifle through the selection of rum behind him.

“What are you, on vacation?” a voice asked behind you. You could almost hear the smirk in his words. You turned, immediately having to look higher up than you thought you would. Kuroo’s blond friend stood behind you with a sly smile on his face.

“Something wrong with my order?”

“I think the answer to that is pretty obvious,” he said, leaning on his elbows against the bar beside you, shrinking to your height. “Who orders pineapple at an event like this?”

“People who don’t give a shit about the snooty atmosphere.”

He cocked an eyebrow and looked away, watching the bartender make your drink. “Am I snooty, then?”

“I think the answer to that is pretty obvious.”

“I assure you, snooty I am not.”

The bartender set down your drink in front of you, plopping a cherry on top as he did so. “There you go,” he said cheerfully. “Whose tab will this be on?” He looked between you and the blond.

“I’m not paying for their little cocktail, thanks.” Kei shrugged and looked at you, that annoying smile still glinting in his eyes.

“I guess that’ll be mine, then. Put it under y/n. I’m definitely not done drinking tonight.” Your eyes met the his. He was looking at you with an unreadable expression, eyes glinting with something that looked like amusement. The bartender laughed and turned to the other man.

“Anything I can get you?” Kei let his eyes leave yours.

“Dry martini, please.” You laughed loudly and took a sip of your drink. The bartender began his order and the tall man looked at you.

“Something funny about my order, too?”

“A dry martini? Who are you, James Bond?”

“Tsukishima. Kei Tsukishima.” He smiled widely this time, clearly amused at your reaction.

“Y/n,” you replied, happy that he went along with the joke. The bartender set the martini down in front of Tsukishima. He picked it up and licked his lips, taking a sip without letting his eyes leave yours.

“Put this on their tab, as well,” he said.

“Excuse me?” you said, incredulous at his attitude.

“I’ll get the next.” He took another sip as the bartender walked off to deal with his other customers. “So, you Kuroo’s new partner?” The word fell from his mouth dripping with sarcasm. You choked out a laugh.

“Absolutely not. We’ve been friends since college.”

“College, huh? He ever mention me?”

“Yeah, actually. I’ve heard all about what a brat you are. He pegged you perfectly.”

Tsukishima smiled. “You think I’m being bratty?”

“You are absolutely being bratty. Don’t forget I’m paying for your drink.” His eyes kept on sparkling. You weren’t sure what he was thinking, but the way he looked at you made it feel like he was seeing straight into your thoughts.

“So.” He twirled the glass in his hand. God, his hands were huge. “If Kuroo’s not your partner . . .”

“If I wasn’t here with Kuroo I’d be dancing alone.” He nodded, looking satisfied with your answer. He threw back the rest of his martini and gestured to your cup.

“Finish your drink,” he said, straightening up and towering over you again.

“Why?”

“We’re going to dance, dumbass.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. He mirrored your expression and nodded at your glass. “Finish it or I’ll finish it for you.”

You glared up at him, pulling the cherry out by the stem and tipping the drink back, swigging the last bit of bitterness. You popped the cherry in your mouth and flicked the stem into Tsuki’s empty glass. He smirked and made his way through the crowd. You followed, head a bit hazy from chugging your drink so quickly.

He made it to the edge of the dance floor right as the next song began playing. He turned and held out a hand to you. His fingers were long and well-manicured. You raised your eyebrows with as much attitude as you could muster, taking his hand. He smiled. His hand was soft and a little cold. He pulled you onto the dance floor.

Your breath caught in your throat as his hand settled on your hip, long fingers splaying out and digging into your side. It was almost possessive. This close he smelled like basil soap and something musky that made your head spin as he gracefully sidestepped and led you around the room.

For such a tall man, he was a remarkably good dancer. His movements were precise and sure, leading you better than even Kuroo did. When he moved his arms you could see his jacket strain slightly. He wasn’t a thick man by any means, but what he had was all muscle. His eyes didn’t leave yours as you danced, intense gaze making you antsy but determined not to look away first.

“I didn’t mention this before but your dress is lovely.” His gaze trained down your body as he spoke.

“What, are you being nice now?” you asked.

“I can be mean if you’d like.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” His eyes darkened.

“Try me.”

“You sure?”

You shrugged. His hand slid along to the small of your back and he dipped you. Your breath caught in your throat as he pulled you back up, face suddenly serious. He looked around the room.

“Do you know how much attention you’re drawing to yourself with that neckline?”

You scoffed. “What does that mean?” He leaned down, very close to your ear. You got goosebumps as he spoke.

“I’m saying your dress makes you look a little slutty.” You drew your head away from him. He perked back up and smiled at your shock. “I thought you wanted me to be mean.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to diss my dress.”

He shrugged and dug his fingers into your side, pulling your hips flush against him. “I never said I didn’t like it.”

Your face felt suddenly hot. He grinned.

“You’re a pretty little thing when you’re flustered,” he said.

“Keep talking and those dress pants aren’t going to be able to hide how pretty you think I am.” His eyebrows shot up, this time in genuine surprise. You smiled. He clearly wasn’t used to encountering people willing to taunt him back. He looked away for a moment and regained his composure.

“Why would I try to hide that?”

“You seem the private type. I figured a broom closet or bathroom stall would better suit your taste.” His smile darkened.

“Done.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

Too late. He was already pulling you off of the still swirling dance floor.

He led you past the bar and down a hall, clearly familiar with the terrain. The hallway was littered with doors, but he led you to one of the very last ones. He threw open the door and pulled you inside. The room was mid-sized but cramped. There were chairs lining the table. The walls looked strangely soft, like it was soundproofed for privacy’s sake. There was a window on one side. Moonlight streamed through the half-shut blinds, giving the room a cold glow.

Tsukishima wasted no time in locking the door and taking you by the hips, pushing you against the wall.

“You’re a testy one, aren’t you?” he growled, gripping the fabric of your dress tightly.

“I try to be,” you replied, hand finding its way into his hair and pulling him down to your lips. He kissed you hungrily. His lips were soft and angry, attitude apparent even in how his tongue slipped into your mouth. He was teasing you without words, daring you to push back. You obliged, biting down lightly on his bottom lip. He let out a small sound and pushed harder against you. He separated from you and began to trail aggressive kisses down your neck.

“If you’re going to be smart with your mouth I’ll give you something else to do with it,” he breathed against you. You shivered.

“You’re all talk so far,” you sighed. “If you’re going to do it, do it.” You felt his lips curl into a smirk against your shoulder.

“Naughty thing,” he murmured. His hands trailed up your body, finding your face. He held your cheeks and smiled. He ran a finger across your bottom lip. “Why don’t you show me what else those pretty lips can do?” You said nothing but grabbed his belt all the same, staring him in the eyes with a smug expression on your face. Once his dress pants were undone you sunk to your knees in front of him. He inhaled sharply at your compliance.

He was hard already at the way you kissed him. You wasted no time pulling down his boxers and taking him all the way into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he hit the back of your throat. He covered his mouth with his hand, seemingly more out of restraint than to actually hold back any noise. You continued moving your head, tongue sliding over the head of his cock. It didn’t take long to figure out that drove him crazy. His groans raised in pitch the more you took advantage of how sensitive he was. You wrapped a hand around him and swirled your tongue around his head. He let out what was almost a whimper and grabbed your hair, gripping it so tightly it made your eyes water. You sped up, eliciting similar sounds from him.

“Mother . . . fucker,” he groaned in a whisper, hand moving from deep in your hair to your forehead, his touch nearly a caress. You slowed your pace at his enthusiasm and his breathing hitched.

“Fuck. Don’t do that.” You hummed in amusement, the vibrations causing him to tip his head back. You sped up again. Just as he began whimpering you slowed again. His second hand found your hair this time, both tugging tightly.

“One more time and I -- fuck.” He tipped his forehead forward against the wall as you quickened your pace again. You felt him twitch in your mouth and knew he was close.

“Shit. Fuck. Fuck.” He spat out his words, rocking his hips a bit to the pace you set. “Oh, fuck.” His swearing raised in pitch. He was so close. “I --” You pulled off of him completely and looked up at him. His eyes were shut tight. His hips bucked and he let out a horrible little whimper. His breathing was irregular as he repeated the word “fuck” over and over again, to himself and to you. The haze of his denied orgasm began to fade and he looked down at you with deadly serious eyes.

“I’m not playing that fucking game.” He tugged on your hair, pulling you into a standing position. It hurt in the best way, especially satisfying now that he was so riled up. He whirled you around and pinned you against the table. He lifted your hips so that you were seated and began pushing your dress up, hands lost in the mess of skirts.

“You don’t get to pull some shit like that and think you’re getting away with it.” His hands slid up your thighs and pushed them apart. You shivered. His long fingers found the lace of your undergarments.

“Slutty under here too. I should have expected that.” He pressed his fingers against you through the cloth, making you inhale sharply in anticipation. “Oh well,” he chuckled. “These just make it easier for me.” He pushed the fabric aside and slipped a single long finger inside of you. You gasped and your brows furrowed. He mirrored your expression like he was taunting you.

“So wet just from sucking my cock.” He whispered the words like he almost didn’t want you to hear the taunt. He pushed a second finger into you. You breathed out hard, suppressing a noise. He chuckled.

“Oh, no. You don’t get to act all shy now,” he said. His fingers curled and you let a moan escape. “There we are.” His smirk returned to his face. He repeated the motion. You felt your core tightening, forcing your back to arch up against him.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re pretty when you’re all wound up. Too bad you’re such a whore. You let guys do this to you often? Whisk you into a dark room and have their way with you?” You shook your head. He laughed lightly, curling his fingers again. You moaned, gripping his shoulders tightly. “I like your honesty. I guess you’re only a slut for me.”

His pace inside you was steady and his gaze was intense. You knew you were close but if you told him that he’d probably pull away just you did to him. Your eyes shut tightly, hand finding his hair and tugging. You swore and he pulled his hand away. Though you were expecting the motion, it didn’t stop your thighs from closing tightly, begging for the contact that was no longer there. He slipped his fingers into his mouth so casually it made you gasp. He popped them out after a moment and ran his messy hand through his hair.

“Sorry to torture you back,” he said, pushing your legs apart again and pulling your hips closer to the edge of the table. “But when you come I want it to be on my cock.” He slipped his dress pants down again and tugged the lace off of your legs. He ground his hips forward, rubbing against you. Your breathing hitched and he laughed.

“So needy for me. What would you do if I just walked out?” You glared up at him and wrapped your legs around him, pulling him close.

“Not letting me go, huh? Don’t have to tell me twice.” He pushed inside of you slowly, brows furrowing and eyes fluttering closed as he did so. You both swore as he buried himself inside of you. He was big, but it didn’t hurt. You wiggled your hips a little, wishing he would move. He chuckled at your efforts.

“You want me to hurry up? You’re gonna have to ask nicely.” You glared up at him.

“Please,” you muttered.

His brows shot up.

“Please what?”

“Please move already, you stubborn fuck.”

He laughed in surprise.

“So dirty. You asked nicely though, so . . .” He drew his hips back and drove back into you. You let out a sigh. He grabbed the back of your neck with his huge hand and pulled you forward into a kiss as he continued moving. His swearing and your moans got lost in the kiss as he set a faster pace. He pulled away from your lips, leaving his forehead leaning against yours.

“Fuck.” He choked on a groan as he spoke. “You make such pretty sounds. Did your drink make you this honest or is it my cock?” You buried a fist in his hair and pulled. He let out an unexpectedly loud sound at the motion. He stared down at you, eyes on fire.

“Shut the fuck up,” you breathed. He grinned and pulled you in for another kiss, this one much more desperate. His hand trailed up your neck, squeezing lightly as he did. You tipped into his palm but it kept traveling upwards. It stopped along your jaw, thumb slipping up to separate your kiss. He slipped it into your mouth. He swore as you eagerly sucked in the finger, staring him in the eye. He smiled and pulled it back, returning his lips to yours. His hand slipped down between your legs, using the thumb that had been in your mouth to trace a circle on your clit. You gasped and moved away from the kiss. He caught your head with his other hand, keeping you close to him as he continued the snap of his hips and the motion of his finger.

“Fuck, Tsukishima.” He sped up the pace of his hand.

“Say that again.” He sounded desperate, leaning his head into your shoulder.

“Tsukki . . .” you trailed off before you could say anything else, lost in the feeling of him. He let out what sounded like a growl at the sound of his name.

“Fuck,” he said. It was almost pathetic how messy he sounded. You buried your hand in his hair again, tugging slightly.

“Tsukki, please.”

He let out a shaky sound. He picked his head up and laid a quick kiss on you.

“Come with me. Please,” he said. You nodded and your head tipped back. He began swearing under his breath, words bleeding together into a mess of desperation.

“Fuck, Tsukki,” you moaned, body tensing as you came. At the feeling and sight of you finishing he quickly followed, pulling out of you but leaving his thumb moving to carry you through your orgasm. Your faces pressed against each other, both breathing hard. You felt him twitching against you as he came. He might have gotten on your dress, but that was the last thing on your mind.

His sweaty face buried into the crook of your neck and his arms slipped around your waist, holding you close to him. Your shaky hands found their way into his hair, running your fingers gently through the mess. It felt good to just hold him as you both caught your breath, his strong chest rising and falling against you. He withdrew slightly and placed a gentle, sloppy kiss on your lips before letting out a laugh. You did the same, smiling up at his face. You hadn’t even noticed, but he was still wearing his glasses. They were fogged up from leaning against you.

“You’re pretty,” you said, pushing the frames up into his hair and pressing a gentle kiss onto his lips. When you pulled away his face was red.

“Don’t just say shit like that,” he muttered.

“Aw, who’s flustered now?” You laughed as his face twisted into a frown. He put his glasses back on properly and peeled himself away from you.

“We really should get back,” he said, tugging his pants back up and redoing his belt. You nodded but were unsure what to do about the problem he had left all over your thighs. He saw you hesitating and laughed when he realized what you were thinking.

“Here,” he said, picking up your underwear and approaching. You looked at him in confusion before he used them to clean you off and slipped them into the inside pocket of his jacket. He noticed you staring in horror and laughed.

“I have to give them back at some point now,” he smirked. “Guess you’ll have to see me again.” You rolled your eyes in amusement as you rearranged your dress and tried your best to fix your hair. He was having trouble with his since the rim around his face was coated with sweat. You tried your best to help him. He stared at you with a gentle smile as you worked. You pretended not to notice.

“I think it’s best if we go out one at a time,” he said. You nodded and he approached the door, turning to face you before he left. “Do I look like I just fucked someone in a dark room?” You grinned and shook your head.

“You look fine.”

“You look great, too,” he said with a small smile. He left the room and left you alone, waiting impatiently to go. When it had been long enough you slipped the door open and walked out, shakier on your feet than you’d like to be.

You immediately went to the bar, asking for a shot of tequila. Anything to soothe your nerves. You took it quickly and shook your head. You were fine. You just needed to make sure you got Tsukki’s number from Kuroo.

“Y/n! Jesus, there you are.” Speak of the devil. You turned to face Kuroo as he approached, Kenma and a disheveled looking Tsukishima in tow. He looked flushed. His hair was still messy and a little sweaty despite his best efforts. Your eyes widened with pride when you saw him looking so fucked. You smiled at Kuroo.

“Sorry, I went wandering.”

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Got lost.”

“Of course you did. I wanted you to meet my friends.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, ‘oh’. This is Tsukishima Kei. We knew each other in high school. We were volleyball rivals.” Kuroo looked proud as he explained. “I taught him everything he knows.”

“Oh, I’m sure not everything,” you said, turning to Tsukki. His eyebrows raised at your borderline suggestive comment. He reached out to shake your hand with the same hand that had been buried in you not long ago.

“It’s nice to meet you, y/n,” he said through a smile.

“They haven’t said their name,” Kenma said, frowning. Tsukki’s eyes widened before setting into a more sure expression.

“Kuroo mentioned them earlier.”

“Uh-huh . . .” Kenma still looked suspicious. Kuroo didn’t seem to notice, slapping Tsukkishima on the shoulder and starting to talk about the ‘good old days’. Whenever Kuroo turned to address Kenma, Kei’s eyes found yours, smiling very slightly so the other men didn’t notice. You didn’t contribute much to the conversation, quietly observing the huge man in his well-fitting tuxedo.

“Oh shit, y/n,” he said suddenly, cutting off the conversation. “I think you spilled something on your dress.” Your face flushed and eyes widened. Panicked and annoyed, you looked down at your dress.  Sure enough, about halfway down the skirt, there was a patch of what thankfully looked like nothing but a spilled drink at the moment.

“God. I’m clumsy. Not surprised that I ruined my nicest dress.” You laughed it off as the three men stared at you, Tsukki with a smirk on his face.

“Oh, it doesn’t look that bad. I’m sure your dress is fine,” Kuroo said.

“Nope,” you said, glancing up at Tsukki. “Definitely ruined.”

#tsukishima smut #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukki x reader #tsukishima x you

[spookysmujer]

Hood Love, O. Diaz

Summary: As high school sweethearts, Oscar being in prison never changed the way you felt about him. You’re known for being a brat with him, so it’s only fair to uphold the attitude and make him jealous behind the steel curtain.

warnings: jealous/toxic!Oscar  

word count: 1.2K

requested by my bitch @youllneverknowrac​

a/n: As someone with a prison penpal, I can confirm they get jealous real quick! But I love the possessiveness, hehe I have a problem, send help 🤪 As a reminder REQUESTS ARE CLOSED! But will be opening soon! Don’t hesitate to send me asks, I love it!! Please don’t forget to consider following my blog, heart/comment/reblog my content as well as turning on the notifs for when I post! Thank you!

taglist: @clemmingstylins0n @fairygardenss @princesstiffxoxo@firebenderwolf @spookysnena @mbaku-babygirl @chellybear98@multiyfandomgirl40 @i-just-wanna-live-gc @roury66 @kkim120​ @lillict @tinylumpiaa @prettymya3 @starrynite7114 @onmyspookysblock @aneitii​ @b3mybunnybaby​  @angelxfics​ (please let me know if you want to be added or removed!)

(gif belongs to @grinsekatze​ ✨)

“You better not hang up.” Oscar sounds through the receiver of your phone which is pressed between your ear and shoulder as you make lunch. You roll your eyes and close the jar of mayo not saying anything.

You don’t need to hear him speak to know what kind of look he has on his face. A small grin spreads across your face as you remind quiet, “Mami? Babe? Babe?” He repeats over and over again, the laughter not being able to be contained any longer.

The eruption of laughter causes him to Oscar click his tongue and sigh. Meanwhile on his side, he’s leaned against the wall with a stoic expression. He’s had a long day of dealing with unnecessary shit. The last thing he wants is his ruca adding to the long list of bullshit.

“Y/N.” 

First names were never used between the two of you, since the first day you spoke to each other freshmen year. It’s been nicknames of all sorts, it wasn’t like you never used your legal names with each other but to go from mami to Y/N means that he isn’t in the mood.

The seriousness in his voice causes you to roll your eyes and sigh. “I’m still here, you always trip on me. Go run some shit or something, I got to eat my lunch then head out anyways.”

Oscar hated when you had to cut the calls short, he already has a limited time with talking to you, he missed his ruca bad. “Fine, I’ll hit you up later, low. You better not have plans then.”

“Mhm, we’ll see. Bye, papas.” He retorts back his farewell and the call ends. Oscar had meant the phone call later would be through a smuggled phone, every once in a while you’ll get a call that’s not through the prison system and you love it. He is at ease and more calm, not to mention the sexy time with get with you man who is all those mile away.

You spend the day getting things done around the house. Buzzing with excitement to hear his voice, though the excitement began to fade when you think back on how he was in a bit of a mood. You roll your eyes at his demands. An idea popping in your head.

After finishing dinner, you shower up and wait for the phone to ring. When it does, a mischievous smile forming on your lips. You watch the phone for a few seconds, clearing you throat and laying back, “Hi babe.”

“The fuck it took you so long to answer?” He asks you, the irritation prominent in his voice, you smile as you get under the covers comfortably. “It rang like 3 seconds longer, calmate. I’m getting ready though, what you doing papas?” 

The silence after your silence proves the plan in effect is working, you try your best to not laugh, “I thought I asked you not to have plans, you knew I was calling.” You roll your eyes, turning over the under the covers.

“You told me to not have plans, not asked, mister. Plus, just going out for a drink with the girls.... At Santana’s place.” You add in at the end of the sentence, you could hear Oscar release a breath at the beginning of your sentence and when you say where you are heading out to, the exhalation of his breath comes to an abrupt stop.

Before he got sent back in, you were like a leech to him. Stuck to him whenever he went out. He liked it though he never admitted it. One of the places he tried to avoid going to with you is one of his homie’s, Santana. Before Oscar asked you to be his ruca, Santana use to hit on you big time. He hated bringing you around to his place.

You lay in silence for moment, “Babe?”

Oscar doesn’t reply right away, he clears his throat and remains silence. Every single thought that Santana will be thinking about is what’s currently running through Oscar’s mind. How the puto will be eyeing you up and down since you don’t got him wrapped on you. 

He sighs, “Go have your fun. I’ma bounce.”

“Babe, chill. Why can’t I go?” You ask, the irritation heavy in the silence alone,

“Why do you ask dumb questions? Hm? Since when do you go to place’s like Santana’s without me? What makes you think I’d be okay that? You gonna bounce to go act stupid, then go.” He says angrily. 

You roll your eyes, the idea to get Oscar jealous is in full effect. You can hear him getting worked up. A part of you is loving it, the sinister part of you wants to keep going. But the loving part of you feels bad. He’s already dealing with all that shit in there and you are suppose to be his support/solace. 

Oscar is fuming on the other side. Losing his shit silently that you want to hit up Santana’s place. The insecurities begin to eat at him about the two of you and your relationship that had been broken down and rebuilt over the years. You feel that he is quickly overthinking.

“Papi, I’m not going anywhere. Especially not to his place. I’m just fucking with you. You gotta chill, I knew you were calling so why would I make plans, hm?” You smile to yourself as you reach over to grab the framed picture of you and Oscar that sits on your bedside table.

It’s the two of you on his front porch. He’s sat on the stairs and you are one below him, between his legs. You’re leaned back into him and he’s sporting the mean muggin’ Spooky look. Meanwhile you’re cheesy like a kid in a candy shop. You gleam at the picture, immediately missing him a lot more than you just were.

He scoffs, “Because you acting like puta. you loving acting like that with me. Cool though, be someone else’s hyna you gonna fuckin’ act like that.” He spits.

“Yeah, like you would let me be with someone else.”

Oscar smiles but remains authoritative in his tone, “You better know that. No one gonna get you even if you could get got. Cause if I get got mamas, you comin’ with.” The smile that spreads on your lips begin to hurt your cheeks. 

“No place I’d rather be, baby.”

The conversation goes on about how shit’s been stressful. Running complexes has Oscar feeling a whole decade older than he really is. His ranks moving up in the Santos exponentially. But if it’s one thing that can get him through the next few years is the promise of you waiting for him when he comes home.

#oscar diaz #oscar spooky diaz #spooky #spooky diaz #oscar diaz x you #oscar diaz x y/n #oscar diaz x reader #oscar diaz imagine #oscar diaz fic #spooky diaz x you #spooky diaz x y/n #spooky diaz imagine #omb #on my block #on my block imagine #netflix on my block #spookysmujer #santos #freeridge #9

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Inspired partially by the twitter trend of The Face Vs. The Face Sitting On It and just in time for Valentine’s Day! 

Gender Neutral Reader Insert. 

Enjoy my masterlist!

Support me on KoFi!

__________________________

While sitting in the car, you watch out the window. Folks buzz around you--some folks looking content, strolling about their day. Others are flitting around, a bit of crease in their forehead. And you feel for them. You know those days where there’s just not enough hours in the day to get it all done. Or it’s when one thing sets off a spiral of all terrible things. Or when you just don’t wake up on the right side of the bed. You know that crease all too well because currently you were having a bad sleeping week. 

You were getting tired when you were supposed to but the second you put your head on the pillow your brain was hot wired--keeping you up with all the things you needed to do, hadn’t done, all the appointments you had kept pushing off. It was finding the littlest things to find that anxiety and keep you staring up at the ceiling. Calum noticed the tossing and turning and tried his best to lull you to sleep this week, fixing you tea in the evening, getting you off your phone or laptop a couple hours before bed. He even started reading to you, but your ears picked up on the white noise of everything in the house. Your brain picked up the embarrassing memory that you hadn’t even considered in decades and now holding it in front of your mind’s eye for hours on end during the week. 

Like right now, you should’ve been at home sleeping. Your work was giving you a long weekend and you really could’ve used the time to catch some extra Z’s, but you were, admittedly, a little scared to stay home. Sure maybe you did fall asleep cuddled up next to Duke. But you worried that you’d stay up, worry yourself sick some more so when Calum told you he had some errands to run you immediately tagged along. The time running around would hopefully tire you out enough that when you got home you could actually fall asleep. 

So after Calum’s personal training session in the morning, which you sort of tagged along for, but mostly went through your own routine and getting a solid breakfast, you two were now buzzing around from store to store. Calum had gotten most of the grocery the other day, but he forgot a couple things so your first objective was to grab those and bring them back up. He then had to go to the post office to mail out his mother’s birthday cards and a few other things. 

While in the line at the post office, your head tucked into his back, Calum got a phone call from a guitar shop on the other side of time about a new model that had just come in. Calum had been eying it for ages, but he didn’t want to be reckless with his money especially after getting some work on his teeth and to the house. So he asked the guitar shop to keep an eye out for when more stock arrived in case it sold out before Calum felt comfortable spending a large sum of money like that again. 

The store agreed to set one off to the side for him and could keep it on hold until the end of the day. Which was perfect--still gave the two of you time to get lunch. You didn’t need to get anything, didn’t need to do anything. But even after lunch, Calum made one more pit stop. Here now at the gas station, you sit peering through the windshield and can see a mother with her two sons walking from the doors. They boys hold brightly colored icees in their hand, each clutching a bag field with goodies. 

You aren’t entirely sure whey Calum needed to stop here for anything. It’s not like he needed stamps, since he got those at the post office. He hadn’t pulled in to get gas. Lunch had been filling, though you tried not to stuff yourself too much just because you knew that on a long car ride, the last thing you wanted to do was be uncomfortably full. 

The door opens again, Calum strutting through with his glasses covering his eyes and resting comfortably atop the chubby cheeks. Barely hanging from the crook of his fingers is a brown plastic bag. The doors click open and he climbs into the driver seat. The guitar shop wasn’t that far, but today seemed to be a busy day on the road. Took you all too long just to get to the grocery store this morning. 

“Snacks?”

“Was craving something sweet after lunch.” 

You peer into the bag as he hands it over to you. Some gummy bears, gum, a bar or two of chocolate you can’t quite tell. You set it onto the floor at your feet. “Let me know when you want something.” But he’s already tearing into a Twix bar when you glance at him. “Or not,” you laugh. 

“The other stuff is for you--if you want to indulge. Can’t forget ya,” he pushes the glasses down for just a moment to wink at you and then looks into the rearview mirror. 

“Do you think you’re going to get this one?” you asks as the SUV rolls out from the parking lot and onto the asphalt of the highway. 

“Hmm, maybe. Gotta see how it feels first.”

You nod at his question, resting your head into the cushion of the seat. And it goes quiet for a while. The radio plays softly in the background, and every so often the packaging crinkles as Calum downs more of the chocolate and caramel treat. 

“Valentine’s Day is coming up soon,” Calum states, while paused in a bit of traffic. “Got any ideas on what you want to do for it?”

You think for a moment. Valentine’s Day has never been your thing--being perpetually single does that to a person. “Restaurants are going to be a nightmare.”

“Yeah, they will be.” Another crinkle comes from the right side of the car and then his arm reaches behind your seat, finding the small bag of trash you stash there--though you have to be careful when Duke sits in the backseat. Generally though, he doesn’t mess with too much. “My mom sent me a recipe of hers. It’s really good.”

“I’d be down for cooking.”

“Nothing else? Don’t wanna go sky diving? Give me another heart attack?”

You laugh thinking about the first birthday you spent with Calum together as a couple. “You didn’t die.”

“But I did almost shit myself.”

“You can play on stage to thousands of people, but no, jumping from a plane is a no-go.”

“Yes, because I am a sane human.”

You huff out a small tuft of laughter and turn to look at him. One hand on the wheel with the stainless steel linked chain dangling from his wrist. His other arm is resting against the door, gently tapping out a beat with his long slender fingers. “Do you want to do anything?”

“Valentine’s Day,” he scoffs. “How long have we been dating? When have I ever been dying to do anything on some random day in February.” His statement doesn’t fall venomously from his mouth. He even looks over to you with a smile. “I don’t need one day out of 365 to declare my love for someone.”

And it’s true. While Calum wasn’t super accepting of love from new people, while it took you months to show Calum that you were trustworthy and not someone to keep at an arm’s length, once he cracked open, he oozed adoration and love for people. And you knew it was a defense mechanism. You knew that when someone did care as hard as Calum did it wouldn’t always be an easy thing to win over. 

Calum, when he finally let someone one, loved hard. It could be a random Tuesday in July or a Sunday in February, and he would make sure his love was known. He never needed a special occasion to send flowers, to cook dinner, to offer to drive you to doctors appointments because he knew that sometimes you got too nervous or flustered by them to drive but did manage to push through if absolutely necessary. He’d easily pick up some gloves and an extra sponge if he saw you wiping down the walls in the kitchen or wiping through the counter. He kept fridge cleaning days marked on the calendar. And when you added reminders to wash bed sheets to the shared one, he also include rest breaks for you too. 

Calum had never needed someone to force him to show appreciation. 

“I mean, there is the option to literally do nothing on Valentine’s Day. Like treat it as any other day.”

“That’s still something,” he countered, turning on his signal and switching out from the middle lane. His exit was approaching in another mile and a half. 

“Oh fuck off,” you laugh. “We can’t cease to exist that day. Bare minimum we need to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide.”

Calum laughs softly, showing some of his teeth too. “Fair, fair. There’s another Netflix documentary coming out, true crime one. I forget what it’s fully about, but I think it’s about a serial killer if you’d be down to start it then?”

“When would I ever turn down the opportunity to be a detective with you?”

“You haven’t yet,” he states with laughter in his voice. 

“And I never will.” The ramp takes the two of you down and down and soon you’re winding through streets and not too far you can see the shopping center coming into view. He pulls into the lot of the shop and the two of you step out in unison. 

The bell above the door chimes as he opens it for you and you smile often in your thanks. “Hey, Calum!” one of the guys at the register calls out. The store is fairly empty. But you’re not shocked on a Tuesday afternoon. 

“Hey, Derek. How’s it going?” Calum heads directly over to the counter and you look up to the left wall, at the records on display.

“Let me know if you need anything,” the second guy states to you, “or if you want to see anything.” He’s younger than Derek, both look to be equally tattooed from the pieces that peek out from the short sleeve work shirts, but his face is significantly brighter. 

“Thanks,” you return and go back to the displays. You can hear Calum and Derek chatting but slowly tune it out, make it background noise to the music playing through the speakers. 

You turn to walk towards the back where more instruments sit and you can see Calum leaning into the glass display of the counter. The palms of his hand pressed into the metal edge. The sunglasses sit on top of his head and you notice the younger guy glancing over at you again.

He nods again and then goes back to his computer. Nothing else is said. And you look over the stringed instruments, ukuleles, some violins and then you spin around again, done with that lap and go to head up to Calum. “See anything?” he asks. 

You shake your head. “You’re the musically talented one. I just nod and smile when you talk about it.”

Derek returns, a case in hand. He comes out from the hinged doors that separate the sales floor from the registers and back of the store. You scoot a little closer to the display as the case is transferred over. Calum takes it easily heading to the corner you just abandoned to sit and check out the instrument. It’s a beautiful deep green, almost reminds you of the thick Washington forest. The body is slender. 

“That’s a pretty cool color,” you note, watching Calum work his fingers over the frets. 

He grins up at you. “Think so?” You give another nod. He doesn’t inspect it long before you can see the desire to give in crosses his face. 

Derek’s standing close by and you turn to him and keep your voice as close to a whisper as you can while still being heard. “What’s a bass like that cost?”

He rattles off the price, one eyebrow slightly raised over the other. You know Calum will riot--he’ll pitch a fucking fit. But you reach into your wallet and slide out your card. You had been saving--for a year. You wanted to do something big for Calum. You just didn’t know what it was yet specifically though you had some ideas, a bass was top of the list.  But you didn’t want to try and go out and buy a bass without consulting him, without getting an understanding of what he liked. You thought about maybe a really good leather jacket and some more boots. He loved the ones he had, wore them as much as he could. 

And when you mentioned possibly getting him more, he told you the ones he had were still in good shape. Calum wasn’t the type to just buy clothes to buy them. He indulged here and there, but always made a point to wear something he had down before replacing it. You’d tease the subject a couple more times after that, but he never took the bait and you weren’t going to force him into a thing he didn’t want or need. 

But it’s clear to you that this is something he wants. But he’ll tussle with himself and never give in on it. It’s pricer than you thought it would be. But you too were being smart, having finally paid off the last of your car, you start moving those payments to savings and it helped a great deal. You were fine. You get insurance and the whole deal as Derek advises. By the time you slide the receipt back across the counter, Calum comes back to the registers. “I appreciate you holding it for me, man. But I don’t think I can right now.”

Derek looks at you and you look down into the glass. “It’s--it’s yours, dude.”

“What?” Calum breathes behind you. 

“They-uh, they paid for it,” Derek says, nodding at you.

You can feel the heat in your body now and spin around to face Calum in a rush. “Consider it a not Valentine’s Day gift.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Ever since I finished paying off my car, I saved the payments to do something nice for you. Didn’t know what it was going to be for sure. But I know you, Calum. You’d want something and tell yourself no. I mean you can treat yourself sometimes.”

“You-you didn’t?” His eyes are rapidly blinking, head shaking like he doesn’t want to believe you. Like he can’t believe you as his mouth mumbles out, “No,” repeatedly. 

“It’s yours,” you nod. “It’s really yours.”

If it weren’t for the weight of the bass, you’re sure Calum would’ve tipped over, maybe even rushed to Derek to hand the case back over, but instead he’s weighed down, chained to this spot in the blue speckled carpet of the store, still repeating, “No,” softly. 

“‘I hate to break it to you, but you’re gonna have to find space in your office for it now. Because I refuse to return it.” You step forward, find the handle and slip your hands around it taking it from Calum. A small grunt leaves you and then you start to the door, throwing a thanks to Derek. 

The lights to the SUV blink and you can hear the locks clicking open as you push open the door to the store. “Wait--what are you doing?” Calum asks. 

“Open the trunk please,” you ask. 

“Let me do it,” he demands, stepping in close to take the case with the bass now. “What the fuck did you do? Baby, this is expensive.”

“It’s not a Valentine’s Day gift,” you answer again. “Because I love you. On a random Tuesday.”

He gets the instrument safely into the trunk and then closes it, watching dumbly as you climb into the passenger side. He walks to the driver seat and climbs in, taking you gently by the chin. “That was absolutely reckless and unnecessary-- ”

“I am just absolutely reckless and unnecessary then,” you counter, “because I’m not returning it.”

“--but thank you. Thank you so much,” he continues as if you hadn’t interrupted him. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Then it’s silent, as the two of your gaze at each other, watching what could almost be tears well in his eyes, but they don’t fall. 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve a person like you, but whatever it was, I’m glad I did it.”

“I’m glad you did it too.” The two of you return home, Duke rushing to the front door as the two of you step through it. Calum safely places the bass in his music room/office and returns shortly after to help you decide on what to order for dinner. 

As the two of you settle onto the couch, Calum takes your hand and presses a kiss to teach knuckle. “I’m gonna teach you how to play.”

“You know we’ve done this before.”

“And you were good at it.”

“I was alright at it.”

“It’ll be your bass,” he whispers. 

“I bought it for you,” you return tossing your head back to look at him. 

He kisses your lips. “Yeah, but it’ll be the one that I teach you to play for real one and it’ll be yours--just as much as it is mine.”

“A true sap,” you laugh, but nod and return your focus back to the TV. 

In the week that follows, Calum makes sure to take an hour in the evenings to set you down and pick up on the lessons. They fizzled out as work for the both of you picked up. But now things are a bit more calm. He sits next to you, assessing what you remember from last time and correcting finger placements as needed, but they go smoothly. 

When Valentine’s Day does come, Calum pulls you back into bed for just five more minutes of sleep. And five minutes turns into half an hour. But finally you two pull yourself out from the sheets, figure out what to do in the midmorning that results in food being consumed and then you slowly gravitate towards different sections of the house. 

There’s still a bit of laundry to be done and Calum takes Duke out for just a little bit. The two of you migrate back together by mid afternoon. He finds you making a quick lunch and presses a kiss to your cheek. You turn to face him, squeezing at his. “I bought some face masks,” he offers. “Care to join me in doing the bare minimum of converting oxygen into carbon dioxide after your lunch?”

“Don’t see how I could pass up such a wonderful offer? You want anything?” He shakes head, mentioning grubbing on some of the leftovers earlier while you took a nap. 

With your lunch done and the plates cleaned, you find Calum in the bedroom and let him know you’re ready for the face masks. He shuffles to the bathroom. “I hope I got the right one for you,” he mutters. “I got them forever ago it feels, so who the hell knows what I got.” His laughter is soft as he rummages through the bins under the skin. 

“I’ll be in the office,” you tell him and he nods, still pulling bins out. You settle into the couch and spy the green bass still on the stand from yesterday. You pull it into your lap and sling your arm over it. The amp next to you is off, you know but you still pluck away at it as if it were on. 

Calum shuffles in a few minutes later. “Um, babe. It’s off.”

You don’t reply but do look up. He holds up three different packages. “Here’s to hoping one of these is worthwhile.” You place your bass back to the stand and take one that sounds like one you’re okay with using. Calum hands you a towel so you can wipe your fingers off after you get it placed onto your face. He helps get it right and then you help him with his and the two of you slip onto the couch, legs entangled and leaning into opposite ends of the couch.

You laugh at Calum’s story as you scroll mindless through app after app. In the boredom you snap a picture of Calum with the face masks on and don’t think too much of it, saving it to the album with all the silly and cute photos of him are--there are tons. 

“I mean the sun is a star. Though the ones we see have been dead for a long time.”

Calum taps your leg with his foot. “It was a simple question--to be the sun or the stars. I didn’t ask for this philosophical crisis.”

“Why would it not weigh in your decision! If you’re a star like the ones we see at night, you’re technically already dead. You wanna be dead?” You huff, sitting up. 

“I mean, no, but c’mon.”

“It’s a valid thing to consider, that’s all I’m saying!”

He laughs. “Okay, sun or the moon?”

“You first,” you return and just then your alarm on your phone goes off. The two of you shuffle back to the bathroom and take off the masks. 

“Moon, maybe,” he counters. 

You nod. “Fitting. When should we get started on that recipe of your moms? Is it super involved?”

“Nah, it’s pretty easy. Normal time should be good. I’m going to read outside if you want to join.”

“Maybe in a bit.”

Calum nods, grabbing his book as he passes through the bedroom and the patter of Duke’s claws follow behind him. You go back to the music room, turn on the amp and then actually play a little something. It’s nothing fancy--just the arrangement you put together with Calum as a practice exercise once. You play it for a bit, adding a little flair. When you phone rings, you pause to answer it. You wouldn’t normally, but the number looks semi recognizable so you answer it. 

It’s just a scam call and you hang up but then notice some other notifications. Before you realize it, you’re deep into Twitter. You’ve run across the trend of people posting pictures of themselves and their significant others with the caption, The Face Vs The Face Sitting On It. It made you laugh just a little bit at first. And then you kept going down the rabbit hole. Some are silly, most are good pictures. 

While it’s not exactly secret that you and Calum are dating, you two don’t post too much. Calum isn’t incline to post on social media in the first place and while you use it a bit more than him, you try not to post too much about him out of respect. However, as you look tap on quote retweet and bring up your photos you think maybe one silly post wouldn’t hurt. So you grab the one of him recently with the face masks and then one of yourself--it’s silly too, a little blurry too in the darkness that it was taken in. 

You hit post and watch the likes come in. Then keep scrolling. Eventually you have to put the bass away and peel yourself from the couch to find Calum and see if he’s hungry enough for dinner. Just as you round the corner to the office, you spy him stepping through the glass sliding backdoor. “Hungry?” you ask. 

He nods, “Yeah.”

The two of you, with Duke trotting ahead, make your way down the hallway and into the kitchen. “You’re funny,” he states, washing his hands first. 

“Thank you. I’ll be here until you kick me out.”

He laughs. “No, the pictures you posted. On Twitter.”

You’re shocked that he noticed it that fast. Normally it took him a bit longer to see silly stuff like that. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Nah. What I hope you don’t mind is my reply.”

At first you’re nervous. Calum could’ve gone one of two ways--super silly and broke out even worse photos of you possibly not sober or he went super on trend with it and pulled out a photo of you done up for a date night. Not that you preferred one over the other, but sometimes you liked to keep your relationship light on social media. It was easier that way. There wasn’t any real pressure that way. Though the fans seemed to have enjoyed it when you posted more posed and serious content. 

You liked to keep it a bit more real. You and Calum didn’t do the whole nine yards a lot--you two were normal people who hated getting out of bed some days and went as well into the afternoon before showering at times and walked Duke and went to doctor’s appointments like everyone does. So you always opted for a bit of a joke, a silly Tweet or photo whenever you could. 

“What did you post?” you ask. 

He shrugs, taking up the knife to dice the onion. “I’m not telling you.”

You glance at the printed out recipe and get a pan on the aisle over medium heat before pulling out your phone. As you load the app, you listen to the snap of the knife fitting the wooden cutting board. You type Calum’s name and tap onto his profile. 

While there’s is silly--I do want to take a moment to show off my favorite person in the world. So here we go, The Face Vs. The Face Sitting On It. Below is attached a picture of him--you snapped while you two were out for lunch one day. The black t-shirt tight around his biceps as he slyly grins into the camera. The lights in the background are just barely in focus of the resturant and Calum’s glancing out of the window next to him. You remember that you were recording him, or at least you thought you were, and told him that he was handsome. Not the first time, but everytime he did, he blushed and turn away. And you captured it here too. 

The photo of you is actually one with him in it. The guys got together and did a big family dinner and the two of you posed at Crystal’s request in the slightly matching outfits. You hadn’t intended to match--though black was a staple in both your wardrobes. You were a bit different thanks to the pop of color in your shoes, but in the lighting of the street lamp, you had to admit that you did look hot. The first couple of  buttons on your shirt you were undone and with your hands tucked into the pockets, you looked like you owned shit. 

“While I hoped that you’d go with something more silly, I will take this,” you finally say. 

“That picture is literally my background for a reason,” he returns. 

You kiss his cheek and then trace over the stubble with your teeth to his ear. “Can I make a reservation for tonight?”

“The table is reserved for you literally at all times,” he returns in a breathe. 

“Good,” you laugh and then glance back to the recipe. 

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