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mae-gi-writes · 3 years

Text

Once Again (Pt.2) | Iwaizumi Hajime (Haikyu!)

ONCE AGAIN | PART TWO

Summary:

Iwaizumi’s broken marriage results in his five-year-old son trying to match him up with his primary school teacher, whom he thinks will make a wonderful replacement for a mother.

Genre: fluff, angst, f! Reader x dad! Iwaizumi

Taglist: @multi-fandom-fanfic, @168-cm-png, @bakugouswh0r3, @yatoatyourservice, @ayocee, @marvel-ing-at-it-all, @astrolcve

A/N: Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! Thanks to everyone for the kind feedback and for reading my work <3

< PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART >

----

He swings his beer over the counter, "one more."

He shouldn't be drinking. Imagine the damage it's doing to his organs, alcohol sweeping through his bloodstream and purging him of all coherent thought. Iwaizumi can hear Oikawa's nagging voice in his head even within the depths of intoxication.

Does he care though? He should. He should care. Because his job is basically to get people in their best shape.

And here he is, drinking away his sorrow, still shaken up by the way Hoisuke's fingers had grabbed for him that night. The bundle of nerves he'd squashed down had only intensified upon dropping his son on his mother's doorstep the same weekend and though he knew he should've said something to Mizune, he couldn't find the will to utter the words out, lest they came back to haunt him.

His phone buzzes in his pant pocket and after finishing it out with clumsy fingers, he manages to press down onto the green button.

"Yeah?"

"You're drinking!"

"No."

"Iwa-chan~" Oikawa's voice pierces through the receiver, sickly sweet and yet with a dark threatening undertone, "what are you doing?"

"Fuck off, shittykawa."

"Where are you?"

Iwaizumi doesn't answer. He doesn't need to, for Oikawa's already exclaiming the said bar's name as he takes another sip of his newly-filled beer glass.

"I thought you said you wouldn't drink anymore," Oikawa reproaches, "think of what Hoisuke would say--"

"I said fuck off."

There's a small pause where Oikawa bristles, before he says in a quieter tone, "what's wrong?"

Still, Iwaizumi says nothing but takes another huge gulp of his beer. His head feels buzzed, disoriented.

"Iwa-chan."

The said man press his lips in a taut line.

"Iwa-chaaaan."

"I'll talk to you later," Iwaizumi barely hears his friend's protests before he cuts off the call and downs the rest of his beer like a parched man, eyes narrowing towards anyone who dares reprimand him of his behaviour.

"One more," he rasps out towards the bartender, whose sending him a look that closely mimics one that clearly says he's had enough. But he scowls in response and that's enough to make the bartender's eyes slip away.

Seriously. What is wrong with him? It's already been four months goddamnit. Get over yourself. He wishes he could punch himself in the face. God, he sounds like a loser. He looks like one. And it's no wonder that his wife has left him for someone better, richer. Everything that he's not.

Not to forget that this wound will never leave their son's heart.

"One rum and coke please."

A presence lingers in his right and the brown-haired man turns with a glare at the ready, eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed in a thin line to scare whatever stranger that comes a little too close for his liking.

What the--

He stares at you. You stare back at him, just as dumbfounded. Looking the same, yet completely different.

"Miss Y/N?"

"Iwaizumi-san?"

He feels the sudden urge to hide his empty glass, "what--are you doing here?"

"Don't look so surprised, Iwaizumi-san," you chuckle at what you think is his flabbergasted expression, "I'm still twenty-six you know. I came here with a few of my friends."

His eyes slide towards the table in the far corner -- easy to spot since it's one of the loudest -- before he almost misses your question, "and you?"

"I come here often."

"Ah I see."

As you pay the bartender who slides your drink over, you bristle for a bit before you ask hesitantly, "mind if I sit here?"

Iwaizumi shakes his head. It's not like he can say no after all. You're his kid's teacher. And shit, how many beers has he had? He better not run his mouth. It's a dirty habit of his whenever he's shit drunk.

"So," you start off slowly, looking so out of place next to the said man with a scowl so dark it can scare off the most violent of gangsters that the corners of Iwaizumi's mouth tilt upwards in amusement, "how's it going?"

Seriously? You're seriously going to do that? His gaze searches your features for a moment, satisfied when warmth floods your cheeks.

You look away, "you don't have to look at me like that, you know. I just thought you’d want some company."

"What makes you think that?” Iwaizumi says while he flags down another beer from the waiter.

You blink at him, “I can go if you want--”

The man sighs, rubbing his temples with tiredness, “that’s not what I meant.”

A weird, empty gap of silence ensues. Long enough that Iwaizumi gets his fourth beer of the night in his hand and he takes a grateful swallow.

He really should not be drinking so much.

"Where do you work?”

You’re persistent. He’ll give you that, “personal trainer. I work at the sports academy.”

“That’s cool,” there’s a small smile edging upon your lips, “you like it?”

He nods, pauses briefly, before asking, “do you?”

Of course it’s a little too close for comfort, especially since you’re Hoisuke’s teacher and all. But you merely relax in your high stool, swinging your legs while nodding eagerly. He can’t help but notice the tightness of your dark jeans, your black high-heeled boots, “I don’t see myself working as anything else. I’m bad with people most of the time.”

Taking another swig of his beer, Iwaizumi feels the tension slowly ease up from his shoulders, “well you’re way better with kids than I am.”

“You’re pretty good with Hoisuke."

“That’s because you haven’t seen him throw tantrums.”

You laugh, "oh don't worry, I have. I know all about his little fits. All my kids have one, at some point."

You say it lightly, but there's definitely love laced in your words and for a minute, Iwaizumi thinks back to the way Hoisuke kept on praising you, the way he spoke so affectionately about you.

"Do you still play volleyball?" You ask him while sipping on your drink.

He mimics the gesture, "sometimes. The guys are all over town so it's harder to meet up now."

"Dang, your team was so good though."

"It was Oikawa that held us together. We weren't that good," he tastes the bitterness of Karasuno's victory on his tongue.

"That's not true," you protest, fiddling with your empty glass, "the only reason why I watched Aoba Johsai's games was because I liked watching you play."

Dark coffee-coloured orbs sweep up to yours at that statement, as if trying to peel layers off yout shell, as if wanting to confirm the truth of your words. You feel like cowering away but you don't, instead holding his stare in hopes that he doesn't notice how your hands tremble slightly underneath his scowl.

And then, features softening ever so slightly, he murmurs out, "thanks."

You know he means it in the best way possible.

-----

One drink turns to two. And two multiplies by four. And soon enough you're tipsy off your head and singing so blatantly off-key you wonder why Iwaizumi's still by your side. You haven't been this drunk in ages and this sense of freedom makes you bold; you tug him to the dance floor to join your friends, order shot after shot as the music gets louder and your head gets lighter, proceed to blabber your mouth off about literally anything and everything that by the end of the night, you wish the ground would swallow you whole so you won't have to deal with Iwaizumi the next day.

You're not entirely sure how you find yourself being dragged by none other than the said man himself, or how your nose is currently lodged in the crevice between his neck and shoulders. But he smells good, like citrus and a mixture of mint and-- you sniff a little more -- is that cookie dough? Your mouth waters just at the thought.

"You smell like cookie dough," the words tumble out of your mouth in a jumbled mess and you inwardly feel like stabbing yourself.

So pathetic. Pitiful really.

"That's Hoisuke," Iwaizumi replies, surprisingly patient even when he's clearly not impressed, glaring at the lamppost ahead, "it's his flavour of the month."

"That's cute!" You giggle, "just like you, Iwa!"

The man sighs while shifting his grip upon your waist, "let's just get you to bed."

You probably doze off at some point or black out because the next thing you see upon opening your eyes next is the ceiling.

Hoisting your head up and groaning when your head pounds in warning, you lie back down as nausea takes over.

Shit. This isn't your room. You know that much.

What the fuck happened last night?

You remember dancing atop tables, remember spotting Iwaizumi by the bar and talking to him because he just seemed so sad and lonely. You remember dragging him onto the dance floor, dancing together, his hands on your waist--

You danced with Iwaizumi?!

The thought is enough to trigger another pounding. You groan once more, placing your hand atop your head in hopes that it will stop it from throbbing. It doesn't. But before you have more time to wallow in your self-pity, the door creaks open and your eyes almost pop out of your head when you spot a mop of brown spiky hair enter the room.

Iwaizumi.

Oh fuck. Your brain short circuits. Fuck fuck fuck.

Surprise crosses his face, clearly having not expected you to be awake yet. He walks over to place a glass of water by the nightstand and grabs your palm to tilt two aspirins into your hand.

"How's your head?" He asks.

"Fine," you wince. It's far from fine. In response, he holds out the glass and you gladly wash down the pills, warm and feeling suddenly vulerable under his stare.

Chewing onto the inside of your cheek, you muster up all your courage to ask, "what--happened last night?"

You don't miss the way his eyebrows shoot up, "you don't remember?"

"...no."

Is that amusement dancing in his eyes? You're not sure since it's gone just as quickly as it came before he says, "you got drunk. Danced on the table, had too many shots and made out with two different men--"

"I'm pretty sure the last part didn't happen."

"You said you didn't remember," he smirks lightly.

"I can't even flirt, let alone kiss strangers."

That earns you a chuckle from his part, causing your heart to flutter slightly as he straightens up, "you probably want to wash up. Bathroom's on the right. I'm in the kitchen if you need me."

"Okay," and as he turns away, you quickly add, "thanks, Iwaizumi-san."

He nods back, exiting the room and finally allowing you to collapse back against the bed to try slowing down your galloping heart. Jesus christ, you think to yourself as you slowly take in your surroundings. From the lack of furniture and with only a few clothes flung over a wooden desk chair shoved in the right, you guess it's his room. A closed laptop and a small plant sits on his desk. On the left is the nightstand filled with sports books and some manga, a closet shoved in a corner and the floor is made in veneered wood.

There's no sign of family pictures, nothing that indicates the warmth of a cosy household. It doesn't take a genius to understand why. While Hoisuke had begged you not to tell his father, you weren't a stranger to the young boy sobbing in-between breaks because he misses his mother.

Well, it's not like you're allowed into family affairs anyway, as much as that breaks your heart.

After a much needed shower and a quick brush of your teeth -- you had to make do with using your fingers with his toothpaste, too embarrassed to actually ask him whether he had a spare toothbrush -- you walk out into the kitchen to see Iwaizumi already seated at a quaint wooden table laden with eggs and toast. Behind him sits the kitchen stove and white countertops next to a fridge fitting snuggly on the left corner. On the far right of the room is a large dark grey couch and a tv set, and just behind it is a small hallway which seems to be the entrance -- guessing by the coat rack and array of shoes.

"Sunny side up or boiled?" Iwaizumi asks as you take a seat opposite him. He has already poured you a cup of strong coffee and you inhale before sighing in bliss. Your headache already feels slightly better.

"Anything is fi--" you're interrupted by his scowl, quickly changing your answer to, "sunny-side up please."

He grunts, passes you the plate and digs into his own fried eggs, the soft boiled ones forgotten at the centre of the table.

"Uhm, forgive me for point it out, but that's a lot of food Iwaizumi-san," you mumble out, not missing the way his features harden slightly.

"Force of habit," he mutters in-between mouthfuls. He doesn't need to say more, for you're pretty certain he's referring to the family he used to have, those lazy Sunday mornings that started out with brunch.

You eat in companionable silence and though it'a definitely less awkward than last night, your mind still races trying to figure out what to say to erase the permanent furrow between his brows.

Or is that his normal demeanour? To be honest, you're not quite sure yourself.

So you settle for thanking him for last night, to which he replies, "do you usually drink that much?"

"No," you duck your head, avert your gaze, "I got carried away. I'm really sorry."

"Well I wouldn't have expected my kid's teacher to be that wild," he muses while taking a bite of his toast.

Alarm zaps through you, making your eyes go wide, "I swear I'm not usually like that, really. I just--this was an exception--"

"It's fine, miss Y/N. I know," his brown pupils lock onto yours briefly, "I'm not going to report you."

"I--" nothing can really make up for your behaviour last night. You know that much, "still, I'm sorry. That wasn't appropriate," you glance up, chest tightening at the intensity of his stare, unflinching. Unwavering.

He cocks his head at you then, a semblance of a smile along his mouth, "I was pretty entertained, if you ask me."

"Was I that bad?"

"No. But let's just say that you won't want to show your face around for the next week or so."

You groan and bury your face in your hands, "what did I do?"

"You might've broken a beer glass or two," he gives you a look, "on purpose. And tried to steal the Dj's headphones cause he wasn't putting the music you requested."

"Oh god," you want to bury yourself right then and there and to your surprise, you see him laugh softly before he nudges your coffee towards you.

"Drink," he orders, "it'll make you feel less shitty."

You're about to retort with a roll of your eyes, only to be interrupted by the doorbell ringing. From the way Iwaizumi tenses, you know it's not just the mail man.

Excusing himself to go unlock the door as you twist in your seat to follow his figure, shock courses through you the moment your eyes land on Hoisuke's.

Then, his mother.

An alarm bell rings through your mind.

"I thought you said evening," comes Iwaizumi's grunt, totally unlike the guy who'd been chuckling a few seconds ago.

"Hoisuke wanted to come back early for some reason," the woman says, her gaze flickering to yours for a brief moment. It's enough to cause you to swallow hard. She continues, "I'll pick him up on--"

"Miss Y/N?!" Hoisuke shouts out suddenly and before you know it, you're being tackled into the child's arms as if you haven't seen each other forever, "what are you doing here?! Daddy!" he whips his head around in accusation, "you lied about not really really liking Miss Y/N!"

"Wha--No!" Iwaizumi yells as you frown in confusion, "huh?"

"Daddy said that really really liking someone means you wanna be boyfriend and girlfriend with them, like he was with Mama before she moved houses," Hoisuke blabbers on, totally oblivious to how the three of you keep on staring at him in growing alarm, "and then I asked him if he really really liked miss Y/N because I really really like miss Y/N but he said no, but that's a lie!"

"Hajime, what is he talking about?" His ex-wife is quick to narrow her eyes, "what have you been telling him?"

"Nothing, it's not what you think--"

"I think," she pointedly glances at you, "I should leave now. We'll talk about this later."

And with that, she swivels around and storms out, leaving the three of you to stare after her in a mixture of shock and confusion.

Hoisuke, oblivious to the sudden tension, blurts out, "daddy, why is Mama angry with you?"

----

The few weeks following the tiny incident that had resulted in an awkward misunderstanding between you, Hoisuke’s parents and the said child himself had caused you to retreat back into the shell of professionalism that included avoiding Iwaizumi whenever it was deemed possible. It hadn’t been hard since he was usually present and waiting outside class to pick up Hoisuke right on time, making it much easier to avoid conversation with him altogether.

You’d texted iwaizumi right after reaching your humble abode the day he’d practically saved your drunk ass and though you spent a few spare moments to chat in-between the bustling activities of life, it doesn’t erase the fact that he’s still Hoisuke’s father, one of your dearest students. That, and the fact that you don’t really find it fair to put Hoisuke in-between the two of you, if there’s anything worth digging for anyway.

Who are you kidding? It’s not like Iwaizumi would ever be interested in you in that sense. Having spotted his ex-wife once or twice proved that his style was of more refined women, the type that would drink wine instead of chug down beer and who’d enjoy gifts such as perfume and romantic dates instead of going on grocery trips and meal-prepping for the entire week.

“Miss Y/N!” Hoisuke’s voice pierces through your thought bubble and your eyes quickly find his grin as he jumps towards your desk, "are you coming to our house this weekend too?!"

"Wh--What? Uhm-- no I don't think so--" eyes quickly flitting over the classroom, you're relieved to find that the rest of his classmates are long gone, "I don't think that's appropriate."

"But why? I even told Mama that I wouldn't be coming this weekend because you were," he pouted and it took all of your determination not to melt, until his words registered in your brain and your eyes widened, "o--oh, but that's--"

"Hoisuke?" You both turn to see his father's head poking through the door. Your body reacts instantly, warmth flooding through your limbs and flushing through your cheeks.

"Daddy!"

"H-Hello, Iwaizumi-san," you bow your head slightly. He returns the gesture, facial expression not giving anything away. His son bounds up to him with just as much vigor, "daddy, can we invite miss Y/N this weekend too?"

You might have laughed at Iwaizumi's shocked face if not for the fact that you are the person in question.

He splutters, "Miss Y/N has things to do--"

"But she came last weekend!"

"Yes well, it's bad manners to impose on someone when they're not free," Iwaizumi replies sternly, "come on now, we're gonna be late for Karate."

With a loud sigh and a scowl that resembles so much like his father, Hoisuke mutters out his goodbyes while Iwaizumi catches your eye, bowing slightly and muttering a silent "sorry" before he guides his son out of the room. You're glad he's out of earshot that he can't hear the stuttering of your heart against your chest.

You place a hand on your chest, sigh tiredly before looking down at your students' papers, "get a grip, Y/N," you mutter to yourself.

But it's not that easy to control yourself when Iwaizumi is making it so easy to like him.

----

Iwaizumi: sorry about yesterday.

Y/N: it's okay. Hoisuke’s young, it's normal for him to want for a motherly figure around.

Iwaizumi's fingers drum over his knee as he watches with slight interest the newest male volleyball team practice their serves. He shouts after a few, calling them out for theit lazy postures, but other than that he can't seem to stop his thoughts from winding their way back to you.

"Who is she?" Mizune had asked him on the phone on the day following their encounter. Her tone was friendly, yet held that tone of warning that he was so accustomed to.

"How does that concern you?"

"I want to know who you're bringing around to hang out with Hoisuke."

"She's an acquaintance of mine," he paused, "and Hoisuke's teacher."

"That's inapropriate if you ask me."

Scoffing, he replied, "like what you did's so appropriate?"

A small pause ensued. When she spoke next, there was no mistaking the edge to her voice.

"You can't keep using that against me, Hajime."

"Don't tell me who I can or can't hang out with."

He'd hung up without bothering to wait for her response, seething and red hot with rage blubbering through his stomach.

Of course now that he thinks it over, Mizune has a point. Mixing the professional and the personal have never ended in happy endings. Not that this has ever stopped him before. He doesn't believe in what everyone else thinks is right. That's also one of the main reasons why Mizune couldn't handle it anymore. Or so she said before she went to suck someone else's dick.

His phone vibrates and fishing it out, a scowl instantly shadows his face upon seeing Oikawa's name flash across the screen.

Oikawa: Iwa-chan ~ have you asked her out yet?

Iwaizumi has to force himself to stay in control and not pound his phone to pieces when he types out his reply.

Iwaizumi: No.

Oikawa: BUT WHYYYY~ YOU SAID YOU FOUND HER CUTE.

Oikawa: and Hoisuke likes her. He already knows her.

Iwaizumi: I didn’t say that. And she's not interested.

Oikawa: Just because you suck at picking up cues doesn't mean she isn't throwing them at you 😏😏😏

Iwaizumi: shut up, shittykawa.

Oikawa: Just do it or I'll do it for you.

Iwaizumi: I don't even like her that way.

Oikawa: why'd you rant about not wanting to hurt her feelings yesterday night then?

Iwaizumi's hand rubs at his face with a groan. Oikawa's a little shit most of the time, but he's a perceptive little shit.

Oikawa: I mean it. Ask her out or I'll do it for you.

Oikawa: gotta go now. Match is starting. See ya!~ muah ❤

"Dumbass," Iwaizumi growls under his breath before shoving the phone back into his pocket. Easier said than done to ask someone out so casually, especially when she's Hoisuke's teacher.

If she accepts, great. If she doesn't, he'll have to suffer through humiliation for the rest of the year or avoid picking up Hoisuke altogether.

Oh fuck it.

He lets his body send the message before his brain can catch up to the way he has thrown himself under the bus, shoves his phone back into his pocket and tries to put the thought out of his mind even though the device suddenly feels hot and heavy in his pant pocket.

Iwaizumi: we're having takeout and movie night on Friday. You're free to join.

----

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kiranatrix · 3 years

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What Comes Out in the Wash

Day 1: Hair @deathnotetober

Characters: Light, L, Watari, & mentions of Sayu // Rating: Gen; platonic (or Lawlight if you squint) // Summary: L wakes up with a huge rat’s nest in his hair and Watari says ‘handle it yourself,’ so Light has to help.

Co-written with @resilicns

——-

Sleep was something that was becoming increasingly rare for L to achieve these days, and when he did, it could hardly be called restful. He’d spend those few measly hours tossing, turning, kicking, and just squirming in general. When he slept on his own, this was hardly an issue, but now that he was sharing a bed with Light, things were getting a bit complicated.

L grunted quietly, pushing his elbow and forearm down into the bed as he lifted his head up off of the pillow, resting on his side. Blinking sleep from his eyes, he gazed around the room drowsily, trying to desperately grasp for awareness, until his gaze landed on a mirror. He lifted his other hand to feel his hair, touching the knotted mess he had noticed in his reflection. His hair was almost comparable to a bird’s nest at this point. Grimacing, he lifted the receiver off of the phone on the end table, pressing the button mapped to dial Watari’s phone in his office. He held it up to his ear and sighed quietly.

“Watari? I need you to come to my room. My hair is in need of brushing this morning,” L muttered, wincing as one of his fingers caught on a tangle and yanked the strand in that brief instant.

“Apolog--” Quillsh had covered the receiver to try and mask his hacking cough but it still came through the line. “Apologies, sir. It seems I’m unwell. I wouldn’t want to infect you with whatever I have. It’s quite dismal.” He held the phone away to sneeze several times into a monogrammed handkerchief. “You’ll have to make do on your own today.”

L paled slightly, holding the receiver away from his face for a second to stare at it as if it had personally offended him. When he held it back up to his ear, he sighed quite loudly. “I suppose we’ll have to inform the task force that they have the day off, today. However,” he frowned, pushing himself up into a sitting position as he clutched the phone. “Who will brush my hair? Who will prepare my meals? Who will select my clothing?” While he knew the latter was not necessary, the panic in his voice made it obvious he wasn’t thinking clearly.

Light opened one eye to see what all the fuss was about, frowning as he glared up at L. He hadn’t even gotten to sleep until after 3 am because L insisted on bringing his laptop to bed, loudly clacking on the keyboard and munching on panda cookies. The clock on the nightstand said it was just 6:30 am. I’m expected to work on a measly 3 hours sleep?!

“Can you keep your voice down, Ryuzaki?,” he huffed while turning over. “I’m not getting up until 7 and that’s that.”

Quillsh replied to L, “Everything will be fine. You know as well as I do that all your clothes are the same, no selection required. There are cakes and fruit in the refrigerator, and instant coffee if you can’t bother with the coffeemaker.”

He sighed tiredly, barely able to muster the energy needed to argue with L. “As for your hair...no time like the present to pick up a brush and try it yourself.” It was really past time for L to do that anyway but it meant time not focused on work, and was thus always deprioritized.

L gritted his teeth, gripping his own hair in his hand as his anxiety spiked just from the thought of trying to brush it himself. “But-..!” He stopped himself, squirming and making the bed bounce slightly. He completely ignored Light, his attention entirely focused on the call. “…alright. My apologies for disturbing you. Please get some rest and take care of yourself,” he murmured, quietly saying his polite goodbyes before hanging up the phone.

He turned to face forward, glancing at Light out of the corner of his eyes. He stared at the younger man for only a few seconds, moving to the end table and pulling out one of his hair brushes. He took a deep, loud breath to try and settle himself in preparation. However, no amount of preparation could prepare him for the instant pain that followed one frantic and barely-effective brush through his hair. He immediately chucked the item away from himself, hugging his knees to his chest in defeat.

Light snickered into his pillow and looked over his shoulder. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to try?” He turned over to face L, yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Don’t tell me that the World’s Greatest Detective has been defeated by an eeeevil tangle,” he teased. He couldn’t help but rub it in a little after all the grief L had put him through lately.

L shot Light a bitter glare, his eyes slightly moist from the shock of pain. “It is painful, and I am choosing to avoid engaging in painful activities. I will just wait until Watari is well enough to brush my hair,” he huffed, averting his gaze. In truth, he knew his hair would only be even more impossibly tangled- potentially unsalvageable by the time the man was no longer ill.

“That is…” Light sat up and leveled L with an unimpressed stare. “...the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. It’s just going to get worse if you put it off, and who even knows if he’ll be better tomorrow.” He leaned closer to examine L’s bedhead and let out a low whistle. Somehow, in the span of just 3 hours of sleep, the back of L’s head had gone from normal looking (for him) to a mess of matted, knotted hair. “Ok, I’ll admit that is pretty bad. I think even your tangles have tangles.”

He looked from the chaotic labyrinth of hair to the discarded brush thrown in the corner. L’s going to be a miserable grouch all day if this doesn’t get fixed. That made even the prospect of having the day off seem unappealing given who he was chained to. Plus, every moment they weren’t working, he was denied the chance to clear his name.

“Let me take a crack at it.” He glanced at L, giving him a little shrug like ‘why not?’ “It’s not like I can make it any worse.”

“You could still hurt me,” L muttered, glowering at Light. His expression was similar to a pout at this point, as if he was on the verge of crossing his arms and huffing.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Light sighed, still half-asleep. “I used to brush Sayu’s hair all the time when she was little.” Under his breath he murmured, “Anyway, you’d just tag on an assault charge onto my long list of ‘crimes’.’”

L hesitated for a moment before climbing off of the bed and retrieving the brush. Thankfully it wasn’t too far that the chain would cause any issues. He set the brush down in front of Light and sat down with his back towards the man. This is a terrible idea. However, if he goes out of his way to harm me, I can hold that against him.

Light picked up the brush tentatively, making a face at how overloaded with wiry black hair it was. “Hold on…it’s not going to do any good like this.” He pulled off the hair and dropped it from pinched fingers in the trash can beside the bed. “Ok, now we’re ready. Just...” He trailed off as he blinked at the back of L’s head-- specifically, the tumor-like protrusion of hair sticking out from the back. How could it have possibly gotten this bad?! Maybe I’m out of my depth here. “Um. Do you brush your hair every day, Ryuzaki?”

“Watari brushes it in the morning when it needs it,” L murmured, shrugging his shoulders indifferently. “He brushes it less now that I’m older.” Or now that he’s older.

Light fingered a few tangled tufts but didn’t pull, just surveying the damage to undo. “Have you...thought of using conditioner?”

L had to fight the urge to tilt his head, instead making a soft humming sound as he considered it. “No, I believe using soap for all of my washing is still the most efficient option. I see no reason that liquid soap is not enough to wash both my hair and my body.”

Light made a noise between a choke and a gasp, finally forcing out, “No...no, it’s...no, not at…” He sighed in exasperation, suddenly understanding why they were here. Closing his eyes, he said calmly, “After I untangle this, I’m washing your hair with shampoo and proper conditioner, got it?” He counted to ten and opened his eyes. Well, nothing to do but get started.

Carefully, he focused first on brushing the parts that weren’t tangled (or not as badly) to get a sense for the thickness of L’s hair and how tender-headed he was. Light knew that probably even a normal tug or the slightest discomfort might end this endeavor; he had to tread carefully. “This would be easier if you sat still and stopped fidgeting.” He placed a hand on L’s shoulder to try and keep him in one place, but quickly pulled back in case he’d overstepped.

L stiffened up slightly, biting his lower lip. However, instead of pulling away, he mumbled a quiet apology and did his best to keep his body still. He continued to fidget with his hands, rapping his fingers on his knees as he sat there, flinching occasionally when Light pulled too hard for his comfort. In truth, none of it was comfortable, but the man’s touch was surprisingly bearable. He wasn’t nearly as harsh as he had expected he would be, and it seemed as if he was adjusting to L’s reactions. “If you insist,” he mumbled, huffing quietly.

As Light got closer to the epicenter of the tangle, he started to sweat a little. Wait, is that--? Finally he had spotted the catalyst for the rat’s nest. A half-eaten lollipop was embedded and wrapped up in L’s hair, with the stick poking out at a jaunty and infuriating angle. “Ryuzaki…” He touched the stick, wiggling it slightly. “Did you happen to be eating lollipops in bed last night?”

A deep shade of red bloomed in L’s cheeks, travelling far enough to peek around his neck. “...no,” he mumbled, his tone incredibly sheepish as he blatantly lied. He couldn’t stop himself from squirming now, staring down at his hands as he shifted on the bed. He knew Light would be able to tell, but some small part of him felt embarrassed enough to try and hide it.

Light leaned to whisper in L’s ear, “Liar.” He gave the stick a little tweak. “The evidence speaks for itself, detective.” He laughed and shifted on the bed, reaching for a bottle of lotion in the nightstand. “This calls for desperate measures. That brush isn’t going to help at all,” he said, tossing it aside. “Not until I get that lollipop out.” With Sayu, he’d once used peanut butter to get some chewing gum out of her hair but really anything oily would do. He settled behind L again and squirted the lotion on his fingers, working it into the knots. “This might hurt a little but you don’t want to walk around with candy in your head do you?”

“It certainly sounds like a convenient carrying solution, freeing both of my hands to do work,” L muttered, his lips twitching faintly in amusement at his own joke. His breath hitched and he hissed quietly in pain as he felt his hair being tugged. “Ow...” He whined, his hand twitching briefly with the urge to reach back and swat at Light’s hand. “Be more gentle..!”

“Sorry,” Light mumbled. “Got a little too focused.” He slowed down his pace and methodically peeled away the hair from the sticky candy, nose wrinkling at the unappetizing gloops of lotion and red sugar coating his fingers. But, it was working! Bit by bit, knot by knot, the lollipop finally came free.

“Got it!,” he said triumphantly, holding up the mangled sucker. It was odd how satisfied he felt. Maybe it was because L only complained half a dozen instead of three dozen times, but he was all smiles as he showed it to L. “The accused stands before you. How do you judge?” He giggled and held it over the trash.

L was shaken and tense by the time Light was finally finished. It wasn’t that the man had hurt him- no, the process was quite painless after the first few tugs. However, he kept expecting pain, anticipating it, even though it never came. Once the man was done, he relaxed, staring at the candy. For once, he didn’t have the urge to shove the sweet into his mouth (although that may have been because of the hairs protruding from it).

“…guilty,” he mumbled, plucking it from Light’s fingers and dropping it into the trash can. He reached back to touch his hair, immediately grimacing at the unpleasant texture of melted candy and lotion mixed with hair. “…I suppose I’ll be needing my hair washed after all,” he muttered.

Light frowned a little that his joke had flopped, but what did he expect? “You’re welcome,” he grumbled as he got up off the bed to the length of the chain. “Come in the bathroom then and I’ll wash it in the sink. Need to wash my hands, too.” You don’t deserve my nice hair products but that’s all we’ve got. He’d be damned if he’d use liquid soap like L usually did. Just the thought made him shudder, rattling the handcuff chain between them.

L followed Light into the bathroom, shedding his shirt in the process to avoid it getting wet. He unclipped his end of the chain to remove the shirt completely, immediately latching the chain back on after. “How should I stand?” He stared at the sink in mild confusion, unsure of how to wash his hair in a non-shower setting.

“Over there,” Light gestured with his chin, “until I clean myself up.” He maneuvered around L and turned the water on with his elbow, scrubbing furiously until all the melted lollipop and lotion swirled down the drain. Why am I bothering to help him? I should have just left it there and taken the day off. I need one.

He dried his hands and grabbed his shampoo and conditioner that his mother had brought him from home, purchased from his favorite salon. The sleek bottles only reminded him of how much he needed a haircut, of how much he’d taken for granted all the little freedoms like that. The reflection looking back at him in the mirror-- bangs hanging in his eyes, wispy strands long enough to tuck behind his ears-- reinforced it. L may be a mess but so was he. The realization didn’t help his mood any.

He gave L a cold glance and pointed to the still-running warm water in the sink. “So...just stick your head under the faucet.”

L glanced back and forth from the sink to Light for a moment, as if unsure of what to do. He then moved closer to the sink, leaning down and hesitantly pushing his head under the water. He immediately jerked back when some ended up in his ear, an uncharacteristic squeak escaping his lips as his face scrunched up. He tilted his head, shaking it as if trying to get the water out. His hands rest on the sink, gripping it tightly to keep himself upright. Once he had calmed down, he took a deep breath and put his head under again, this time keeping it there as he closed his eyes.

Light crossed his arms and shifted his weight to one leg. If L couldn’t even stand the water, a molecule of soap in the man’s eyes would send him through the roof. “Hold on, I’ll get a chair and you can just lean back.” He went to do so but the chain tugged him back sharply. How many times will I forget? I’m anchored. “Um, can you release the chain for a moment? I’ll be right back.”

Much to his own surprise, L reached out without even hesitating, unclipping Light’s end of the chain. “Be quick. I think I can feel it hardening,” he murmured, grimacing as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He wanted to cooperate, he truly did, and he could only hope that was coming through in his actions and words.

Light blinked as the chain thunked to the bathroom floor. He did it? He stared at the coiled chain like it was a dead but still dangerous snake before snapping to attention and heading into the bedroom. It had been over a month since he’d felt 360 degrees of freedom but he couldn’t enjoy it, even though he wheeled L’s office chair into the bathroom slower than necessary. He felt a little shaken that his first instinct had been to run, but why? What did he have to run from? I’m innocent…

“Sit here and lean back so your head’s in the sink.” He rolled up a fluffy towel and placed it on the edge of the counter. “That should make it more comfortable.” He added drily, “Don’t worry, I didn’t stuff any razors inside.” Not that I’m allowed any. A few months ago he’d been the top student at To-Oh and now he was playing hairdresser with a man who wanted to execute him.

L didn’t bother grabbing the chain again, wanting to give Light more space as a gesture of appreciation for what he was doing, since he couldn’t really find the words to verbalize that feeling. He nodded and sat down in the chair, leaning back and resting his neck on the towel. His face scrunched up slightly in discomfort as he tilted his head back, suddenly made very aware of how stiff his neck was.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “I trust you.” Of course, that’s partly because it would be too big of a risk for him to try anything right now, but I also don’t think he’d want to…

Light arched a brow at that lie and squeezed shampoo into his hands. “Sure.” Trusts me when it’s convenient for him. He avoided looking at the chain, not wanting to remind L in case he forgot. I know he didn’t forget.

L’s face was as unreadable as ever so he just got on with it, lathering L’s hair into fragrant suds and taking care that no soap got into the man’s wide-open eyes. The smell of grapefruit and sandalwood in the bathroom started to make Light relax, the tenseness falling from his face. After a few minutes, he couldn’t feel any more sticky candy embedded in L’s hair and rinsed it clean. “Alright, sit still. Conditioner’s next.”

The feeling of Light’s fingers massaging his scalp was incredibly relaxing for L. He did his best to keep his face impassive, forcing himself to focus on the feeling of wetness on his forehead, but, eventually, even that wasn’t enough. By the time Light was rinsing his hair out, L’s eyelids were heavy and his expression incredibly relaxed. Most of the tension that was normally present in his body was gone. “This…feels nice,” he whispered, blinking slowly as he stayed still for the man.

Light couldn’t help but smile faintly at the praise. It was gratifying that he’d done well, even at this insignificant task, when it was for his harshest critic. His mood lifted considerably-- maybe this day wouldn’t be a wash after all. Wash, pft. He snickered to himself and turned the water off, then smoothed the conditioner in L’s hair to the ends.

Tilting his head, he said, “Your hair’s longer than I thought.” When wet and not fluffed up by frizz, it looked almost twice as long.

L’s body felt almost loose at this point, and part of him wondered if he would slide out of the chair. Even the feeling of Light barely pulling on his hair was soothing by now. A faint smile curved his lips as he closed his eyes. “That makes sense. It’s been a while since Watari last trimmed my hair. I’m not very fond of the sound of scissors so close to my head.”

“Now we wait. Five minutes and then rinse.” Light glanced down at his watch and leaned against the counter. This might be an awkward five minutes.

L shifted his legs, letting one stretch out and dangle off of the chair. “I didn’t expect that this would be so…pleasant. You’re very good at this, Light,” he mused, his relaxed state loosening his lips ever so slightly.

A little heat rose to Light’s cheeks. “Uh...thank you. I guess I have my sister to thank for that. I was her babysitter for years and her hair gets tangled easily, too.”

He smiled when a funny memory sprang to mind. “One time she managed to get a whole package of modeling clay stuck in her hair and I had to scrub for an hour to get it out before my parents got home from dinner. When my Mom noticed it was gone, Sayu told them she ate it.” He laughed to himself, remembering the horrified looks on his parents’ faces. “Of course, we fessed up before they called poison control.”

L’s lips twitched for a moment before he burst into laughter, holding his hand up in a failed attempt at covering his mouth. His laugh shook his entire body, a big grin forming on his face. When was the last time I laughed like this? Have I ever? I can’t recall feeling this good before now. “That- that’s quite impressive,” he managed to say after a few seconds, starting to calm back down and catch his breath. “What was she trying to do with the clay? Style her hair?” He chuckled, opening his eyes to look up at Light.

Seeing L smile was surprising but when the detective laughed, Light was shocked. But that laughter was infectious and only made Light giggle harder. “I think she was trying to make some kind of space helmet? Who knows, she was only five then,” he said between chuckles. I miss her. I wonder how she’s keeping up with her math homework. His laughter faded away.

He looked down at L, a thoughtful look on his face. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you laugh and mean it.”

L’s expression softened, turning thoughtful and slightly sad. “Yes, I suppose it is. I haven’t laughed like that in a long time.” He sighed, stretching out his arms for a moment as he averted his gaze. “I guess that’s just something else you’re good at, hm?” He arched a brow, smirking a bit in the subtle, mocking way he usually did. However, there was no malice to his tone. Instead of attacking Light, it seemed like he was attempting some good-natured ribbing, as if between friends.

Light blinked and gave L a puzzled smile, waiting for the barb to come. Unexpectedly, it didn’t, and he wasn’t sure what to say. L being nice was as strange as L laughing.

He glanced down at his watch anxiously. “That’s five minutes.” He turned on the warm water and rinsed the conditioner from L’s noticeably softer hair. Any residual tangles came loose immediately when he combed his fingers through it and he started to get curious about how it would look when dry. “Alright,” he said, turning off the water. “All done. Your tangles are a thing of the past.”

He turned his back to L to dry his hands on a fresh towel. “I guess it seems like a waste of time to use the conditioner but it saves time in the end for brushing. I can give Watari the information if you want me to.”

L shifted in the seat, looking over at Light with a contemplative expression. He sat there in silence for a few seconds, just staring at the other man until he finally spoke. “I suppose you can. That would be nice. But also, while we’re sharing a living space…if you wanted to- ah- do this more frequently…I wouldn’t protest.” He averted his gaze and cleared his throat loudly.

“Wouldn’t protest?” Light turned around sharply, feeling annoyed at L’s assumption. The words ‘I’m not your servant!,’ hovered on his parted lips but died there when, somehow, he saw L clearly. The man was too proud to ask directly for what he wanted. They had managed to connect in a way that wasn’t only detective and suspect, jailer and prisoner. Light had felt it, too, and he craved kindness after his long isolation, this ongoing tense situation.

He watched L for a moment and quietly said, “Alright, but no cuffs when I do it.” He smirked and added, “And no more lollipops in bed.”

“I agree to the cuffs, but I can’t make any promises about the lollipops,” L joked, smiling as he sat up and pulled the towel over his head. He picked up the chain, staring at it for a second or two before clasping it onto Light’s cuff. However, instead of immediately pulling away, his hand lingered on the man’s wrist. “…thank you, Light,” he mumbled, the sound barely a whisper as he lowered his gaze and pulled his hand away, standing up straight.

Light grinned and tossed L a towel since the man was dripping water everywhere. So it didn’t kill you to say it after all.

“You’re welcome.”

#death note #light yagami #l lawliet #my writing #collaboration #resilicns #deathnotetober #lawlight

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mystic-sky · 4 years

Note

A fan fic of Gojo Satoru inspired by the song Heaven by Julia Michaels 😭 I enjoyed your writings 🥰🥰🥰

The moment you met him was ingrained into your brain, even years after you both parted. It had been raining that day, possibly 7:30pm, and you were held up in a cafe for shelter. You had been dosing off a bit after your classmates left you an hour or so prior. You regretted staying up so late to watch that sit-com the night before. But it was a Friday, and you didn’t have class the next day. The paper was finally finished and you proudly packed your things together. You kept fantasizing about how your efforts during the week were soon to be rewarded by slumber.

The sound of thunder brought you back to reality within the quiet coffee space.

“I guess I should sit back down,” you said to yourself. You were standing by the glass doors and ready to leave, bag over your shoulder. You held your book in one arm before fisting the sleeves of your sweater. The one time I forget my umbrella, you thought.

There was something soothing about watching the busy streets of Tokyo while rain hit the window screen. You felt yourself unwinding, relaxing in place. Sometimes your school and work life felt so hectic. It was nice to slow down from time to time and breathe.

“Man, you don’t have an umbrella? That sucks.” An incredibly tall, white haired male spoke beside you, snapping you out of your zen moment.

You turned your head towards him, and he wasn’t even looking at you. He wore a thick black sweatshirt, black jeans and dark boots. He had thick black shades on, and surely an umbrella in his hands. He had a gorgeous profile, and his jawline was extremely defined. Was he some sort of supermodel, you thought.

“Yeah, I know.” You say, sighing to yourself. You were partially offended, but mostly tired. He was handsome, but you didn’t have time for flirting. You just wanted to go home and run a hot bath. He looked like he was going to break your heart anyways.

“It says the rain is going to stop within the hour on the weather app.” He said, scrolling and tapping away at his phone. “You goin’ to the train station?”

“Oh, yeah.” You say shyly. You nervously tucked some hair behind your ears before looking straight ahead. Why the fuck was this supermodel speaking to you?

Granted, it was hard for you to stop looking at him every so often.

“Like what you see?”

You blinked at him repeatedly, earning a cocky chuckle from him.

“Wanna walk with me?” He asked, peering down at you. You looked at him, pondering if he was seriously trying to hit on you right now. Surely if you had known him, maybe walking to the station with him solely for the use of his umbrella would’ve been fine. You don’t know if it was the sleep deprivation or the fact that he truly did seem a little arrogant that stemmed your next response as you spoke.

“I don’t even know you.” You said bluntly, and you meant it disrespectfully.

“Not yet.” He said slyly. “But I’ve seen you around campus a lot.”

You stood still, pondering again if you had actually seen him before. Wait- wasn’t he in your political science class? You put a finger to your chin before finally igniting the imaginary, anxious little light bulb above your head.

“Professor Edamura’s class right?” You were such a lecture worm in that class, and the professor had yet to start group assignments. You had absolutely no need to befriend anyone in that class yet. Nonetheless, it was your largest lecture class this semester, and you only met once a week.

“Bingo.” He grinned.

“There’s like 120 people in that lecture.”

“Yeah. But I think you’re the cutest.” You stared at him, dumbfounded and blush stuck on your cheeks.

“Thank you,” you say, squeezing your arms around your book and pressing it towards your chest.

“Oh look, the rain is stopping.” He says, leaning forward and intently staring out the window.

“Well, see you Wednesday.” He smiled a cheeky smile.

You felt like a child, blushing foolishly whilst you watched him walk out and down the street.

You almost wish you hadn’t met him.

Days would go by until you saw him again. He made his appearance on Wednesday, at 2pm in Professor Edamura’s class. He sat beside you, offering you a wink before taking out his own computer beside you and your own. Aside from a greeting, he didn’t say a word until the lecture ended. You really had spoken too soon about not befriending anyone, because you had gotten slurped up into a group project with 4 other people.

“So, Friday night, we could all go to my place. I don’t live too far from here.” You wanted to meet at the library instead. Why did he want to go to his house? However, it seemed he was a rather popular guy and everyone loved him. You learned his name was Gojo Satoru. And then you lost the vote 4 to 1.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as the women in your group swooned at him as he talked. This sucks.

All of you created a group chat in which you sparked ideas for the project’s format. You honestly think the other girls in your group were just more excited they had his number.

Thursday night came, and you were in your robe and face mask when your phone went off. You blinked repeatedly, realizing Satoru had texted you directly and not the group chat.

Heyy

Hey, Is everything okay?

Yeah, I honestly just can’t wait to see you tomorrow.

You stared at the message, absolutely not having time for his shit. You didn’t respond. Rather, you went in your settings and purposely turned on read receipts and went to bed.

You wished you could’ve left him on read in real life too as you sat on the floor pillow in his living room the next evening. The other three group mates bailed, texting the chat just 20 minutes after you got there.

“Guess it’s just the two of us,” he chuckled.

“Don’t look so happy about it.” You rolled your eyes. This project was 30 percent of your grade, you wanted to punch someone.

“I can’t help it,” he says, sitting across from you on a different floor pillow. “I won’t lie. I had been thinking of asking you on a date. I didn’t think I’d get so lucky.”

“And did you text the other girls in our group the same thing the night before?” You say, nonchalantly opening your book. You didn’t even look his way.

“No, they’re incredibly annoying.” He sighed genuinely. You finally looked at him. They were pretty annoying. Because of them, you were sitting across from him with nothing separating you but an extremely expensive coffee table. The library would’ve been better.

“You’re pretty cool though. Kind of bummed you didn’t text me back.”

“Because I know what you’re up to.” You say, scribbling away in your notes.

“And what might that be?” He takes off his shades, putting them on the glass coffee table. You’d never forget the way he stared at you with his mesmerizing blue shells.

“I’m not going to fall in love with you. I don’t have time for that.” You firmly set your pencil down, looking at him.

“I don’t exactly want you to.” He chuckled. You looked at him before speaking again.

“So what do you want from me?” You say, placing your face in your palm and leaning forward a bit to look at him directly. The intense stare you had was sure to ring out the truth from his lips.

“I said I wanted to take you on a date.” He laughs. “Get to know you a bit, but ultimately take you to bed at the end of the night, if you don’t mind. You can decline, I just wanted to show you a good time.”

He just blatantly asked you to sleep with him. Somehow, you admired that. You hated people that wasted your time. At least this way, you felt like you had some power in the situation. You could decline him or not, and you knew exactly what would become of your situation-ship if you started something.

“Sure,” you say calmly, to his surprise. You shift yourself around the table, right beside his body.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” you took hold of his jaw, delicately planting a kiss. He had no idea you were so confident. He only had a girl initiate the kiss once before. Your lips were incredibly soft and pillowy. He was already hard, wondering just what your sex was like if you kissed him like this. The semester’s stress had gotten to you. You were only hoping he could help you unwind.

You shifted over his body, straddling him against the bottom of the sofa. You’d give him exactly what he wanted.

“You better be good at this, or don’t even bother looking at me after we finish this project.” You break from his lips.

“Oh princess, I don’t ever disappoint.” He smirked. You were alarmed at his strength when he lifted both your bodies off the ground. He sucked in your lips, kissing you firmly as he brought you to his bedroom.

That night, he gave you the best sex of your entire life. He wasn’t lying about not disappointing you.

You remember the day you guys finally had to present your project, which didn’t come out too bad. Satoru had seduced the girls who didn’t show up on Friday into doing majority of the work. You remember him telling you that they deserved it after you attempted to nag him for messing with them like that.

“You and me worked hard last Friday night, right princess? So what’s the big deal?” He whispered into your ear while you all gathered in front of the lecture. You presented your part that you did on your own with constant red hues plaguing your face. You wish he waited to say that after the presentation. Now, you were worked up again. The events of skin touching skin had been stuck in your mind.

You couldn’t get his extremely large hands and hot body out of your head. For something that was supposed to be a stress reliever, the thought of his sex lived on within you and it was getting annoying. He caught up with you after you rushed out the room as soon as class ended.

“You have time before your next class?” He peered down at you, grinning a sexy and devilish smile.

“Why?” You ask.

“Let’s go grab a bite to eat, on me. I promise really do work harder than I like to show off. The thing I did for the project isn’t really my character. I just didn’t like how the other girls were going to push all the work on you.”

He sounded genuinely sorry for the situation.

“It’s fine. They deserved it anyway. They never replied to me when I texted them. If it wasn’t for you using your ‘sexiness’ to make them get busy, we would’ve gotten a shitty grade for sure.” You used air quotes around the word ‘sexiness’.

“You think I’m sexy?” He said smugly.

“Of course that’s all you picked up from the entirety of what I said.” You rolled your eyes, and he laughed a hearty laugh.

“Obviously,” you say quietly, he almost didn’t hear you.

“You’re so fucking cute,” he said, laughter dying down. You had this annoyed blush on your face as the both of you walked. You did end up going out to eat with him. But somehow, you also ended up fucking him in the restaurant bathroom right after.

His hands squeezed your hips as you pressed you ass closer against him. You never realized you could feel so full. He slammed his length into you, while you shamelessly watched yourself pant beneath him in front of the mirror.

“You’re such a pretty girl, look how pretty you are. I wanna see your face again when you cum.” He coaxed you whilst gripping your neck.

“Don’t be so loud though, then we’ll get caught. You don’t want this to end do you?”

Your juices were running down your weak legs, and you were holding back pleasure filled squeals while he rammed himself into you. It had been a while since you had been fucked so well aside from last Friday. And something about the thrill of someone knocking on the door, which wasn’t even locked, helped you find your climax during that 10 minute session.

You called out his name as you clenched around his length, causing him to throw his hand over your hot mouth.

“Shhh,” he shushed you as he lifted your body towards his own.

“We won’t be able to do stuff like this in the future if you’re so loud.” His hot breath poured into your ear. Your knees were burning, but the pleasure in your core was enough to over shadow it. You were ashamed to admit it, but you were cumming again onto his dick.

“Satoru, my legs...” you muffled against his hand.

“I’ve got you sweetheart, don’t worry.” His thrusts were quickening and you felt him twitch inside you. He released himself into the rubber he wore before removing his member from you. You collapsed your upper body onto the sink for support.

He was incredibly sweet somehow, sliding your jeans and panties up for you.

“Can you walk?” He asked.

“I can manage.” You say, stumbling back against his chest. He caught you whilst you buttoned your jeans.

“The look on your face is priceless.” He said, looking at you in the mirror. You were a disheveled blushing mess, but somehow you were scowling at him for making you cum in such a short time.

“You can hold my arm for support,” he watched as you fixed what you could of your top and hair.

“Shut up.” You said, wrapping yourself onto his arm and exiting the bathroom.

Sex with him was filled with plentiful moments like this. He would spontaneously show up around you, asking to hang out. It helped out a lot, considering you were less stressed and chirpier, your friends noticed. A little bit of dick does everyone good sometimes.

You did your best to keep it strictly sex related, and you felt like he was casually following whatever you wanted to do. He was a decent friend, listening to your qualms about school and your other friendships. He took in a lot of stories and life situations from you, but he rarely ever talked about himself. You had slept with him countless times by then, but you really knew nothing about him. The thing that made it worse is that he started to sex you more passionately, stirring your feelings in a bunch.

He towered above your body in the dark moonlit room. It was another Friday, and you were lost in his sex yet again. He was so close, kissing and sucking your lips til they were sore and bruised. He dragged his mouth against your neck and down to your chest. You didn’t know what had gotten into him, but he was keen to keep the space between you as close as possible. You hadn’t see him all week, and you both didn’t have any classes together this season. The spontaneous adventures became more planned due to your busy schedules.

He inserted himself into your warmth, making you arch your back and press your breasts to his chest.

“Fuck, I missed you.”

Your entire head was hot from the whisper he made into your ear. You wished he wouldn’t say things like that. It was starting to fuck with you. You let out a moan as he filled you up completely, grinding your sex towards him from underneath.

“It looks like you missed me too,” he chuckled. Your sex was loud and wet. You couldn’t lie to him even if you tried— your body wouldn’t let you.

You found yourself moaning how much you missed him as he rolled into you endlessly throughout the evening.

“I know baby,” he placed sweet kisses against your face and neck, “I know.”

You chose to block this specific memory out whenever you told your friends this story. He had sexed you like he loved you that night and you had too many orgasms to count.

You awoke in the morning with him clinging to your naked body. It really wasn’t the first time something romantic like this had happened but it was the first time you felt provoked to say something.

“Satoru...” You said against his hair. He grumbled a groggy hum into your neck. You didn’t know if this was the right time to say it, but you were tired of the subtle hints of affection he had been mixing in with all the lust.

“It’s getting hard for me to keep this relationship strictly sex based,” you begin.

“I really do want to get to know you more. But sometimes you throw me these mixed signals and I get confused.”

He sat up, bringing his blue gaze towards yours.

“Then we should stop.” He said bluntly. He wasn’t asking you either.

“We should,” you sort of agree, confusedly.

“I had a feeling this was going to happen.” He said, tearing himself from you.

“But it’s cool. I’ve got somewhere to be. You need a ride home?” He asked. You nodded. That morning for the first time in a long time, you both got dressed together in solitude. There was no banter, no joking around and none of the occasional compliment or kiss.

He drove you home, in comfortable silence on his part. When you both of reached in front of your house he finally spoke.

“Don’t look so down, honey. At the end of the day, you were just a warm body to me. Cheer up though, you served your purpose.”

You could’ve cried but you knew exactly what this was from the beginning. Was it possible he was starting to feel something? And this was his way of running from it? You stared at your lap. There was no point of trying to read too hard into it now.

“Thanks for the ride.” You say, shutting the door. He watched you walk into your house. He hadn’t known you were so sensitive considering the persona you’d been giving him since the very beginning. He would never be able to apologize to you for it either— he had too much pride.

He never texted or called you after that. Not that you were surprised, you knew he wasn’t the one for you. He was too secretive despite his outgoing nature. An experience it was, you thought it was fun. You did your best to look at the situation as optimistically as possible.

Whenever you saw him on campus, you didn’t even bother looking at him. You walked right by him. He knew better than to speak to you. One day you were sitting in the cafe you first met him in. It was raining just like it was last year. You knew he saw you scribbling away through the glass window. He entered anyway, with a brunette attached to his arm. She laughed loudly as she pressed her breasts to his bicep. You casually sipped your iced coffee, eying him briefly before returning to your work.

He was pretty ballsy.

“You okay babe?” Suguru slid his large hand over yours, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You hummed in delight, watching him take hold of your hand and press your knuckles to his lips.

“When you’re done, how about we go to that Hibachi place you like?”

You held back an excited squeal at the dark haired male in front of you.

“I’d like that a lot.”

part 2

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo sensei #jujutsu kaisen #jjk angst #jjk #jjk smut #im sorry but just because they're your fav does not mean im gonna write the relationship all lovey dovey #fictional characters are not exempt to toxicity #but I love the song so much I couldn't write it any other way

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sluttyten · 3 years

Note

Taeil with 98

Taeil + “I love you, idiot”

When you met Taeil it’s because you were friends with Yuta. Newly friends through another friend, but still, you knew Yuta first. He brought Taeil along when you decided to meet up with him for coffee one day, and after that, you were hooked on Taeil. He was funny and smart, the best vocalist you’d ever met, handsome, a good cook, and you quickly learned that you had a few other similar interests.

It was no time at all before you decided you had a big crush on Moon Taeil. You started trying to convince Yuta to invite Taeil to things, or trying to get him to invite you over to their dorm so you could see Taeil, anything at all that would let you spend more time with him. You even asked for his number, but Yuta informed you that Taeil had literally just gotten a new phone and Yuta didn’t have the number yet, and he wasn’t allowed to give out Taeil’s contact info anyway unless Taeil told him he could.

But at least Yuta did usually bring Taeil around when you asked. He orchestrated run-ins with you while he was with Taeil. Yuta was like the perfect wingman for you.

And it’s during one of those run-ins while Yuta’s in the middle of saying something to you about how you never answer his messages (which is blatantly untrue) that you blurt out to Taeil, “Can I have your number?”

Taeil looks taken aback, but he exchanges his contact info with you.

You make use of it, messaging him a couple days later to see if he wants to hang out. You know he likes Pilates since he’s talked about it with you before, and you’ve been wanting to do Pilates, but you hate the idea of going to the gym alone and you have no idea what equipment to use at home.

Truthfully you’d not thought of doing Pilates before you heard Taeil talk about it. You just wanted an excuse to be with him without Yuta. And it works. Taeil agrees, and then after that you and Taeil go to Pilates at a gym halfway between both of your places every Thursday.

But that’s just it. Just Pilates. No bright and beautiful relationship blossoms out of Pilates class. You still don’t see Taeil other than for class or unless you’re with Yuta, and that starts eating away at you because you really, really like Taeil.

“Maybe you should talk to him,” Yuta suggests one day. “Tell him how you feel.”

“No. Why would I do that?” You can’t make the first move that would be terrible. What if Taeil completely shoots you down?

Yuta rolls his eyes. “You like him, right? It’s been months now that the two of you have been friends, going to your Pilates class on Thursdays. Maybe you need to invite him to do something else, and while you’re there, talk to him about how you have feelings for him. I don’t know. Maybe he’s scared to make a move on you, and maybe he feels the same way. This is all weird to me, and I don’t like to know about my members’ romance lives. He’s my roommate, you’re my friend. I don’t know what advice to give you.”

He’s probably right. You’re kinda in love with Taeil by this point. You like everything about him, you miss him when you go too long without talking to him, and you want to tell him the most exciting parts of your day because every time you do Taeil always gets excited with you. You feel like your world got brighter after you met him.

But making the first move scares you.

Before you have the chance to even attempt to build up the nerve for it, you run into Taeil at your favorite cafe.

He’s sitting alone at a table, and at first you aren’t sure it’s him, but when they call your name for your drink, he looks up.

Taeil smiles at you and waves, so you claim your drink and walk over to him. “Hi, Taeil.”

“No Yuta today?” He asks with a hint of something sharp in his voice. “Aren’t the two of you attached at the hip.”

“Not really.” You laugh, a little surprised at his tone.

“It seems like you’re always together.”

You don’t feel like you are. Though, maybe most of the time you see Taeil, you are with Yuta or meeting up with Yuta or you mention plans to go hang out with Yuta. But it’s because being around Taeil makes you nervous, and when you’re nervously searching for a topic to talk about, you latch onto your mutual friend.

“I’ve got to go, I’m sorry,” Taeil says as he stands up suddenly, grabbing his drink and his phone from the table. “I’ll see you around.”

And then he’s gone, and you’re left standing there a little confused about what just happened.

The next time you see him is almost two weeks later.

Yuta invites you over to the dorm, telling you he’s tired of you pining after Taeil who keeps refusing to tag along when Yuta invites him to hang out with the two of you. “He can’t run away if we’re in the dorm.”

“We’re gonna drink,” Yuta tells you when you arrive. “So I hope you’re thirsty.”

A few of the other members are there too, everyone drinking and laughing, and when Taeil comes out to join in the drinking and laughing, you wonder if it’s wishful thinking alone that has you feeling like his eyes are on you as you laugh. The other members come and go until it’s just you, Yuta, and Taeil and you’re not drunk yet but you’re really close to it.

Yuta however has had his fill, so when he curls up on the sofa and passes out, you cover him up with a blanket and keep drinking with Taeil until you are drunk.

You wake some time the next day, squinting against the pale light, your head pounding, your mouth dry, and your body feeling very heavy and weighed down.

Because it is weighed down, you realize. There’s someone sleeping in this bed with you, their arm and leg sling over you.

You turn your head, and your gaze lands on Taeil.

“Oh, shit,” you whisper, trying to untangle yourself from his bedsheets, trying to make sure that you’re still clothed and that you didn’t have sex with him last night because if you have sex with Moon Taeil you would like to remember it.

You’re moving around wakes him up, his arm flexes around your middle, hand curling against your side in an attempt to draw you closer to him. And then he freezes. He opens his eyes and for a moment neither of you move, just staring at each other.

“Taeil,” you break the silence first, “Last night….”

“You crawled in here.” Taeil says quickly. “You were drunk, and since Yuta was passed out on the sofa, I tried to get you to sleep in his bed, but you just crawled in with me and immediately passed out. I wasn’t gonna try to move you. Nothing else happened. Thank God.”

Your heart sinks. Thank God, he’d said. Was the idea of anything more happening with you so disgusting to him?

Taeil must see your thoughts plain on your face because he quickly says, “I just mean, like, I would hate to face the wrath of your boyfriend.”

“My boyfriend?” When have you ever told Taeil you had a boyfriend? You’ve been single since before you met him.

“Yeah, Yuta’s a jealous guy ordinarily. Having you just sleeping in my bed is probably enough to set him off,” Taeil says. As if just then remember he his his arm around you, he suddenly pulls it back, putting some space between the two of you.

You want to reach over and drag his arm back around you, but you hold yourself back. “I don’t think Yuta would care at all if he found me here, not even if I was naked, not if we’d had sex. Because I’m not in a relationship with Yuta.”

Taeil scoffs. “Okay, but you basically are. The two of you are always together. Even if you aren’t in a relationship yet. Like, you’ve got to be in love with him at least to spend that much time together.”

You sit up and look down at him. “Taeil. I’m not in love with Yuta. I love you, idiot. Why do you think Yuta always invites you with him to hang out with me? Because I asked him to. And why I asked for your number?”

“I thought you were trying to make Yuta jealous with my number,” Taeil mumbles.

“And me asking you to come to Pilates classes with me? Taeil, honestly, I don’t like Pilates, but it’s an excuse so I get to see you at least once a week.” You sigh. “I really, really like you. Like a whole lot. Yuta’s been telling me I should confess to you, but I’ve been holding back because you didn’t really seem interested and—“

“I’m very interested.” Taeil cuts you off. “I just thought you were with Yuta, and I didn’t want to get in the way of that.”

“That’s so stupid,” you laugh, and you slide back down so you’re lying in the bed. “So you’re telling me this whole time we could’ve been something more if it wasn’t for this miscommunication?”

Taeil nods and he lifts his head up on his palm, looking down at you with a warm crescent smile. He asks, “Can I kiss you?”

“Oh, Mr.Moon.” You curl your fingers in the front of his shirt, lifting yourself up as he lowers his head. “You can do even more than that, if you want.”

Taeil’s lips meet yours in a sweet kiss, and you cling to him, grateful that the truth is out at last.

#asks #taeil drabbles #nct drabbles #I did decide to add one of the other prompts in here too bc I was like that one prompt is a little too general for me to think of a scenario #longer than like a paragraph #so prompt 158 is in here which is #they get jealous of you spending time with someone else

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achillestiel · 3 years

Text

For @smiledean 🎉 Happy birthday for tomorrow Ali 🎉 here is a fluffy Teacher AU wherein all their students ship it

“Oh my god did you see them this morning?”

“Walking in together with coffee? Oh yeah. So freaking cute”

“I'm sure Mr Collins held the door open for Dean too.”

"Kaia I swear to God, I'm close to locking them in a classroom together."

There were three well known truths at Lawrence High school. The first; never trust the tuna surprise on Fridays. The second; the east stairwell would always smell like weed no matter what. The third was that Mr Collins and Mr Winchester were stupidly in love with each other.

As far as teachers went, Claire liked Mr. Winchester. No other teacher let the class call them by their first name. Dean would chat with them like he was a friend, play music during class and didn't care if they snacked while he spoke about the 1960's art movements. Still, if he didn't stop making doe eyes at her English teacher, Claire was going to stab him with a paintbrush.

Thursday's art class after lunch was just like all the others. Claire waltzed in, Kaia and Alex right next to her, to see Dean at his desk grinning over at the man leaning against the nearest table. The remains of their lunches next to them. Mr Collins would say something that wasn't funny but Dean would still laugh like it was the most hilarious thing he'd ever heard. Seriously, pre-school kids were more subtle than they were.

The whole thing had begun at the start of junior year. Mr Collins had joined the English department and students had quickly caught on that he had eyes for their art teacher. The two would laugh in the halls between classes, seek each other despite their departments being on the opposite ends of the school and shamelessly flirt. There had been a point two months prior when Claire was convinced they'd finally gotten a clue. For a whole week Dean and Mr Collins had carpooled in together when Mr Collins' Prius had broken down. Sadly, it seemed they were both clueless morons.

*More below the cut + tag list*

"Hey guys, grab a table and we'll carry on with our discussion on the Minimalist movement before you get started on your pieces." Dean called out as he cleared the remains of his lunch off his desk. Mr Collins whispered something to Dean, who laughed and nodded his head. Kaia just rolled her eyes as she grabbed the usual desk they all say at.

"I'll find that book out for you after my lesson. See you later." Mr Collins said to Dean.

"Catch you later Cas." Dean called while Mr Collins cleared off the table he'd been leaning against and hurried out the classroom.

Dean launched into his discussion on the Minimalist movement, occasionally stopping to sip lukewarm coffee out a mug shaped like a car tire. Everyone knew Mr Collins had given Dean that mug for Christmas. Dean had given Mr Collins one with a smiling bumblebee on it, cartoon font spelling out Bee Happy. They really were ridiculous. While students were taking notes, it was less about Dean's lecture and more about how blatantly obvious Dean and Mr Collins were.

"Any questions?" Dean asked. Claire's hand instantly shot up. Sure, she'd probably get detention for this but she was done. "Claire?"

"Dean, when are you going to ask Mr Collins out on a date?" She asked. The whole class fell silent, their eyes fixed on Dean who had gone the deepest shade of red Claire had ever seen.

"What? I...well...I…" Dean stammered out. "Cas doesn't... we're just friends."

"Seriously? Are you blind?" Alex then asked, forgoing putting her hand in the air. "Dude, we've had to sit through nearly an entire year of you guys flirting."

Dean's face was the shade of beetroot. "What? No...we...Cas...friends." he mumbled, scratching at his neck.

"They have a point Dean." Krissy said from the back of the room. "We were assigned Little Beast in English last week. Someone pointed out to Mr Collins that it kind of sounded like you and he blushed."

"What? He blushed? Really?" Dean asked, still bright red but with the smallest of a smile on his face. Ha! Busted.

"Went bright red, worse than you now." Kaia said smugly.

"So...let's say I asked him to go to a gallery showing with me tonight...do you think he'd say yes?" Dean asked.

"Yes!" The entire class cried.

"And you all think this?" Dean asked.

"Yes."

"Wow...oh...um…" Dean mumbled. "Yes Claire?" He asked when Claire thrust her hand back in the air.

"Dean, just ask him. If we're still sitting here just before graduation speculating about you two, we are going to go crazy." Claire said and several people in the class nodded.

"Ok...if I say that I'll do it can we get some work done?" Dean asked. The entire class nodded. "Cool...I'll ask him at the end of the day." Dean said, his cheeks still blushed with red but now his smile was even wider.

On Friday morning the entire school was awash with the news that a certain Mr Winchester and Mr Collins had driven into school together. They had even held hands when walking into the building. Dean played classic rock love ballads in his classroom for the entire day.

Tag List (if you want to be included in future writing just let me know):

@smiledean @a-profoundbond @poetcastiel @castielsbeeslippers

#deancas fic #destiel fic #deancas #destiel #sam writes #this is a day early but tomorrow i'll be in full tfatsw mode #happy birthday for tomorrow Ali!#smiledean

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amazingmsme · 3 years

Text

Well if You Really Don’t Like Him...

AN: Here’s that fic about Godot flirting with Phoenix just to get at Edgeworth. This was seriously SO much fun to write! Ugh I love all these dorky ass lawyers, I need more content. So here you go, have some jealous Edgeworth, flustered Wright, & a very flirty Godot, all served to you on a silver platter!

Godot sat in the prosecutions office, reading over some old case transcripts. Detective Gumshoe was mulling about the room, browsing some of the books on the shelf. Godot snickered to himself, drawing Dick's attention.

"Something funny Prosecutor?" he asked with a curious smile. It was rare that he heard the other man laugh, so it warmed his heart to hear the sound.

"Yeah, actually. I can't help but notice... Is something going on between Edgeworth and Trite?" he asked, holding a page closer as he inspected the words. "I mean, it's hard to pick up a person's tone just from text, but I can't imagine another way to interpret this," he mused.

"Who? Oh you mean Wright! Yeah, we've all been wondering the same thing. He and Prosecutor Edgeworth have more chemistry than a chemical reaction!"

Godot smiled and shook his head. "Your analogy is weaker than decaf, but your point still stands."

"Hey!" Gumshoe shouted defensively, pouting at the other man's words.

"So I'm not crazy? Do they actually like each other? Because I can't possibly find any other meaning behind, "Court is no place for such fanciful stories. But if you drop by my office, I'd be more than willing to... indulge you?" Did Miles actually say this shit?" he asked, barely containing his laughter. One hand pressed against his forehead, fingers curling in the white locks as his shoulders shook with his chuckles.

"Heh, yeah I remember that. Poor Nick blushed redder than a ripe tomato!" he exclaimed, smiling at the memory.

"Hm, so Trite embarrasses easily? That's interesting," he hummed.

Detective Gumshoe shrugged. "Yeah, but he seems to get flustered a lot more when Edgeworth's involved," he explained. He found the book he'd been searching for, and bid him ado with a nod and quick wave. Diego was left pondering the new information, a sly smirk forming on his face.

The next day he strode into Edgeworth's office with even more swagger than usual. He sat on the corner of his desk, crossing one leg over the other. He slurped his coffee loudly to gain the other's attention. Miles sighed and glanced up at him.

"May I help you?"

"Who me? Nah, I just came in here to chat," he said, but the grin on his face told of an underlying motive.

"Please, you of all people are the last to want to chat while working. What's really going on?" he asked, cutting to the chase. Godot shrugged.

"A little birdie told me you might have feelings for Trite."

Miles stiffened, but other than that showed no outward emotions. "His name is Wright, and that's preposterous. I merely admire his skill in court and respect him as a peer. You would be wise to do the same."

"Really? 'Cause Dick sure thinks there's something more to it," Diego said. Edgeworth snorted out a puff of air in lieu of a laugh.

"And you believed him? Gumshoe is a well intentioned man, but he can let his imagination get the better of him."

"Transcripts don't lie bud. And I can smell the truth like a fresh pot of coffee." Miles rolled his eyes.

"Of course you can," he said sarcastically. "Now if you're done reciting your little fairytales, I'd love to get back to work," he said, opening a thick binder and smacking Godot's leg with the front half as he opened it. He stood, getting the hint.

"You know, that reminds me of something you said to Trite in court," he spoke as he began to pace the room. He piqued his interest, so he continued. "Something about fanciful stories, and him stopping by your office to "indulge" you," he said using air quotes.

Miles abruptly stood, slamming his hand on the desk. "That's out of context!"

Godot shrugged, swirling the coffee in his cup. "Trust me, the context doesn't make it sound any better. I'm surprised the two of you ever manage to reach a verdict, what with all the flirting going on."

"It's not flirting! It's merely playful bickering between childhood friends, nothing more," he reasoned.

"Is that what you call it?" he asked, cocking his head to the side and stuffing his free hand in his pocket. Edgeworth practically growled at him, shooting a harsh glare his way.

"What exactly are getting at Godot?" he asked crossing his arms over his chest.

"So you really don't like Trite?"

"For the last time, his name is Phoenix Wright. The fact that you don't refer to him as such is wildly immature and petty."

Godot smirked in triumph. "You sure are defensive of him."

"Of course I am; he's my friend and a talented attorney who, might I remind you, proved my innocence and convicted my father's true murderer. So I won't stand idly by while you blatantly disrespect him," he snapped. He turned his back to him, busying himself with straightening stacks of paperwork.

"You misinterpret my intentions," he said, holding up his hand placatingly. Edgeworth looked over his shoulder, watching as he sipped his coffee.

"Then enlighten me."

"I admit I've been giving him a hard time. But most guys do that when they have a crush," he bluffed. Miles whipped around to face him.

"Ha! You're lying through your teeth, I know how much you despise him," he said, seeing right through the lie.

"Do you? Or was that just a front I put up to hide my feelings?" Edgeworth paused, considering the possibility.

"I don't know what your angle is, but you should stop while you're ahead. If you're only doing this to get at me, then I'm telling you right now it will all be in vein. But please, don't bring Phoenix into this if it's only a farce. He's had his heart broken before, and I won't allow you to needlessly toy with his emotions."

"Aw, how noble. Truly a knight in shining armor. But if you aren't in love with him, why should you care?"

Edgeworth recoiled, a pink tint coloring his cheeks at the L-word. "B-because he's my friend!"

Godot smiled softly, staring at his reflection in the dark liquid inside his cup. "I wondered what had happened to the hard ass prosecutor I knew. What made you go soft. But then I met Mr. Wright," he said, complying with his wishes and using his actual name.

"Don't act like I was someone to admire. I had lost myself and forgot what justice really meant. He merely opened my eyes," he explained.

"Now that's sounds like a love confession if I've ever heard one. You two go together like coffee and cream: he sweetened the dark bitterness you're known for and made you more palatable."

Edgeworth straightened to his full height, hair falling in front of his face. "Excuse me? I refuse to be insulted in my own office!"

"Well that was hardly an insult."

"You just called me bitter an insinuated that I was intolerable," he deadpanned.

"Heh, I did, didn't I? Well I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"Whatever. I request that you leave my office so that I may get back to work," he said, sitting back down at his desk.

Godot snorted in amusement. "That's the kindest way I've ever been told to get the hell out."

"Now."

"Alright, alright." He turned to leave, but paused at the door. Miles sighed deeply.

"What now?"

"If you really don't like him, then you shouldn't mind if I flirt with him, right?" he asked smugly. Edgeworth's head snapped up with a gasp. He made to stand, a protest already on the tip of his tongue, but Diego shut the door before he could say anything.

Miles was left in his office, seething with a quiet rage. He couldn't go after him, that would only prove his point. So he did the only thing he could think to do. He pulled out his phone and texted Franziska.

be mean to Godot

A few minutes later, his phone dinged with her reply.

lol ok. Why?

because we're mad at him >:(

what did that fool do now?

He thought about his answer carefully before sending it.

he's going to break Wright's heart

No, he couldn't send that.

he accused me of being in love with Wright

He shook his head, deleting the message and starting over.

nothing. Just let him know you're angry

haha got it. I'll whip his mask clean off his face! >:)

He chuckled softly at his sister's antics.

maybe not that mean

By the next day, Miles had mostly forgotten about his conversation with Godot. That was until he walked into the courthouse and was greeted by his stupid smug face.

"There you are Edgey boy!" he greeted enthusiastically, coffee sloshing in its mug.

"Don't call me that."

"Right, only Phoenix can call you that," he teased. Miles allowed a smirk to grace his features.

"Or Larry. He was the one who came up with the nickname after all." Godot hummed as he walked beside him. For a moment, the only sound was their shoes clacking in unison on the linoleum tiles. Then they spotted Phoenix and Maya come out of a debriefing room. Miles shot Godot a glare.

"Don't you dare," he threatened.

"Oh I dare," he said, trotting away and over to his target. Phoenix spotted him coming his way and quickly turned around, grabbing Maya's arm and speed walking away. He kept his head down and eyes focused on the ground. Maya let out a small "ope" sound as he dragged her along. She looked over her shoulder to see what made Nick turn so abruptly down the hall.

"Uuuh Nick? Godot's jogging right towards us," she whispered.

"I know," he said, keeping his voice down.

"Well what did you do?" she asked before plastering on a wide smile to hide her confusion when the man approached suddenly. "Heeeey!" she waved, coming off as overly friendly in an attempt to hide the fact they were just talking about him.

"Hey Trite, whatcha been up to?" he asked, sidling up next to him. He slung his arm around his shoulders and pressed into his side. Phoenix made a small noise of shock, body going rigid.

"Umm, I was in a briefing," he said, casting a glance towards Maya. She merely shrugged.

"That's nice. So what's this case about?" he asked, letting genuine curiosity seep into his voice. Edgeworth was grumbling to himself as he stormed after him. He needed to intervene somehow.

Phoenix was slightly taken aback by the question. "Oh! It's nothing too exciting, just an assault charge."

Godot clicked his tongue, tipping his mug in his direction. "That's a real shame, your best work is on murder cases."

Wright blinked in surprise. "Really?" he asked skeptically. "I thought you said that I was a sloppy rookie who didn't deserve to be where I am today," he sassed, crossing his arms and looking him up and down.

He winced slightly, hearing his own words said back to him. He needed to try to smooth this over to seem sincere.

"Oooooo," Maya said in typical childish fashion, like when another student is called to the principal's office. She shut herself up when Godot shot her a look. A small, guilty smile was still on her face however.

Edgeworth had been able to hear most of the conversation and was eager to hear the prosecutor dig himself out of that one.

"My opinion of you is starting to change amigo," he said smoothly, taking a sip. Phoenix's eyes widened in surprise.

"I'm truly shocked to hear you admit that you've changed your mind," Miles spoke snidely. He purposefully stood closer to Phoenix, subtly separating the two. Godot noticed and smirked.

"What can I say? It's called growing as a person," he snarked back. Godot reached out and grabbed Edgeworth by the shoulder, then had the gall to shove him out of the way. He leaned into Wright's personal space, posture lax with one hand in his pocket. Phoenix had a nervous grin on his face, cheeks growing pink.

"Aaah I'm- glad for the personal development," he said, arching his back a bit to lean away. He gave a quick and confused glance towards Miles, as if to say "what the hell's going on?"

"Didn't anyone ever teach you about personal space? I'm sure he would prefer not to have to smell your coffee breath," he scolded, and this time it was Godot's turn to blush from embarrassment.

Maya snorted and giggled softly, and Phoenix had to plaster his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. His cheeks were puffed up with air as he struggled not to chuckle along. The sight was utterly adorable, and Miles felt pride in the fact that he made him laugh.

Godot's lip twitched in an angry sneer as he straightened his tie. "For your information, my breath is perfectly fine. I make sure to always have gum on me," he explained. Maya and Phoenix shared a look somewhere between amusement and annoyance at their exchange.

Godot looked over at Phoenix and flashed his most dazzling smile. "After all, you never know when you'll need fresh breath."

He let out a quiet gasp, eyes shifting down to his mouth for a split second. Godot pulled out his pack of gum, flicking it open with his thumb. "Care for a piece?"

"Oh! I-um- sure," he stuttered, reaching out and taking one.

"Sweet! Can I have some?" Maya asked, batting her eyes. Godot looked down at her, deflating slightly as he remembered she was there. "Oh, yeah I guess," his voice didn't have near the same tone as when he was addressing Phoenix. She either didn't notice or didn't care, snatching two pieces of gum. She offered one to Edgeworth, which he accepted with a soft smile.

"Thank you Maya. I think I'll save mine for later. Like you said, I never know when I'll need a fresh mouth," he said, looking at Phoenix as he finished the sentence.

He smiled and looked down at the floor as his cheeks got redder.

Maya didn't know what was going on exactly, but she could definitely sense the awkward tension between Edgeworth and Godot. And it was clear that Phoenix was caught in the middle of their exchange.

"Um, I'm just gonna pick Pearl up from the play room," she excused herself, heading to the courthouse's daycare.

"Oh good. Maybe Edgey would like to go with you," he volunteered the other to leave. Phoenix quirked a brow hearing the nickname leave Godot's mouth. "Since when did you start calling him that?" He only received a shrug and a crooked grin in return.

"No offense Maya but I would not. Wright and I have plans for lunch," he bluffed, making said plans up on the spot.

"We do?" Phoenix asked, brows furrowing. Then his eyes widened as he caught on. "Oh yeah we do!" He stood next to Edgeworth, his shoulders releasing visible tension as he did so.

"Oh really? Where are you eating?"

They responded in unison, but with different answers.

"Jack's Burger Shack."

"Sashimi Temple."

Godot smirked, catching them in their lie. "Well? Which is it?"

"We haven't decided," Wright said, looking at Miles for "confirmation."

"Right. I'm good with whatever you want," he said, smiling at Phoenix.

"How can you tell when he's agreeing with you and when he's just saying your name?" Godot teased. He couldn't help but giggle at the question.

"Heh, I don't know, I guess I've just learned how to tell the difference," he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, a half smile on his face and eyes squinted shut. Godot couldn't help but notice the strain on the fabric of his suit as he stretched his arm.

"Whoa, you been workin' out Trite?" he asked and before he could answer, he reached out and squeezed his bicep. His face flushed at the contact.

"Oh y-yeah, you noticed? Glad to see it's starting to pay off," he said, admiring his own arms. He flexed again, striking a new pose.

"Mind if I start calling you espresso? 'Cause you sure can pack a punch," Godot all but purred. Edgeworth couldn't believe that Phoenix was falling victim to his sleazy charm. Who was he kidding, if someone as attractive as Godot hit on him, he'd cave just as quickly. He had to refrain from sneering.

"Ha! If you want I guess you could. But don't start calling me short," he said pointedly, but with just enough playfulness to still be considered flirty. Miles's eyes were still transfixed on Wright's admittedly large biceps. Godot saw the opening and took the shot.

He snapped his fingers right in his face to gain his attention. H blinked and flinched, attention drawn to his smug face. "Earth to Edgeworth. You copy?" He scoffed and shoved the hand out of his face. Phoenix nudged him gently.

"If you wanted to feel them too you could've just said so," he teased.

"That's not-" but his denial died on his tongue when he was met with both of their knowing looks. He turned his head away but still reached out to feel his arm. There was no way he was passing up that opportunity.

"Hard as a rock, huh?" Phoenix asked and yes, he was totally fishing for compliments.

"I was going to say like sculpted marble," he said smoothly. Miles couldn't let Godot be the only one flirting with him. Said man only smirked wider, seeing as he was proven right. Regardless what Edgeworth said after this, it would be undeniable that he had feelings for the defense attorney.

"So, you got room for one more or are you dining at a table for two?" he questioned, subtly inviting himself. Edgeworth was ready to shoot down the request, but Wright beat him to it.

"Uh, sure you can join." Curse his kind nature.

"Sweet. Not as sweet as you, coffee creamer," he let his voice drop an octave, flashing another dazzling smile. Phoenix giggled and hid his face in one hand.

"Oho man, that was like, really stupid."

"Made you laugh, didn't I?" he teased, propping his elbow on his shoulder as they walked. Miles walked behind them and watched the prosecutor like a hawk, gritting his teeth all the while. He was relieved when they got to the parking lot.

"Wright, would you be a dear and ride with me? I'd like your opinion on this case I'm working on," he requested. He immediately perked up and walked over, leaving Diego's side.

"Sure, I'd love to! It'll be nice to give my legs a break from all the pedaling," he joked, walking over to his car and pulled the door handle. When it didn't open he frowned and tried again. And again. He kept pulling, making the annoying clicking noise each time it failed to open the door. "Miiiiiles," he whined.

He shook his head with a fond smile, chuckling softly. He unlocked the car just as Phoenix tugged again. He wasn't expecting that and stumbled a few steps backwards. Godot, never one to miss an opportunity, purposefully knocked his foot out from under him, just so he could catch him in a dip.

Edgeworth gasped as he saw him fall, clenching his fist as he watched Godot swiftly catch him like some kind of techno prince charming. Phoenix let out a small yelp as he fell, gripping onto his vest as he was caught.

His mouth was slightly agape as he stared up at Godot. He wore a sly yet heart-melting grin. Phoenix stuttered out a quiet thank you.

"It was no problem. Be sure to watch your footing next time though," he said, clicking his tongue. The ace attorney felt his heartbeat quicken and butterflies fluttered inside his stomach. Edgeworth's eye twitched in anger and he cleared his throat.

"If my eyes serve me well, which they do, it was you who tripped him," Miles called him out. Godot shrugged guiltily and helped steady him on his feet.

"What can I say? It was just too tempting, just like how you look in that suit," he went on to compliment him. Phoenix's eyes widen, cheeks flushed. He ran a hand through his hair nervously.

"M-me?" Godot nodded.

"Mhmm. It really brings out your eyes. Not to mention how nicely tailored it is." He bit his lip, looking him up and down. "You're about as enticing as a hot steaming cub o' joe," he flirted, laying it on thick. Wright's face turned beat red and he looked at the ground, flattered giggles leaving his lips. He tugged on the collar of his shirt. Edgeworth was by his side in an instant, ushering him closer to the car.

"Where you off to in such a hurry?" he taunted.

"Jack's Burgers," he practically growled, walking around the front of his car. He plopped in the driver's seat as Phoenix closed his door, waving at Godot as they drove off.

Edgeworth's jaw was set and he gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. Phoenix placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and he relaxed slightly.

"Miles what's wrong? You've been in a bad mood since I've seen you. Is it the case? Is that why you've been so grumpy?" he asked, concern clearly written on his face.

He sighed deeply. He should probably be honest with him- or rather halfway honest. He couldn't possibly tell him the whole truth.

"Actually I lied about that. I simply wanted to get away from him." Phoenix snorted in amusement.

"What's this? The great Miles Edgeworth lying? This must be serious," he chuckled, bumping their shoulders together.

He seemed to relax now that it was just the two of them. "He was really starting to get on my nerves."

"Yeah I noticed. He seemed to be in a lot better mood today, especially towards me. I don't know, but I can't help but think he's after something," he pondered aloud. Miles glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

"He's a top prosecutor, he's always after something."

"You're not," Phoenix said gently. Edgeworth took a breath to steady himself.

"How do you know we're not after the same thing?" They reached a red light and he turned to look at him.

"I'd ask what it is, but I have a feeling you won't tell me," he smirked.

"You're right, as usual."

"Well it is my name after all," he joked. Miles chuckled and shook his head.

"That was awful. Why did I laugh?"

"Because you love me," he teased. Oh if only he knew how accurate that statement was.

"Heh, I suppose I do somewhat."

"Nah you adore me. Admit it, I'm your favorite person," he goaded, leaning into his personal space. He even went as far as to lay his head on his shoulder.

"You're tied with Franziska," he admits.

"Wow, that's high praise." He hummed in agreement.

When they arrived at the diner, Godot was already waiting for them. Miles rolled his eyes as he spotted him leaning against the wall near the entrance. And where the hell did he find a toothpick? One leg was propped against the brick, arms folded across his chest and fuck he looked cool. If Edgeworth were a lesser man, he'd want to slap him.

"There you are! For a hot second there I thought you might've changed your mind and tried to ditch me," he taunted.

Miles wore a bored expression. "Don't tempt me."

"Hey, what happened to the Edgeworth that was in the car? All relaxed and smiley?" Phoenix asked, even poking his cheek to try and break the stern facade. He couldn't help but grin at the playful gesture.

"Ah, probably 'cause I'm here," Godot waved him off.

"Yes, that's precisely it," he answered with a rude smirk. Phoenix gasped.

"Miles!" he scolded.

"No no, it's completely my fault. I barged into his office and gave him a rude awakening of sorts. Please, allow me to make it up to you. Edgey."

He scoffed and Godot wrapped his arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer. "Lunch, my treat." When Miles turned to look at him, they were practically nose to nose. And Godot was so smug, it was infuriatingly amusing. He cracked a smile and shook his head.

"I'd be a fool to pass up a free lunch."

"Atta boy!" he cheered, pulling Phoenix closer in the same manner.

They were seated at a booth in a corner. Godot motioned with a bow for Phoenix to sit first. He chuckled and slid into the seat. Before Miles could make it to the seat next to him, Godot sat down in the empty spot in one fluid movement. He shot Edgeworth a victorious smirk.

Wright picked up on the tension, drumming a rhythm on the table and whistling quietly. He tried to make small talk.

"Sooo Godot. Saying you like coffee would be an understatement. I'm curious, if you could make your own coffee, what would you call it?"

He perked up at the question, scratching the stubble on his chin. "I couldn't just make one coffee, I'd have a whole brand. It would be an assortment of the darkest roasts and combination blends out there. I think our signature brew would be called Laser Beans. Ya get it? Like laser beams but it's coffee beans," he rambled on about his imaginary coffee business.

"Please, you do not have to explain the elementary concept of your pun," Miles quipped. Just for that, Godot scooted closer to Wright.

"Another popular blend: number 162, the Phoenix. Strong and sweet, with an unexpected fiery kick that rises from the grounds. Just what you need on those long, rough days." Phoenix gulped, staring at the red lines of his mask. Godot cocked his head, looking over at a furious Edgeworth.

"Wouldn't you agree Miles?"

"Yes- I mean no- I mean- I'm not much of a coffee person," he fumbled over his words. He jerked his head to the side, focusing on a crack in the wall.

"I think he's just too embarrassed to admit it," he whispered loudly, making eye contact with Miles as he said it.

"Heh, yeah you got him good with that one," Phoenix agreed.

"Ngh- who's side are you on anyways?" he asked defensively.

"My side," he said, clearly proud of himself. Miles softened at those words, unable to stay annoyed at him.

"Of course you are."

The waiter came and took their drink orders before leaving them be.

"I'm surprised you got water. I was expecting coffee," Phoenix mused.

"It's important to stay adequately hydrated," he explained, browsing through the menu.

"With how much you drink it, I would've thought you'd drop dead asleep without it," Edgeworth teased, looking at his own menu.

"Nah, I could drink eight cups and go to sleep right after. I'm used to the caffeine," he said casually.

"Wait, then what do you do when you need to stay up? Drink a whole pot?" Phoenix asked, bumping their shoulders together. He turned to him with his most charming smile.

"Well, instead of coffee keeping me awake, I could just have you," he said in a sultry voice. Phoenix flushed a dark crimson with an embarrassed, lopsided grin on his face as his eyes shifted between Godot and Miles. He was rendered speechless, the only sound he was able to make was a drawn out "uuh."

Godot grunted in pain when Edgeworth swiftly kicked his shin.

"Quite forward, aren't we?" he growled.

"You know I am," he said, snapping his fingers at him.

"And has your vulgar cockiness ever gotten you far?" he countered.

"Sure it does. I always make it to home base," he teased. Miles was relieved when the waiter came to set their drinks down, disrupting the conversation. They asked if they were ready to order yet, but Godot had spent so much time flirting with Phoenix, that he'd barely looked at the menu. And Miles was so busy keeping him in line that he didn't know what to order either. So they asked for a few extra minutes.

"You should really consider using your time wisely," Edgeworth advised. Godot snorted and mumbled something about him doing the same.

"I think I'm gonna have the Jack classic, what about you?" Phoenix asked, looking across the table at Miles.

"I think I'll have the same," he said, offering a warm smile.

Godot's smirk grew. "I'm leaning more towards the thhhick patty," he said, drawing out the word. Phoenix arched a brow and chuckled.

"You really put a lot of emphasis on the word thick there," he teased.

"What can I say? I like a lot of meat on my buns," he leaned closer, placing a hand on Wright's knee and squeezed gently. Phoenix giggled and scooted away in the seat.

"Hey, watch it. I'm ticklish," he admitted. Godot grinned like a shark.

"Oh Trite, don't you know that's not something you admit?" he teased, repeating the motion. Phoenix barked out a laugh, pushing the hand away playfully. Miles was glaring daggers at them and grit his teeth. He was the picture of jealousy.

When Wright moved his hand away, Godot purposefully interlocked their fingers so that they were holding hands. Edgeworth let out an angry huff and held the menu up to block his view. Or maybe to prevent them from seeing the sneer on his face. The world is cruel however, and Godot is even crueler. Which is exactly why he grabbed the top of the menu and pulled it down to meet his eyes directly.

"Thought you said you knew what to order. Why're you hiding from us?" he asked, elbows propped on the table as he leaned forward.

"I... I'm not! I simply thought I saw someone I don't particularly like and didn't want them to see me. But looking at them now I realize my mistake," he easily lied.

"Yeah, you and I have made a lot of enemies," Godot agreed. He looked between Wright and Edgeworth. "At first I thought you two were. But now that I've gotten to know you both a little more, I realize that couldn't be farther from the truth." As much as he loved riling Miles up, his ultimate goal was to make him admit his feelings for the other.

They both flushed a pale pink, looking away. After the waiter took their orders, Phoenix excused himself to the bathroom. Godot was smiling smugly as he watched him leave.

"It's times like these that I'm grateful for my visor. It would be a real shame if I wasn't able to watch that ass leave, wouldn't you agree?" he asked, looking at him with a shit eating grin. Miles slammed a fist on the table in anger.

He spoke low so as to not cause a scene, but his jaw was still clenched. "I order you to stop this at once."

"What, the flirting? You said you didn't like him, so why should it bother you?" he asked innocently.

"You speak out of your ass, you use crude and childish humor, you're completely insincere, your pick up lines are cheesy and all coffee related, and you're invading his personal space constantly!" he scolded quietly. Godot shrugged.

"He sure doesn't seem to mind. Maybe he likes the attention. People tend to enjoy my company," he bragged.

"You have no intentions other than making me angry," he pointed out.

"And it's working," he boasted. Miles's mouth gaped open as he thought of a response.

"So what if it is? I could just as easily be angry due to the fact that he's my friend, and you're nothing more than some- some playboy who's trying to prove a point!"

"Aww you think I'm a playboy? That's my new favorite compliment," he said, resting his chin on his hands.

Edgeworth raised an unamused brow. "It really shouldn't be. You're classier than that, Diego."

He snorted in amusement. "Even after all those things you said about me?" Miles rolled his eyes fondly.

"Yes, even after all that. So be the bigger man and put an end to this," he reasoned.

"Depends. You got a crush on Wright?"

"I still don't see how that's any of your business."

He shrugged, halfway triumphant. "Hey, that's better than the harsh no I got earlier. You'll admit it sooner or later."

"Not to you I won't," he growled. Edgeworth fiddled with his napkin and laid it across his lap neatly.

"To be honest, I don't care if you admit it to me."

He cocked his head, looking at him skeptically. "You don't?"

Godot shook his head. "No. I just want you to admit it to Trite."

Edgeworth's eyes widened and he recoiled slightly at those words. "Are you insane? I can't possibly tell him that!"

"Tell me what?" Phoenix asked as he walked up. Miles stuttered out an answer.

"Oh! Um, I-I'll tell you later. Now isn't... a good time."

Phoenix gave him a look as he sat down next to him. "You sure you're okay? You're acting, I don't know, weird."

Edgeworth was going to come up with something to say to that, but Godot beat him to it. He held his hands up in surrender. "You got us. There's no reason to lie to him any more Edgey. Truth is, he's planning you a surprise party."

Phoenix's brows shot up. "Wow really? But it's not for another two months or so."

"Yeah well, you know him. Always so organized, and he thinks three steps ahead. Sorry about ruining the surprise," Godot apologized for wrecking the fake party.

Wright rubbed the back of his neck and offered a shy smile. "Don't be! Knowing me, I'll probably forget about it by then. So-"

He was cut off by Godot's phone ringing. "Sorry, one sec." He checked the caller ID, brows furrowing. "That's weird, it's Gumshoe. Hope everything's okay." He answered the call with a flick of his wrist, holding the phone up to his ear. "Hey Dick, everything cool?"

"IT MOST CERTAINLY IS NOT COOL!" Gumshoe screamed into the speaker. Godot winced and held the phone away from his ear. Edgeworth and Wright shared a look of slight concern.

"Is everything okay?" Phoenix asked quietly. Godot nodded and waved a hand as if to say "all good."

"Hey keep your voice down will you? You're about to burst my eardrum," he said with a small chuckle.

"NO I WILL NOT! JUST WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE GETTING BETWEEN PHOENIX AND EDGEWORTH LIKE THAT?" Both men in question went stiff as a board, faces turning red.

Godot paled as he was chewed out. "Uuh hey this really isn't the time-"

"I DIDN'T TELL YOU THEY HAD THE HOTS FOR EACH OTHER JUST SO YOU COULD SWOOP IN AN' TRY TO STEAL WRIGHT AWAY LIKE THAT!"

Godot offered them an embarrassed grin. "Uh, can you excuse me?" They both refused to meet his gaze and just hummed in agreement. The prosecutor slid out of the booth, holding the phone up to his ear, speaking in a hushed yet firm tone.

"Listen Dick, you got it all wrong. I was just-"

"No you listen to me pal! Maya told me the whole thing!"

Godot walked into the bathroom of the restaurant to have a more private conversation. "Look, it's not like that. I'm not trying to hook up with Trite or whatever you think is going on."

"... You're not?" Gumshoe asked, sounding skeptical.

"No. In fact, I'm trying to get them together." Gumshoe snorted.

"You sure got a funny way of showing it."

"I'm making Edgeworth jealous so that he'll admit his feelings," he explained, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Ooooh, that's smart!"

"Yeah, so don't go blabbering to Phoenix. I know you can't keep a secret."

"Hey I can totally keep secrets! I just don't want to very often!" he defended himself.

"Alright, are we done here? 'Cause we're out at lunch, and our food should be getting here soon."

"Okay yeah, sorry about the mix up. I'll let you get back to lunch," Dick said, hanging up. Godot heaved a sigh of relief, wiping a few beads of sweat from his forehead.

Meanwhile, Phoenix and Miles sat in an awkward silence as they watched Godot leave. Miles was sitting rigidly, staring at the napkin in his lap. Phoenix twirled the straw around in his glass.

"C-can you believe him? Heh, Gumshoe sure does have an active imagination," Wright said nervously, desperate to break the silence. Miles was quick to agree.

"Yes, he does," he allowed a soft smile to grace his features. "I suppose he's a romantic at heart," he reasoned.

"Uh, yeah. I guess he is," he agreed. The expression on his face was a mixture of nervousness, confusion, and a touch of sadness. Edgeworth took a deep breath. It was either now or never.

"But is he wrong?"

Phoenix whipped his head over to look at him. "What?" He tried to mask the hopefulness in his voice.

"While what he says may seem odd or far fetched at times, he's usually right." He spared a glance at Wright, trying to read him.

"Miles, a-are you saying-"

"I like you Phoenix. As a friend, yes, but... also more," he finally admitted.

Phoenix practically lit up. "Really? Wow that's- I mean- I've liked you since the third grade!" he blurted out, relieved to finally get this off his chest.

"I... also had a bit of a crush. And when we met in court that first time, all those feelings I thought I'd left behind came flooding back." Wright reached out, holding his hand. They stared at each other, warm smiles lighting up the room.

Miles started chuckling softly, and Phoenix cocked his head, an amused smirk on his face. "What's so funny?"

"Godot was doing all this to make me jealous, so that I'd admit my feelings. And it worked."

He nudged him with his elbow teasingly. "Well then, I guess a thank you's in order." Edgeworth groaned, though it was just for show.

"If I thank him then I'll never hear the end of it," he complained lightheartedly.

"Maybe that's not the worst thing. You're cute when you're annoyed and embarrassed," Phoenix cooed, propping his arm on the table to rest his chin in his hand. Miles blushed softly.

"S-stop it, that's supposed to be my line," he grumbled playfully, looking away. Phoenix smirked and pecked his cheek, relishing in the way his blush darkened considerably.

Godot was watching from around the corner of the hall, letting them have their moment. He wore a satisfied smirk as he walked up to their table. Both Wright and Edgeworth scooted away, acting as though nothing had happened.

"Don't play coy you two. I knew my plan would work. You're welcome by the way." They were both rendered flustered and speechless, even as the waiter set down their food.

#phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #godot #diego armando #godot ace attorney #phoenix wright ace attorney #ace attorney #ace attorney fic #i didn't really know how to end this #but i think it's sweet #flustered!phoenix is the cutest fucking thing ever ok #jealous!edgeworth #ok but writing godot's flirting & teasing flustered the hell out of me

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chocosvt · 4 years

Text

⚬ pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader ⚬ word count: 4342 ⚬ warnings: brief drug mention ⚬ genres: mainly just fluff! college/uni!au

✧✎ synopsis: your longtime campus crush just received an interesting dare: to ask you out on a date. while the circumstances are questionable, you aren’t going to decline. maybe this is your ticket to romance.

✧✎ a/n: if this title or plot sounds familiar, then that’s bc i finally accomplished a goal of mine: to rewrite i dare you. this was a fic i originally wrote in 2016!! i did change some aspects, so not everything is identical. PLS ENJOY ;w;

The bells to the café door jingled.

Normally, you wouldn’t be so attentive about the customers filtering in and out, but at that moment, your gaze shot over the lid of your laptop like a harpoon. It was roughly the right time, the right day. According to your judgement, this was when they usually came for their morning coffees. Jeonghan, Joshua, and Seungcheol: a very popular trio amongst the likings of your campus.

Jeonghan was a nursing student. Clean-cut, charming to a degree of annoyance, and always ordered a boring black coffee. The second boy, Joshua, was cute enough to stop you in your tracks and force a double-take. However, he liked mathematics, numbers, weird formulas which looked more torture than learning. He preferred lattes with foam. And then there was Seungcheol. You wouldn’t call him your true love, because you didn’t know him all that well, and as far as he was concerned you were the lunatic who accidentally set pages of Joshua’s chemistry homework on fire. But that was a story for another day (you haven’t been near that Yankee candle since).

Nonetheless, you were crushing on him. Badly. To the point where you arrived at the café early, pretending to type a document on your laptop, just so you could flit your eyes every so often at his table while he slurped his chocolate mocha. You even had their scheduling memorized. It was a bit weird, and you would be the first to admit such a thing, but nothing was going to thwart you from daydreaming about those eyes of his. Or that dazzling smile. His short bursts of laughter which were usually tweezed out at Jeonghan pulling some stupid prank on Joshua. Everything about you adored him.

The trio gathered at their usual table, sat obliquely to your nook by the window. You had opened an older document that was already finished, pretended to tap against the keys while they ate a small breakfast before class. Something was different. They were giggling more than usual. And you couldn’t help but blatantly stare with concern when Joshua tore open a salt packet and poured it straight on his tongue. Jeonghan was grinning so widely that you were positive his face must be aching, and Seungcheol cackled into his fist while Joshua immediately grabbed for his latte.

A game. They were playing some sort of game.

Once Joshua had recovered, you noted that he began surveying the café, running his narrowed gaze to each table.

The second he found you huddled in the corner, attempting to shrink behind your laptop and pretend your presence was nothing but invisible, Joshua leaned into Seungcheol’s side to make a very smiley whisper. Pretend I’m working, pretend I’m working on something so damn important I can’t look up for even a second, you reiterated to yourself quietly, ignoring the panic ballooning inside you. A minute later, someone had just pulled out the chair across from you. They sat down with a slight groan, clasping their hands together.

Of course, it was Seungcheol.

“Hey.” He said, watching as you tentatively lowered the lid of your laptop, probably wondering why the hell you looked so stunned.

“What are you, um, doing?” You asked.

Seungcheol could not be sitting across from you just because he wanted to. It was impossible. And as much as that stung to admit, you knew the truth was simply that. He was definitely put up to this.

“We know each other pretty well, correct?” The boy completely ignored your question. “I know that you set Josh’s chem notes on fire. We take toxicology together. Need I say more?”

“Wow,” you replied, twiddling your fingers anxiously under the table, “that’s a whole two things. I can’t even count that high.”

“We can’t all be mathematicians,” Seungcheol moved the conversation along while he angled a white jar of sugar, “and I guess I should tell you, I’m in a predicament, which involves you.”

Your hands squeezed together so firmly that they nearly moulded into permanent fists. Seungcheol was staring at you now rather than flickering his gaze between the objects on the table, with those eyes as dark as sapphire. You were burning up, sweltering, felt like you needed to burst from your clothes and bathe in ice.

“A predicament?”

Seungcheol folded his muscular arms on the table and nodded. “Yeah, I got a dare from Josh. To ask you out. The thing is, I’m not supposed to tell you. But you seem like a nice girl.”

You swallowed very tautly and pushed down the lid of your laptop a little more. Over Seungcheol’s shoulder, you spotted both Joshua and Jeonghan observing, chuckling amongst themselves.

“Another thing,” Seungcheol added, raking a hand through his black locks, “I don’t want to lose to tweedle-dumb and tweedle-idiot over there – you can decide who’s who – so you should accept.”

Straightening your posture against the chair, you decided to spell out the situation, more for your sake than Seungcheol’s. “Let me get this straight. You got dared to ask me out. You have nothing better to do tomorrow night, so you accepted it. And I don’t have a choice.”

“Your wording is a bit disparaging. But essentially, yeah.” He leaned back with a gorgeous smile, turning up his palm. “So, down?”

At that moment, you could not believe the universe had just ladled this ridiculous possibility into your lap. A date with your biggest crush on campus. A date that so many people would be wrangling your neck to steal from you – even if it was based on an innocuous little game which Seungcheol refused to submit because he was too competitive at heart. It might not have been your most prideful choice in life, but you accepted. Any chance to spend the night with him would not be wasted as long as the offer stood.

However, you had one condition.

“I’ll do it,” you grinned, watching the boy’s expression perk like a child who just got handed a cookie, “on the account of another dare. Which you’ll find out on our fake date.”

“Fine.” Seungcheol shrugged, sliding his phone across the table so that you could enter your number. He stood up afterward, on the verge of returning to his friends when he suddenly paused.

“See you tomorrow night, sweetheart.”

There was such a rush of butterflies in your stomach, you were surprised one hadn’t flown out your mouth.

You didn’t know why you cared so much about a date that was most likely intended to humiliate you. Was Joshua still not over those chemistry sheets? Even after you spent a good two hours in the library attempting to rewrite them with your nicest, smoothest gel pel? Thoughts of what to wear, your style of makeup, and which perfume you should choose amongst the few on your dresser were awfully overwhelming. In fact, you were almost late to the park, the area Seungcheol had picked as a rendezvous point.

He rose from the bench in front of the duck pond once you arrived, checking the time on his wrist while making a tsking sound.

“Four and a half minutes late,” Seungcheol said, shaking his head, “you’re not making a good first impression, my lady.”

Obviously, you weren’t going to admit how you were stressing about a technically-fake date. In the end, you threw on a simple outfit and applied some lipstick on your way out the door, shoving the tube into a small purse hung over your shoulder. It’s not like he was treating you to a five-star restaurant by romantic candlelight. But if he ever did, you had the perfect outfit planned.

“Well, I’m here now. And with your dare.” You grinned.

Seungcheol stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Let’s hear it.”

“I dare you to buy me a week of coffee.”

At first, Seungcheol didn’t utter a thing. But then he erupted into a fit of laughter until his cheeks turned rosy like peaches.

“That’s not how this works,” he half-sighed, half-chuckled while removing a tear from his eye, “I’m rejecting it.”

“You can’t reject it! You definitely owe me. I didn’t let you lose to tweedle-dumb or tweedle-idiot. Plus, it’s low to ask someone out on a dare. I didn’t even have to show up.” Ensuring your tone was confident, you folded your arms over your chest, raised your brow at the boy, and observed him as he tapped his foot in contemplation.

“Can I have time to consider?” Seungcheol asked.

While it was tough to capitulate so easily and let him have his way, you didn’t want to spend the entirety of your night standing next to a slimy pond, debating the regulations. So you bit the bullet. Besides, Seungcheol announced that there was a party he needed to stop by, that there was a particular someone to which he owned money. It was a short walk to this brick house that reverberated with music, cars stalled up and down the street while a flood of strobing colours illuminated in the windows. Seungcheol knocked on the door quite loudly, and then he reached for your hand, wrapping his fingers around yours. You shot him a puzzled glance just as the door swung open, the stench of marijuana mingling with the cool, night air.

“Well, well, well,” a fox-eyed boy murmured after taking a long puff from his blunt, “Choi Seungcheol. It’s about damn time.”

“I was in the neighbourhood. Heard you and Soonyoung were lighting this place up. What a good turnout, huh?”

“Mmhm,” the other boy hummed unenthusiastically, leaning his wide shoulder against the doorframe, “you got the money or no?”

Seungcheol laughed. “C’mon, Wonwoo. We don’t even get to go inside? Hang out for a bit? Have a drink? You’re a shitty host.”

Wonwoo slid a finger under his chin, rubbing in contemplation. It was starting to get colder out, for you could hear the tree leaves rustling together as a wind whisked through the dark. You squished yourself a bit closer into Seungcheol’s side, and to your surprise, he let go of your hand and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. Finally, Wonwoo concurred, sticking the rolled paper back between his lips while stepping aside with an inviting gesture.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” the boy muttered, “but I’ll be coming to find you in about ten minutes. And I wanna see cash.”

“What’s his problem?” You whispered by Seungcheol’s ear as he guided you around an illy lit corner, into the kitchen.

His warm breath feathered your ear as he said, “I lost a couple bets to him and was slow getting the money back.” Seungcheol then grabbed two solo cups organized in a stack on the counter, filling each with a red, fruit-mixed alcohol which sat in two glass bowls.

“Don’t worry, he’s harmless.”

You accepted the cup and took a sip. “Oh, in case you needed to beat him up? I don’t know,” you lilted, “he looks pretty sturdy.”

“Are you kidding?” Seungcheol gawked.

He slapped his drink down on the counter and threw his jacket over the back of a chair. With a perplexed, is this man crazy expression, you watched him roll up his sleeve and flex his bicep.

“Go ahead,” the boy grinned, “you’ll see.”

You made sure to roll your eyes and sigh incredibly loud in order to really establish your indifference. Meanwhile, your inner-self was fizzling like a carbonated soda. Grabbing onto Seungcheol’s muscle, you pressed down, forcing back a surprised chuckle at the fact his arm was hard as a rock. In that moment your meter of attraction toward the boy was ticking so absurdly you thought it could break.

“Okay, I’ll give it to you, Seungcheol. You’re strong.”

He tugged his sleeve back down and slid into the jacket again, a very brash smirk beaming on his face. You couldn’t decipher if he’d actually been attempting to impress you or if that was just a display of his cockiness. And yet, you didn’t really care which category it fell into, because you were still blissfully afloat thinking about Seungcheol’s arms. You lifted your drink and took another sip, swishing the sweet but tangy flavour between your cheeks. At that moment, a man you didn’t recognize attempted to scoot behind you – except there was definitely enough room for him to get by without planting his hands on your hips and squeezing them.

“Hey! What the hell?” You squeaked, quickly turning around on your heel to see the crookedly amused look he stared at you with.

“What?” He somehow had the audacity to respond.

But you weren’t going to accept his disgraceful maneuvers, and neither was Seungcheol. He abandoned his cup on the counter and pushed up his sleeves.

“Did you just put your hands on her?” Came his demand. It didn’t sound like the normal, relaxed Seungcheol who liked his jokes, but someone with an unnerving amount of authority and fearlessness.

“I-I was trying to get by.” The man stammered, clearly uncomfortable with the thought of confrontation. He was already stepping backward as Seungcheol approached him.

“Don’t touch other people like that,” Seungcheol admonished him in a deep, staid voice, then pointed toward the threshold of the kitchen, “just get out, man. Seriously. Don’t even go near her.” And like a saddened puppy who received a scolding from its owners to lay down in the pen, the man slinked away without another word.

You were unsure of what to say to Seungcheol for diminishing the situation. Folding your arms tightly, you nodded at him.

“Thanks.”

Wonwoo came wandering into the kitchen. His eyes brightened the moment he saw Seungcheol, and he rubbed his fingers together to wordlessly convey that he wanted his money now.

“It’s alright,” Seungcheol gave you a soft smile while he revealed a large wad of cash from his pocket, “he was a weirdo.”

“Yeah.” You laughed as Seungcheol handed the sum to his friend, who fleshed out the paper notes to count the correct amount.

It took you a moment to realize that Seungcheol’s arm had wrapped back around your shoulders, this time a bit more securely. When you leaned into him, it wasn’t because you felt a draft or a chill, but because he was comfortable. He felt and smelled like safety.

Later that night, you returned to the park, throwing stones into the duck pond while the moon was hidden behind a thin curtain of clouds. Seungcheol claimed that he could throw his stones farther than yours, which prompted your short-lived competition. It had ended so abruptly because you ran out of stones to throw. At one point you tried tossing sticks, but they didn’t travel as far, and they definitely didn’t break the surface of the water with a satisfying plop.

“Hey,” Seungcheol said, nudging your elbow excitedly, “I dare you to get in the pond.”

“No way!” You cackled. “It’s freezing. And that pond is nasty.”

“Just dip your toe in or something.”

“You dip your toe in!”

“I don’t wanna take off my socks.”

You huffed, a plume of your breath escaping into the crisp air.

“Well, we’re at a crossroads then, aren’t we?”

Rather than continue bickering about the dare, you were starting to feel these annoying hunger pangs. You didn’t eat dinner because of how nervous you were toward this fake date (which was rapidly morphing into a very real date) with Seungcheol. The most you ate today had been some toast and pieces of apple your roommate cut the night before. Directly on cue, your stomach gurgled, and your face swelled hot with embarrassment. Seungcheol grinned.

“Hungry?”

“Starving, more like.” You corrected him.

He pulled out the white fabric liners of his pockets, revealing they were completely empty. “All my cash went to Wonwoo.”

You flashed a playful smile while repeating his statement from earlier. “Oh, wow. Not being able to cover the meal on a first date? You’re not making a good impression, sweetheart.”

In an instant, Seungcheol had snatched your hand, interlocking your fingers together warmly. He began tugging you out of the park and onto a familiar street, where there was a twenty-four-hour diner that the students absolutely loved. Admittedly, you had been there a few times. Once as a giggly drunk who just wanted a waffle plate at three in the morning, and also as a struggling student who was desperate for a cup of coffee in order to power through a procrastinated essay. Now, it seemed you were returning for a date.

“I’ll pay you back, promise.” Seungcheol said as the server placed a nacho platter onto the table. “It’s my new priority.”

The diner was quiet and mostly empty apart from a group of three seated at another table. You didn’t realize just how hungry you were until that first taste of melted cheese, salsa, and seared chicken hit your mouth. Seungcheol didn’t like black olives, so he kept picking them off. You were eating too ravenously to inspect your food.

“You’re taking the olives off?” You smirked. “Baby.”

Seungcheol scoffed. “I am not a baby.” He looked up at you as he shoved another delicious chip in his mouth. “And I know it gives you some sick, twisted pleasure to say that. You should be ashamed.”

Nearly choking on the water you just sipped, you dropped the cup back on the table to cough a few times.

“You know what’s sick? The fact I’m paying.”

The boy reached for his glass of coca cola. “Yeah, but technically this isn’t a real date. So, doesn’t count.”

“Really?” Raising a questioned eyebrow, you watched Seungcheol take a long gulp from his drink. “Are you willing to say that with your entire chest? That this isn’t a real date?”

And in that moment, Seungcheol genuinely seemed to have met a stupor. In fact, there was a red tint dusting the crest of each his cheeks. He leaned back in the booth, folded his arms over his chest, and pursed his lips. You waited patiently for his response, lifting a nacho to your mouth while threads of cheese dangled in the air.

A smile broke through his stiff, musing expression.

“Okay,” he nodded his head, “maybe this is a real date,” (your heart impossibly fluttered), “you could be right about that.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” You answered.

In truth, you couldn’t have been more delighted to hear Seungcheol agree, because if he hadn’t, you would have dined and dashed, fled straight out the restaurant in a haze of shame and embarrassment. In the span of just a few hours, your attraction toward this boy had impressively expanded like a sponge soaking up water. Before, you weren’t positive that he could be your true love. It was mostly a running joke between you and… well, yourself. However, this one night was proving that perhaps your joke could have some actual weight to it. And as Seungcheol continued to make you laugh, choke on your food, stare at him in complete adoration like he was a crowned jewel, you completely lost track of time.

It wasn’t until you burst into another frenzy of laughter at his story and spilt water all down your shirt that you finally checked your phone. Almost one in the morning. The server whisked your cutlery and plates away with a tired expression. You tipped generously, feeling rather guilty for creating such a racket at this hour.

“Do you want my jacket?” Seungcheol asked as you prepared to leave. There was a huge water stain soaking through your shirt.

“A-Are you sure?” You asked him, pulling a few strands of hair from your face. He nodded, already wrestling the jacket off.

“Go change, sweetheart,” Seungcheol told you so casually that you couldn’t hide this blatant look of surprise, “I’ll wait outside.”

Entering a washroom stall, you peeled the damp shirt over your head and folded it to pack nicely within your purse. You then slipped into Seungcheol’s jacket, which had this wonderful, warm fleece patched to the inside. It was soft against your bare skin, and it smelled like a fragrant hint of his cologne. After spending an extra moment freshening up at the sink, you wandered back into the cool night, where Seungcheol was leaning against a street pole. You weren’t sure if your eyes were playing tricks at the late hour, or if he’d actually given you a very smug, very relishing once-over.

Considering you had class early the next day, you asked Seungcheol if he’d be willing to walk you home. He obliged, and you paced together in comfortable silence until reaching the bridge. It arched over a swirling, gushing river which ran through the city, the current black as kohl and reflecting the lights of the nearby architecture. In the daytime this bridge wasn’t anything spectacular, but it was a beautiful vantage point during the night; a place to watch the city sparkle and flash like the cosmos.

“Hey,” Seungcheol whispered, grabbing your hand, “I have another dare for you, since you chickened out on the pond.”

You looked at the mischief compiling in his gaze. “What?”

“Climb up there.”

Seungcheol pointed toward a thick, metal beam that slanted upward, like a ramp. It flattened out at the top, and sometimes when you walked by during the day, there would be a few students sitting down after class, eating sandwiches or cracking open sodas. A placement of bars was set behind, only wide enough to stick your leg through. You glanced back at Seungcheol and nodded.

“Okay, fine.”

And so you began to climb up the slanted beam, feeling the breeze nip at your cheeks, your hair, like the smallest of kisses. At the flattened section, you turned around and looked down at Seungcheol, feeling like the empress of a powerful kingdom. His face ignited in the moonlight. He was smiling very wide as you stuck out your tongue.

“Easy. I dare you to climb up here.”

Seungcheol shook his head. “I, uh, can’t.”

“Why not?” You laughed, folding your arms. “Scared?”

“No, I just—I twisted my ankle, so I can’t.”

“When was that?”

“You weren’t looking.”

Rolling your eyes, you decided to tease him. Taking the zipper dangling from his jacket, you began to pull it down slowly, revealing a hidden amount of skin which turned the boy’s face an adorable pink.

“If you come up here, I’ll take the jacket all the way off.” You sang in a promiscuous tone, lifting up the strap of your bra and snapping it. Seungcheol grinned, cupping a hand over his gaze.

“No way. I’m not falling into a trap like that.”

“Fine,” you huffed, lowering to your butt and carefully scooting your way down the metallic beam, “you missed out.”

Seungcheol merely held his tongue; however, he did take the zipper on his jacket and pull it back up, right to your chin, hiding the expanse of flesh from the bright moonlight. You weren’t sure what courageous energy had just taken over your body. In fact, you’d probably regret such a thing by the time your alarm clock erupted tomorrow morning, pulling you from the pit of your sleep.

“I don’t want you getting cold.” He said. “And I can’t believe you nearly gave me a strip tease from the support beam of a bridge. That’s a first.”

“I’m just making sure you don’t forget this date.” You chuckled, half in nonsense, half in truth.

As he promised, Seungcheol walked you back to the house and made sure the door unlocked using the spare key under the letter box. Thankfully, your roommate left the lights of the front porch on, the bulbs now swathed in grey moths. It was a strange night. A night that wouldn’t have happened if not for the antics of Seungcheol and his two equally competitive friends. Maybe there was a positive side to burning Joshua’s chemistry notes, though you weren’t sure he’d be thrilled to hear you admit that. A game of I Dare You, turned into a fake date, turned into a real date, turned into a sweet affection.

You yawned, feeling the faint glisten of tears stretch in your eyes. “I had fun. And I guess I’ll see you tomorrow in toxicology.”

“With my jacket.” He reminded you.

“Yes, of course. With your jacket.”

And while you expected Seungcheol to simply bid his goodnight and perhaps take a late bus home, firing question after question of why he decided to accept such a stupid dare as he stared out the window, you were surprised when he reached for your hand.

“By the way,” he said, “I accept.”

You crinkled your nose. “Accept what?”

“The dare. I’ll buy you coffee every morning this week.”

“Oh!” There was a small flare crackling to life in your eyes as you recalled the original dare of the night. “That’s right. I forgot.”

“Yeah, I’ll do it.” Seungcheol agreed. He then squeezed your hand. “On the account of one very simple condition.”

“I don’t think you can do that. Doesn’t seem rule-abiding.”

The boy discarded your comment. Instead, his grasp became tighter around your hand. He pulled you swiftly into his chest and stared straight into your helpless, panicking eyes as though he were going to confess something profound and utterly dire.

He smirked. “I want you to kiss me each time.”

Seungcheol lifted his brow in anticipation of your response, which was an undoubted agreement. Probably the fastest, easiest agreement you had ever made in your life. He moved in close to your ear, whispering something about how you should meet at the café tomorrow morning and walk to the lecture hall together, though you were ultimately buzzing and experiencing such a bold heartbeat that you missed most of the details. When he pulled away, you smiled.

“That sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Stepping off the porch, he turned back with a wave.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

✧✎ a/n: the reason i wanted to rewrite this fic was bc i still rly enjoy the concept. however, i cannot STAND my old style of writing, thus i decided to just rewrite the fic and appease the nagging in my head lol. this is how i would have written this fic today if i hadn’t already done so four years ago. i’m also questioning the possibility of rewriting love café for jeonghan (pls don’t go reading it if u haven’t already) but that would take much longer ,,,, JUST AN IDEA THOUGH. i hope you enjoyed!!

#seventeen scenarios #seungcheol scenarios #svt fanfic #seungcheol fanfic #choi seungcheol #s.coups scenario #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #scoups fluff #svt x reader #seungcheol x reader

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rocorambles · 3 years

Text

Beauty and the Beast

Pairing: Iwaizumi x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Life isn’t a fairytale and Iwaizumi is perfectly fine with that.

Author’s Note: Gifting this to @aonesteddybear as part of the SFW Haikyuu HQ Gifting Event. Hope you enjoy~

Oikawa had always used to joke that whenever Iwaizumi got a girlfriend, it would be like the live reenactment of Beauty and the Beast (which always earned him a well-aimed volleyball to the head). But the ex-ace secretly wonders if the brunette is right.

High school had been full of shy giggling girls who had nervously confessed to him or asked him out, entranced by the idea of dating the ace and vice-captain of Aoba Johsai’s renowned volleyball team, the best friend of Oikawa Tooru himself, the boy the entire Seijoh team and the rest of his peers highly respected and spoke well of. Even second-year Kyoutani Kentarou seemed to be on his best behavior whenever the spiky haired third-year was around and that was saying something.

Encouraged and urged on by Oikawa, Matsukawa, and Hanamaki to test out the waters, Iwaizumi had gone on a few dates. But he always felt like a bumbling inarticulate caveman no matter how sweet, how kind, how accommodating the girls were.

He cringes when he remembers how accidentally callous he had been with his words, making girls cry and left when he lectured them about eating less sweets and exercising more when they insisted on going to desert shops, things he would tell his own teammates out of a responsibility to keep them healthy, not because he cared about what they looked like. And he groans when he remembers the countless times his highschool dates had screamed in his face when he just shrugged his shoulders and said they looked fine, the same as usual, when they showed off a new outfit, new haircut, new makeup look.

Boys still flocked to him, younger students looking up to him as a role model, his male classmates fist bumping and slapping a hand on his back in friendly greeting. But gossip travels fast among highschool girls and as oblivious as Iwaizumi usually is to the rumors circulating around, even he notices the wary looks and whispers every time he walks past a group of girls.

"Iwaizumi is polite, but I heard he has no social skills. Did you hear how he made the last girl he dated cry?"

"Iwaizumi and Oikawa are best friends, but Iwaizumi isn't anywhere near as charming as Oikawa."

"Iwaizumi is kind of cute, but I heard he's kind of a brute when you get to know him."

Rough around the edges. Gruff. Lacks tact.

The descriptions never seem to end and although it stings a bit, Iwaizumi can't deny that there's some truth to all of the above.

So he swears off dating throughout the rest of high school, dedicating himself to volleyball, making it to Nationals, passing the college entrance exam, leaving highschool with no regrets as he spends as much time laughing and fooling around with Oikawa, Matsukawa, and Hanamaki as he can before hopping onboard a flight to California.

America is different. College is different. And suddenly he feels like he's the beauty and the girls around him are beasts.

Iwaizumi knows that even by Japan’s more conservative standards, he still falls on the quieter and introverted side of the spectrum, so acclimating to a place like California is a cultural shock to say the least. He feels as skittish as a mouse as girls blatantly flutter their eyelashes and casually lay their hands on his shoulders in class. He almost drops his drink in surprise when drunk college girls walk right up to him and attempt to lock lips at parties. And on the few dates that he does go on, he feels like a wide-eyed blushing maiden when he’s practically dragged into apartments after a date has ended under the guise of just watching a TV show together, only to realize that his date has much less innocent intentions.

He tries to convince himself that it’s not just him, that it’s just a clash of cultures and that he’ll get used to it. But he throws his phone across the room when he sees pictures of Oikawa looking perfectly at home in Argentina’s arguably more sensuous and passionate culture. Even Matsukawa and Hanamaki handle themselves just fine the few times they come to visit Iwaizumi and he groans when he sees the two men soak up the attention and physical touches without even batting an eye.

Fine, so maybe it is just him.

Tired of being siloed into the roles of beauty and beast, he once again pushes dating aside, opting instead to dive headfirst into his studies, join the university’s volleyball club, explore the west coast. He gets good grades. He makes new friends. He gets to continue playing the sport he loves. All in all, it’s a great life and he really can’t complain. But every time he walks past a couple on campus holding hands, every time he sees a couple sitting together in the college coffee shop, every time he video chats with his old highschool friends and they go on and on about the girls they’re currently seeing, he feels a sharp pang of longing deep inside of him.

Years pass and he busies himself with acing his exams and landing a solid career and now that he has his dream job as an athletic trainer for Japan’s National team, he hardly has time to think about anything outside of his rowdy team, let alone dating or women. And it certainly helps that the males he’s surrounded with on a daily basis all have one track minds, too focused on volleyball, on the court, on always excelling to care about romance or relationships. It’s a mindset he’s more than well acquainted with and he feels like he’s finally in his element as he barks orders and drills at the sweaty athletes, grinning when Bokuto’s spikes get stronger, giving a thumbs up when Hinata jumps even higher than before.

Who needs a ring on their finger or a woman on their arm when victory tastes even sweeter than any love story?

Or so he thinks until he meets you.

The team is celebrating another victory at their favorite bar and although Iwaizumi is happy for them, he keeps a close eye on how many drinks they’re chugging, knowing that the role of babysitter will always fall on Ushijima and him. But all seems well so far. Atsumu and Sakusa aren’t at each other’s throats. Hinata and Bokuto are speaking in relatively coherent sentences. So he decides to reward himself with another drink, making his way over to the counter and waiting for the bartender to notice him.

It’s a busy night and he sighs when minutes pass by, but he tenses up when a teasing voice reaches his ears.

“You’re going to get wrinkles if you keep on frowning like that.”

It’s instinctive, the way he scowls and snaps back at the stranger without even looking at them, telling them that’s just his face and if they don’t like it, they can take a hike. But he pales when he registers his harsh words and an apology is already forming in his mouth when he whips his head around to look at you, only to stare in surprise when you just cackle at him, eyes glimmering with mischief and curiosity as you introduce yourself, so different from the usual disappointed or judgemental looks he receives from women.

And he wonders if this is a prank or a dream, disbelief coursing through him at how easily the two of you converse after years of believing that he would never find someone he was compatible with. There’s no need to sugarcoat his words, to filter his thoughts and he watches in awe as you take it all in stride, never flinching at his frank words, rolling your eyes with an amused smile on your face before sending a quip of your own right back at him, filling in the gaps when words don’t easily flow from his mouth.

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t feel like a beauty or a beast. He’s just himself. Iwaizumi Hajime. 27. Athletic trainer. A man quickly falling head over heels for the woman besides him.

Dating you is a breath of fresh air. It’s comfortable. It’s natural. It just feels...right. There’s no pressure on him to be prince charming (although he tries his best and ends up grumbling when you just laugh at his stiff attempts of eloquent conversation and polite mannerism). There’s no tears or vague confusing anger directed his way when he misses subtle cues or phrases something horribly (both of which he is often guilty of) and he just nods and listens, jotting down mental notes when you tell him directly and clearly why you’re upset with him.

And in return you see his more nuanced signs of affection and love. You see it when he roughly grabs your bags from you and holds them for you. You feel it when he silently corrects your posture when you’re working out together. You hear it when he briskly grunts at you to stop working so much and get some real food and sleep.

Life isn’t a fairytale. There are no magic teapots to provide guidance. There’s no spell to blame their fights on. There’s no magic that will instantly restore peace. There’s only two humans, two equals learning how to love, navigating through life together, sticking side by side through the fights, the tears, the laughter, and the smiles.

And Iwaizumi can’t help but think this is far better than any romantic fantasy, even a tale as old as time like Beauty and the Beast.

#haikyuu fluff #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu fic #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #Iwaizumi #Iwaizumi Hajime

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hardskz · 4 years

Text

a penny for your thoughts.

pairing — han jisung x female! reader

genre — trope inversion of the soulmate au, college au, enemies to lovers, angst and fluff-ish, smut; oral, possessiveness kink, praise kink, safe word, size kink, first time

synopsis — life isn’t easy when you belong to the 1% of the world population that has a soulmate, know who your soulmate is and happen to be utterly in love with said soulmate’s best friend. alternatively, jisung can hear all of your unfiltered thoughts and has heard enough of your horny fantasies to the point where he wants to throw up, so he takes matters in his own hands.

note — i think i’m gonna cry this work is my 11k word BABY i’ve never been THIS invested over a fic. this is purely self-indulgent and an emotional rollercoaster ride if you ask me. this fic is all over the place it’s chaotic and i apologize in advance for many italics you are welcome i hope you CRY and SUFFER with me because completing this bitch was a midlife crisis in itself. that being said, i appreciate any form of constructive criticism so pls go ahead and rip my baby apart sdkjl

“You’re staring again,” Hyunjin notes. Seungmin and Jeongin stifle a burst of laughter while Felix, whose head is resting on Hyunjin’s lap, sends you a look that resembles Candace from Phineas and Ferb whenever she finds her brothers creating some whacky futuristic shit, laughs like a madman and then resumes to call her mother with an ear-splitting MOOOM! because she’s so certain that her brothers are busted this time.

“Am not,” you huff as you tear your eyes away from the guy just sitting a little bit farther away from you, basking in the warm glow of the sun. Today he’s sitting in the perfect angle, giving you the best view on his side profile. His signature cap is perched right on top of his head but even then, you can see how his eyes brighten up and how the corners of his lips tug upwards as he laughs at his friend’s joke.

“You’re a worse case than the Mary Sue protagonist of every romance anime ever.” Seungmin snorts before he playfully nudges your side with his shoe. “Just say you want Seo Changbin to bang you and go.”

“Hey! We have a child present!” Hyunjin chastises, to which Jeongin rolls his eyes.

“I’m not a child. We’re all in fucking college.”

“Fine, not a child then. The baby has been corrupted! Don’t swear, it sounds so wrong coming from you!”

“Shut up. It’s called freedom of speech!”

“It’s ‘shut up Hyung’ to you!”

Felix groans in distress and is probably rethinking his life choices. Seriously, what does Felix, resident hopeless romantic, see in Hyunjin? Sure, he’s good-looking and a great friend when he’s not bitching around or hovering over the nearest trash can after taking too many shots. But a romantic? Please, Hyunjin can’t even eat without making a mess out of his shirt.

“I don’t want him to bang me,” you mutter and receive a collective ‘yeah sure’ look. “Fine, I don’t want him to bang me only. He’s nice,” you retort before your eyes flit back to him for a millisecond. By now, Changbin has put his hands on the grass and is leaning back, enjoying the sunlight while listening halfheartedly to the other guy blabbering.

“And hot. We get it. Now get dicked,” Seungmin deadpans, earning flabbergasted looks from everyone and a smack from Hyunjin.

“Show a little more empathy, you dickwad. She’s whipped.”

“Anyway—“ Felix sits up, earning a pout from Hyunjin but he blatantly ignores it, and directs the conversation back to the previous topic before the other two bump heads, “(y/n), you have his number. You’re not strangers, so why don’t you just make a move?”

You glance at him with horror in your eyes. “What do you expect me to do? Ring him up and ask him to hang out with me because I find him cute?”

“Uh, duh? Last time I checked, that’s how you ask someone out.”

“Absolutely not.”

“New idea.” Seungmin butts in. “Why don’t you ask Han Jisung—“

“No.”

“Agreed.” Hyunjin shoots you a nod of approval before Seungmin can start yet another interrogation about your bitter hatred towards Jisung. Jisung, who happens to be said friend of Changbin that is laughing beside him right now. “He must think he’s so much better than us because he’s hanging out with the senior geniuses of the music production major. Then again, Seo Changbin and Bang Chan are on a different level than us commoners.”

“Speaking of Chan,” you quickly say to steer the conversation away from the personification of everything you hate. “Where is he? It’s so weird seeing the trio incomplete.”

This time, Jeongin chimes in. “Haven’t you heard?”

“Heard what?”

“Chan and that one language major — you know, the one who collapsed a while back?” When all he’s met with are clueless faces, Jeongin sighs. “Seriously, you guys should keep up with campus news. I swear, everyone and their mothers already know by now. But anyway, they’re soulmates. It’s also the reason why Chan has been pulled out of the boxing team until the end of the semester and had to cancel their training camp as soon as she broke down.”

Felix does a double-take. “But Chan’s the ace of the boxing club!”

“It is what it is.” Jeongin stretches his legs out, shrugging. “What else is to expect when you have the proximity link and need to be around your soulmate within a certain distance unless you want death?”

“Poor guy. Must be a smack in the face for him, now that he’s got a soulmate and happens to have the worst link one could have.” Seungmin says.

“The tattoos are worse though.” Hyunjin fires back. “I mean, you’re literally born with a tattoo of your soulmate’s name and then grow up knowing that you have one? And even if you never meet them, you won’t have better chances with others if you want some romance. Who in their right mind wants to have a lover who’s got someone else’s name tattooed on them since birth?”

“No one.” You chuckle. “Absolutely no one.”

In another lifetime, another universe, you and Jisung would probably be on better terms. He’s sunshine on legs and looks decent from an objective point of view.

In another lifetime, another universe, you’d like to believe you’re childhood friends and have been neighbors ever since your first shit in your diapers. Perhaps you would be clowned from being inseparable once in a while, but you’d go with it and then shrug it off as if it was nothing.

In another lifetime, another universe, you’d like to believe that being soulmates doesn’t equal the downfall of two people. Sure, the fact that people are bound to each other and the danger of growing too dependent on that person remains, but it probably won’t be so frowned upon. Probably. Hopefully.

However, as much as you want to twist it, another lifetime is not this lifetime, the reality.

In reality, you and Jisung are only neighbors because the universe has some kind of inexplicable hatred towards you. Seriously, you must’ve done something wrong in your previous life to be punished in this one. And because the universe has sadistic tendencies and loves to make you suffer, the laws of the universe are just as equally fucked up.

The concept of soulmates is a lot of things, but most of all, it’s a mystery. There are endless possibilities for soulmate links, not all of them discovered. And unlike popular belief, soulmates do not have to necessarily share the same link. So voilà, even more fuckery from the universe.

There’s only one reason that justifies your wholehearted, unfiltered hatred towards Han Jisung. Well, only one reason that seems justified in this lifetime.

The tattoo is simple; just fine black characters under your collarbone that are nicely hidden under high-cut shirts.

But the fact that it’s his name tattooed on you since birth remains.

“Let me crash here for the night.”

“No.”

“Let me crash here for the night, please.”

“My answer is still no.”

The exasperation is plastered on Jisung’s face as he tries to keep his temper in check. Truth be told, it’s damn satisfying seeing him wanting to rip your head off but refraining to do so. Perhaps you’re enjoying this more than you expected at one o’clock in the morning. For the past five minutes, Jisung has been asking you to let him stay over for the night. You’d save him out of his misery and help a neighbor out who locked himself out of his apartment at this hour — well, if he wasn’t Han Jisung.

By now, he’s growing more impatient with every further rejection. “Oh come on, all my friends live on the other side of town and you can’t expect me to ask the old grandma next door! At this rate, I’m gonna freeze to death overnight!”

“Then go break a window or something,” you deadpan, ignoring the dramatic hand gestures he’s making to accentuate his words.

“The fuck? I’m not going to break into my own place.”

Not wanting to draw out the pointless conversation any longer, you’re about to slam the door shut when he blocks your action with his foot. “C’mon, just this one night. Please.”

He’s not budging anytime soon. His bullheadedness reminds you of Seungmin, who always tries to get Hyunjin wasted whenever you attend those Greek frat parties. Seungmin, who always succeeds in getting Hyunjin wasted, followed by Hyunjin hugging a bucket for the next few hours as he tries to get over the hangover. With a defeated sigh, you gesture Jisung to come inside and don’t wait for him until he’s taken his shoes off at the entryway.

“Look, I know you don’t like me—“

“Well, ‘don’t like’ is putting it very lightly—” you scoff once he’s caught up to you in the living room. It’s not exactly spacious; the couch takes up most of the room and college assignments are spread all over the minuscule coffee table.

“You could at least treat me like a decent human being.”

That statement is enough to get your ears flaming. You whip your head in his direction, voice getting louder. “How can I when your existence is making my life worse than it already is! And I mean it literally! Just seeing your name whenever I look at myself through the mirror sickens me!”

“Stop acting like you’re the only victim here.” Jisung snaps back in the same manner. If there was a little bit of etiquette in the first place, it has all vanished now. “I’m not having it easier when all I hear from you is the dozen ways you want Changbin to fuck you dumb!”

You freeze.

“Cat got your tongue? It’s already bad enough that you have those kinds of thoughts about my best friend every single day.”

“But I thought— y-you had the proximity link?!” This has to be a joke. A very bad one at that. His proximity link is the very sole reason why you lived next to him. His soulmate link is the only reason why you’ve been stuck together like glue since you could walk.

Jisung taps his foot impatiently, running his hand through his hair. “That’s what I thought too until I started hearing things that nobody said around me. First, it was just a few thoughts every other day, but now you’re like an annoying radio that I can’t switch off.”

“Why didn’t you tell me then? I would’ve—“

“Stopped fantasizing about Changbin’s dick? And then you would’ve jumped to the next person. I don’t care if you like him or not, it’s none of my business. Changbin’s hot, anyone with eyes can tell. Besides, it’s not like you have a chance anyway…”

You feel your blood boiling at his underlying message and cross your arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jisung doesn’t bat an eyelash and says in a mocking tone as if stating the obvious. “No doubt that Changbin will make you feel good. But could you return the favor?”

That’s a low blow. Even for Jisung, that’s a low blow.

“I get that you’ve got a dirty mind. But those are just fantasies. Could you really execute them just the way you had in your head? You don’t even have experience in the first place.”

“If I sucked you off right now, you wouldn’t even be able to speak properly!” God knows what went over you when you countered. At this point, rage has taken over your brain and you don’t even realize what you just said right away. Not that it matters anyway; all you see is red.

Jisung just raises a brow, clearly unimpressed by your outburst. “Prove it,” he challenges casually and then flops himself onto the couch, legs spread wide. It’s an open invitation. “Go ahead, make me see reason with your oh so mind-blowing skills.”

The only thing you’re able to do physically is gape at him. He is joking, right? As if he actually means it—

“I knew it. Shameless in your head but too flustered to say it out loud, let alone following up with your bold statements.”

That seals the deal. You’re fuelled by anger and the desire to prove him wrong as you drop on your knees and are on eye level with his crotch. However, your spirit dissolves the longer you silently stare and realize that you have no fucking clue on what to do. Jisung is painfully aware of that too.

“I’m more terrified than turned on seeing your angry face.” He lets out an exasperated sigh before he pulls you up and directs you to sit on his lap. “Obviously it’s not working when neither of us is in the mood. You gotta get in the mood first,” he mutters, hands settling on your hips.

The look in his eyes is more composed now, but you can tell he’s being observant. As if you have clues written all over your face, he keeps you under his stern gaze. Then his eyes droop lower to your lips and he slowly leans forward.

Not even a second later, you firmly plant your hands on his shoulder and push him back. “No lips.”

If Jisung is judgemental about your sudden stunt, he doesn’t comment on it. “Anything else, your royal majesty?”

You’re too tired to react to his mockery and roll your eyes. “No marks.”

“I can work with that,” he mumbles more to himself rather to you. Then he leans forward again and buries his face in the crook of your neck. Surprised by his actions and new to the unfamiliar sensation, you tense up. Jisung seems to take notice of that too.

“Relax,” he orders, rubbing circles on your hips to help you loosen up.

Well, that’s easier said than done. It’s already bad enough that you’re gradually exposing yourself as the complete amateur you are, and out of all people who could’ve been the first to do any form of sexual advances on you, it just had to be Jisung. Perhaps you shouldn’t have rejected that one kid in high school who was the only one who ever had a crush on you. Even if that kid wasn’t your type and not a serious commitment anyway, maybe you would’ve at least some sort of experience with dick.

“A-ah—“ your breath hitches when he nips on the patch below your earlobe. He smiles against your skin as if he just made some scientific discovery and swipes his tongue on the same spot, eager to make you squirm. Not wanting to slip up anymore, you clamp your mouth shut with a hand.

“Let me hear you, baby. Just relax, I got you.” When the fuck did his voice start to sound lower and raspier? Where did ‘baby’ come from? All rationality and resistance leave your body when he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him.

The cologne of musk lingers strong on him, almost intoxicating even, and you can’t form a cohesive thought anymore. The only things you are painfully aware of are an arm forcing your chest flush against his and his hot breath all over your neck.

You’re so far gone that you fail to notice that you’ve started grinding on his lap. Jisung moans softly into your neck as he encourages you to move with his hands.

“On your knees, baby,” he whispers after a while. A rush of disappointment runs through your veins once he detaches his lips from you and slides you off his lap, but all of that is forgotten once you see the prominent bulge in his pants.

Right. There’s a reason why you ended up in this predicament in the first place.

Jisung urges you to touch him with a simple nudge. “C’mon, baby. Take it off.”

You don’t waste time discarding his sweatpants. Just when you’re about to tug his underwear off, you notice the wet patch on the fabric. A surge of mischief washes over you as you boldly cupped his hard-on over his boxers, causing an obscenely loud moan from him.

He flinches, definitely not expecting that brashness from you, and throws his head back. “S-stop teasing me already and take that goddamn thing off or God help me what I’m going to do if you push my buttons.”

That. That was a threat. That dealt much more damage to you than you like to admit.

As much as you want to watch him break and see if he’d make his threats come true, you decide against your feelings and hook your fingers under the waistband and tug the fabric down in one swift motion. A groan leaves Jisung as his cock, fully hard and leaking precum, is exposed to the cold air. He’s certainly above average; on the longer side probably, and you’re conflicted on whether to think fuck, I want him in my mouth right now or fuck, how on earth is that supposed to fit into my mouth?!

You don’t get far with your inner conflict when a hand grabs a fistful of your hair and slowly urges you closer. The next thing you know, something is tapping your lips and before you fully register it, the tip of Jisung’s cock lies heavy on your tongue.

You carefully look up and meet Jisung’s hooded eyes. His shirt has ridden up a bit and flashes just a little bit of his toned stomach. That’s just enough of an indicator to see that Jisung is holding himself back, in case his irregular breathing hasn’t been a dead giveaway.

Jisung opens his mouth, about to say something, when you give an experimental suck on his dick. “Do something— f-fuck, a little more, baby.”

That’s enough to build your confidence up. You slowly take in more of his dick, sucking carefully and making sure to cover your teeth. The rest that doesn’t fit in your mouth is barely covered with your hands, and you messily try to coordinate your hands, switching between rubbing the base of his dick to cupping his balls.

“Mmh, use more pressure,” Jisung whispers, not trusting the stability of his voice when you fondle with his balls. A groan leaves him when you suck harder on his cock and switch back to swirling your tongue around. For a total beginner, you are holding yourself up better than he expected. Fuck.

“Focus on the tip fir— hhh- aa-ah...” His brain blacks out for a moment when you swirl your tongue around his tip and dare an experimental hum, the vibrations going straight down to his dick. The grip on your hair loosens, but it’s still firm enough to experience a sharp tug. “You’re doing good baby. So good.”

The combination of his sounds, the decent taste of precum on your tongue and the way his adam’s apple bops is enough to send you into sensory overload. You notice the way Jisung tenses his thighs, as to keep them still. You’re about to pull out completely to prevent your drool from getting on your face. However, before you get the chance to complain, he forces his length back on you that it grazes the back of your throat, nearly making you choke.

“Fuck, I— I’m gonna— s-soon—“ he hisses and you take it as a sign to speed up. At this point, your jaw hurts and a mixture of drool and precum drips down your chin. It’s borderline disgusting if you think about it, but the delectable sounds leaving Jisung compensates for it.

He sharply tugs on your hair, ordering you to pull off, but you slap his hand away. “I’m going to spill in your mouth if you don’t pull off right now—“ Jisung chokes on his words when you interrupt him with a hum as if to say so what? It doesn’t help that you’re looking up at him with teary eyes and a lot of conviction, even though you’re visibly struggling to keep half of his dick in your mouth.

When he cums, it’s accompanied but drawn out moans, and you forcing yourself to swallow the horrible texture. It’s not horrible per se, but you’d gladly refuse to swallow a second time if you were given the choice.

Jisung looks down at you with flushed cheeks and is about to wipe off the drool or cum or whatever liquid is staining your bottom lip, but you quickly block his hand. “I’ll clean up by myself.”

For a minuscule second, he looks defeated; he looks borderline disappointed, but before you can pinpoint his feelings for sure, his expression changes. “But what about you?” he asks, eyes raking down your body and stopping at the waistband of your pants.

“I’ll deal with it on my own.” You shrug, avoiding his eyes. All of sudden, you find it hard to breathe in the room as the realization settles into your brain. You just sucked off Jisung. Jisung, out of all fucking people.

“You sure?” Your eyes flit to him who looks like he’s been observing you the entire time. His breathing has calmed down, his lips look a little bit plumper than before and his hair sticks out in all different directions. Looking at his current state makes you feel sick, and your undying hatred for him starts growing again. It’s your fault that he looks so fucked out and—

Why the fuck did you even do that?

“Yes. Now stop asking before I change my mind and kick you out.”

Before he can have the last word, you turn on your heels and rush into your bedroom, ignoring the fact that your underwear is practically drenched.

You wake up to the smell of pancakes emerging from the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making breakfast?” Jisung throws you a questioning look and then plates the last batch of pancakes from the pan. “It’s the least I can do after you were friendly enough to let me crash on the couch.”

Your eyes wander to the countertop to the two plates stacked with pancakes. Jisung finishes up the second plate and hands it out to you.

You stare dumbly at the plate. It’s too early for your brain to mouth filter to work, so the first thing you spit out is, “How do I know you didn’t poison it?”

“Are you fucking serious—“ Jisung squeezes his eyes shut, mutters something inaudible under his breath before he puts on the fakest smile he can muster. “I can take a bite if you really insist.”

“Give me that plate.” You point to the other plate on the counter. Presentation-wise, it looks the same as the one Jisung is offering you, minus the visible steam.

“There. Wanna switch again or can I finally eat?” he scoffs when you walk past him to get cutlery and sit at the dining table; it’s essentially a round wooden table where one of the legs is about to break. Two plates and a pitcher at most take up the entire surface. You really should consider buying a new table, but you have better things to spend on rather than that.

From your peripheral vision, you see Jisung rolling his eyes. Perhaps you were making an entire unnecessary circus, critically cutting through the pancake and inspecting each and every side before stuffing it in your mouth. But again, in your defense, it’s too early in the morning to show basic etiquette towards him out of all people.

You have to admit that visually, the pancakes look good. What you didn’t expect were the pancakes to taste just how they look. It looks like you couldn’t contain your surprise in you, judging by the amused smirk that finds its way onto Jisung’s face as he claims the chair across from you.

“As if you could actually cook,” you splutter because there’s no fucking way you are giving him that satisfaction of the day.

However, it seems to bemuse him even more. “You literally eat this every day and know the recipe by heart. With the excessive number of times you recite the ingredients a day, obviously, something got stuck in my brain,” he explains while cutting through his own portion.

The rest of breakfast is spent in silence. You both finish at the same time and while you’re washing the dishes, he’s stayed put in the chair, mindlessly checking something on his phone.

“You didn’t have to cook, you know. You could’ve just left.” you start. It’s already awkward enough that he’s still here. Bloody hell, you should’ve just waited with the plates and ushered him out of your place instead of just getting away as fast as possible from the table. Now that you think about it, this was probably the only time you two were somewhat amicable at such proximity. (Even if you didn’t talk at all. Still, it’s progress.)

He drops his phone on the table with a soft ‘bang’. “It’s the least I could do. Besides, I was starving too.”

“In other words, you’re taking advantage of my fridge?”

“Exactly.”

Just as you’re drying your hands, he’s about to leave. “I’ll get going, lecture’s starting in a few. And, uh, thanks for letting me stay here.”

You just shoot him a weird look. “You already thanked me once. How often do you wanna repeat yourself?”

Jisung rolls his eyes. “Fine, next time I’ll just leave without a word then.”

It’s when he’s finally out of the door that his last words sink in.

“Yo, I have pics of sweaty Changbin in a jersey. How much do you wanna pay for those gems?”

You nearly choke on air. “What the fuck?” Really, that’s the only appropriate reaction.

“Hyunjin, this needs more context.” Felix looks like he’s seriously second-guessing his taste in men before shaking it off with a sigh and elaborates. “He’s been trying to find out some scoop about Chan for the campus blog and caught him in his angry boxer mode and Changbin was also there assisting him. Hey, did you know that Chan doesn’t tape his hands before punching the bag? Fuck, that’s so intimidating but so hot at the same time—“

“Yah! I’m your boyfriend! How can you say that in front of me?!”

Changbin. Changbin in a jersey. Changbin in a jersey and drenched in sweat. And Hyunjin seriously has HQ pictures of that Changbin.

It really, absolutely shouldn’t have been the first thing that crossed your mind, but the idea of that Changbin — bonus if he still has anger pent up in him — barging into your place and instantly throwing you on the bed—

“I’m not a perverted creep who’s gonna buy pictures of him that he doesn’t even know exist. Besides, isn’t that a violation of his rights? He never consented to those pics. This is college, you’re only working for the campus blog, not fucking Dispatch.” you deadpan.

“So you don’t even want to take a sneak peek at a picture?”

“No.”

You barely stepped a foot into your apartment when Jisung storms out of his own place and stops in front of you. “You fucking liar.”

“Excuse me? What the— hmph!”

The next thing you know, Jisung forces his way into your hallway, slams the door shut and crowds you against it. His face is invading your personal space, eyes enraged and jaw locked. Even though his anger is far from justified as you haven’t glanced at him ever since he stayed over, a tiny part of you believes that you pissed him off for good. It's not the first time you witness him angry. However, it's the first time you witness him look as if someone murdered his family and was trying to get revenge.

“I thought you took care of it yourself!”

“Took care of what?”

“Did you already forget that I can read your mind?!”

You scrunch your nose, trying to connect the dots in his words. It doesn't take long for you to realize that there’s no point in trying. A frustrated groan leaves you. “Why are you getting so riled up? I just breathed and you stormed into my place!”

“‘Bullshit. You weren’t just breathing,” he snaps, and you flinch when his hand lands a few inches beside your face with a loud pang. “You were thinking of Changbin again! And I mean that in the thousand sex positions and locations you want him to bang you kind of thinking! And also—“

“Also what?”

“I know you’ve been pent up for days. Seriously, why don’t you just get off like every other sane human being?”

His brutal delivery leaves you flabbergasted. How the fuck does he know that? No. No. No. He doesn’t know. He can’t. Just because he can read your mind doesn’t mean that you didn’t pleasure yourself after giving him that blowjob. Jisung’s probably bluffing — he has to be bluffing.

“W-why should I answer you?” you stutter. Suddenly the walls look much more interesting. When was the last time you painted the walls? Maybe it’s time to switch things up—

“Are you really about to get all cocky with me? Give me a break.” Jisung chews on his bottom lip after little deliberation. “You wanna know why? Because one of my best friends is going through a hard time that can utterly destroy his entire future thanks to the fucking universe! If that isn’t stressful as it is, I also see and hear all kinds of things you want Changbin to do to you. And your fantasies are also affecting me.”

You stare at him as if he sprouted eight new legs. “So you’ve also been…?”

“Sexually frustrated? Fuck yes. And it’s all your fault. So take responsibility and do something against it before I do.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“So what if I am?”

A cold shiver runs down your spine once you meet his stone-cold gaze. Frustration is displayed all over his features, from his labored breaths to the raised brow. He’s not playing mind games this time, he’s actually frustrated.

There are a billion red flags, a billion blinking signs saying NO DON’T YOU EVEN THINK OF DOING THIS! DON’T BE A FUCKING IDIOT in your mind. There are so many countless reasons why you should listen to your head, but the way Jisung is lusting after you is terrifyingly attractive.

You don’t trust your voice to respond verbally. Instead, you look down at your trembling hand and tug at the hem of his shirt. It’s just then when you also realize that your thighs are clenched. Fuck.

Jisung takes the hint. In the blink of an eye, he’s yanking you to your room, kicks the door shut with a loud ‘thud’, and manhandles you on the bed. You’re too stunned to react, and gulp when he hovers over you and strips off his jacket, leaving him in a white shirt that doesn’t hide his toned arms.

“Use the color system, alright? Green when everything is alright, yellow when you want me to slow down, and red when you want me to stop for good?” he asks.

“I know what the color system is,” you mutter, tearing your eyes away from him.

“That’s not an answer to my question.” he presses.

“Fine, color system it is. There! Happy? Now get on with it—“

Jisung pins your wrists above your head vigorously. “You don’t call the shots here. I do.”

Your stomach swoops. You really should’ve listened to your brain. This Jisung isn’t comparable with the Jisung you sucked off a few days ago. That Jisung was cocky — he’s always cocky, what are you even saying — but he still gave you room to breathe. This Jisung is downright scary.

“Good thing for you, I know exactly what you want me to do—” he starts sinisterly as his thigh settles firmly between your legs, pressing up against your clothed core. You suddenly regret wearing a skirt. “—and trust me baby, even if I couldn’t read your mind, I would do all those things because that’s what I plan on doing to you regardless.”

The look he gives you should be illegal. He shouldn’t be in the position to look down at you, as if he’s the king and has free reign over the consequences you are about to bear. Your head suddenly feels dizzy, and it’s way too hot in the room. It’s as if your bedroom has morphed into some vacuum as you’re desperately trying to breathe. Your system ceases to function once he presses his thigh even harder on your cunt, and all you manage to make is a pathetic whimper.

A menacing grin makes its way to his face. He’s clearly thriving on this ego-boost and continues to grind his thigh on you until your hips start to sway along. It seems like you found your voice again once he leans down and nibbles on your neck. Your moans are barely audible at first, but they slowly turn into drawn out mewls and labored breaths.

Your eyes snap open when he suddenly retreats his thigh and holds your hip in a vice grip, stopping you from moving. “W-what the fuck? Why did you stop?”

“Tell me what you want me to do.”

“Huh?” You squint at him. “But you can read my mind!”

“I want you to say it out loud.”

There’s no way in the universe that you’ll do that. You’ll gladly wipe off that shit-eating grin out of his face whether he likes it or not, but with his hold on your wrists, that is deemed impossible.

You should say something out loud though. Yellow. That would save you from the humiliation. You could regain at least an ounce of control, not feel so pathetic anymore. It’s a simple word, just two syllables, six letters. The tables can be turned to your advantage. It’s easy.

You don’t.

“You’re embarrassed, aren’t you? You can’t say all those filthy thoughts in your head out loud because you’re ashamed, huh? Not when you love feeling so powerless, subject to anything I do to you. Face it baby, just admit that you’re a needy little bitch who wants to get off on my fingers so bad, and I’ll give you what you want,” Jisung growls in between hot, wet kisses he leaves on your neck.

“I—“ you whimper after some difficulties, “I’m your needy little bitch w-who wants to get off on your fingers.”

Jisung’s head pipes up, his face just hovering a couple of inches away from yours. With that little distance between you, you know it’s not a trick of the light and that his eyes are blown up with hunger, hunger, and more hunger. "Not just any bitch, but mine? Do you like it when I call you mine?"

You nod. From there on, it’s a chain reaction.

He wastes no time slipping his fingers past your panties, mindlessly trailing along your folds. You throw your head back in pleasure, bucking your hips into his touch. A cry leaves you the moment he slips a finger inside you, his thumb simultaneously flicking your clit. It’s sensory overload, rendering your rationality to a standstill.

Your utter downfall is marked once Jisung adds a second finger, never slowing down. He groans at the way you clench around him like a maniac, and the sounds he makes send jolts all over your body. You’re writhing under his grasp at this point, overstimulated by everything yet at the same time, you feel your arousal slowly fading.

“Does my baby feel good? Are you close?” Jisung asks, nipping on your earlobe.

“I don’t know,” you whisper.

“What do you mean, ‘you don’t know’?”

The pit in your stomach grows. You’ve never experienced claustrophobia, but right now, it’s like everything’s suffocating you. “A-as in I don’t fucking know!” you exclaim shakily.

Jisung stops his movements. The weight on your wrists is lifted, and he looks at you, face unreadable. “(y/n), color. What’s your color?”

“Green. It’s just...” your trail off, avoiding his eyes.

“Just...?”

“I’ve never come before,” you confess in defeat. You really can’t believe that Jisung out of all people is the one to make the call of judgment. “I mean it! I’ve tried getting myself off but I never managed to... so cut me some fucking slack because I’m trying my best here and am still new to everything!”

Jisung stays silent. He stares at you in… confusion? disbelief? You really have no clue how to read his expression. Something negative for sure, though. He’s Satan’s spawn, for fuck’s sake. He’s probably thinking twice about going down on you, thinking about the gravity of a mistake he’s dealing with this time. He just has no clue how to articulate his irritation—

“You’re so cute, fucking hell,” he whispers.

You do a double-take. What? What did he say?

A small chuckle escapes his lips. As if he doesn’t mind. Wait. He doesn’t mind. “I’ll take good care of you. Trust me on this,” he says.

“That’s a little late coming from you, your fingers are literally up my vagi— h-ha-aah—“

“Just shut up and let me do the work.” Jisung rolls his eyes as he works you up again, fingers moving at a slower pace this time. Within minutes, he’s reduced you into a panting, stuttering mess. “You look so tiny and helpless underneath me. How adorable,” he coos, to which you just whine.

“Yeah? You like it when I call you tiny? Like it when your tight cunt already feels stuffed with just two fingers? Maybe we should stretch it to a third one, think you can handle that?” he presses on. That’s when he rams his fingers into a particular spot, making you arch your back. A knowing smile makes its way onto his lips. “Found it.”

“N-no, fuck— t-too much—” you babble, but he continues to abuse your sweet spot without remorse.

An unfamiliar pressure builds up in your abdomen, threatening to burst. Your whines grow louder, breaths shallower. You squeeze your eyes shut as you thrust your hips into his hand, desperate for more friction. “Jisung, I think I’m gonna—”

“Oh no, not like this,” he growls. “Keep your eyes open. I want you to look at me when you cum. So you’ll remember that it was me who made you cum for the first time. It’s me who’s making you feel good.”

That is easier said than done. You manage to open your eyes, though with a lot of difficulties. Scratch that, your eyes are barely open. Jisung is a blurry image, and you’re unable to register everything he says, the sound of his fingers squelching in your heat blaring in your ears.

You deem it fucking impossible to keep your eyes open when your orgasm hits you hard, body spasming from the sensation. But you keep on trying, keep forcing to set your eyes on him.

It’s all worth it though when the reward you get is a proud smile on his face, as well as streams of praises coming from his mouth.

It’s a continuous pattern that goes as follows:

1. You spend your days glued to your friends.

2. At least one of them (usually, it’s Seungmin) preaches how you should get your shit together and ask Changbin out.

3. Somehow, Changbin manages to leave a strong presence in your fantasies and you end up daydreaming about a scenario that stars him, you and a bed (if you’re feeling more daring, any other kind of surface or object he could pound you into.)

4. Jisung notices and forces the horniness out of your system.

5. You tell yourself that it’s the last time Jisung has such control over you.

And then the cycle repeats.

But here’s the thing: you find yourself doing no. 5 you with less conviction the more it happens. No. 5 is a formality at this point. You don’t know when you went the wrong path, but are you really in a position to complain? Jisung is good with you, he’s good with his fingers, even better with his mouth.

But then there’s this side of Jisung after he’s ruined you. He knows what you want to eat after you’re all cleaned up, knows what show you want to watch, knows if you want to just drop dead in bed or need someone to force you to finish your uni assignments. In short: Jisung is good. If you ever said that out loud and someone caught wind of it, they might assume that you liked him.

But Changbin. You like Changbin. You like Changbin you like Changbin you like Changbin—

You like Changbin, right?

“You’ve been looking at me as if I had the word CLOWN written over my forehead. Do I have something on my face or what?” you cross your arms and are met with your friends quickly averting their eyes from you.

Felix is the first one to break the silence. “Is that a new dress?”

“Not really. I recently found it when I cleared out my closet and decided to give it one more try. Why—“ you pause, and your expression turns grim once it dawns on you. “I look ridiculous in this, don’t I?”

“Yeah.”

“No!”

“You look like a clown.”

“Seungmin-Hyung, did you really just???”

If your crippling self-esteem hadn’t reached its all-time low before, then it definitely did now. “Geez, thanks,” you deadpan.

Jeongin is panicking, trying to provide some damage control as Felix snaps at Hyunjin and Seungmin. “Nobody cares about your two cents!”

“Well, but she asked for our opinion!”

“Nobody cares about your honest two cents!”

“Let’s just have lunch at the burger place and talk about this later, Hyung!”

You’re still dazed, chuckling dryly like those cartoon characters usually do when their soul leaves their body after someone dragged them. The entire situation is downright sad to witness. Is this a sign that your period is coming soon? That’s it! That probably explains why you’re acting so uncharacteristically sensitive today—

“The dress suits you, (y/n). You should wear it more often,” Changbin says.

“Hah?” you flinch and you’re sure your soul actually left your body when you turn to face Changbin smiling genuinely at you. Out of your periphery, you see Jisung and Chan behind him, but that’s not the point.

What? The? Fuck? Did he really just? Did Changbin just… compliment you?

You don’t realize how long you’ve dumbly stared at him until Jeongin nudges you. “Uhhhh, thanks!” you squeak out, cringing at how your voice just went up by an octave. You can feel Jeongin facepalming internally at your response, but you don’t blame him; you’d most likely do the same.

Changbin just smiles before he turns away to get to his next class, tugging Jisung and Chan with him.

Nevermind. Wearing this dress was the best decision you’ve made in your entire college career. The way you suddenly beam almost gives Felix whiplash — it’s obvious in the way he stares at you as if he ended up watching a comedy instead of the melodrama he was expecting. Hyunjin seems just as flabberghasted, Jeongin is still cringing from the secondhand embarrassment, and Seungmin just grins.

“Ah, so lover boy is the reason, I see.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Oh my god, just shut up, Seungmin.”

Jisung is eating you out with such fervor that has you sobbing and thrashing around. He’s merciless in every literal sense, keeping your hips planted on the couch with his hands to the point where veins are bulging out, and lapping up your juices with his tongue, continuing even though you already came. He only pulls away, lips glistening in your release, once you tug on his hair despite his orders to not do that.

“Already spent now? But baby, we just started.” he pouts. “Or is it because it’s me? Would you defy if Changbin was the one eating you out?”

You stare at him with blown out eyes. Why the fuck is he bringing up Changbin now? The words hang heavy in your throat and are threatening to burst, but the death stare he delivers stops you from doing so.

Something’s not right.

“Don’t tell me... you’re wet again because I just mentioned Changbin. Changbin this, Changbin that, huh? It’s always only Changbin, Changbin, Changbin. And I thought I was doing you good all along,” he rages, making you flinch. He can be terrifying when he wants to be, but this time, he seems completely out of it. “You know what? I’m fucking done with holding back. You’re mine, got it?”

With that, he dives back into your cunt, sucking harshly on your clit as he slides a finger in you. You try to pry him off, but his weight is restraining you to the sofa.

“Jisung, it hurts— ouch—“ Panic starts to rise in you when he finally detaches himself from your nub, but instead, moves down to your thighs and starts sucking on the skin with a force much harder than you’re used from him. “What are you doing? S-stop—!”

“You’re mine, you’re supposed to be mine. I am literally written on your skin. So why can’t you just wish to be with me? Do I have to mark you up so that you’ll finally get it?”

It hurts. It hurts. Once you feel teeth on your skin, you burst into tears. “Red, Jisung, red!”

As if it was the spell to break the cast, Jisung finally snaps out of it. His features break once his eyes meet yours. Regret sticks onto him like a second skin, and he slightly moves his hand in an attempt to reach out to you. Your muscles react faster though, and you instinctively pull your legs towards yourself and shy away from him. The way his face drops by another layer of remorse tugs at your heartstrings, but the impending fear overpowers everything else you’re feeling.

“What’s going on? What went over you?” you ask.

Jisung’s breath is shaky. He feverishly opens his mouth several times, but no sound is coming out. He’s struggling to find the right words, maybe trying to find a somewhat reasonable justification for his behavior. In the end, he lets out a defeated sigh. “I can’t do this anymore without having feelings—” his voice is weak and vulnerable and you’ve never witnessed him break down like this before, “—I like you. I like you the way you like Changbin. I just...”

Silence.

“Leave,” you whisper, but in this silence, your voice rings out loud and clear. This is… too much weight for your heart to carry.

Jisung complies. He grabs his belongings from the floor, slips on his shirt, and leaves with his head hung low. His footsteps grow more and more distant, but then he stops.

“Are you really in love with Changbin?” His voice cracks.

You don’t muster up the courage to face him. “Just read my mind.”

It’s silent again. Too overwhelming. You’re waiting for yet another outburst of him, waiting for his “I want you to say it out loud”, because that’s how the conversation always goes.

The last thing you hear is the front door falling in its lock with a soft click.

You like Changbin. You like Changbin you like Changbin you like Changbin you like—

You like him, right?

Things have changed.

You and Jisung haven’t crossed paths ever since, not even passed each other by in the hallways. It’s weird since you’ve grown used to seeing him every day outside of your apartment complex. You’ve never really acknowledged each other’s presence with a wave or something in the sorts; it was just a second where your eyes met, and then your days went on.

That being said, you run into Changbin quite frequently. If you ever exchanged words, it’s nothing more than friendly small talk and the one or other compliment about his music. Talking to Changbin is nice; he makes you smile.

You know a little bit more about Changbin now, like his favorite ice cream flavor or the fact that he has a pokemon plushie named Gyu. It’s cute, and you chuckle when you think about how you’d pay good money for that information a few weeks ago.

Changbin is nice, and there’s nothing more to the story.

The chaotic quartett you call your friends however, doesn’t seem to buy it. They are loud and nosey and have eyes, so it was set in stone that they’d tease you about it sooner or later. It’s all fun and games, and you played along with it at first, because that’s how you guys are. But as time went on, when the banter became so repetitive and blown out of proportion to the point where they have made clowning you about your small interactions with Changbin the pinnacle of their entertainment, you’ve begun to be fed up by it.

“Will you finally stop bringing him up in an indecent manner every single lunch break? Or even better, stop bringing him up altogether?” You snap, which shocks everyone at the table because you never snap.

Nobody has time to react as you quickly stomp away to grab some fresh air. You mutter out every curse under the sun, not intending to let your anger take over you this much. You’ve only made it past the door when Felix catches up to you, placing a hand over your shoulder.

“(y/n), what’s the matter? Clearly, something’s bothering you. And I know it’s not because of just Seungmin.” Concern is woven in his smooth voice.

You have to admit, it was a smart and calculated move from your friends to send Felix your way. He’s always been the compassionate one out of your little friend group. Like a pillar, he’s the one who keeps you all grounded (and he’s the one to drive your asses back home after the wild Alpha Beta Gamma frat parties).

“I don’t like Changbin that way, I realized. So it’d be very much appreciated if you asses didn’t allude to that every time,” you huff.

Felix sends you an understanding smile. “We can work that out. You know that Hyunjin and Seungmin in particular can be insensitive and sometimes don’t realize they’ve taken things too far..”

“Fine, but that’s not the main thing that’s eating me up alive, Felix.” you sigh. The words seem to flow out of your mouth like a waterfall. “I’ve realized I’ve never really liked Changbin. Okay, fine, he was just a crush I had but I don’t like him.”

He nods slowly, his brain processing your ramble. “So you like someone else.”

“Yes. And I don’t know how to fix it because we got into a huge fight.”

“Talk to them. That’s the only thing left to do.” His response is immediate, and he says it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Every relationship has its ups and downs, and if you want to be committed, you have to fight for it. If you were made for one another, you’ll make it.”

The last part makes you laugh internally. If only he knew.

“Let me guess, you expect me to barge into his place to sort things out,” you say.

Felix gives you the look of judgment. “I mean, you could also show some human decency and text him in advance so he’s also prepared. But that works fine too.”

Come to think of it, you’ve never been to Jisung’s apartment. That’s about to change when you knock on his door sometime in the evening, shortly after sunset.

Jisung’s face immediately drops once he opens the door. “What are you doing here?” His voice is soft, drenched in regret.

It’s not that his appearance has reached rock bottom. He still takes good care of himself; however, you pick up the dark circles under his eyes and his complexion seems a little paler. Not sickeningly pale, but in a sense that he hasn’t seen the light of day for a few consecutive days.

You shift your weight on one leg and fiddle with your fingers. “Can we talk?”

Jisung gulps. “Yeah, sure,” he mumbles after a moment of hesitation before inviting you in.

“I’ve thought a long time about this. Everything, really,” you start awkwardly as soon as you’re both standing stiffly in his living room. “I, um…”

You cringe inwardly as your voice trails off. Truth be told, you’ve rehearsed what you wanted to say many times a few hours ago. Even wrote down the entire speech. Then threw the draft away, only to compose a new one. And then again and again and again. After what felt like an eternity, you had polished your final speech and memorized it from top to bottom, even making sure that your flow sounded natural. But now that this is the real deal, your mind goes blank. Of course, of fucking course, your illiterate brain had to give up on you in the situation that mattered the most.

Jisung purses his lips. “Do you want something to drink first? No need to rush—”

“I don’t like Changbin!” you blurt out. Jisung stares at you in confusion. “I mean, I used to like Changbin — I still do, he’s a nice guy! Don’t get me wrong — but that’s all he is. He’s… nice. I like him, as a friendly guy. I had a crush on him, but now it’s just, uh, like. Platonic! Yeah, platonic.”

Despite him nodding slowly, you know that he is still lost. You would be too if you were on the receiving end of this painfully clumsy delivery.

You give yourself a mental slap as you take a deep breath. It can’t get any worse than this. Definitely impossible. You’ve already proven to him how bad your public speaking skills are. Might as well get over it with the bluntest words. “I miss you. And not because of the sexual things we did, but everything else. I miss you coming over, miss the movie night, and all that. I miss you, Jisung.”

He stares at you silently. Your eyes search his face for any sign of emotion, and for one too many times, Jisung is impossible to read. Okay, perhaps you did manage to tell him what you wanted to tell him even worse than whatever the fuck your initial attempt was.

But then his blank armor cracks. Little by little, his eyes soften, disbelief and remorse on display for you to see. Jisung is looking at you as if his world has fallen apart even more. He’s looking at you as if he’s clinging to the last threads of reason, trying to make sense of the situation. He’s looking at you with eyes that could hold stars behind them, stars that were supposed to burn out yet shine brighter than the universe.

“How can you say that? I hurt you. I made you cry! I was being a selfish asshole who put out his anger on you!” he exclaims, voice breaking towards the end. Pain clouds his red eyes, and he’s fighting to keep the tears at bay.

You slowly prod closer to him, testing the waters. He doesn’t react once, not even when you stand directly in front of him. Not even when you gently place your hands on a shoulder each. Not until you say, “It’s alright. I’m alright. No hard feelings.”

That’s his breaking point. Tears stream down his face, while quiet hiccups jump out of his throat. “How can you be so nice to me?” His sobs are muffled as he eases into your touch, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. Instinctively, he wraps his arms around your waist, clinging onto you as if you’re his lifeline.

The answer is simple, you say to yourself, as you thread a hand in his hair. “We’re soulmates.”

The weight of the words hangs in the air, shattering the previous tension and all the worries in your heart. It’s liberating, finally being able to say it out loud without feeling like an abnormality for saying those words with happiness. You’re soulmates. You’re soulmates, and that’s okay.

Jisung’s sobs resound throughout the room, and so do his countless, tiny yeah, we are’s. You need a moment before you register the wetness on your face. It feels like an eternity standing in his warm embrace, even after there are no more tears left to cry.

“Can I kiss you?” Your voice is quiet, barely above a whisper, but Jisung catches it. two fingers gently lift your chin so that you’re facing him. You almost melt when your eyes meet, his gaze filled with adoration that makes you want to burst at the seams.

“Yeah. I’d love that.” Jisung smiles.

It costs you your willpower to tear your eyes away from him before they flutter down to his lips. Despite his bottom lip being a little cracked, they look inviting and you wonder what they taste like. You expect him to nudge you, expect him to tell you to hurry up and do something because you’re pretty sure you’re staring at his lips for far too long.

He doesn’t. The grip on your chin is loose as if to tell you to take your time and go at your own pace. But the longer you wait, the more reluctance builds up. It’s a lot of power he’s given you; hell, it’s the first time he hands the reigns to you.

“Can you… uhm… I’ve never done this before, so yeah…” you look at him with a crooked smile.

The breathless chuckle that leaves him sounds like music to your ears. Jisung moves his hand to the back of your neck before closing the distance between you.

The kiss is short and sweet, but that alone suffices to make the butterflies in your stomach burst. The faint taste of coke lingers on him, and before you know it, you’re kissing again. Jisung’s lips are like an addiction, reeling you back in for another one. Somewhere along the way, the kisses change. Innocent presses of lips are long forgotten, replaced by teeth playfully tugging on your bottom lip, and Jisung kissing you deeper to the point where he steals all oxygen out of your lungs.

Your hands slide down his chest, tugging on his shirt. Startled by your bold actions, he pulls away, but you catch him back into another liplock that leaves the two of you breathless. All you can think of clearly is Jisung Jisung Jisung—

This time he forces himself away from you. Gasping for air, he places his forehead on yours. “If we go farther than this, then I don’t know if I can control myself.” His warning is barely above a whisper.

“Then don’t,” you whisper back.

That’s all the reassurance he needs before leading you to his bedroom, all the whilst latching onto your lips once more. He doesn’t let go of you until your back hits the soft mattress and he’s on top of you. Warm, slightly calloused hands trail from your cheeks to the hem of your shirt.

“Color?”

“Green,” you respond, smiling up at him. The sun has long vanished at the horizon, replaced by the dim moon and stars. Despite only a little light surging past the blinds into the room, you can see Jisung’s features crystal clear. The endearing smile is cast into the back of your mind, so is the delicacy in his touch, fingertips lightly grazing your skin as he sheds all your clothes off until you’re left in your underwear. After hearing your complaints, he discards his own clothes with an amused glint in his eyes.

Jisung takes his time pounding every single detail of your features into his memory. His hands roam all over your body, inciting goosebumps. You lean into his touch with a sigh and flit your gaze to him once he stops on a particular spot.

The look on his face is unreadable, but the hesitation in his voice speaks for itself. “Does this bug you?” he asks, uncertainty laced in it as he runs his finger over each character of his name that’s inked under your collarbone. You shake your head with a hum that turns into a soft moan once he leaves kisses on the spots his finger burned before, one for each letter. Eventually, his actions spiral out to sucking lovebites and rutting his bulge against your heat, enticing louder whines out of you. Your vision morphs into blurriness as you move your hips in sync with his, locking your arms around his neck to pull him even closer to you.

“(y/n), baby…” Jisung heaves for air, “Is it okay if I…?.”

“Please,” you mewl, “want you inside me.” Your desperation must’ve shone through your tone, as Jisung presses a loving kiss on your forehead before he reaches over to the nightstand for a condom, grinning like a lovesick idiot.

In books and movies, this is the part where the virgin would reach peak nervousness. Too many fears would be inhabiting their mind; the fear of pain, fear of not fulfilling their partner’s needs, fear of the entire situation, essentially. Whatever they depict in those books and movies, it doesn’t match up with the warmth and want pumping in your veins. Even after Jisung slipped your and his underwear off and slid the condom on his leaking cock, there’s no sign of fear bubbling in you. It’s rather the opposite; you nudge him to finally slide into you.

“So impatient,” he tuts playfully, and because he can’t help being a bit sadistic, he teases your dripping entrance with the tip of his cock. Tears begin to form in your eyes from the frustration of clenching around nothing. You feel like crying for good once he slowly pushes into you. The stretch feels unfamiliar and completely different than what you’re used to from his fingers, but it’s not unpleasant as you throw your head back. While you’re adjusting to his girth, Jisung observes your every expression, faltering whenever you scrunch your eyes shut.

“You still there?” he asks in hushed tones, caressing your cheek.

In awe about his concern, you nod. “I’m fine. It’s just… new. I’ve never done this, but I guess you already figured that out.” It takes you a moment to catch your breath, and then you give him the green light to continue.

The way Jisung has your hands firmly against the bed lacks the usual roughness; he isn’t gripping your wrists as if he’s about to cut off your blood circulation. This time, he has intertwined his fingers with yours as if he doesn’t ever want to let go of you. A firework of colors and stars is all you see as he thrusts into slow and deep and with all the passion he has to offer. His lips don’t leave space for a breather either; he kisses you with so much fervor that it swallows your heart up whole. At that instant, you realize that he’s claimed your heart and isn’t going to give that up any time soon. You don’t mind, because you know that you’ve committed the same crime.

It’s not long after until you feel the orgasm building up. Jisung brings one hand down to flick your clit, and just like that, you unravel beneath him. His own release follows suit, a muffled groan coming from his lips as he spills into the condom.

It’s quiet for a moment, no words spoken between you except for harsh breathing. Eventually, Jisung slides his softening dick out of you and disappears for a moment to clean up, returning with a damp towel for you to freshen up a little, as well as a glass of water.

“I think I won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” you say after you gulped down the drink in one go, voice devoid of emotion. A laugh leaves Jisung. The way you deliver it is so casual as if he didn’t just have his dick in you minutes before. “Also, isn’t this the part where we should cuddle?”

“So bossy, your royal majesty.” He even takes a bow before he climbs back on the bed, pulling the covers over your bodies, and scooting up to you. He says something else, but you don’t register what exactly. All you care about is being wrapped in his warm embrace. The stench of sweat isn’t prominent on him anymore. Instead, it’s a huge cloud of Axe overpowering your senses. You would complain, but you’re too blissed out to bother.

Jisung must’ve noticed at a certain point that you’ve wandered to daydream paradise. “You’ve been quiet for a while. A penny for your thoughts.”

“But you can read my mind.”

“I want you to say it out loud.” His answer comes like a shot while his hand is brushing through your hair. “That, and your thoughts are too jumbled and my head is going to malfunction if I try to decode everything running in your head right now.”

The corners of your lips quirk upwards. “I’m just thinking about how we did everything in the wrong order. It’s just now that we kissed, before that I only sucked you off or something. We’re so fucked up.”

“If you word it that way, we definitely didn’t follow the book.” Jisung laughs in agreement. The vibrations from his chest causes you to bubble up in warmth.

“I don’t mind, though. That’s not the point. I’m happy.” You don’t have to look up to know that his eyes lit up. “Jisung, I’m happy that you’re mine.”

The hold around your waist tightens, and you feel a soft kiss being pressed on top of your head. “And I’m happy that you’re mine.”

In another lifetime, another universe, you probably wouldn’t have to go through these struggles. Society would normalize having someone that completes you. You wouldn’t go through countless stages of denial, countless stages of frustration, and countless stages of doubt.

In another lifetime, another universe, you potentially could’ve been on even worse terms. Just like in those cyberpunk movies, maybe you two would be enemies, one fighting alongside the government, the other assisting the villain who tries to overthrow the system. Star-crossed lovers, that’s what you two would be dubbed as.

In another lifetime, another univer—

No need to fantasize about what could be. The only lifetime that matters is this lifetime, this universe, your reality. In reality, people like you live in hiding. In reality, society is doubtful towards people with soulmates. In reality, people like you are destined for a tragedy. It’s taken you a long time to wrap it around your head.

That’s alright though. You’re alright. You’ll always be alright. The universe might have not played in your favor in this lifetime, but you still found each other. Perhaps, the universe will be more forgiving towards you in your next lifetime. Or the one after. Who knows? Whatever happens, at least you know you have one person you’re bound to meet wherever you are, whenever you are. One person who won’t ever let go of you. One person you won’t ever let go of.

“Yeah, I’m yours.”

#i'm never writing a oneshot again this is too stressful for my heart #stray kids smut #skz smut #han jisung smut #jisung smut #stray kids dark hours #dom!jisung #sub!reader #jijiri.txt #smut.mine #i winged the ending so pls go easy on me dlskjflkjsa

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