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pochitastan · 4 years

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Do I Wanna Know?

songfic based on Do I Wanna Know? by Arctic Monkeys

pairing: levi ackerman x fem!reader

AN: this is my first posted fic so i'm sorry if it's shit. i try to make my fics inclusive and i know not all races blush or show red on their face but the song lyrics start that way so i'm sorry in advance. the effort i put into this is extraordinary im surprised i finished it.-

WARNINGS: LANGUAGE, slow burn, angst (not rlly), SMUT, unprotected sex, biting, overstimulation, light degradation, some choking, light bondage, he makes you cry lol, FLUFF- like wholesome shit? i really made myself feel even lonelier than i already do writing this.

word count- about 10k (this a whole ass book sorry) i don't have caps on purpose

i hope you guys enjoy this mess <3

"have you got color in your cheeks?"

"what?"you turn away from where- who - you were looking at and look at christa, meeting her worried gaze. She puts her hand on your forehead and sighs "are you feeling well y/n? you're burning up." you were completely fine physically, its your emotions making you heated. a foreign feeling was in your chest as you watched a new recruit sucking up to captain levi a little too obviously. "i'm fine christa, i'll be better once i get food in my system." she purses her lips and sighs "atleast let me get you a cool towel, i could use one myself." you curtly nod and turn back towards the scene before you.

do you ever get that fear that you can’t shift the type that sticks around like summat in your teeth?

the new girl, sienna, stands on a chair that she claimed was "wobbly" and "dangerous" so she asked the captain to "keep a hand on her" so she could be steady as she dusts off the top of the bookshelves she was in front of. what an airhead. she was using levi's annual cleaning day to her advantage alright. you lazily mop the floor as you watch how his hand stays on her leg, the bottom half of his face covered with his go to white bandana. his usual bored expression is apparent in his eyes as they trail around his surroundings, meeting yours from a room away. you try to correct your glare and immediately look back down at your mop on the floor. you missed the way his lip quirks up, hidden beneath the mask.

are there some aces up your sleeve? You weren't jealous, just pissed because of how unnecessarily loud sienna was being. you weren't thinking about what you would do if you were in her place-imagining his hand on your leg. no, you hate him because of how he holds himself with untouchable pride, acting like everyone is beneath him, how all the new recruits practically fan girl over "humanity's strongest." he's not all that. although he's older than you your kill count is quickly catching up to his, not to mention your untouchable skill when it comes to operating your ODM gear. although you two are at each other's necks, you have saved each other's lives on the battle field on multiple occasions- him saying something along the lines of "get your ass back up brat!" and you scolding him with "don't get lazy on me now asshole." no one dared speak to him like that- but when his life had almost ended seconds before, your words helped him snap back into battle mode. this "relationship" began when you first joined the scouts and sought out for him after your first exhibition outside of the walls. of course, this was before you knew how much of a douche the man really is. when you found him your conversation went something like this. "captain, i was wondering if you could teach me how to fight the way you do." "did you not pay attention in training?" "sir, i've seen some of the most dedicated soldiers i know have their limbs severed and be devoured before me. did they not pay attention in training, or were they just not as talented and gifted as you?" truthfully you thought he would smack you away right then and there due to the venom in your voice and blatant disrespect towards him. instead he narrows his eyes slightly "same time tomorrow, you better not be late, brat." you may not know it, but he took an interest in your bold personality, even though he knew it would end up pissing him off. have you no idea that you’re in deep? i’ve dreamt about you nearly every night this week, how many secrets can you keep? your mind wonders to a week ago when the corps returned from a scouting mission in which countless lives were lost. you had seen a titan grab levi by the leg before you swiftly cut the giant baby down. he hid it well, but you saw his limp before he flew off. when you returned to base you couldn't find him anywhere "armin!" you ran towards the boy and he looked at you with wide eyes "y/n you're hurt!" he wasn't wrong. you had gotten your left forearm caught in a titan's jaw, luckily you were able to cut free before your limb was severed or broken- but your limb was still torn open from the titan's large teeth. armin takes the towel used to wipe his sweat and wraps it around your arm "you need medical-"you interrupt him "armin wheres captain levi?" you needed to remind him of how you saved his life once again, you weren't going to check up on him. no, you didn't want to see how badly his leg was hurt or make sure he really made it back alive. the boy looks around and points to the base "he went inside i- i think he was injur-" "thank you!" you sprint inside finding him in an unused room wrapping his injured leg with gauze. "captain!" now that you're alone with him you don't really know what to do or say, so you settle on standing in the doorway. he abruptly turns to see you standing at the door holding a stained red towel on your injured arm. "shit- you need to go to the medical tent for that dumbass!" god you were pale- your y/e/c eyes were dull from blood loss and you were practically swaying in front of him. he stands- wincing as he puts weight on his bad leg- and pulls you inside closing the door behind him. he sits you on the bed and gets down on his good knee before you. "you don't have time to get back out there- you can barely stand" he pulls the towel from you and throws it on the floor behind him. "shit- what a mess" he curses as he gently grabs your arm- ripping the gauze with his teeth and wrapping your wound. you could hear his deep breathing as you watch him and you start to relax, slightly leaning forward as tiredness starts to overtake you. he finishes his wrapping- the gauze strategically put around your elbow to the palm of your hand. "levi." you can barely keep your eyes open due to the amount of blood you lost. he meets your gaze, his face so close your noses are practically touching. a foreign feeling blooms in your chest as you look at him, his face betraying his usual disinterested expression, instead his brows are furrowed, his usually downcast gaze now upturned in worry. he clenches his jaw, looking to the side, and his expression returns to it's normal calm state. you hesitantly bring your uninjured hand to his cheek and lean your forehead into his, closing your eyes. "i saved your ass once again." you hear him hum a deep chuckle and you feel his rough hand come over yours, pushing your cold touch into his face. he brings his other hand to your chin pulling you away to look at him. god his clothes were stained with your blood and guilt courses through you. your usual resolve falls as your eyes tear up. how embarrassing. you've never dropped your composure like this, years of emotional abuse allowing you to hide what you feel from your face easily. you're definitely suffering from severe blood loss. "still a pain in my ass even when i'm the one taking care of you." "you love it." you retort as you look away, trying to hide your tears and your face heats from his words. "why did you come here y/n?" his deep voice was monotone as usual, but his expression was soft. "i-" you look at him again and suddenly the two of you were leaning in. you closed your eyes and his lips were on yours. they were soft, softer than you had imagined. his hand stayed on yours while the other tangled in your hair. if you thought you were lightheaded before- what you were feeling now was on a whole new level. he pulls away, trailing his thumb over your bottom lip, his eyes following his finger's movements. god you were practically floating, your heartbeat was pumping rapidly in your chest, heat spreading all throughout your body and settling between your legs. your vision gets hazy and you blink struggling to maintain consciousness. levis eyes go wide and your vision goes black. you woke up the next day in the medical tent, levi no where in sight. cause there’s this tune i found that makes me think of you somehow and i play it on repeat until i fall asleep you snap back to reality. you hold up your injured arm. you had been avoiding him since then, trying(and failing) to convince yourself it was a dream you had due to the dangerous blood loss you experienced. even if it did happen it was only because the two of you were injured and not thinking straight. he would never be interested in you. suddenly you hear sienna yelp and fall back. you look back up and see levi holding her bridal style effortlessly. "oh captain! thank you you're so strong- oh" levi sets her down and rolls his eyes with a scowl, grabbing the duster from her hand and walking straight towards you. quickly, you look back at your mopping suddenly very interested in how shiny the wet floor looks. "cadet." his deep voice sends chills down your body and you subconsciously squeeze your thighs together to relieve the sudden heat in your core. you look up at him and see he's already looking down at you with an amused look in his eyes. "last i checked your assignment was to mop the floors correct?" duh. you fight the urge to roll your eyes. "correct sir." he pulls down his bandana and leans closer to you. in a voice just above a whisper he says "so why are you so distracted from your task?" you can't take your eyes away from his and your body flushes at his close proximity. he takes the mop from your hand, his calloused fingers grazing yours, and hands you the duster. "from now on you're in charge of dusting the underside of the tables and wiping down the trimming on the walls. maybe when you're on your knees you can learn a thing or two about finishing tasks."

spillin’ drinks on my settee

asshole! you swallow as anger blooms in your chest. how dare he tempt and tease you like this,first leading you on with a kiss and now making you get on your knees before him. you didn't know if you wanted to smack him or suck him off. a distant voice in the back of your head said imagine doing both. you know he's looking for a reaction. if he wants to tease you and push your limits, two can play at that game. you slowly get down on your knees before him, maintaining eye contact the whole way down. your heart beats rapidly in your chest and you try to ignore the fact that his cock is merely inches away from your mouth. "yes sir." you ignore the strong urge to look away from his eyes and down his body as he stares you down, his lips slightly parted. he lets out a breath and pulls his mask back up, leaving with the mop and moving upstairs. you let out the breath you were holding and sit back on your feet, running your hand through your hair. "here you go y/n! sorry it took me so long, eren and jean were arguing." christa hands you the wet towel and her eyes go wide "oh you really look dazed now, are you sure you're alright?" you bring the towel to your head "i guess i really am feeling a bit shaky." you can't stand him.

do i wanna know if this feeling flows both ways?

you lazily chew your bread, pretending to be interested in the conversation your friends were carrying on at the table. tensions were high after a long day of cleaning and being critiqued by the captain. eren and jean were going on about something once again. you swear the two are always at each others necks, no doubt because of jean's jealousy towards eren due to how close he is with mikasa. "you're all talk! i don't care if you're a titan- i'll kick your scrawny ass right now!" jean yells and stands causing eren to reciprocate "oh i'd love to see you try horse face" things were getting ugly fast. "come on guys let's calm down now" reiner stands with them "back off reiner i don't need your help!" eren practically growls. this is serious if reiner can't stop their advances. you stand and move between the pair "that's enough. you two need to set your differences aside and learn when to quit." you put your arm against eren's chest and look at him. "fine." he huffs. you sigh and jean grumbles under his breath "pussy, i knew you wouldn't do shit, no wonder you let your mother get killed." ... oh no. eren snaps and charges, causing jean to swing. eren quickly grabs your injured forearm, and roughly pulls you out of the way from jean's blow. you fall to the floor and chaos ensues with everyone rushing in between the two. you wince in pain as your gauze starts turning red from your now opened wound. you stand as you hear steps rapidly coming down the stairs towards the group. "guys please- the captains coming" your pleads fall on deaf ears and you mentally curse yourself for not doing more to stop this. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" levi's cold voice booms through the room and everyone freezes.

sad to see you go, was sorta hopin’ that you’d stay

eren and jean abruptly pull away from each other and everyone takes a step back. levi stands with hange behind him. the captain's voice is rough as he growls "have you two sons of bitches got any intelligence in those nonexistent brains of yours? not only did you shitheads ruin a meal you also decided to fuck up a perfectly clean room." he glances over everyone but his eyes fall on you. "cadet, why is your arm hidden?" shit... shit! you freeze. taking a deep breath you glare back at him, trying to telepathically curse him for pointing it out and tell him that it's not a big deal. wordlessly you pull your arm out from behind you. all eyes look at the gauze on your arm stained red with blood, which was now dripping on the floor. the captain takes a breath. then two. "its fine, it's not as bad as it looks-"gods your arm is throbbing "i was too rough on it and i should've let it heal more, this is my doing." the lie falls smoothly from your lips and you try not to wince at the silence. "no y/n, i won't let you cover for me." eren steps forward and you mentally scold him. "sir i was the one who hurt her. i must've grabbed her injured arm when i pushed her out of the way." you know what's about to happen and it appears your comrades do too. a moment of silence passes before levi steps towards eren and you pray mikasa won't try to kill the captain. eren's eyes go wide with fear and he steps back, stumbling into the now flipped table, causing him to fall to the ground. he crawls backwards, his eyes never leaving the captain's. it's almost as if you can read his thoughts, his mind replaying one phrase: not again. mikasa takes a step forward and you know that if you don't act now things will take a turn for the worse. just as levi raises his good leg to deliver a blow and mikasa reaches for her blades, you're next to the captain with your good hand on his shoulder. "if eren hadn't moved me i would've gotten hit. because of him i didn't have to kick jean's ass myself."you quirk a brow and glance over to jean, who currently looks like he's about to vomit "and you know his injuries would be far worse than mine." a moment passes before levi puts his leg down, redirecting his glare to the rest of the group. "fix it or i will." and just like that he leaves, hange shrugging at us before following behind him.

baby we both know that the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day

eren stands and cant meet your eye "im sorry y/n" you shake your head with a chuckle and give him a closed eye smile, causing him to look at you in confusion. "you did nothing wrong eren." the boy clenches his jaw and gives you a curt nod before moving to set the table back up. mikasa nods at you and you pray eren will one day realize how much this girl cares for him. "yeah, next time you guys fight we're not stepping in." connie says with a smirk "i kinda wanna see who'd win anyway." you and a few others laugh with him. you grab a towel from the cabinet and wrap it tightly around your arm to stop the bleeding as you lean against the counter and look at your blood on the floor. no wonder levi reacted the way he did, that clean freak must've been pissed about the mess your blood made. he didn't even spare you a look when you were next to him, he had no reaction to your touch on his shoulder. you curse under your breath, gods why did you care so much? just being near the guy pisses you off. you pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes. "he didn't look at the floor." armin stands in front of you. "what?" "he didn't notice the blood, he just looked at you." the boy seemed to be as surprised as you. you keep your face blank "what are you talking about?" armin ignores you and walks back to the others, leaving you alone once again.

crawlin’ back to you

it had been a few weeks since eren and jean's fight, each day dully passing as you sat out of the front lines due to your injury. since then your arm had healed enough to the point where you could use it again, in moderation of course. it is starting to scar and you can tell it will leave a gruesome mark behind, but you don't mind. although you were injured levi didn't go easy on you, giving you extra assignments like cleaning the stables or staying up late to re-mop the floors after your first attempt was "pathetic". yet even after ordering you around or ignoring you completely, he would always gently pull your arm to him and look it over before letting you do your tasks. what the hell is up with him? he was being unnecessarily cold and rude to you one minute then checking on your recovery the next. he never showed any inclination that he really cared- yet his touch was so soft and warm. you figured he was bitter towards you because of how you stopped him from hurting eren, maybe he saw your actions as disrespectful. you silence your thoughts as you sit at the table at which the scouts have their meetings. everyone was waiting for levi, eren, and hange to show. as if on cue the three come into the room, hange sitting at the head of the table and eren sitting at the opposite head. wait... why is eren sitting where levi usually sits? the only open seat was the one right next to you, to the right of eren. levi sits next to you and you give eren a confused look. levi didn't seem to mind where eren was sitting... weird. even reiner seemed to notice the seat change, raising a brow to you from his spot beside you. the meeting must be about the experiments hange has been using eren for, why else would levi trade his spot?

ever thought of callin’ when you’ve had a few? cause i always do

the meeting went as usual, levi briefing us on the newest plan for returning to the walls and others offering up various information and ideas. levi passed the discussion over to hange and she started talking about her latest experiments on her titans and eren. after updating us she went into her usual rant on how she was inspired for these experiments and of course everyone knew this information already. usually levi was the one to suggest we change the topic or simply leaving the table, allowing us to follow, yet he sat to the left of you leaning his head against his hand, mirroring your position. you glance over to him and see he's already looking at you, his expression remains the same but he raises a brow when you make eye contact. he then turns his attention back to hange. you ignore how good he looks and turn your attention to the table, lazily tracing circles on the surface of the wood. you're caught up in your thoughts, zoning out into your own world when a finger lightly caresses your thigh. your hand freezes and you blink. did levi just touch your thigh? almost as if in response you feel him lazily trace his finger in circles leading to your upper thigh, mirroring what you did to the table moments before. you look around at everyone else at the table wondering if they could tell what was happening yet none of them were looking over to you, they're bored expressions showing no suspicion. you quickly glance to levi and see he looks stoic as ever, his attention appearing to still be on hange. how can he sit here and look so calm? his feather light touch moves further up your leg and you turn your head down to the table again, your cheeks heating up. how was no one else seeing this? damn this large ass table covering everything- even reiner couldn't see a thing. levi's touch was sending electricity all over your body, your core practically gushing at his teasing. he keeps on moving up your thigh, his circles dangerously close to your center, and you subconsciously part your legs, giving him more access. you don't notice how he wets his lips with his tongue, fighting off a small smirk. you swallow and as you do his finger runs over your clothed clit. you fight back a gasp causing your spit to go down the wrong pipe and you're sent into an embarrassing coughing fit, everyone's attention turning to you as you wave them off stuttering "sorry"'s and "i'm fine" in between coughs. for the first time in a while levi wants to laugh, he loves seeing you get worked up over his little teases, it amuses him. a selfish part of him wants to be the only one to get these reactions out of you, wanting to be the only one to have this affect on you. he'll think about those thoughts later. you finally get a hold of yourself and hange continues after you apologize for interrupting her. levis finger returned to your upper thigh and you mentally crossed your fingers hoping you would be able to control yourself if he tried that again. your mind was racing, imagining what you would do if no one else was here. oh how you wanted him to bend you over this table and pound you until you were crying- "are you ok y/n?"reiner whispers. levi's hand freezes and you immediately snap out of your thoughts. reiner was looking at you with his hand over yours on the table, his thumb lightly running over your knuckles. maybe i’m too busy being yours to fall for somebody knew, now i’ve thought it through it was no secret to levi, the looks the other men would give you and the many conversations your name and appearance were brought up in made him quickly realize how sought after you really are. your beauty was apparent to him, he often caught himself thinking of your smile or the cute way your eyebrows raise when you try not to laugh at the other cadets being stupid. your laugh is what he enjoys the most, it reminds him of his old friend isabel and the days he spent with farlan in the underground. regardless, he knew he'd be a fool to think he was the only one who thought this way about you, it was nearly impossible not to. you're brilliant but you were clueless when it came to other's attraction towards you. he'd often watch as you would laugh with other guys, your innocent touches and jokes easily being mistaken for flirting, ignoring the anger and jealousy he would feel as he wished he could drag you away from their lustful eyes. of course even reiner was apart of the y/n fan club. he takes his hand away from you and clenches his jaw, trying, and failing, to ignore reiner's hand on yours. you nod and pull both of your hands into your lap "i'm fine, thanks reiner." you chew the inside of your cheek hating how much you miss the captain's touch. your heart skips a beat when you replay how soft and sensual his touches were in your mind. no matter how hard you try you can't seem to shake him from your thoughts, even when other guys enter the picture he's always there. you need a damn break. the meeting finally ends and you abruptly get up, ignoring reiner's attempts at walking you to your room, and you don't notice how levi glares at reiner as you leave. crawlin back to you "alright! you should be good to go. i'm sorry i can't help the scarring-" "it's fine don't worry about it hanj! if anything it just makes me look bad ass." the woman laughs at the nickname you gave her and crosses her arms "you don't need a scar to do that, everyone remembers how you kicked bertolt's ass in your sparring match with him." you roll your eyes and the two of you laugh. you move your arm around freely for the first time in what feels like a while. you thank hange for watching over your recovery and leave her office, heading over to the girl's rooms for the night. "you're cleared already?" levi's voice freezes you in place. it's been a week since you last saw the captain one on one, him ignoring you completely unless he was assigning more trivial cleaning tasks. you let out an annoyed sigh and turn around. "yes, hange just gave the all clear." he's holding a small stack of papers in one hand and gestures for you to come closer with the other "let me see."

so have you got the guts?

your frown deepens and you walk up to him, ignoring how his eyes follow you as you approach. you stand two feet away for good measure and hold your arm out in front of him. he gently grabs your wrist, pulling you closer, and turns his attention to your now scarred arm. you can't help but keep your eyes on his as his finger lightly traces the markings. he looks up at your face and you immediately turn your head away to the floor, hating the way your heart skips a beat. "it's healed up better than i thought it would." what the hell is wrong with you? it's like your whole body is set ablaze just from the tip of his finger. "y/n look at me." your eyes go wide and you face him. his mouth moves and your eyes are trained on his lips, not registering anything he's saying. been wonderin’ if your heart’s still open and if so i wanna know what time it shuts "good girl." the words send electricity straight to your core and an audible gasp slips from your lips. your eyes go wide and your face feels so hot you swear you could cook an egg on it. you pull your arm away step back "w-what?" you stutter out. the captain looks at you with a confused and frankly judgemental look "i said relax, you look like you could hurl." you swallow and nod, a giggle slipping out. levi watches you as your giggles turn into a short coughing fit and he raises a brow in amusement. you really need to learn how to not choke on your spit. "sorry, i thought you said something else." this is so humiliating. you need to pull yourself together. why can't you keep your usual stone-faced facade around the captain? his eyes narrow and it's almost like you can see the gears turning in his head. your embarrassment shows on your face and you watch his eyebrows raise as he registers what you heard. "you thought i said good girl." he says taking a step forward. simmer down and pucker up, i’m sorry to interrupt its just i’m constantly on the cusp of trying to kiss you you struggle to keep your composure as the man before you looks down at you, now so close you can feel his breath fan over your face. you cross your arms over your chest and roll your eyes "tch, so what if i did." your usual poker face has returned, yet your heart pounds rapidly in your chest. the captain brushes a lose strand of your hair behind your ear and leans down right next to your face. "can i try something?" your head nods on its own and your lips part as his eyes glance over them. you don't have time to react as his hand comes to the back of your head and massages your scalp before pulling your head to the side by your hair, giving himself access to your neck. you gasp and grip the front his dress shirt as he licks up your neck, biting into your sensitive skin. you stifle a moan and just like that he pulls away. your hand comes up to your neck, shock evident on your face. "wha-what was that?" the captain's lip twitches in an almost smirk, a deep hum rumbling his chest. "just as i thought." your skin is softer than he imagined. but i dont know if you feel the same as i do "oi there you are levi! i've been waiting for sawney's files for forever." levi turns around to face the section commander with his usual stone faced expression, as if he wasn't just sucking on your neck a few seconds before. he walks over to her, handing over the papers he's been holding. "don't go complaining now, you're lucky i even got them for you." hange looks over to you and raises a brow "cadet l/n what are you still doing here? i thought i dismissed you ages ago." as your superior you know you should be intimidated, scared even, from her questioning, but over the past month and a half you two have gotten pretty close from how often you would have to see her for your routine check ups. your hands come to your hips and you tease "captain levi wanted to check over my arm himself. Apparently he doubts your ability to oversee my recovery." to anyone else her movements would be undetectable but your keen observation skills easily spot how her eyes quickly dart to your neck, swiftly following over to levi's wrinkled button up and watch as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand. if she put the dots together she didn't show it, instead going along with your joke. she lets out an exaggerated gasp and turns to levi "how dare you underestimate my healing abilities! i'll have you know i was top-" levi rolls his eyes "tch, i just wanted to make sure you weren't experimenting on her, four eyes. let's not forget about the blood test incident with mikasa." this makes you and hange laugh, levi letting a rare soft smile grace his lips as he watches you. "alright i'll leave you two, the girls are no doubt looking for me at this point." you and hange exchange a wave and levi watches your hips sway as you leave, mentally noting how good your uniform slacks make your ass look. he hears hange clear her throat and meets her gaze. his eyes slightly go wide as she gives him a knowing look and he looks away letting a "tch" out under his breath. "so i see you're finally going for it." levi glares at the woman and she smirks "i've seen you looking at her, and how protective you get with her-" levi glares "enough" he mumbles, looking like a pouting child as a rosy tint covers his cheeks. hange just continues her teasing "i heard her bunk is the cleanest out of all the girls'-" "shut up." hange just laughs and levi walks back to his office, avoiding further torment from the woman. but we could be together if you wanted to he was beginning to get pissed off. he expected you to cover the mark he left on you yesterday, you'd be a fool not to, but that's not what was bothering him. he watches from across the mess hall as reiner walks with you to get tea with his hand on your lower back. he knows reiner is using this as an excuse to make a move, as you are the only other person besides him and ymir who enjoys tea. how pathetic. he also notices how the other cadets are watching the two of you, excluding sasha who is too busy stuffing her face to notice anything. it was painfully obvious he was pining after you, yet your demeanor remained the same as always. with a grunt he focuses back on the conversation hange and erwin are having, subconsciously gripping the rim of his teacup tighter. do i wanna know if this feeling flows both ways? you laugh along with reiner as you pour your tea, trying to ignore how unnecessarily touchy he is today. you don't mind, his innocent touches never made you uncomfortable or made you feel anything really. reiner is a sweet guy, a lot of the other cadets look up to him and you respect that, but another man was occupying your thoughts. you sip your tea and tune in to what reiner is saying "-if i could i would build a cottage in the middle of nowhere with my own farm. it'd be perfect for my woman and i to start a family, and we wouldn't have to worry about the neighbors hearing us." he says the last part with a smirk and your face heats from his suggestive tone. "what about you gorgeous?" you take another sip and contemplate your answer. "well, if i could live beyond the walls i would probably explore. there has to be another civilization somewhere, we can't possibly be the last of the human race, there's no way i'm believing that bullshit." something in reiner's demeanor changes at your words. his face darkens and he steps closer to you, invading your space. the way he looks at you is unrecognizable, almost as if a different person stands before you. "how interesting." his hands come to your hips and he pulls you closer to him, his face hovering over yours, "who told you you could be this smart?" your eyes widen and you nervously laugh "my teachers i guess?" his grip on you tightens as you try to pull away. you really don't want to fight him and fear courses through you as he looks down at your neck. "oh? what's this?" one of his hands pull away to touch your neck and you use the opportunity to put a great distance between the two of you. your back hits someone's hard chest and their hand lightly rests against your lower back to steady you."i didn't know making women uncomfortable was something you enjoyed doing reiner." sad to see you go, was sorta hopin’ that you’d stay the captain's voice sounds from behind you and your shoulders visibly relax. levi cooly steps around you and casually refills his teacup. reiner's eyes stay on him with a glare that would've sent anyone running if not directed at the captain. levi calmly sips his tea, "oi, what are you still standing there for? i know i'm a sight but you don't need to stare." levi doesn't even spare reiner a glance as he grunts and walks off. you begin to turn around until his deep voice stops you "not you. you're coming with me." baby we both know that the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day after levi finished his tea he silently lead you out of the mess hall toward his office. he walks in front of you, knowing you're following closely behind him. you don't speak until he opens the door to his office, walking in and gesturing for you to close the door. "you wanted to speak with me?" your voice comes out stronger than you thought it would due to the nerves coursing through you. you're alone with the captain in his office and it's just like you imagined. his desk is neatly organized with a few stacks of paper sitting in a straight line next to the edge. you notice a light ring the size of a teacup on the wood and a small smile rests on your face. "i didn't know i'd have to babysit you when you joined the scout regiment, if i had i wouldn't have let you." your smile is long forgotten. did you hear that right? "excuse me?" a look of disbelief graces your features and your head tilts to the side as you look at him. he couldn't help but find it endearing. "you heard me." though he knows it doesn't show on his face, he's pissed. he's sick of seeing all the other men openly lust over you as if you don't belong to him. no, he's done waiting around for you to realize how he feels. he crosses his arms and takes a step closer to you "you leading all the men on doesn't help your case either." your eyebrow twitches yet your face remains calm. is he trying to piss you off? "or are you so clueless that you can't see what you're doing to them?" he takes another step closer "to me?" you take a deep breath. "what is the point of this conversation, sir?" the title comes out harsher than you intended and the captain's eyebrow raises. "because if you're just going to shame me i'll be on my way." contrary to your words you don't make any move to leave his office. "no, i intend on doing other things." he lightly grabs ahold of one of your wrists and pulls you closer to him. "i cant have you acting like a slut now can i?" arousal courses through you and you gasp in shock as your other wrist moves to slap him before he gently grabs your hand, stopping it just before it hits him. "fuck you-" your voice catches in your throat as he traces his tongue up your wrist. your whole body heats and you forget to breathe as you watch him. he pulls away before kissing the area underneath your thumb, making eye contact as he lightly bites into your skin. crawlin back to you he relishes in the way your lips part, how intense and shocked your eyes look as they stay on his mouth. well that's one way to shut you up, but he doesn't want you to be quiet right now. he pulls away and a line of saliva connects your skin to his lips for a second. "cursing at your superior now are we?" you swallow and look back up into his eyes. oh how you regret doing that. the look he gives you sends heat straight to your core and you're sure your panties will be soaked soon."or-" he starts walking you backwards towards the door "does this little girl enjoy being a brat?" you don't even know how to respond. the man before you wears a small smirk "answer me." before your back can hit the door he turns you around, pulling your arms behind you and shoving your face against the cool wood. his chest is against your back and his scent fills your senses, making you dizzy with the pleasant smell of his cologne with a faint hint of soap and cleaning products. "asshole." your voice comes out in a quiet croak but he hears you clearly. he roughly pushes into you harder, causing his clothed cock to connect with your heat. a whimper falls from your lips from the contact and he feels you clench through his pants. his lips lightly caress your cheek as he speaks "how filthy, your cunt is already begging for me to fill you with my cock." your eyes widen at his words. you knew he had a foul mouth but this takes you by surprise. your heart is beating so loudly in your chest you're worried he can feel it against him. you push back into him, desperately searching for any kind of friction to relieve the pressure between your legs, and you thank the gods when he lets you grind against his hardening cock. he lets out a hiss and his hips start to grind with yours while his free hand unbuttons your pants and moves to rub circles on your aching clit. he mumbles against you "already so wet for me." before biting into your exposed shoulder. your breaths come out in light gasps, your movements becoming more desperate. you were already getting close and he could tell, but he doesn't want you cumming yet. your legs begin to shake as your release nears, small "yes"'s and "levi"'s falling from your lips. levi wants to hear those soft sounds on repeat, and he makes a mental note to find out how loud they can get. just as you're about to cum levi turns you around and pulls down your pants. your annoyance comes out in a huff as you step out of the slacks before he pushes you against the door again. your hands immediately move to touch him, and he lets you pull his shirt off, using your hands to feel the smooth muscles on his chest and run through his hair. he starts nibbling and sucking on your neck and you remember the warmth of his kiss, how soft and sensual his lips were and pray he'll let you feel them again. he looks at you, enjoying how beautifully fucked out you look already, before moving to connect your lips, yet he barely touches you before pulling away again. you try to lean forward to capture a real kiss from him but his hold on you doesn't budge. he's such a tease. a groan escapes you and levi tsks "now now y/n" they way he says your name makes you close your eyes and rest your head back against the door, trying to ground yourself and keep your composer. "you've made me wait this long-" his kisses trail down your neck before he gets on his knee before you. his calloused hands rub up your thighs and pull your panties off before he pulls one of your legs onto his shoulder. he lightly trails his index finger along your slit and you visibly shudder at the sensation. "you're going to cum on my mouth, understand?" ever thought of callin’ when you’ve had a few? cause i always do your body's so hot you're surprised you haven't passed out by now. he looks up at you expectantly and you wordlessly nod, not trusting your voice at the moment. a harsh slap lands on your ass and you jump with a moan. "use your words cadet." his voice sends vibrations into your core due to his close proximity and you close your eyes, putting your pride and dignity aside. "yes sir, please levi, please, please, please" your words are soft and levi's cock twitches at your begging. you're making him uncomfortably hard but he ignores it in favor of seeing you squirm above him. he can get his dick wet later. he brings his index finger up and lightly teases your clit, watching for your body's reactions to his touch. "have you ever been touched like this before?" he wants to ruin you, to have you crying and begging for him. he wants to make you forget all that isn't his name, but more importantly he wants you to be comfortable. right now he's focused on making you feel good, but not only out of selflessness. he wants to see how many orgasms he can pull from you before you're an incoherent mess from his touch. truthfully he wants to ruin any future sexual escapades with any other lover for you, him being the only one to make your body feel this good. he's selfish and he knows it. he licks along your slit, delicately tasting your folds and he feels your whole body react. you let out a high pitched whine and your hands grip onto his hair tightly. well there's his answer. levi groans into you, sending vibrations throughout your body, and digs in. maybe i’m too busy being yours to fall for somebody knew, now i’ve it through his tongue's languid strokes have you arching into him, your leg struggling to keep you standing. his movements have you quickly approaching the high you so desperately need. you throw your head back and a particularly loud moan slips out when he flicks his tongue over your clit just right. "levi-" he grunts in response and you have to grip the door handle to keep your knee from buckling. "s-sir im- so close" his hands roughly grip your ass and he harshly sucks your clit, sending you tumbling over the edge. your mouth falls open in a silent cry as your orgasm washes over you and levi swears he could cum just from the sight. he laps up your juices and your body jolts every time he runs his tongue over your sensitive clit. one of his hands squeezes your ass as the other trails up under your shirt and kneads your breast over your bra. with a kiss on your pelvic bone he stands and pulls you toward his desk. "sit." he orders. you sit on the edge of his desk and he immediately goes back in between your legs "levi i- ah- what are you doing?" his tongue makes your body jolt due to how sensitive your clit is. he stands and pulls your shirt off of you, your bra coming off soon after. he mumbles "so perfect." as he takes your breasts in his hands, sucking and flicking your nipple with his tongue while his fingers pinch and tease the other. your body is gorgeous, shit, you're gorgeous. his thoughts surround your beauty as he pleases you, enjoying the soft gasps you let out. he pulls away and looks at you while he slips a finger into your tight cunt and curls it causing you to lurch forward into him. his other hand grabs your face and forces you to look at him "take it." your moans only increase at the command and you feel yourself approaching another orgasm. he adds another finger, using his whole arm to perfectly hit a spot deep within you while he swirls his thumb on your clit. you hold onto him for dear life, finger nails leaving red marks across his back as you cum on his fingers. do i wanna know if this feeling flows both ways? suddenly he dips his face between your legs and harshly sucks onto your clit. "ah- fuck levi!" you practically scream as your body shakes from the overstimulation. your cunt clenches his fingers so well throughout your orgasm and he roughly holds your legs open, hard enough to leave bruises. the pain only fuels you more, and although you try to hold back your moans he knows anyone nearby can tell what the two of you are doing. you can barely keep yourself sitting up as you lean back on one arm while the other tugs your captain's hair between your legs. you've never felt this good before. sure, a few of your past partners made you finish but not like this. you don't have it in you to be embarrassed about the noises you're making, your mind only focusing on the man bringing you this pleasure. levi pulls his fingers out of you and you watch with half lidded eyes as he sucks your slick off of them. he's eating you as if you're the best thing he's ever tasted, and to him you are. his fingers move to your clit, harshly rubbing back and forth on your already too sensitive bud and your whole body reacts. levi watches in awe as your head falls back and you arch closer to him, your hips subconsciously moving in time with his fingers. your eyes go wide as you feel his tongue enter you, your hand tightening in his hair as you cry out. the groan he lets into you is pornographic and it's enough to send you over the edge a third time. sad to see you go, was sorta hopin’ that you’d stay if only you could see how beautiful you look right now, he thinks as he stands before you once again. his hand comes around your throat, pulling you to face him before he roughly connects his lips to yours. his tongue explores your mouth and you can taste yourself on him as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. his clothed (extremely hard) cock rubs against your aching center, no doubt ruining his pants with your slick, and he grunts into your mouth. you pull away from the heated make out session, a trail of saliva connecting your lips "please let me touch you" you would give anything to get a taste of him. he doesn't respond, instead he pulls you down and bends you over his desk, fully exposing your soaked pussy and ass to him. you hear clothes rustling behind you and he pulls your wrists behind your back using his belt to tie them in place. you feel the head of his cock run through your folds and you can't help the shaky breath you release. a sudden smack lands on your ass and you gasp, the pain causing your eyes to tear up. "how pathetic." he lands another blow onto your other cheek, harsh enough to make you jump, and you moan. "you would do anything for my cock wouldn't you? what a perfect little slut i found." he continues his harsh assault on your ass and you can feel your juices run down your legs, the hot stinging on your skin only fueling your arousal. "do you know how long i've waited for this? i've wanted to fuck that pretty mouth of yours ever since your smart ass asked me to train you." his hands rub over your cheeks, parting them for a second. "but i'll have to save that for next time." next time. "right now you need to be put in your place." his tip stretches you open and you whimper when he stills, his cock barely in you. his hand harshly grips your hair and he pulls, making your head up come up off his desk while the other grips tightly onto your hip, no doubt leaving a bruise. "beg." the command sends heat to your face and you're embarrassed by how turned on it makes you, but at this point you don't care. "please levi, please fuck me-"he grunts "good girl". he roughly slams into you and due to the position your neck is in you can't help but let out a strangled moan. you can't hold back your cries as his hips set a steady pace. it feels like his fat cock is splitting you open and tears stream down your face as the pain and pleasure overwhelm you. you're a sobbing moaning mess beneath him, and he picks up the pace, roughly fucking your abused cunt. your strangled cries have him concerned until he feels how deliciously you pulse around his large cock. he can't seem to focus on anything else as he repeatedly slams into you, his cock hitting all the right places. in the back of his mind a voice tells him he should probably shut you up considering erwin's office is right next door, and dinner is no doubt long over by now. but he can't help it, your voice sounds so good like this, the repeated "unh"'s and occasional curses are a symphony to his music loving ears. erwin will just have to deal with it for now. he feels you flutter around him and he can't help but grunt. you feel so good he considers kicking you from the scouts and keeping you to himself. "l-levi" his name comes out in a choked sob and he can tell you're close again. "go ahead and cum on my cock, brat." he lands a particularly hard slap on your ass and you come undone around him. you grip him so tightly he can't help but to cum with you, gods your cunt is squeezing around him so deliciously. his hips stutter and a long growl rumbles in his chest as he fills you. baby we both know that the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day "i'm not done with you yet." you let out a sob as he grabs onto your bound wrists, pulling your shoulders flush against his chest so that you're standing against him with one leg bent on the table. contrary to your cries your pussy gushes around his still hard cock. your leg shakes, barely able to support your own weight, and his strong hold keeps you against him. his hand wraps around your throat and rubs circles into your skin with his thumb while his other hand brushes your hair out of your face and traces along your curves to rest on your hip. he lightly kisses across your shoulder blade. "one more y/n, you think you can do that for me?" your tears mix with the sweat on his chest and you lay your head back against his shoulder, struggling to catch your breath. you nod and he connects your lips in a tender kiss as his hips return to their thrusting. you are in heaven surely, levi must have killed you for cursing at him earlier and your sick fantasies must be playing out in your mind before you take your final breath. you can't even think properly, your mind producing only one clear thought "levi-". his name falls from your lips like a mantra and he decides that your moans are his favorite song. his hand tightens around your throat, your mind blanking as your oxygen is restricted. your pussy flutters around him and the small grunts and curses he lets out into your ear make your head spin. "p-please levi-" you can barely form the words as his cock reduces you to a blabbering mess. he loosens his hold on your throat and his other hand starts rubbing your clit. you yelp and tightly squeeze your eyes closed "please let me touch you." too busy bein’ yours to fall his thrusts slow and his hand stills, as if he's contemplating your request. he answers you by slowly pulling out of you, catching you when you nearly fall over. he removes the belt from your wrists and gently massages them with his hands. "c'mere" he mumbles. he helps you around his desk, choosing to ignore the papers spread on the floor, and sits in his chair. he helps you onto his lap and you slowly sink onto him, causing both of you to release an airy moan. you start to set a pace, your hands bracing yourself on his chest as you use his cock to get off. levi's breath catches in his throat as he watches you, mesmerized by how captivating you look like this. he silently tries to commit this moment to memory as vividly as possible. his fingertips lightly trace over your nipples and down the marks he's left over your body. he gently squeezes your hip when goosebumps appear across your skin from his touch. you ever thought of callin’ darlin’? you look at him and see him wearing a small smile and you can't fight back the smile that overtakes your features, he's perfect. levi curses under his breath at the sight, swearing that your smile is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen in his painful existence. he feels tears threaten to brim his eyes and he quickly pulls you into him, crashing his lips against yours. your arms come around his neck as the passion in his kiss makes you breathless. he never wants to stop kissing you, the taste of your lips is intoxicating to him and he thanks whatever is listening for bringing you into his life. you feel him twitch in you and you can tell he's close, yet he makes no move to control your pace. you smile against him and you pull away, resting your forehead against his, closing your eyes as you put your hand on his cheek. a familiar feeling floods into your chest along with a sense of deja vu. levi puts his hand over yours and brings the other to rub your clit as a warmth he's grown accustomed to feeling around you blooms in his chest. he pulls your hand away from his face, interlacing your fingers together as he feels you approaching your climax. you squeeze his hand as you cum, your head falling to his shoulder and biting the crook of his neck to silence your cries. after a few seconds your name falls from his lips, his hand squeezing yours as he comes undone.

do you want me crawlin’ back to you?

——————————————————————————

"i can see why they say you're the best humanity has to offer." he chuckles at your comment and kisses your hand interlaced with his before his arms wrap around you, causing you to arch into him as you sit on his lap. his head rests in the crook of your neck and he responds with a gruff "not funny" into your skin. the vibrations tickle you and you laugh at his comment. you feel him smile against you. "you love it." your voice comes out just above a whisper. your hand runs through his hair as the other traces languid circles on his shoulder. he pulls you into him tighter, if that's even possible, and plants a light kiss on your cheek. "we need to clean." "levi i can't walk." "i know dumbass, by we i meant me. you can sit there and look pretty." "ok."

——————————————————————————

bro this shit is so hard to write

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #aot x reader #aot smut #levi x reader smut #snk #levi ackerman fluff #aot fluff #attack on titan reiner #reader insert #im pretty proud of this #this made me realize how lonely i am

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georgescatcafe · 3 years

Text

but i keep my hands (’til you come into the water)

rating: t warning/s: none pairing/s: georgenap genres/tags: barista george, fluff, humor, flirting, friendship, communication, getting together word count: 22,064 summary: George breathes, and it comes out in a shudder. “Everything about you is so much.” He straightens, meets Sapnap’s eyes. “I’m trying, Sapnap. But sometimes I think you’re just too much for me.”

Or, the one where George is a barista, Dream is Sapnap's best friend, and Sapnap just feels a lot.

+ao3

;;

The first attempt is a disaster. Sapnap should’ve expected it, the object of his desires completely different from who he usually chases after. For one thing, it’s a guy, for another, he’s got his arms crossed, fingers digging harshly into his arms, brows furrowed, lips downturned in a frown. Usually, when someone catches Sapnap’s interest, they paint a more pleasant picture.

Yeah. Not this one.

“I’m working,” he snaps. “I get it, but I really don’t like being flirted with at work.”

“You’re so upfront,” Sapnap replies, smile still on his lips, though he’s certain his ears are turning red as more people turn to look at him where he leans against the counter, probably about to be completely eviscerated by this barista. “I like that.”

He’s not eviscerated. His fate is even worse.

He gets ignored.

“Julia,” George calls, placing down the drink handed to him.

Sapnap steps out of the way as a petite girl with blonde hair takes the drink from the other, delicate fingers curling around the cup, golden-tipped fingers contrasting against the pink of her drink. Sapnap finds himself fighting against the urge to shove his hands in his pockets, remembering something about Dream saying that’s an obvious display of insecurity. And Sapnap isn’t insecure.

He just doesn’t like the way George smiled at the girl as she walked away.

“It’s called customer service, idiot,” Dream tells him later, the two of them having agreed to meet at the library so Dream doesn’t have to smell the coffee that wafts a good way out past the entrance of the Starbucks Sapnap frequents. Sapnap rolls his eyes as he takes a long sip of his vanilla frap, not fully convinced.

“It’s just,” he finally says, drink set carefully down on the table, “it’s like… why did he smile at her like that, when you could barely hear her ‘thank you,’ yet he doesn’t even look at me?”

“Maybe because he told you to leave him alone and you didn’t?” Dream suggests, taking Sapnap’s cup and drawing a smiley face in the condensation. He presents it to the other, only for Sapnap to groan and rub it away. He’s not exactly in the mood for cutesy shit. He says as much.

Dream looks unimpressed. “I’m just saying,” he draws another smiley on the opposite side of the cup, “try respecting his boundaries next time.”

“But I only know him as the barista from Starbucks,” Sapnap whines. “How am I supposed to flirt with him if I only see him when he’s working?”

“Break,” Dream replies, easy.

“Ah.”

Dream sets down Sapnap’s cup, the new smiley still there. “Yeah,” he says, “ah.”

;;

Dream had also advised him to maybe read the barista’s nametag and find out his name, so that’s the first thing Sapnap does when he walks in on Wednesday, eyes going directly to the little plaque on the barista’s apron. GEORGE. Sapnap bites his lip. He can work with that.

“Welcome to Starbucks, would you be interested in trying any of our—oh.” Sapnap looks up from the nametag to see George’s eyes on him, face devoid of any emotion other than perhaps vague disappointment.

“Hi,” Sapnap says.

George’s lips press together, and it’s not a frown, so Sapnap takes it as a smile.

“One venti vanilla frap please.”

“Name?”

“Come on,” Sapnap says. “You so remember my name.”

George hums, brows furrowing as he enters the order into the computer. “You’re right. Something like… ‘nuisance’?”

Sapnap frowns.

“My bad,” George says. “It was ‘annoyance,’ wasn’t it?”

“Ha ha,” Sapnap replies, crossing his arms. “It’s—”

“Sapnap, I know.” George taps the screen and Sapnap tries not to flush at the sight of his wrists. It’s not like they were hidden. It’s not like George is some Victorian lady. Jeez. Embarrassing. And then—

“‘I know’?” he quotes. “So you remembered my name.”

“Kind of hard to forget,” George replies, “since you wouldn’t leave me alone.”

Sapnap rolls his eyes. “Come on,” he tries, “I wasn’t that bad.”

“You were.”

“I’m just determined.”

“Determined?” George repeats, unamused. Sapnap nods. George gives him a long look up and down (and it’s not checking him out, not even close, but Sapnap pretends that’s the case, straightening up and hoping the lighting makes him look good) before sighing and motioning to the person next in line.

Sapnap is ready to continue speaking, but then he remembers the main point of Dream’s advice and instead just rolls his eyes, finding an empty table near the window.

Better? a text from Dream reads.

Duh, his name is George

George

Yes, George , Sapnap glances up at the barista, who’s now taking the order of a guy definitely taller than Sapnap, and judging by the size of his arms, probably stronger too, and when he walks away, George’s eyes definitely follow him, lips curled into a smile not like the one he wore when the blondie left, but rather… oh, come on. Dude what the hell

What

Sapnap doesn’t take a picture, but he does try his best to describe the other customer to Dream. George was like..drooling over him what the hell!

I doubt it

When Sapnap looks up again, George is most definitely not wiping any drool away from his mouth, instead wearing a polite smile as he takes an older woman’s order. It’s as if Sapnap made up the smile he wore watching that guy walk away.

Ok, he concedes, maybe not drooling, but he definitely like… I dont think Im his type :(

As if u ever gave up that easily, Dream’s reply is fast, and Sapnap smiles as the thinking dots appear. You’re fine, just be yourself and respect his boundaries. I know you, you’re a great guy Sap you’ve got this

He’s right. About… everything. Sapnap slips his phone into his pocket right before he hears his name called. It’s not George calling out the drinks today, whoever was missing the other day now returned to their normal shift. Sapnap accepts the drink with an easy thank you and is about to walk away before he’s struck with an idea.

“Um, excuse me,” he calls to the woman who’s already started to head back to the espresso machine. She turns around and makes her way back over to the counter anyway, brows raised, anticipating Sapnap’s question.

Sapnap leans in some, unsure if he wants George to hear what he’s about to ask or not.

“Um, George,” he starts, and, oh, that’s not a good look. He presses on anyway. “When is… do you know his breaktime?”

“I do,” the woman replies, and Sapnap is ready to be pleasantly surprised, the amount of information this employee is ready to give more than expected, but then she continues, “but legally I’m not allowed to share it with you, and even if I could, I don’t think I would.”

Sapnap tries his best to swallow his disappointment. He’s not sure how he ended up so dumb with hope anyway. “Right,” he says. “Sorry for asking.”

“I suggest not doing it again,” she replies easily, but before she walks away she gives him a soft smile, “but it’s fine.”

Sapnap returns her smile, even as he feels an itch at the base of his neck, only growing as heat spreads under his skin. He’s quick to make his way back to the table, fingers wrapped tight around his frap.

He tries his best not to watch George, appearing as disinterested as he can, up until the other switches places with another employee, now going around cleaning up tables. Sapnap’s been people watching, eyes determinedly looking anywhere but at George, but that fails when he sees movement from the corner of his eye, a napkin falling to the floor, just in reach of Sapnap’s foot. Stretching the tiniest bit, Sapnap catches the napkin under his shoe, pulling it over to him so he can pick it up and throw it away himself. He almost makes a comment to George about his cleaning skills, always one to tease, no matter who it is he’s teasing, but then the napkin flops over the back of his hand and he sees ink on paper.

Mon-Th 8am-4pm break @ 10 lunch @ 12 break @ 2

Sapnap has no idea when George wrote that, if it was while he was still taking orders or if he wrote it while Sapnap kept his eyes out the window, but when he looks up, he finds the barista already watching him, now back behind the till, cheeks pink even as he holds Sapnap’s gaze. Sapnap smiles, waving the napkin in an I got it! gesture. George doesn’t smile back, just looks down at the register, then up at the customer that walks in a second later.

That’s fine. Sapnap shoves the napkin into his pocket. This is progress.

When he’s about to leave, hand pressed against the glass door, he turns. George is looking down, but Sapnap can see the tips of his ears, the slope of his nose. Pink. Bright, pretty pink.

He smiles. Definitely progress.

;;

“So you want me to flirt with you, then?” Sapnap asks, leaning his hip against the edge of the table George sits at, the barista looking at something on his phone.

“No, not really,” George replies, not looking up from the device.

Sapnap sits in the seat across from him. “But I can flirt with you now, right?” he asks. “Since you’re not technically working right now?”

“I’m being paid for this,” George says. “It’s ten minutes. Money is going into my bank account, right now.” He finally looks up at the other, eyes wide in emphasis. “That means I’m working.”

“Boo,” Sapnap immediately snaps. “You just don’t want to admit that you want me.”

George makes a face.

“Want me flirting with you,” Sapnap clarifies, though he wouldn’t mind George wanting him. (He even hopes for that, honestly.) “You want me to flirt with you.”

“Quit making assumptions, you weirdo.”

Sapnap laughs. “You sound like my friend.”

“Oh, really?” George asks. “Maybe we’d get along then.”

“Me and you?”

George gives him a dry look. “No, you idiot, me and your friend.”

“Well, you’re not going to meet him,” Sapnap replies.

“What, is he better looking than you?” George asks. “Wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Hey!” Sapnap cries indignantly. “What does that mean?” George merely raises a brow. “And no , he’s not. I just… he doesn’t like coffee.”

“And that means he can’t come inside?” George asks.

“He gets, like, really nauseous if he smells it,” Sapnap explains “After I come here, I usually end up meeting him at, like, the library or something.”

“Oh, are you guys students?” At this, George sits up, leaning forward slightly over the table. Sapnap wonders if he’d be allowed to copy the other’s posture, or if it’d make George lean away. He decides not to risk it.

“I am,” he says. “My friend isn’t.”

“H’m,” George says.

“Yeah,” Sapnap replies. “H’m.”

He smiles at the smile that spreads on George’s lips, even as the other looks away, tucking his chin into his collar in an attempt to hide it further. “Stop it,” George says, muffled as he speaks into fabric. “Stop that.”

“I’m just looking at you,” Sapnap replies.

George glances at him from the corner of his eye. “I know,” he says. “Stop it.”

Though he doesn’t want to, he does. “So are you a student too?” he asks.

“Alum,” he replies. “Graduated last year.”

“Ooh,” Sapnap says. “Teach me all that you know.”

“You don’t even know what I majored in,” George replies. “What if we took, like, completely different classes?”

“Unimportant,” Sapnap says. “I was just trying to find an excuse to spend more time with you.”

“I—,” George is cut off by a persistent beeping. The two look down at the phone on the table. “Oh,” George turns off the timer. “Back to work.”

“I thought you said you’re still technically working?” Sapnap asks, knowing the grin he’s wearing is infuriating.

George’s eyes narrow as he looks at Sapnap before he shakes his head. “You’re so annoying.”

“You’re the one who talked to me for ten minutes,” Sapnap replies easily.

George doesn’t reply, instead just shaking his head once more, heading back to the counter, where he grabs his apron and goes to tie it around his (oh God, small) waist. Sapnap squeezes his eyes shut, thinking, before he gets up from his chair. The place is relatively empty for ten in the morning. “It’s compsci,” he says as George finally comes to stand at the register. “I’m a compsci major.” George looks up at him from across the room, startled. “In case you were, you know, actually wondering.” He can feel his confidence drain out of him the longer the other continues to stare blankly at him. “Um, yeah.” He lifts a hand to wave goodbye, and he’s about to walk out when George replies:

“Wait, Sapnap,” he turns around to see George watching him, fingers gripping the edge of the counter, “if you actually do want help ever, uh, I can do that. For you.”

Sapnap wants to reply, wants to say thank you or maybe even you, me, library tomorrow at six?, but instead he stays silent, and the moment passes, George inserting something into the computer, Sapnap clearly dismissed.

;;

“I fucked up,” he says immediately to Dream, sinking into his seat at the small diner on the corner of Mulberry and 11th, convenient for its equidistance from his dorm and Dream’s apartment.

“You really could’ve gotten a date, and instead you just stood there,” Dream says, a vague echo of Sapnap’s retelling.

“You’re making fun of me right now,” Sapnap whines.

“No,” Dream says. Sapnap looks up at him from between his fingers. The corner of Dream’s mouth twitches. “Maybe.”

Sapnap groans, pushing his face further into his hands.

“No, no, it’s not that bad,” Dream tries. “Come on, man, no moping at Sally’s. You’re literally eating cheesecake pancakes right now. You can’t mope.”

“I’m not moping,” Sapnap immediately replies. “I’m mourning.” He pulls his hands away from his face, instead pressing the tips of his fingers to his temples. “Mourning the relationship that never was.”

“Is this what you’re like when you actually have to work for a relationship?” Dream asks. He steals a strawberry off of Sapnap’s plate. “I don’t know if I like this dude.”

“George?” Sapnap asks.

“No,” Dream says, stealing another strawberry, “you.”

“Considering you’re still here, I think you like him well enough.” Sapnap lifts a brow as Dream goes to sneak another strawberry, blocking the other’s fork with his own. Metal clinks against metal. Dream accepts defeat, going back to his waffles.

“We all have our ups and downs,” Dream finally declares. “That was a bad day—”

“But it was going so well!”

“Okay, then things got thrown off with the alarm—”

“Timer.”

“—going off,” Dream eats another bite of waffles, “so basically: don’t worry about it.”

“I will worry about it,” Sapnap says, just to be contradictory.

Dream knows what he’s doing, so instead of replying, he just finishes off the first of his waffles. Sapnap glares down at his own meal before spearing a piece of pancake.

“I’ll go back tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s Friday,” Dream says.

Shit.

;;

He resigns himself to waiting until Monday to see George again, only to find himself stopping short when walking to his dorm from the library, spotting a familiar figure sitting on one of the benches that line the commons.

“George?” he calls, before he can decide if interacting outside of the four walls of the Starbucks they’re so used to is a good idea.

George looks up, slipping his phone in his pocket, eyes obviously wide even when hidden behind a pair of—

“Are those clout goggles?” Sapnap asks, biting back a laugh.

George crosses his arms, stretching his legs out (though they don’t reach particularly far, Sapnap affectionately notes) and leaning back on the bench. “Maybe,” he replies.

Sapnap stops holding back his laughter, letting it spill out freely as George’s face goes through a range of expressions, from a frown to a smile to a grimace to something of a cross between all three.

“If you’re done,” he says when Sapnap’s laughter has turned more into sporadic giggles.

“I’m sorry,” Sapnap immediately replies, though it’s clear the words mean nothing. He’s certain if he could see George’s eyes clearly through his lenses, the other would be rolling them. “It’s cute,” he almost says, but something stops him, the words turning into, “It’s fine. They suit you.”

One of George’s hands comes up to adjust the glasses, the twist of his lips finally turning into a smile. “Really?” he asks, hand pulling away from the frames to instead rest his fingers lightly against the plastic, but Sapnap isn’t paying attention to the glasses at all, eyes instead locked on the delicate bones of George’s wrist.

“Yeah,” he says anyway. George’s hand falls back to his lap. “So,” Sapnap says, now that the immediate distraction is gone, coming back into himself, “what are you doing here? Don’t tell me you were wanting to see my face again.”

“Um.” George looks away, at a tree that Sapnap knows is behind him, at the ground, the railing of the bench, at an acorn that lay a few feet away. Sapnap tries not to let the hope grow in him, even though the silence only continues to stretch on.

The hope finally breaks loose, and he asks it: “Did you really come here just to see me?”

“Not… entirely,” George replies. Sapnap gives him a disbelieving look, and George is quick to defend himself. “No, really!” he says. “I live in the area, and this… it’s nice, isn’t it?” He motions to the commons. “It’s, like, cool outside now, and the sun isn’t, like, really hot or anything. It’s nice.”

“But you said ‘not entirely,’” Sapnap says, “so that means I was part of the reason?”

“I didn’t expect to see you,” George sighs. “But if—if—I did see you, I wouldn’t be opposed to, like, hanging out or, um, something.”

“Okay,” Sapnap says easily, taking a seat on the bench next to him. Now that he’s beside George, he can see his eyes better underneath his glasses, and he doesn’t even try to hide the way he stares. “So what do you want to do?”

George gives a noncommittal shrug.

Sapnap sighs. They sit in a tense silence, Sapnap itching to say something, George… Sapnap isn’t sure what he’s thinking. Although they’re sitting side by side, sometimes their shoes would brush against each other, edge of sole against edge of sole, and George would jump like he’s been shocked, bringing Sapnap’s eyes back to him every time. Finally, Sapnap gives another sigh and says, “I spy… with my little eye… something… blue.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees George tense. And then.

“The sky?”

“Nope!” Sapnap answers, popping the ‘p’. “Try again.”

George hums quietly, head moving the tiniest bit as he surveys the area. “There,” he says, pointing, “those flowers.”

“Got it,” Sapnap smiles, “your turn.”

George looks around, a single finger tapping on his jean-clad thigh. Sapnap refuses to follow the movement. “I spy,” George begins, “with my little eye something that starts with P.”

Sapnap looks around, searching for whatever George could have chosen. Then a bark rings through the air, and his head snaps around to look at the dog darting across the commons to get to a girl kneeled in the grass. “That puppy,” Sapnap replies, smug.

“Yup.” George nods, glancing over at Sapnap as he picks out something.

“I spy with my little eye,” he starts, angling himself more towards George, “something green.”

George falters. “Grass?” he tries, a slight smile on his face.

Sapnap laughs. “No,” and then out of a rush of courage he’s not sure from where, he reaches up to pluck the leaf out of George’s hair, holding it up between the two of them.

George scoffs. “That’s not even fair. I can’t see that. And was that in my hair this entire time?”

Sapnap shakes his head, flicking it away from them, the leaf dancing idly in the air before twirling to the ground. “Nah. It must have happened sometime last round.”

“Ah.” George finally takes off his sunglasses, pushing them up onto the top of his head. “Well, still not fair. I can’t even see green.”

“What?” Sapnap doesn’t mean for it to come out as a laugh, but it does. “What do you mean you can’t see green?”

“I’m colorblind, asshole,” George doesn’t shove him, but his hand does lift and make a weak motion towards him. “When you started with a color, I figured this wouldn’t last long.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, then?” Sapnap asks, hand coming down on the bench next to him so he can lean towards George.

“You said blue; it was fine,” George replies. “Besides,” he gives a shrug, “I just said the letter the word starts with. If I did it every time, maybe you would too.”

“Weird,” Sapnap says, the word coming out on a whistle.

“Not as weird as you,” George easily fires back.

Sapnap rolls his eyes but doesn’t reply, settling back on the bench once more. They sit in a companionable silence for another second before he remembers.

“Hey, uh,” George looks over at him, and wow, have his eyes always been that deep, wide and round and shining like honey in the bright sun, “my friend and I, the one that doesn’t like coffee, we’re meeting up for dinner. Would you… maybe want to come? Just so you can meet him. You know. We hang out a lot. And stuff.”

George seems to consider it before he nods. “If your friend is fine with it, why not?”

Sapnap sends Dream a quick text to ask, though he knows the other will say yes. “You’re not allergic to anything, are you?” he asks, even though he and Dream were just going to meet at, like, a McDonald’s.

“Not that I know of,” George replies.

“Awesome,” Sapnap says.

“Yup,” George agrees.

And… it’s awkward again.

“Got any other plans?” he asks, just to break the silence.

“Not really,” George says. “Fridays are usually pretty uneventful.”

“No one asking you to any parties?”

At that, George gives a quiet laugh. “Not really a partying type of person.”

“Really?” Sapnap asks, eyes wide. “I never would’ve guessed.”

George looks over at him, brows high, before he realizes it was sarcasm, making him roll his eyes. “Oh my God, you’re so annoying.”

“I’m not the one who agreed to spend more time with me.”

George doesn’t reply, but when Sapnap glances at him, he’s got a small smile on his lips, cheeks pink and not, Sapnap is pretty sure, because of the sun.

;;

Sapnap thinks he should be jealous. He’s, like, really sure he’s supposed to be jealous.

Dream and George meet and hit it off immediately, falling into an easy banter that Sapnap watches like a tennis match, a constant smile on George’s face, laughter spilling out past his lips like a waterfall.

They get along like a house on fire or whatever the phrase is, and Sapnap is left to breathe in the smoke. Yet he’s not choking and he’s not jealous.

Because every time George says something that sends Dream into a fit of laughter, he’ll glance over at Sapnap, eyes bright and smile wide, as if to check that he has Sapnap’s attention too, that he has Sapnap laughing right along with them.

Sapnap wonders if Dream notices, if he catches these moments between them, but if he does, he never comments on it, instead continuing to talk to George like they’ve known each other for thirty years and not thirty minutes.

By the time they finish their food, George and Dream have exchanged numbers and are planning another time to hang out.

“It sucks about the coffee thing,” George says to Dream, head tilted back so they can make eye contact. It’s endearing, but Sapnap does feel a slight pain in his chest when he realizes their one inch difference in height means he doesn’t get the same experience.

“Yeah,” Dream agrees, “honestly it’s just, like, really inconvenient because I don’t like coffee in the first place, but you’re telling me I can’t even be near it?” George gives a sympathetic smile, and Dream backtracks. “If you ever want, I’m sure I can stomach it for, like, a minute or two, but—”

“It’s fine,” George cuts him off. “I can meet you wherever you want. I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” Dream asks, looking apologetic.

“It’s fine,” George repeats. “So next Tuesday? When I get off work?”

“Yeah,” Dream confirms. “I’ll let you know if something comes up.”

“Same here.” George gives him a smile. “It’ll be fun kicking your ass.”

“Oh, right, like you’re going to win,” Dream scoffs. “Right.”

“You’ll see,” George crosses his arms, “just wait.”

“Whatever.” Dream gives a laugh before shouldering his backpack. “Alright,” he says to both George and Sapnap this time. “I’m going to head out. Patches is probably wondering why she hasn’t been fed yet.”

George laughs as Sapnap lifts his hand in an easy wave.

Dream waves back then heads out, leaving George and Sapnap alone.

George turns to Sapnap.

“So,” Sapnap says, “what’d you think?”

“He’s nice,” George replies, and then, “thanks for, uh, inviting me.”

“Of course, dude,” Sapnap says because what else do you call the guy you like, other than dude? He blinks. “Maybe we could do it again sometime.”

George gives a hesitant smile. “Maybe.”

“You’re not, like, intruding on anything,” Sapnap immediately goes to reassure. “We do this, like, all the time. It’s really not a big deal.”

“I didn’t think I was.” George collects his trash, “but thanks for putting the idea in my head.”

“No. You don’t get to do that.” Sapnap follows his lead as they throw out the wrappers from the burgers. “Anyway,” he opens the door for George, who ducks his head in silent thanks, before following after him, “what about me?”

“What about you?” George asks.

“Your number,” Sapnap answers, “I want it.”

“You think I give it out just like that?” George’s brows are raised in disbelief as Sapnap scoffs.

“You did it for Dream, and he didn’t even ask!”

“Okay, and?”

“You’re so mean to me, George,” Sapnap whines, crossing his arms. “See if I ever talk to you again.”

“Oh because that’s just the worst possible outcome for me,” George laughs.

“What the hell?” Sapnap uncrosses his arms to instead fling them out at his sides. “I thought we had fun today! We played I spy!”

“Yes,” George says, “because that is the exact definition of fun.”

“Well,” Sapnap crosses his arms again, “ I had fun. Sorry that you didn’t.”

In his performance, he had closed his eyes, but when he opens them again, his heart is quick to skip a beat upon seeing the soft smile on George’s face as he looks at him. His eyes are no longer turned to gold by the sun, but instead are dark like the coffee he serves, and Sapnap only finds himself looking away from them to instead drop his gaze to the other’s lips. They’re a soft pink, and they’re full, and Sapnap finds himself wondering what they’d feel like on his own.

“It’s,” and then a slew of numbers that Sapnap doesn’t catch. He finally meets George’s eyes again.

“What was it?” he asks, pulling out his phone. George rolls his eyes, giving a quiet laugh, before repeating his numbers as Sapnap rushes to add him to his contacts. When he’s done, he sends a quick text to George (Hiiii :D) to which George doesn’t answer but does make a show of blocking the number (then immediately unblocking it).

“Anyway,” Sapnap shoves his hands in his pockets, Dream’s advice be damned, and gives a slight whistle, “walk you home?”

George shifts his weight, readjusting his jacket, before nodding. ��Alright.”

Sapnap smiles. George starts walking.

;;

George’s apartment is nice. Not too far from the Starbucks he works at (not too far from Sapnap’s dorm) and it’s in a quieter part of the city. The two of them stand in silence on the front step.

“So,” George says.

“So,” Sapnap agrees.

A second. Two seconds.

George makes a small noise that has Sapnap ready to ask if he’s alright when George’s hand suddenly smacks against his cheek. Sapnap immediately reaches up to cradle the reddening skin. “Did you just slap me?” He thinks the slight crack in his voice is warranted.

George’s eyes are wide as he shakes his head. “No. Oh my God. I wasn’t… it was a,” and then he makes a motion, like he’s pressing a kiss to his fingers, then lifting them as if he were to press that kiss to—

“You couldn’t have just kissed me like a normal person?” Sapnap is trying not to sound accusatory or angry because he’s not, but what the hell.

“It’s—I didn’t—look, fuck, I’m sorry.” George wraps his fingers around Sapnap’s arm to tug his hand away from his cheek. “Here, look, shit, I—,” and then he’s got his lips on Sapnap’s cheek and any pain Sapnap’s feeling is gone. George’s lips are warm against his skin, and when he pulls away, his eyes are still shut, fluttering open only once he’s back within his own space. Sapnap stares at him with wide eyes. “It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal,” George says.

“It was kind of cute,” Sapnap tries, heart pounding in his chest. “But only kind of.”

“Whatever,” George says, “I’ll see you Monday, Sapnap.”

“Will you kiss me then too?” Sapnap asks.

George shakes his head, shoving past Sapnap to get to his front door, pulling out his key and unlocking it. “Goodnight, Sapnap,” he says.

“Goodnight, George,” Sapnap replies.

George turns around, looking at him from right inside the door. Sapnap stares back. George opens his mouth, as if he plans to say something, but only ends up closing it again, shaking his head and turning to go further inside, shutting the door behind him.

Sapnap stands there on the front step for another second before shaking his head, the ghost of a response to whatever George left unsaid, deciding to take the long way home.

;;

Monday comes quickly, and after class Sapnap finds himself making his way to Starbucks, just in time for George’s lunch break. He wonders if thirty minutes is enough for him to take George somewhere, nothing fancy, just something quick, but then he’s inside and George is sitting at a table on the far wall, lunchbox open in front of him.

“Boo,” Sapnap says, sliding into the seat across from him, “I was going to ask if you wanted to get lunch with me.”

“I’m good, thanks,” George says.

“I can see that.”

He watches as George peels away layers of cling wrap around his sandwich.

“So how was class?” George asks, right before he takes a bite.

“Ugh,” Sapnap crosses his arms and rests his head atop them, closing his eyes, “I don’t know why I do it sometimes.”

“What, go to school?” Based on what he hears, Sapnap assumes George has peeled away more cling wrap.

“Yes,” he replies.

“Deep down you enjoy it,” George says, “and it’s for your future.”

“You went to school,” Sapnap starts, “and now you work at Starbucks.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s not what you said on Friday.”

“I didn’t say anything Friday,” George says.

“You’re right,” Sapnap sits back up, “you didn’t say anything because you were too busy kissing me.”

“Yeah because a kiss on the cheek totally equals making out on the couch,” George snorts as he takes another bite of his sandwich. “Right.”

Sapnap grins. “Duh.” When George just rolls his eyes and opens a bag of chips, Sapnap is quick to steal one. “Anyway, we have a quiz Friday that I am not looking forward to.”

“I don’t think anyone looks forward to quizzes,” George slaps his hand away when it swoops in for another chip, “are you ready for it?”

“Define ‘ready,’” Sapnap replies. At George’s unimpressed look, Sapnap shrugs. “I mean, as ready as I can be.”

“That’s better than ‘not at all,’” George sighs. “Tell me how it goes?”

“Obviously.” Sapnap smiles when George allows him another chip. “So what about you? How’s your morning gone?”

“It’s gone,” George says. And then he pauses. “I got a girl’s number.”

“Oh,” Sapnap says, because that’s all he can think to say.

“She, like, wrote it on the receipt, I guess when Sarah was talking to me, and when she left, she just… left it on the counter.” Sarah, as it turns out, is the woman who told Sapnap she’s not allowed to disclose George’s break times. Sapnap still feels prickles of irritation under his skin as George continues: “I threw it out.”

The prickles suddenly stop.

“You threw it out?”

George nods, nonchalant, popping another chip in his mouth and even offering the rest in the bag to Sapnap with a raised brow. Sapnap just shakes his head, ears still ringing from George’s words.

“Why?” he asks.

“Not interested,” George says, finishing off his chips. “Besides,” he says, getting up to toss the bag in the trash, “no flirting while I’m at work.” Sapnap hands him the cling wrap sitting on the table. George smiles as he grabs his lunchbox. “See you later, Sapnap.”

“What if I wanted to order something?” Sapnap calls as George gets himself situated behind the counter.

“You drink too much sugar,” George replies, putting on his customer service face as a middle-aged man walks in. “Welcome to Starbucks, would you…,” Sapnap lets the rest of the greeting fade into background noise as he watches George’s mouth move, his fingers dancing across the computer as the man places his order. After another second, he gives a stretch, then rises, giving George a smile and a wave as he heads out the door.

He comes back that afternoon only to be greeted by George’s furrowed brows and a cold drink shoved into his hands. “On the house,” George tells him as Sapnap stares down at the vanilla frap, the condensation that had gathered on the cup wetting his hands.

“Thanks,” he says.

“Don’t mention it,” George replies, pushing through the glass doors and holding one open for Sapnap. “So where to?”

Sapnap thinks. He hadn’t really thought of anything for them to do, mostly just wanting to see George again. Then he remembers neon lights and crummy carpet with space patterns on it, rockets and stars and moons. With the next step he takes, he moves the tiniest fraction closer to George. The backs of their hands brush together. Sapnap lets this happen a couple more times, and then—he takes George’s hand.

George just holds on tight.

Sapnap smiles. “I have somewhere.”

;;

They hold hands the entire way, and Sapnap tries not to let it get to him. George’s fingers are thinner than his, and not long after he had started to lead them in the direction of the arcade did George’s fingers slot their way between his. His palm is warm, pressed flat against Sapnap’s own, and every once in awhile Sapnap will say something that makes George laugh and his hand will come up as if to cover his mouth, the action aborted halfway to its destination when Sapnap’s arm goes taut, George letting their hands fall back between them. He still looks over at Sapnap though, eyes glittering, squinted, cheeks rosy.

It’s maybe the most beautiful thing Sapnap has ever seen.

;;

Correction. George smiling (still, because George always looks nice smiling) colored by the neon lights is the most beautiful thing Sapnap has ever seen. He’s almost tempted to take a picture of just George, just for him to have, him to cherish, but he knows George will hate it, George will watch him like a hawk over his shoulder as he deletes it, not letting up until he deletes it, and the effort isn’t worth it. Seeing George so displeased isn’t worth it.

So instead he crowds into George’s space, demanding a selfie, “to send to Dream! To make him jealous!”

Like that’s anywhere close to the truth. But he does send the selfie to Dream, who does reply with a >:(, and Sapnap laughs and shows George, who laughs then wanders over to the skee ball, and then that’s when Sapnap goes and changes the picture to his homescreen (because a lockscreen is too risky, because he knows George will definitely see it).

He lets George win at skee ball. And air hockey. And… this game isn’t even competitive, what the hell, but he lets George win at that too. (And okay, maybe sometimes George wins because he’s better, but it’s not like Sapnap would ever admit to that.)

When they leave, George is still giggly, fingers intertwined with Sapnap’s once again, but less passive, more with a purpose, more I’m holding your hand because I really want to hold your hand, because I like how your fingers feel between mine, because I like the way our skin touches, you’re here and so am I. It’s so deliberate, and Sapnap is dizzy from it.

They get dinner at a seedy, shitty pizza place, though the pizza is anything but, and then it’s back to Sapnap walking George home.

“You really don’t have to,” George says. “Your dorm is, like, right there,” he makes a general motion to the upcoming intersection.

“But I want to,” Sapnap says.

George sighs, but doesn’t say anything, even as they walk past the entrance of the university.

When they reach his apartment, Sapnap fakes nonchalance. “So,” he says, “are you going to make it a big deal?”

George crosses his arms.

Sapnap puts up his hands in front of him. “Just a question.” He smiles. “So are you?”

“You’re so annoying,” and then warm lips are on his cheek as fingers tangle into his shirt. “I hate you,” George says when he leans back. Sapnap looks down at where George still has a grip on his shirt, but when he meets George’s eyes again, the other doesn’t let go. Sapnap wants to take his face in his hands and press a kiss to his lips right then and there.

George’s gaze dropping down—to his lips, there’s no doubt about it, George is looking at his lips—is almost enough to make him do so.

But that would scare George away. He knows it would. So he leans back on his heels, smile on his lips. “Hate you too.” The soft lilt of his voice belies his words. He doesn’t mind.

George’s eyes flit back up to Sapnap’s. Sapnap’s smile widens. George drops his hand from Sapnap’s shirt. “Thank you for today,” George finally says. “I had fun.”

“Me too,” Sapnap reaches out, taking George’s hand in his own, finding that he quite missed the other’s touch, even if it’d only been a few seconds. “We’ll have to do it again sometime.”

“Yeah,” George agrees, “we will.”

They stand there in silence, Sapnap holding George’s hand. George clears his throat.

“Well,” he says, “goodnight, Sapnap.”

Sapnap gives the other’s hand a squeeze. “Goodnight, George.” He drops George’s hand, their fingers dragging together until they’re not.

When their fingers finally part, George takes a breath then turns to unlock his door and head inside. Right before he shuts the door, Sapnap is treated to the sight of an eye turned liquid gold from the streetlights, a rich, amber color that leaves Sapnap tasting coffee and honey. “Goodnight, George,” he says one last time, and then, the door shuts and it’s just Sapnap out in the cold. He gives a smile to the closed door, then turns and starts the walk to his dorm.

;;

Sapnap ends up with what feels like fifty new assignments on Tuesday, and he knows Dream and George are meeting up after George’s shift ends, so he decides to forgo his usual trip to Starbucks and instead heads back to his dorm after shooting George a quick Have fun with dream :) text.

When he reaches his room, his phone chimes in his pocket.

thanks, i’m gonna kick his ass

Sapnap huffs out a laugh before unlocking the door and heading inside, dropping his backpack onto the floor next to his desk then collapsing into his chair, tilting his head back and closing his eyes before replying to the text.

Of course u will <3

Immediately, he gets a text back, and he thinks more about that than what the text actually says (gross, don’t ever send me a <3 ever again).

Just to be antagonistic, Sapnap grins and sends: Good luck baby xoxo mwah mwah mwah <3

Another instant reply: you’re so disgusting. talk to you later sapnap

Sapnap’s grin stays as he sets his phone down and pulls out the assignment he’s decided to tackle first. Sure, George may be annoyed by every text he sends, but he’s still replying right away, still replying at all—he totally doesn’t mean it. George totally loves texting him, he’s sure of it. Sapnap gets out his laptop and goes to Blackboard as he thinks about George on Monday, the way he’d sometimes lean into Sapnap, the clean scent of his laundry detergent settling into Sapnap’s heart and the occasional press of his cheek against Sapnap’s leaving a permanent warmth under his skin.

He goes through his assignments in a daze, Java getting mixed with java and graphs getting interrupted by George. Only the sound of his phone going off—a call from Dream—breaks him out of it, little numbers and letters dancing behind his eyes as he blinks and answers the phone.

“Yeah?”

“George and I are getting something to eat, do you want us to bring anything to your dorm?”

“You don’t have to,” Sapnap replies, even as his stomach rumbles and roars at him to eat.

“You’re right,” Dream agrees, “but I’m not doing this for myself.”

Sapnap blinks. “George,” he says, and Dream gives a quiet hum. “Where’re you guys getting food from?”

“Taco Bell, maybe,” Dream replies. “There’s one on the way to your dorm.”

“Across the street, yeah,” Sapnap agrees. “Then can I get a Cheesy Gordita Crunch with two soft chicken tacos, a steak quesadilla, cinnamon twists, and a Baja Blast?”

Dream repeats it back to him with an, “alright,” at the end, and Sapnap tells him he’ll pay him back when they get to his dorm. “Sounds good,” Dream replies. “See you in a bit.”

“See you,” Sapnap agrees, then the call disconnects, and Sapnap is left in a messy as hell room with George on his way. “Shit,” Sapnap says, looking at the weeks-old laundry spilling out of his wardrobe and the assortment of half-drunk Gatorades and water bottles littering the shelf above his desk. “Shit, shit, shit.”

He grabs his trash can from where it sits at the foot of the bed, lifting it to the edge of the shelf and just pushing all the bottles into it, some of them falling past the edge and hitting the floor. He groans as he bends over to grab them and put them into the trash properly. When that’s done, he knows he’s not going to be able to run a full two and some loads of laundry before Dream and George get to his dorm, so he deems the laundry a lost cause and shoves it as best he can back into the wardrobe, his hamper buried under weeks of unwashed clothes. Oh well. At least his room doesn’t smell.

Sapnap freezes. Does it?

He shakes his head. No. It doesn’t. It’s fine. Besides, his room isn’t that bad. And George is a guy; he probably lived in the dorms, he knows the horrors of a bunch of dudes crowded in one building. It’s fine.

A knock on the door makes him look up from where he’d been staring a hole into his bedsheets, wondering if remaking his bed (he had put it together haphazardly that morning, more for a sense of productivity than any need for cleanliness, the sheets wrinkled and pillows slouched awkwardly) would be worth it. He supposes the interruption is answer enough. Leaving the bed as is, he unlocks the door, swinging it open to see George standing there holding three paper bags, two drinks under his left arm.

“Hi,” Sapnap says.

“Hi,” George replies, angling himself to allow Sapnap to take a bag from him. “These drinks are really cold.”

“Here,” Sapnap grabs the green one, immediately lifting it to his lips and taking a sip. “Almost as refreshing as seeing you.”

George stares at him before making his way into Sapnap’s room, setting the two bags down then taking out a napkin and setting his drink on it. “You’re not funny.”

“You’re right,” Sapnap agrees, making George’s eyes widen as he looks over at him. “I’m hilarious.”

George’s parted lips fall into an unamused line. He scoffs, turning back to the bags and pulling out various Taco Bell items. “Here,” he says, handing Sapnap his quesadilla and cinnamon twists, “they threw some of our things in the same bag. Everything in the one you’re holding is yours, though.”

“Nice.” Sapnap sets down the bag to take the food, immediately getting started on his quesadilla.

“And Dream was going to come, but then he got a call from someone and said he had to go. He might’ve taken the hot sauce…?” He looks over at Sapnap with a raised brow, who glances into his bag.

“Nah. There’s sauce in here.”

“Cool,” George replies. “But yeah, it’s… it’s just us now, I guess.”

Sapnap glances over at him. George is staring down into his bag, fingers crumpling the paper. When George turns to look at him, Sapnap doesn’t turn away. George holds his gaze for a second before his ears turn a warm pink, and he ducks his head, reaching into his bag to pull out a Quesarito.

“Uh,” Sapnap says, and then reaches across George to grab his wallet from the desk and pull out a ten. “For the food.” He holds it out to George.

George takes it, their fingers brushing and Sapnap’s pulse sent racing.

“Thanks,” George says, “but Dream paid.”

Sapnap plucks the cash from George’s fingers. “Never mind then.”

George laughs, “rude,” before unwrapping his Quesarito and taking a bite. “So how are your classes going?”

Sapnap groans making a motion to the stack of assignments half-covered by an empty Taco Bell bag. “Terribly. I’m doing… fine. It’s just… so much work.”

“The worst,” George agrees, taking another bite. “Studying for the quiz?”

“What are you, my dad?” Sapnap asks, but at an unimpressed look from George, he sighs and leans back against his bed. “Yes.”

“Good,” George says, and then he says, “I kicked Dream’s ass by the way.”

“Like I said you would,” Sapnap replies, and when George looks at him from under dark lashes, he thinks about how easy it would be to lean forward and press a kiss to the space between his brows, the tip of his nose, Sapnap hesitates for the shortest second before his gaze drops lower—it’d be so easy to lean forward and press a kiss to George’s lips. When he meets George’s eyes again, they’re dark, and in the faint light, Sapnap can see his pupils blown wide. He swallows. George watches the movement.

Sapnap takes a breath. “I—”

And then George is on him, their mouths pressed hot against each other. Sapnap moves back, resting on the bed, as he tilts his head, angles it so that he can kiss George properly. It’s once he does this, once he brings a hand up to hold the back of George’s head, that George pulls away with a small breath. “This was a—”

“If you say ‘bad idea,’ you owe me ten bucks,” Sapnap says before he can finish.

George, flushed, glances up at him and huffs a small laugh. “Lapse in better judgement, then.”

“No take-backs,” Sapnap says, his left hand, which had settled on the curve of George’s hip, sliding up to hold the nape of George’s neck. “Okay?”

George lets out a breath. Sapnap feels it warm against his lips, a phantom of their kiss. “Okay.”

Sapnap smiles. “Good. So what’s wrong?” He wouldn’t normally talk it out, the other party throwing out their worries and Sapnap immediately going back in for the kill, lips on theirs and them preferably in the bed by now, but it’s okay if it’s George—if this takes longer than it normally would, that’s okay, and—George gives him a hesitant smile back—if the end result is more than a tumble in the sheets, that’s even better. (Not that that was ever the desired result, but for a time, Sapnap could’ve been content with just that. Not anymore, though. Not now.)

“I’ve never dated anyone,” George admits, “not seriously.”

“Like, you’re some type of player or…?” Sapnap lifts a brow as George sends him a look. He drops his hand to pull himself back and up onto his bed then pats the space next to him in a silent offering to George. George looks from his hand to his face then back a couple times before sighing and climbing onto the bed next to him. When George places his hands down at his side, his and Sapnap’s pinkies brush together. George takes another breath.

“I mean, I dated a girl in high school, if you could call it that,” George says. “More like I knew she had a crush on me and was doing what I was supposed to.” He makes a face and Sapnap wonders if it would be bad of him to curl their pinkies together, to take even more than that. Good or bad, he leaves his hands as they are, letting George continue. “It didn’t mean anything, and it was a high school relationship. Those are hardly legitimate.” He gives a slight eye roll. “So yeah, this is… kind of new to me.”

“That’s okay,” Sapnap says immediately. “I’ve never had a real relationship either.”

It’s not the consolation Sapnap had planned for it to be. Sapnap wouldn’t say he sleeps around, or slept around, he’s not some kind of manwhore or anything, but the fact still stands that he’s definitely had more than one partner and most of those relationships did reach at least third base before he even hit the ball. That, in contrast to George’s high school hand-holding, is definitely a strike against him.

Sapnap shakes his head, dissipating the baseball metaphors beginning to sprawl in his mind. “But it’s something I want with you,” he amends. “I really like you, George. Like… I really like you.” He’s not sure if the second thing is what does it for George, but either way, he still takes Sapnap’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together and resting their connected hands in his lap. Sapnap leans over just enough to have their shoulders touching.

“You really do annoy me sometimes, you know?” George asks, thumb rubbing smooth circles into Sapnap’s skin. “It’s like you go out of your way to do it, too. You can’t just… dial it back a bit. It’s really all or nothing with you.”

“I’m not known for doing things in halves, yeah,” Sapnap agrees.

George glances at him from the corner of his eyes. “Except for relationships,” he says. His voice is rough.

The smile that had started to grow on Sapnap’s face drops. “Yeah. Except for those.”

“I really like you too,” George finally admits, “and if you’re willing to try,” he squeezes Sapnap’s hand then looks over and meets his eyes, “I am too.”

;;

The soft atmosphere had broken not long after that, Sapnap’s stomach rumbling and George bursting into lilted giggles, nerves and hesitance coloring his every move after that. But when Sapnap offered to walk him home, George agreed, and they held hands the entire way, and when they reached George’s door, George scrunched his face up then grabbed Sapnap by the front of his jacket and pulled him into a searing kiss.

“For someone who’s never been in an actual relationship,” Sapnap had said, “your kisses are pretty hot.”

“Thanks,” George had said and then slammed the door in Sapnap’s face.

Sapnap didn’t mind, though; nah, he grinned the entire way home.

;;

The rest of the week flies by in a vanilla frap-flavored, headache-filled haze. George is certain the headaches are from all the sugar Sapnap intakes, but Sapnap is certain it’s from all the homework his professors assign and studying George pushes him to do.

“It’s not as if you wouldn’t be doing this if I weren’t in the picture,” George tells him as he wipes down the table next to Sapnap’s. Sapnap has a lab report open on his laptop, his notes spread all out on the table before him. Half of the keyboard is covered by the paper, rendered unusable.

Sapnap doesn’t have a good argument for that, but he also wants to keep George nearby. He leans back in his chair. “I’d have a headache with no remedy,” he says.

“Remedy, huh?” George asks, standing straight and arching a brow.

“Seeing your face is the only medicine I need,” Sapnap says, and then he throws in a, “pretty boy,” just because he wants to see what it’ll make George do.

Apparently, it makes his expression fall off his face and heat rise in its place, cheeks and ears glowing a bright pink even as he stutters out irritated (and empty) phrases, eventually giving the table a final furious once-over then disappearing into the kitchen to get rid of the dirtied rag. So basically, the words did the opposite of what he wanted, but in the end, Sapnap finds himself unable to consider it anything other than a win, mind now running through other opportunities to pull out the pet names.

George appears only when he’s about to leave, sending him off with a kiss on the cheek that’s really more an accidental brushing of lips against skin, but it’s enough for Sapnap, and he leaves the other with a smile and a promise to tell him how the quiz goes at dinner.

;;

Come dinner, Sapnap is halfway through explaining how he’s pretty sure he failed the quiz when George sits up in his seat and asks, “Is this a date?”

Sapnap freezes, mouth open and mid-word. “Do you want it to be a date?”

George huffs. “This isn’t really the wining and dining I expected, but—”

“I’m nineteen,” Sapnap tells him.

George sighs. “It was just an expression,” he says. “And I was going to say it’s fine. Everything here leaves something to be desired, but it’s fine.”

“Everything?” Sapnap asks, eyes widening coyly as he looks at the other.

“Everything,” George confirms. “Especially my date.”

Sapnap exaggerates a sad face and George rolls his eyes, throwing a fry at him, but he’s got a smile on his face, so Sapnap drops the act and grins back. “You’re so cute,” he tells the other, and George immediately seems to grow smaller, shoulders curving inwards, face angled down, his smile facing the floor instead of Sapnap, who observes this all with a quiet gaze.

“Shut up,” George says, the words on the end of a laugh.

“It’s true,” Sapnap replies. “I love looking at you. Even when you look dumb.”

“Excuse you,” George immediately snaps, finally looking back at Sapnap, “I never look dumb.”

“Oh,” Sapnap says, “you’re right. I meant when you look stupid.”

“What the hell?” George guffaws. “You’re actually so annoying. Shut up.”

“So you want me to shut up when I compliment you, and you want me to shut up when I insult you—what’s the truth?”

George looks at him, unimpressed. “The only conclusion is that I like you best when you say nothing at all.”

Sapnap scoffs. “Rude.”

“And yet.” George lifts a brow.

Sapnap gives a quiet exhale. “And yet,” he agrees.

;;

Dream stretches his legs out in front of him while Sapnap twists himself around to lean against Dream, back pressed against shoulder.

“How’s it going with George?” Dream asks, flicking through the channels on the TV, Sapnap watching the short frames he gets while taking nothing in.

“I think we’re a thing,” Sapnap replies, settling even further into Dream when he finally decides on a channel. It’s an old comedy from the 80’s, one Sapnap thinks his dad might’ve shown him when he was younger. Vaguely, he recalls falling asleep halfway through. He’ll try not to do that this time.

He feels Dream shift as he looks down at the younger. Sapnap can sense his eyes on the top of his head. “You think?” Dream asks, the words coming out slowly, as if he’s tasting every letter.

“We kissed,” Sapnap explains, “and we both talked about how we feel, and we went on a date, and he’s kissed me again since that first one. On the lips,” he adds hastily, just so Dream understands the severity of the situation.

“But no one’s said ‘boyfriend’ yet,” Dream concludes.

“But no one’s said ‘boyfriend’ yet,” Sapnap confirms.

Dream hums as a fanfare starts up in the movie. Sapnap takes a handful of popcorn from the bag on the coffee table in front of them.

“I think we’re taking it slow,” Sapnap continues. “Neither of us are good at relationships.”

“What do you mean?” Dream turns slightly, and Sapnap slips down his arm some. “You’re not good at relationships?”

“You know how it was,” Sapnap answers, “is.”

“Is it really that bad?”

Sapnap shrugs, scooting back up against Dream as he does so. “I’d think so. Someone like George would think so.”

“Where does that leave me?” Dream asks.

Sapnap doesn’t answer, eyes back on the TV screen. Dream huffs, but doesn’t push for one either.

“It’s fine,” he finally says. “Whatever works best for you guys.”

Sapnap nods, and they don’t talk about George or Sapnap and George or relationships for the rest of the movie.

;;

This is new. Sapnap’s heart pounds heavy in his chest as George sits perched on his lap, hands flying across Sapnap’s keyboard as he types a command into the chatbox. Dream’s voice crackles through his speakers: “George! What the hell?”

“Oops,” George says, glancing back to share a conspiratorial look with Sapnap, “I didn’t mean to.”

“Yes, you did,” Dream argues, his character finding George’s—who's really just using Sapnap’s character, but it’s whatever—and George running, even as Dream hits him over and over, beginning to take hearts. “You’re such an idiot, oh my God.”

George leans back against Sapnap’s chest, letting Dream kill him. “Fine,” he sighs, “we can do it your way. Whatever.” Sapnap smiles at the way his accent colors his words. George sends him a curious glance; Sapnap noses at the edge of his hairline in answer. George makes a small noise before leaning forward to get back into the game. Sapnap shifts, adjusting George on his lap so he can have some circulation in his thighs again. It’s not that George is heavy, no, George is fairly light, but George is bony, and for all Sapnap likes him and would in fact like to slip his hand in the other’s back pocket as they walk together, that doesn’t change the reality of George having a bony ass and it pressing into Sapnap’s lap.

When he’s got him where he wants, Sapnap curves himself over George, wrapping his arms around the other’s waist. George feels warm all over, and when Sapnap tilts his head to take in the other’s profile, he sees it as a soft pink. Though George can’t really afford a free hand when PvPing Dream, he still lifts a hand to shove Sapnap’s head away.

Sapnap huffs and hooks his chin over the other’s shoulder. And then he gets the most terrible (wonderful) idea and angles his head so his nose is pressed into George’s neck and he’s starting to run kisses across the skin there. George breathes out a titter and lifts his shoulder to try and push Sapnap away. Sapnap grins and starts to climb his lips up the slender column of George’s neck. George gives a full-on giggle at this. “Stop,” he says, hand coming up to shove at Sapnap again, the lapse giving Dream a chance to hit George with his axe. “Sapnap,” George says when his kisses turn a bit rougher.

“What are you guys—,” and then George gives another breathless laugh and Dream makes a disgusted noise. “Seriously?” he asks. “In the middle of my Minecraft PvP?”

“Sorry,” George gasps, shoving at Sapnap with an urgency now, brows knitting and lips losing their smile for a frown instead. Sapnap gives one final nip to George’s neck before relenting, letting George stand from his lap and glare down at him. It holds for another second before George turns back to the computer. “I’ll be back on in a bit, is that okay?”

Dream makes a noise of confirmation then ends the call. George turns back to Sapnap.

“Too far?” Sapnap asks.

George scrutinizes him, eyes narrowed, before he sits back down on Sapnap’s lap, this time angled towards him. When Sapnap puts his hands on his hips, George makes a face. Sapnap drops his hands. “I know I kissed you first,” George finally says, not quite meeting Sapnap’s eyes. “So I should be okay with all this.” He finally manages to make eye contact, holding it as he speaks. “But I’m not.” He swallows. “I’m sorry.”

“You can tell me when it’s too much,” Sapnap tells him, but at George’s look, he sucks in a breath. “You did.”

“I was—I didn’t seem like I meant it,” George says. “I know. And, um, I guess I didn’t. Not really, not at first, but—”

“I still should’ve.” Sapnap lifts a hand, looking from it to George’s eyes then back. George gives a nod, and Sapnap sets his hand on George’s side, fingers resting in the spaces between George’s ribs. He feels George’s chest expand and contract with every breath he takes.

“We could,” George ducks his head, “have a sign, or a word, or something, and if one of us does it, the other stops,” he meets Sapnap’s eyes again, “would that work?”

Sapnap’s brows raise, jaw dropping slightly. “George…,” he says, “did you just suggest we employ a safeword?”

George splutters. “No? I mean—I guess, but not like that! Just… yes or no?”

“Butterscotch,” Sapnap says.

“What?” George makes a face.

“When it’s too much,” Sapnap explains, “just say you want butterscotch.”

“It sounds like a euphemism.” The word drips distasteful from George’s tongue.

Sapnap rolls his eyes. “But that’s what makes it good !” He slides his fingers from George’s side around to his back, watching George’s face all the while. When George doesn’t stop him—physically or with butterscotch—Sapnap brings his other arm around George, holding him. “People will think we’re going to fuck or something, but actually we’re doing the opposite!”

“That or they’ll think we’re sugar addicts,” George scoffs, making Sapnap laugh.

“One of those,” Sapnap agrees. “Is that really such a bad thing?”

George looks at him, disappointment clear on his features. Sapnap smiles. George’s facade breaks; he smiles back. “It’s dumb,” he says.

“You always look dumb,” Sapnap replies. “No one will think anything.”

George sighs. Sapnap feels the movement against his chest, beneath his fingertips. “Fine,” George finally concedes. “Butterscotch.”

Sapnap smiles back then leans forward till their noses touch and their breath intermingles as George inhales then says, “If there’s ever been a better time to say the opposite of butterscotch, it’d be now.” Sapnap kisses him. George’s eyes slip shut, hands coming up to tangle slender fingers into the ends of Sapnap’s hair, and returns the kiss.

Eventually, George calls Dream again and the two of them start up their game again, George back to his perch at the edge of Sapnap’s lap, and this time Sapnap doesn’t kiss him, but George lets him run his fingers up and down his sides, and Sapnap delights in the little shivers and shudders George does every time. George and Dream end the day on a tie, the last win one of Dream’s. George’s consolation is a kiss pressed to his temple, but then George says that’s not enough and decides Dream and Sapnap owe him dinner.

“Both of us?” Sapnap asks as Dream groans on the other line.

George nods.

“Why me?” Sapnap makes the best pleading face he can.

George is made of stone. “Friend of the enemy.”

“Boo,” Sapnap says, “hiss.”

“Hey!” Dream’s voice crackles through the speaker. George glances over at it, unamused.

“I think we should try that one place, what was it called? It’s on Main and Delaware.”

Dream makes a noise. Sapnap thinks it might be one of fear. “If it’s the place I’m thinking… that’s really expensive.”

“But you can pay for it, can’t you, Dream?” George asks. “I know you can.”

Dream doesn’t reply. All three of them know he can.

“But I wouldn’t do that to you,” George continues. “Which is why Sapnap owes me dinner too.”

Sapnap is about to whine when his brain catches onto an idea and his eyes narrow. “Is this payback for the date?”

“H’m?” The tilt of George’s head is innocent in a way only the guise of innocence can be. Sapnap’s eyes squint even more, vision practically gone. “Of course not.”

Sapnap doesn’t believe him.

;;

Despite George’s teasing earlier that week, he ends up ordering the cheapest things on the menu, though Sapnap (feeling guilty about the date thing, oops) points out other, more expensive, things for George to try.

“Sapnap,” George finally says, “it’s fine. If it bothers you that much, we can split a dessert or something.” Across the table, they meet eyes and at the contact, a small smile appears on George’s face. Sapnap’s breath catches.

Dream is seated next to George, this date of course anything but traditional, but, like at the McDonald’s, Sapnap finds he doesn’t care, their closeness completely platonic—if anything, he’s comforted by it, in a sense, his two favorite people getting along as easy as they do. Sapnap’s utterly sold on it.

He and George catch eyes again as Dream peoplewatches casually, cheek resting on his palm. Sapnap’s own palm is open on the table in front of him, bored of messing with his unused cutlery. He smiles as George eyes the hand, eyes dark and inscrutable, before a hand covers his own. Sapnap curls his fingers around the other’s. They sit in this calm silence until their server brings them their food.

Sapnap’s tempted to keep George’s hand in his as he eats, but it’s his right hand and George’s left, so he lets go, turning to his food instead. George does the same, and Sapnap thinks that’s it, but then he feels a foot brush his, and when he glances up, it’s to see George already watching him, cheeks flushed. Sapnap hooks their ankles together. George’s gaze goes back to his plate.

When it comes time for dessert, George does agree on splitting with Sapnap, Dream getting his own thing, some chocolate mousse pie, and George and Sapnap getting a crème brûlée, George eager to tap the top with his spoon when the waiter brings it out to them, steaming and pretty.

Every once in awhile, their spoons clink against each other, and they exchange quick glances, Sapnap swears his aren’t heated, but the pounding in his heart suggests otherwise—he never knows with George, whether there’s something behind them or not, his eyes dark, endless, Sapnap wonders if he’ll ever be able to properly read him. If Dream is ever uncomfortable, he never gives any indication of it.

Dream and Sapnap do pay, and George looks green and guilty after, even when Dream did everything he could to keep George from seeing the check, leaning away and even cupping a hand over the receipt to prevent curious eyes from wandering.

The three of them walk out together, Sapnap’s pockets feeling considerably lighter, but the meal worth it, and when he reaches over, George lets him clasp their hands together easily, fingers intertwining like this happens everyday. Dream walks on his other side, hands in his pockets (Sapnap stops himself from making a smart remark), eyes on the sidewalk ahead of them. The sun has long since set, and a chill has started under Sapnap’s skin, shaken only by the solid warmth of George’s hand in his. Still, when a breeze ruffles their hair, Sapnap has to suppress a shiver.

They reach George’s apartment first, and he goes with an easy goodbye to Dream and a short hug around Sapnap’s middle. When he pulls away, he turns his head and his lips brush Sapnap’s cheek in something like a kiss. Sapnap watches him up until the door finally shuts and they hear the click of the lock.

They’ll reach his dorm before they reach Dream’s place. When Sapnap looks over, Dream is still staring straight ahead.

“I could’ve paid it all myself,” Dream says. “You knew that.”

“Yeah,” Sapnap agrees.

“You could’ve told me to pay it all myself.” Dream turns his head, eyes on Sapnap. His gaze is sharp. “George wouldn’t have minded.”

Sapnap looks to the ground. “Yeah.”

Dream goes back to looking ahead. They walk in silence for another minute. “He’s happy,” he finally says. Sapnap’s eyes dart to the other. Dream isn’t looking back. “He really likes you.”

“I really like him,” Sapnap says.

“Monday—the other week,” Dream gives a slight laugh, “George said he really liked that, too. He had a bad day—,” Sapnap remembers the drink shoved in his hands, the dark expression on George’s face, “—and then you were there, and you were happy and happy to see him, and suddenly the bad parts of the day didn’t really matter.”

“I just want to see him smile,” Sapnap says, and then he amends the statement, “I want to see him happy. If it’s because of me, that’s even better, but really, he just…,” he shrugs, makes a noise in his throat. “I care about him.”

“So do I,” Dream says. “And I care about you. And I can tell that you guys make each other happy. And that’s all you want for each other.” He glances over, showing the other a soft smile. “And that’s all I want for you both.”

“You haven’t even known George for that long,” Sapnap says, because he’s socially incompetent or something.

“George is easy to love,” Dream replies.

Sapnap doesn’t have anything to say to that. It’s true. He is.

;;

It’s another one of Sapnap and Dream’s biweekly movie nights, but this time George is there, head resting in Sapnap’s lap, feet in Dream’s. He fits perfectly along the couch, though he’s turned on his side, blanket tugged tight over him as he watches Jurassic Park. They settled on that after some brief bickering, mostly between George and Sapnap, Dream content to watch whatever, while George wanted a comedy and Sapnap didn’t know what he wanted but it wasn’t a comedy because, “Dream and I watched a comedy last time!”

“I wasn’t here last time!” George argues. “So it shouldn’t matter!”

“But it does ,” Sapnap does not whine, though they all know the pitch in his voice makes it close to one. “We should watch something else.”

In the end, it was Dream who decided, having closed his eyes then picked a movie off the shelf randomly. Once Dream was sat back down on the couch, George had huffed and flopped over onto his side to watch it, ignoring Sapnap’s cheering but not turning away from the hand the younger had placed atop his head, fingers running through the short strands.

Now, an hour and a half later, George makes a sleepy noise, nuzzling into Sapnap’s thigh, and Sapnap’s heart clenches in his chest.

Dream had dozed off a few minutes ago, chin in his palm, and now his elbow has started to slide off the arm of the couch. Sapnap bends over, running his nose along the curve of George’s ear, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Hey,” he whispers. “Want to call it a night?”

George turns his head, nose bumping into Sapnap’s when Sapnap doesn’t sit up quick enough. Their eyes lock, dark blue on dark brown, and George stares up at him for a second before he glances to Dream at the other end of the couch, one hand curled around George’s ankles. “‘Kay,” George says, voice rough. Sapnap finally leans back the rest of the way, and George sits up, pointing his sock-clad toes and stretching out his right arm, the limb having been pressed to the couch beneath him. When he takes his feet from Dream’s lap, dropping them to the floor, Dream’s elbow finally slips from the couch, and he jerks awake, eyes blinking rapidly until they finally settle blearily on the TV.

Sapnap leans over to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “George and I are gonna head out,” he tells him. “We’re all pretty tired.”

Dream looks over at him, movements sluggish, before he nods. “See you guys tomorrow?”

“Probably,” Sapnap replies.

Dream nods again before making a small noise and pushing himself up from the couch. The movie still plays on the television, but none of them pay it any mind. Dream picks up their empty bowl of popcorn and takes it to the kitchen.

George sighs, leaning back on the couch and closing his eyes.

“Ready for the walk home?” He’s talking about their respective homes, Sapnap knows—George’s apartment and Sapnap’s dorm—but it feels so much like they’re a duo, a pair, home coming from George’s lips like they live together, that it makes Sapnap’s breath catch in his chest. Breathlessness and a clenching heart—maybe Sapnap should seek medical help.

At his lack of reply, George looks back at him. The blue light colors his skin something pretty. Maybe Sapnap’s just had an overdose of George. He doesn’t think he minds. “I’ll walk you home,” he says. And then he thinks about the placement of their houses. He backtracks. “Or… if you wanted, you could just stay at mine?”

George, growing steadily more alert as time goes on, stares at him. “You want me to go home with you,” he says. It is in no way a question.

“I mean, if you want,” Sapnap answers anyway.

“We might as well have spent the night here,” George tells him.

Sapnap glances back at Dream, only to find the other missing from the kitchen. A look at the dark hallway and the slim line of light coming from underneath the bathroom door lets him know where the other is, however. He turns back to George. “We can ask Dream,” he says. “Do you want to?”

George gives a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe your place would be better. We don’t know what he’s doing tomorrow.”

“We don’t,” Sapnap agrees, although they’re both aware Dream doesn’t have any plans.

“And we don’t want to overstay our welcome,” George continues.

“We don’t,” Sapnap repeats.

George sucks in a breath, holds it. “My place is farther,” he finally says on the exhale, “ but my bed is bigger.”

That’s true. Sapnap has a room to himself, but he’s still only got a twin. It can barely fit him sometimes.

“I’m willing to make the walk if you are,” he decides.

;;

George is willing to make the walk. Dream had come out of the bathroom not long after, wiping his hands dry on his sleep pants, then waving them out with a tired smile. Sapnap had taken George’s hand the minute the door had shut behind them, the two of them alone on the sidewalk, Sapnap tugging George even closer, using their connected hands to his advantage.

They make their way to George’s apartment slowly, despite their initial reluctance to walk. Sapnap wonders if it’s a delay of the inevitable or an enjoyment of the other’s company. (They can enjoy each others’ company within four walls, not outside where the unforgiving autumn cold that’s finally settled seeps into their bones.) George takes a breath.

“I don’t,” he starts, then makes a noise. “I don’t want anything to happen, Sapnap.”

When they pass under a streetlight, Sapnap sees George’s cheeks glow red. George glances over at him.

“You know that, right?”

Sapnap has a list of things he could say. I never even thought about that, is one. Why not? is another. “Yeah,” is what he goes with. “Don’t worry.” He squeezes George’s hand. George squeezes back.

“I just…,” George tilts his head back, looking to the sky, and Sapnap’s eyes are locked on the graceful column of his throat, “I really like you, Sapnap.” He goes back to looking ahead, but Sapnap keeps his eyes on him. “And it’s almost been a month since… since,” with his free hand, he makes a vague motion at where their other hands are locked together, “this. Whatever this is. So I just… in case you, I don’t know, expected anything.”

“It’s okay,” Sapnap says. Again, he adds, “Don’t worry.”

George smiles at him. Sapnap smiles back.

;;

When they reach George’s apartment, George unlocks the door and Sapnap follows him silently inside, chewing on his lower lip as he contemplates what he’s about to say next. Eventually, he gives up on elegance:

“You said this.” George looks over at him from where he’s locked the door. Sapnap leans against the kitchen counter. “Whatever this is.” He makes a gesture between the two of them, something indicative of the blurry relationship they have.

“I don’t know what to call it,” George says.

“I know,” Sapnap replies. “I don't know what to call it either.”

George glances around, as if checking for eavesdroppers, before he looks back to Sapnap. “What do you want to call it?”

Sapnap raises his brows. “What do you want to call it?”

George gives a sigh. “Are we having this talk now?”

“When else will we have it?” Sapnap crosses his arms as George shuts off the main lights, plunging the two of them into darkness.

“I don’t know,” George replies. “In the morning?” He’s nothing but a shadow as he crosses in front of Sapnap. Sapnap refrains from reaching out to grab a wrist, pull him to his chest, demand an answer now. It doesn’t matter that much.

But it’d be nice to have some answers. And George had been right before. It’s been almost a month since that kiss in Sapnap’s dorm, lips greasy with Taco Bell yet the kiss still nice, in that way kissing someone you really, really like is. In kissing someone you could grow to love—maybe already love, deep, deep down—is.

“I just like knowing,” Sapnap finally says. “What’s wrong with that?”

A light flicks on, and when Sapnap takes a couple steps away from the counter, he realizes it’s the light for George’s bedroom. He stands out of place in the doorway before George takes notice and makes his way over to the other.

Sapnap gives him a tight smile once they’re face to face. George studies him for a second before sighing. “There’s nothing wrong with that.” He pivots, going over to a set of drawers and tugging the middle one open. T-shirts and lounge pants are folded loosely inside. “I like knowing too.” He glances over his shoulder at Sapnap. “Do you think any of these will fit?”

George buys most of his clothes oversized. Just something Sapnap’s noticed about the other. “There’s a chance,” he replies. George tosses a few different pairs at him. Sapnap changes in the bathroom.

The first pair he tries doesn’t fit at all. He gives a small laugh to himself before grabbing the second. They fit better. The third look hot, flannel and dark, even for the weather, so he leaves them folded and tries his best to fold the other pair before dutifully marching back to George’s side to have him tuck them back into his drawer.

“We’ve been on a date before,” Sapnap says, “and a half. A date and a half. You could say we’re dating?”

“We’re about to literally sleep together,” George replies, and although his cheeks are flaming, the heat radiating off them in waves, his expression remains neutral, completely unamused. “I think we’re a bit past that.”

“So…,” Sapnap tries his luck, though he’s starting to think it less luck, and more a careful maneuver on George’s part, “you could say we’re boyfriends?”

“A bit gradeschoolish,” George replies.

Sapnap blinks at him.

George stares back before rolling his eyes and scoffing. “You’re so dumb. Yes, you could say we’re boyfriends.”

Immediately, the blank look drops off Sapnap’s face, and he grins, even as George turns on a lamp and brushes past him to turn off the bedroom light, completely ignoring him. Sapnap watches him disappear out the door and round the corner into the bathroom. There’s the sound of water running, then rummaging, then water running again, and then George’s head pops into the bedroom and he says, “I’ve got a spare toothbrush.”

Sapnap brushes his teeth and watches George’s shadow every time its reflection appears in the mirror. He holds back a sudsy laugh when he realizes the taste of George’s toothpaste is familiar. He rinses and spits then straightens and runs a hand through his hair. It’s gotten longer since the start of the semester. Since he’s met George. When he tugs his fingers through the ends, they get caught on knots. He does his best to untangle them without a brush. He gives up less than a minute in.

When he gets back into George’s room, George is already in bed, looking at something on his phone. Sapnap bites back a giddy smile, crawling into bed next to him, immediately pressing a kiss to his temple then sliding down the bed and wrapping an arm around his waist.

George sets his phone down on the bedside table before looking down at him. “You’re very affectionate,” he says.

“So I’ve been told,” Sapnap replies.

George stares at him for another handful of seconds. Sapnap stares back. George blinks, then stretches to turn off the lamp. They’re left in the dark once again.

Sapnap is forced to lift his arm when George gets properly under the covers, the sheets tugged up to his chin. He’s flat on his back, and when Sapnap sets his arm back down, this time across his chest, he can feel the tension in him. George takes in a breath, and when he lets it out, Sapnap feels it shudder.

“George,” Sapnap says, and then, a leap of faith, “baby.”

George turns his head. Beneath Sapnap’s arm, his heart pounds.

“C’mere,” Sapnap says. A second. Two seconds. George rolls onto his side. Now, they watch each other, face to face. Sapnap can’t pick up any details on George’s, the room too dark, the most he can figure out being the slope of George’s nose, the occasional movement of his eyes. The window is behind George. Sapnap wonders if George can see him more clearly.

Sapnap gets his arm further round George, pulling him close. When George lets out a breath, Sapnap feels it warm through his shirt. When George blinks, Sapnap feels the feathery kisses his lashes leave on his skin.

“You’re really warm,” Sapnap says.

From beneath the covers, George’s fingers twist and tangle in his shirt. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

A car passes by outside. George gives a small sigh. Sapnap brushes the pads of his fingers across the back of George’s neck.

“You can,” the words get muffled into Sapnap’s chest.

“What?” Sapnap asks.

George tilts his head back. “Your shirt,” he says. “You can take it off if you want.”

It’s Sapnap’s heart’s turn to pound.

George goes back to lying on his back. And then he rolls onto his side, but this time, he faces the window. Sapnap studies the curve of his shoulder. Then he sits up. And he pulls off his shirt.

He doesn’t really know what to do with it. Dropping it on the floor seems messy, but folding it and putting it on the bedside table just feels weird. No matter what, he’s not getting out of bed. He glances over and has to fight back the urge to jump. George has rolled back over, now staring at him.

Sapnap drops his shirt on the floor. George scoffs before rolling back over.

“I didn’t know what to do!” Sapnap immediately defends himself. He gets back under the covers. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” George replies.

Sapnap moves closer. “Stop,” George says.

Sapnap places a hand on George’s shoulder. It’s warm under his palm.

“Sapnap,” George says.

“George,” Sapnap replies. He runs his hand from George’s shoulder down to his chest. Again, he can feel his heartbeat. He pulls the other closer, so George’s back is pressed to his chest.

“No,” George says. “I’m not… spooning with you.” The word is spat with venom.

Sapnap sighs, nose tickled by the other’s hair. “Night, babe.”

“Sapnap.” George’s fingers curl around Sapnap’s wrist. They make no move to pull his hand away. He makes no move to push him away.

He still hasn’t said butterscotch. Sapnap is pretty sure he’s not going to say butterscotch. George lets out a breath. Sapnap feels him relax against his chest. Another car passes by. Sapnap hears it outside. Sees the change in lighting from behind his eyelids.

George lets out a quiet breath. “Whatever,” he finally says, more to himself than to Sapnap. “Night, Sapnap.”

Sapnap hums and delights in the shiver it sends through George. When he falls asleep, it’s to the steady sound of George breathing and the light movements of George tracing shapes on the back of his hand. Sapnap wonders what exactly it is he’s drawing. Wonders if he’s drawing anything in particular at all.

;;

When Sapnap wakes, George is still asleep. They’ve changed positions sometime in the night, both of them apparently being the type to spread out (and it had felt nice, Sapnap notes, not just to wake up next to George, but to wake up in a bed that he can actually stretch out in), so now George, Sapnap sees after sitting up all the way, has a foot just off the edge of the bed, the bump of it clear under the blanket, an arm flung back towards Sapnap, the other close to his head, fingers brushing the hair near his ear. The leg closer to Sapnap is tangled with Sapnap’s own. Sapnap’s not sure which of them is the cause for that.

There’s not much to do yet. It’s a Saturday, and while Dream didn’t have plans, he didn’t have any either. George might, but Sapnap is pretty sure that’s unlikely. He lets himself fall back onto the bed, head bouncing lightly against the pillow. George makes a soft sound from next to him. Sapnap takes his hand. He tries not to think the curl that appears at the corner of George’s lips is because of him.

George sleeps for another hour, Sapnap drifting in and out of wakefulness next to him. The final time Sapnap wakes, he knows he won’t be falling back asleep, but it doesn’t matter, because George huffs then slowly blinks open his eyes, staring blankly at the wall before looking over at Sapnap.

“G’morning,” he says.

“Morning,” Sapnap replies.

“Breakfast?” George asks.

“I’m down.”

Neither of them move.

George gives a soft laugh. Sapnap smiles at the sound.

“I might have eggs in the fridge,” George says. He looks over at the other. “I have apple juice.”

Still, neither of them move. Sapnap grins as George sighs and presses the heels of his palms over his eyes.

“There’s a diner on 3rd and Ashmore,” Sapnap tells him. “Want to try there?”

“Sounds good,” George replies.

They sit there for another second before George swings his legs off the bed and Sapnap leans over to pick his t-shirt off the floor.

“I might have a sweater you can wear,” George says. “You can put it on over your shirt.”

“Yeah?” Sapnap asks.

George tosses him a sweatshirt. It’s a pale grey, crewneck. Sapnap tugs it on over his head. It’s a little tight. George sighs, grabbing Sapnap’s jacket off the chair he had set it on the night before. “Never mind. It’s fine. Not like anyone saw you last night anyway.”

“Scared they’ll think you’re sleeping around?” Sapnap teases. George sends him an unamused look, taking the sweatshirt back when Sapnap hands it to him. “George the neighborhood whore?”

“Shouldn’t you be a little nicer to your boyfriend?” George asks, and while Sapnap is choking on his words, George sends him a playful look, hanging the sweatshirt back up in his closet.

Sapnap gets a grip on himself and gives him a smile back. “That’s not a no.”

“Yes,” George tells him, “because I’m just such a whore. Always sleeping around.”

Sapnap stands, going over to George, backing him up into the bedroom door. “I wouldn’t mind,” he says, “if that were the case. I know it’s not, but even if it were, I don’t care.”

“I don’t care either,” George replies. Sapnap wonders if George thinks that was the case with him. “I,” they had tentatively locked eyes, George’s occasionally glowing amber when caught by the morning light slipping through the blinds, but now, George looks away, at some distant point past Sapnap, “like you as you are. If that’s how you were, it wouldn’t matter. I like you.”

“Can I kiss you?” Sapnap asks, breath caught in his throat. At George’s concerned look, Sapnap waves a hand. “Morning breath, I—you—you seem like you’d care about that.”

George presses a kiss to the corner of Sapnap’s lips. Sapnap lifts a hand and runs his fingers along George’s chin, gets pricked by the short, short stubble there, then tilts his head and kisses George proper on the lips. George kisses back.

When they separate, George keeps his eyes closed. Sapnap bumps their noses together.

“In the future,” George says, “I’ll care about that.”

Sapnap really wants to say I love you.

“I’m sure you will,” he says instead.

;;

For breakfast, Sapnap has steak and eggs. George has French toast. To drink, he has apple juice. Sapnap stares into his own black coffee.

“Very nice,” George tells him. “Very stereotypical.”

“Are you really judging my food choices right now?” Sapnap asks.

George lifts his cup to his lips, taking a sip of his juice as he raises a single brow. Sapnap tries to be defiant, firm in his choices, but his eyes are continually drawn to George’s throat, the pale skin there. His gaze is only broken by George setting the glass back down. Sapnap swallows. He can’t say if George’s eyes following the movement is deliberate.

He looks back up. George has moved on, cutting into his toast, taking a bite.

“It’s good,” he says, once he’s swallowed. “How’s yours?”

Sapnap cuts into his steak. It’s good.

They eat, and their legs once again tangle, this time under a table instead of blankets.

;;

Despite what they had all told each other the day before, George and Sapnap end up not seeing Dream again.

“Sorry,” he tells them over a Discord call, George and Sapnap both at George’s computer, Sapnap having dragged the chair in the corner of George’s bedroom over to the desk. “Someone kind of high profile asked me to code something for them. I wasn’t going to turn it down. It was a good offer.”

“We didn’t expect you to turn it down,” George replies. “We don’t want you to turn it down.”

“Yeah, man,” Sapnap agrees. “That’s great. Secure that bag.”

“Secure that bag?” George echoes. “Seriously?”

“Let’s get this bread,” Sapnap says solemnly. “Make his pockets hurt.”

“I already did,” George replies.

“Still,” Dream cuts in easily, making George and Sapnap immediately stop, heads turning once again to the computer, “I’m sorry. I’ll see you Monday or Tuesday maybe.”

“You want a rematch?” George asks him. “It’s been awhile since I’ve completely obliterated you.”

“Whatever,” Dream laughs. “I’ll see you.”

“See you,” George and Sapnap agree. And then the call ends. And then it’s just them.

Part of Sapnap feels like he’s overstaying his welcome. Part of him wants to overstay his welcome, wants to stay forever. Part of him feels like George would say something if he were. If not get out , then butterscotch or something. But George has stayed silent, content to have Sapnap by his side.

At that thought, Sapnap leans over, a hand coming to rest on George’s thigh. George shifts, and Sapnap’s hand falls. That was the movement’s intention. Sapnap readjusts, placing his hand on the edge of George’s chair. George returns to his previous position. Sapnap leaves his hand where it is.

George takes a breath then leans back, head rolling on his neck to look over at Sapnap. “Got any work to do?”

“Nope,” Sapnap replies, popping the p. George hums, eyes slipping shut.

“Got any plans at all?”

“Nope,” Sapnap repeats. “No obligations, nowhere I need to be. I can go home if you want me to, though.”

“You don’t need to,” George replies. And then he glances behind to the bed. “I might take a nap.”

“You want me to say something,” Sapnap says, eyes narrowing. “What is it?”

George looks at him with wide, innocent eyes. “I want you,” he says, “to do whatever you think you should be doing right now.”

And with that, he rises from his chair, tugs off his tennis shoes, and falls onto the bed.

“In jeans?” Sapnap asks him, crossing his arms as best as he can at the angle he’s at.

George grunts. Sapnap sighs, taking the pair of sweatpants George had left on the dresser and dropping them on the bed next to George.

“You want any water or anything?” he asks.

George keeps his eyes closed. “I’m good, thanks.”

Sapnap studies him for a second before heading to the bathroom.

He really has no idea what George wants from him.

Really, going into the bathroom was just him stalling, more for George’s benefit than his—he’s completely certain he’ll reenter George’s bedroom to see the other wearing the sweatpants he had set next to him—but he does use it as a moment to wonder just what he’s supposed to be doing.

When he goes back into George’s room, the other is lying the way he had been when he left, but, just as Sapnap thought, he’s now wearing sweatpants, an arm thrown across his eyes.

Sapnap takes a seat next to him, then lets out a breath and lets himself relax back onto the bed. George’s arm falls from his eyes. Together, they stare up at the ceiling.

“Can we just stay like this?” George finally asks.

Sapnap looks over at him.

George remains looking at the ceiling.

“Like what?”

“You’re so affectionate, Sapnap.” George’s fingers brush his. Sapnap fights the urge to take them. “It’s a lot for me.” George finally turns his head and meets Sapnap’s eyes.

Sapnap holds his breath. George’s fingers run up his arm, tickle quick over his shoulder, finally scratch through the slight beard he has. “Sorry,” Sapnap says.

George takes a breath, then shifts, turning himself onto his side. “Not your fault. It’s just new. A lot of this is,” he gives a quiet exhale, “new.” His fingers still press against Sapnap’s skin. They’re warm. Sapnap swears when they fall away, his skin will be stained red.

“I like it,” George finally says. “New is good.”

“That’s good,” Sapnap says.

“It is,” George agrees. “I like this a lot.”

“In the future, you’ll care?” Sapnap asks.

George laughs, gentle, soft. “I already do.”

;;

The rest of the weekend passed slowly, time molasses. Sapnap hadn’t spent the night again, the two of them finally napping, then Sapnap slipping out when they next woke, delivering a kiss to George’s lips then tugging his jacket over his shoulders and heading out into the October cold. He’d taken his time on the walk home, an opposite of Friday night—reluctance to leave, each step heavier than the last. By the time he gets to his dorm, he swears his feet are stone.

Wearily, he eyes his desk. Atop it lay various assignments, all at different degrees of completion. Most aren’t due till Friday or the next week entirely—he’d meant it when he told George he’s got nothing he needs to be doing—but with nothing to take his immediate attention anymore, he finds himself wondering if now would be a good time to complete it all.

He gets through an assignment and a half before he finds his thoughts wandering. Some of them go towards eating; he and George had slept through lunch, and now it’s practically dinnertime, and Sapnap is hungry. But most of them go towards George, towards a thought he’d had that morning.

I love you.

He rolls the thought around in his mind. Reshapes it.

I love you, George.

A beat.

“You’re so affectionate, Sapnap. It’s a lot for me.”

Sapnap groans, head coming to rest in his hands. When he lifts his head again, he pushes his hair back. An I love you now would be too soon. They’ve just declared themselves boyfriends, and now Sapnap is thinking about I love yous.

It is a lot. For anyone. Sapnap is the odd one out here. He knows it’s a problem, but he just doesn’t know any other way to be.

;;

meeting dream today, gonna try and kick his ass. wish me luck?

Sapnap smiles down at the text that lights up his phone. Kick his ass babe, gl but u got this

thanks

Sapnap slips his phone back into his pocket. It vibrates. Sapnap pulls it out once more.

It’s probably the bare minimum. There’s no words involved. But it stops Sapnap short, leaving him staring down at his screen with wide eyes. He wonders if he’s pink. His skin feels warm.

It means something. It’s George. It has to mean something.

;;

“I brought Taco Bell,” George announces when Sapnap swings the door open.

George pushes past him easily, setting the bags at an empty spot on Sapnap’s desk while Dream brings up the rear, shirt wet with condensation from their drinks.

“It only felt right,” George tells him as Dream gives him his Baja Blast.

“I’m here this time, though,” Dream says, pulling out a burrito from one of the bags George sat down. “Please don’t make any jumps in your relationship while I’m still in the room, thanks.”

George glares at him then takes a menacing bite of his Quesarito.

Sapnap turns to Dream with wide eyes. “I don’t think that’ll be an issue.”

“It won’t be,” George says.

“I didn’t realize you’re so sentimental, George,” Dream finally speaks up after a few minutes of them just eating their food.

“I’m not,” George replies.

“Could’ve fooled me.” Dream sends him an unamused look, but George just gives him one right back.

“Really,” he says. “I’m not.” He glances at Sapnap. Dream catches it. “I’m not really doing this for myself, anyway.”

Sapnap flushes, staring down at his gordita. Dream looks between them, blinks, exhales. Sapnap thinks he’s going to say something ridiculous. All he says is, “Couples,” and that’s that.

George catches his eye, smiles, and it’s like they’re sharing a secret. Sapnap likes it.

He loves it.

;;

With a new week comes the panic of midterms. Sapnap had thought he’d been overwhelmed before, but now he’s drowning, completely slipping under murky waters.

George pulls him out with a heated chocolate croissant and a pat on the head.

Sapnap smiles at him as he walks away.

Dream sits on a chair next to him, flipping through one of the New Yorker s left on the little table in front of them. Sapnap blinks at his laptop before setting it aside and stretching. “You’re so lucky, man,” he tells Dream, who gives a noncommittal hum and turns a page. “I mean it. Midterms are the worst.”

“Yeah,” Dream agrees. “Tests are annoying.”

“They’re dumb,” Sapnap says, conviction coloring his words. “Memorization is dumb.”

“Just a couple more years of this,” Dream replies.

Sapnap sighs, picking up the chocolate croissant and taking a bite. “Just a couple more years.”

After a few more minutes, Dream heaves a sigh. “It’s getting to me,” he says.

“Sorry,” Sapnap replies, like he can in some way change the strength of the coffee.

“It’s fine,” Dream dismisses, then he stands, dropping the magazine back onto the table. “See you later.”

Sapnap sends him a smile as he waves at George, who’s moved back behind the counter.

“See you!” George calls as the door slides shut behind Dream.

“That was pretty long, I think,” Sapnap says when George makes his way over a few minutes later, now on break, taking up Dream’s empty chair. “We’d been here almost an hour.”

“That is long,” George agrees. “How long are you staying?”

“You get off at four?” Sapnap asks, and George nods. “Want to get dinner with Dream and I after?”

“Of course.” George smiles, and Sapnap smiles back.

;;

Despite all of his manic studying—or perhaps because of it—midterms the next week pass by relatively quickly, him coming out of his last class Friday tired but content. He doesn’t really think he got an A, but he’s sure his mark will be pretty damn close.

A few hours and a billion failed Minecraft speedruns later, Sapnap gets a message from Dream.

I know movie nights r every other week, but u just finished midterms. Wanna come over?

Sapnap’s at the other’s house before he even thinks about it. “Uh, yes, I want to come over,” he tells Dream when the other opens the door. “What are we watching?”

“Whatever you want,” Dream replies. “You’re the one who’s got nothing to worry about anymore.”

Sapnap grins, plucking a movie off the shelf. “Here,” he hands it to Dream. “Popcorn?”

“You know it,” Dream replies, getting the movie set up.

When the popcorn is done, Dream is on the couch, remote in hand. “Good?”

Sapnap nods, setting the bowl between them.

The movie passes by quickly, and they move onto the next one—it turns into a right marathon by the time the sun has set, and eventually, the bowl of popcorn is empty, and they’re leaning against one another in the center of the couch.

At a lull in the movie, a quiet moment between the two main characters, Sapnap speaks:

“I think I’m in love with George.”

Dream is quiet for a moment. Sapnap feels him shift against him. Their shoulders press together. “He’s easy to love,” Dream echoes his words from weeks before.

“Easy to scare,” Sapnap replies.

More movement.

“Is there ever a right time to say I love you?” Dream asks. “If you love them, let them know.”

“He told me that I’m a lot,” Sapnap tells him. “That I’m a lot for him.”

“I’m sure he didn’t say it like that,” Dream says. Sapnap gives a half-hearted shrug. Dream sits up, angling himself to better face Sapnap. Sapnap imitates his pose. Like this, he can only see half of Dream’s face, one side lit up by the TV screen, the other cast in shadow. “It’s been a month,” Dream continues, “and a half. I think George is the type of guy where, if he feels like you’re too much, if he doesn’t like you, he’s going to leave. He’s not going to sit there, miserable, waiting for you to pull the plug.”

Dream is right because of course he is, but Sapnap still shifts, uncomfortable. “I just… I am a lot. We don’t spend all the time together, but I’m so much more affectionate than he is, and it’s like… I already love him, and—and—we have a safeword, Dream. Like this is some BDSM thing. But it’s not for that, it’s for how much I fucking hold his hand.”

“But isn't that proof?” Dream asks. “That’s communication. Compromise. He wants this to work, Sap. He wants to be with you. Wants you.” He smiles, hand reaching between them to hold Sapnap’s shoulder. “He wants the guy that’s pushy and loud and in your face, the guy that drinks too many vanilla fraps and gets competitive over everything and likes to cuddle. He wouldn’t have decided to go out with you—hell, I don’t even think he’d have kissed you—if that isn’t who he wanted.” He leans back, hand stroking warm down Sapnap’s arm, and the minute it falls back into his lap, Sapnap leans forward to throw his arms around the other.

“I love you,” Sapnap says, turning his face to press his nose into Dream’s neck. “I’m so lucky you’re my best friend.”

Though his arms are pinned awkwardly to his sides, Dream still manages to reach and get his hands on Sapnap’s waist where he squeezes the other in a poor imitation of a hug. “I can’t imagine a world where you aren’t my best friend,” he replies. “I love you too.”

When Sapnap pulls away, Dream smiles. “But I don’t think I’m the one you need to be saying I love you to, though.”

Sapnap sleeps on Dream’s couch that night and dreams of the different ways telling George he loves him could go.

He’s pleased to note that most of the scenarios end positively.

;;

Saturday he spends the night at George’s again. He lies in bed, quiet, with George next to him, one of the older’s hands holding his phone, the other affectionately brushing through Sapnap’s hair. Sapnap gives a quiet sigh before rolling over and touching his nose to George’s hip. George hums and twirls a lock of Sapnap’s hair around a thin finger.

“You okay?” George asks.

Sapnap squeezes his eyes shut and nuzzles further into the other's side. “Tired.”

“Fall break is coming up,” George consoles him, “and midterms are over.”

Sapnap nods, arm stretching out and over George’s waist. His fingers brush along George’s side, featherlight. George flinches away from it with a giggle. Sapnap tilts his head, eyes opening and gaze flitting to George’s face. It’s a bad angle, but he can still make out the smile there.

He loves George, he knows that now. He’s in love with George.

And George wants him. Wants the him that touches too much and feels too much and loves more than he should. George wants that. George has that. And he likes it.

Sapnap sighs, sinking back into George’s side. George plugs his phone in then turns off the lamp. Before he gets fully under the covers, Sapnap feels his fingers run through his hair one more time before a kiss is pressed to the top of his head.

“Goodnight, Sapnap,” George whispers.

Sapnap squeezes George as best as he can, delivers warm kisses to the parts of George he can reach. “Night, baby.”

George hums, touching the tips of their noses together (with the action, Sapnap swears he did some kind of witchcraft to steal his breath), before rolling over, back to Sapnap’s front. Sapnap bites back a smile. He wonders if George would call this spooning. Because that’s what it is.

He buries his nose in the soft hair at the nape of George’s neck. It’d be easy to say it now. Let the words slip out and if George questions him on it, he can blame it on sleep. A slip of the tongue.

But he doesn’t want it to be a mistake, even if that’s a lie to save his own face. He wants the words to be deliberate, the meaning of them felt by George wholly.

He sighs, and George shivers with it. Sapnap makes a small noise of apology.

“What’re you thinking about?” George finally asks.

Sapnap takes in a breath. He’s not sure what to answer.

“You don’t have to tell me,” George says.

“I want to,” Sapnap replies.

George exhales, the sound loud, before rolling back over. When he’s facing Sapnap, a hand comes up to hold Sapnap’s cheek.

“I think you’re more affectionate than you realize,” Sapnap tells him.

“I think you just make me affectionate,” George replies.

Sapnap stares at him. George stares back before he lifts his hand, fingertips remaining against Sapnap’s skin. He runs them over his cheek, then across his lower lip. And then they go back to his cheek, and George is moving to slot their lips together.

When they separate, Sapnap smiles. He’s pretty sure George smiles back. He presses one more kiss to George’s lips.

He could say it now. George’s fingers begin to tangle into the ends of Sapnap’s hair. His mouth is hot underneath Sapnap’s own. Their breath intermingles. Under the sheets, their legs have tangled together. The two of them are practically completely intertwined.

Against his lips, Sapnap feels George smile.

He says it.

The words hang heavy in the minimal space between them. Sapnap’s heart is equally heavy in his chest as he anticipates George’s reaction. He wants to ramble—apologize, take them back, clarify, tell him that he loves him but he isn’t in love with him (but he is)—but he doesn’t. The words are what they are. He means them.

Though his face seems to now be void of the smile he wore, George doesn’t move away, and they remain tangled together. George rubs his thumb over the curve of Sapnap’s cheek.

He feels George’s breath. George kisses him softly. And then he replies: “I can’t say it yet, Sapnap.” His other hand finds Sapnap’s own. Holds it. “I feel it. I’m, like, certain I do. But I can’t say it yet. Not like that.”

Sapnap sucks in a breath, closes his eyes, nods. “I get it. That’s fine. I love you, though. I just… wanted you to know.”

At that, George laughs, a quiet, warm sound. “Thank you. I’ll remember that.” A beat. And then, “The minute I can say it myself, I’ll tell you.”

Sapnap smiles. “I’m holding you to that.”

George rolls back over. Instead of waiting for Sapnap to curl around him, he backs up, pulls Sapnap’s arm over him. Readjusts so it’s even harder to separate their legs. “Goodnight, Sapnap.” He means it this time.

Sapnap closes his eyes, relaxes. The words are out there now. And George accepts them. No take-backs.

“Goodnight.”

;;

Neither bring it up later. It happened—Sapnap definitely told him—but the words stay only in the air between them, felt but never heard. They go on a walk, no destination in mind, just enjoying each other’s company, and at the local cafe (an actual cafe, not the Starbucks George works at), they split a hot chocolate topped with a mountain of whipped cream that ages them a hundred years only for those years to be wiped away with a thumb. At one point, George has some stuck to the corner of his lips, and Sapnap can’t help but lean forward to lick it away. Of course, George shrieks and shoves him back, flustered and grossed out, but his lips are upturned.

“Sweet,” Sapnap tells him.

“You’re so annoying,” George replies.

“You’re cute,” Sapnap shoots back.

George flushes and takes the mug from Sapnap’s hands, lifting it to his lips so he can hide the smile on his lips. It only works so well. Sapnap lets the moment go, though.

“Normally that’d be butterscotch,” George tells him as they exit the cafe. “I can’t believe you did that. That’s so disgusting.”

Sapnap laces their fingers together. George huffs.

“The only reason you got away with it is because I didn’t expect it.” George kicks a pebble lying in his path. “So annoying.”

Sapnap doesn’t bring it up, but he does say it again.

George stutters out a laugh. Sapnap feels George’s hand squeeze his. It’s enough.

;;

The weeks pass by quickly after that, and soon Sapnap finds himself Friday night sitting between George and Dream while an early 2000s sci-fi movie plays on the TV. They weren’t supposed to have movie night this week either, but come tomorrow morning Sapnap is supposed to head down south for Thanksgiving with his family, so this is their last hurrah together.

They’re a bit like dominoes, actually, Dream sitting normally on the couch, Sapnap’s back resting pressed against his side, and George leaning on Sapnap. Idly, he plays with Sapnap’s fingers. To add to George’s amusement, Sapnap flexes and stretches his fingers. Meanwhile, Dream tugs on his hair.

“It’s probably best you head home soon,” Dream says. “Not to kick you out, but it’s a long drive tomorrow.”

“How many hours away is Houston anyway?” George asks, voice muffled with the way his cheek is squished against Sapnap’s chest.

“Too many,” Sapnap says. “I’m gonna miss you guys.”

“We’ll miss you too,” Dream tells him.

George makes an affirmative noise.

“But it’s only for a week,” Sapnap says. “And then I’ll be back up here.”

“You don’t normally focus on that,” Dream tells him, more for George’s sake than his. Sapnap flushes, glancing down at George, who stares back with inquisitive eyes. “But I guess now you have something to come back to. Someone.”

“I like spending time with you.”

Dream scoffs. “Like distance ever mattered when it comes to us.”

“Huh?” George pushes himself up and Sapnap sends Dream a dirty look.

“I like cuddling with the homies well enough, but affection from you is way different from affection from George.” He pulls George back down on top of him. “Affection from you is like… a jacket. Nice to have, really nice, but not a necessity. George is a shirt. No shirt, no shoes, no service.”

Dream guffaws. “I hope I’m not just a jacket to you guys, but a friend too.”

“You’re my friend, Dream,” George tells him.

“I love you, George!” Dream immediately replies, and George hides a laugh in Sapnap’s chest.

The movie ends not long after that, and soon Sapnap is heading home.

“I can walk myself home just fine,” George tells him when they reach the intersection that Sapnap is supposed to turn at.

“But I like walking you home,” Sapnap replies.

“But you need to rest,” George tells him, smile on his face. He brushes a strand of hair out of Sapnap’s eyes. “I can help you pack your car in the morning?”

“Do you want to?”

George just continues to smile.

“Why are you like this?” Sapnap asks, and then he leans forward and George lifts a hand to cup the back of his neck. They kiss, and when they separate, Sapnap squeezes George’s waist. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Sleep well,” George replies.

“I’ll try.” George smiles, and Sapnap smiles back. George’s hand slips from his neck, and Sapnap’s hand falls from his waist. George starts to walk away. “Goodnight!” Sapnap calls after him. “Love you!”

“Goodnight, Sapnap!” George calls back.

;;

George greets him with a kiss and a coffee and bagel pressed into his hands. “For the road,” he says, and Sapnap thanks him, setting the things aside and drawing George into a deeper kiss than the chaste one he was given. “For the road?”

Sapnap grins. “For me. A week away from you. You know I need my kissies.”

“Don’t ever say that again,” George says. “Oh my God. I think I’m going to be sick.”

Sapnap laughs before tugging his backpack over his shoulders. Dragging his suitcase behind him, he leads George to the parking lot, where he lifts his suitcase and sets it into the trunk. “Seriously, though,” he says, “this’ll be fun.”

“An experiment,” George replies. “A week apart. How will we fare?”

Sapnap grins, and George smiles back.

“Remember me while I’m away,” Sapnap tells him. “Don’t go falling for the first pretty face you see.”

“Of course not,” George says solemnly, and Sapnap laughs. George studies him for a second before once again kissing him. “Three’s a lucky number.”

“I didn’t think you believed in luck,” Sapnap says.

“I don’t,” George replies.

Another kiss. George makes a small noise.

“Four,” Sapnap says. “Actually, I think that’s unlucky in China. I read that somewhere.”

One more.

“How’s five?” George asks.

“Eh,” Sapnap says. “Even numbers are better.”

“Seven is lucky.”

“Eight?”

“Pushing it.”

Sapnap leans away from where he’d come to pin George against the door. George straightens up, readjusts his shirt. Sapnap runs a hand through his hair. George tracks the movement with his eyes. Sapnap’s hand falls back to his side.

“Thanks,” he says.

George huffs a small laugh. “Don’t mention it.”

Sapnap studies him for a second before pulling him into a hug. “I really will miss you,” he says. “I’ll see you.”

“You’re getting on the server with Dream and I if you’re not too tired tonight, right?” George asks.

“Duh.”

George nods. Sapnap feels it against his neck.

“I’ll miss you too,” George finally says.

Sapnap holds him tighter.

;;

Despite the drama of him leaving, Thanksgiving passes by without much fuss.

They voice call a fair amount and when Sapnap gets to Houston he does hop on the SMP for a bit, a couple hours later passing out mid-call. When he wakes, the lights are all shut off and his blinds are closed.

He’s grateful.

Dream FaceTimes him on Thanksgiving, showing Sapnap his and George’s… creative feast.

“I still can’t believe you guys are having it together,” Sapnap tells the two, completely ignoring the football game on TV to focus entirely on them.

“Why shouldn’t we?” Dream asks him. “George’s family is in England, and it’s not like they celebrate, and I’m not going to Florida this year. Why not?”

That’s fair.

“Still,” Sapnap says anyway. “And did you just call every nearby restaurant?”

“It’s an assortment,” George says.

“But it’s good,” Dream continues. “Besides, it’s more about the leftovers than the meal.”

Also fair, and Sapnap finds himself with an array of Tupperware from his family’s Thanksgiving in his backseat as he drives back to school. When he’s back inside his dorm, staring at his minifridge, he realizes they won’t all fit in the small space.

“Can I use your fridge?”

“Welcome back, Sapnap,” George replies. “How was your break?”

“I’m offering you free food,” Sapnap says.

“And I’m asking how your break was.”

Sapnap makes a face. “Good. I’m happy to be back. Now, can I please use your fridge?”

A pause. “You only love me for my house,” George finally says. “That’s so wrong of you.”

It’s the first time George has ever brought up Sapnap’s love for him, even as a joke. Sapnap takes a breath. “I do love you for your house,” he replies, teasing before turning serious, “but I also love you for a lot of other reasons. You’re very lovable, you know.”

George is quiet for a second before Sapnap hears movement. “When are you coming over here?”

Sapnap gets an Uber, knowing parking near George’s apartment is risky at best. “Ten minutes?” he says when his phone tells him his driver will be there soon.

“Okay.” Sapnap listens as George putters around. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” George replies immediately, and then, “you’ll see.”

“M'kay,” Sapnap says. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Bye,” George says, and then ends the call.

Sapnap looks down into his plastic bag of remaining Tupperware. His phone pings—the driver’s outside.

;;

“Are you ready to eat leftovers for months?” Sapnap asks, setting the bags down on the counter. “Or at least as long as they last.”

George opens the first bag, pulling out a medium-sized container stuffed full of mashed potatoes. Immediately, he finds a place in his fridge to tuck it into. He does this with the rest of the containers, Sapnap taking them out and setting them on the empty counter space for George to pick up and put away. When they’re done, George comes to lean next to Sapnap.

“We survived,” he says.

“I knew we would,” Sapnap replies.

They’re on each other in an instant.

“I’m not usually into this,” George says hotly into his mouth.

“I know,” Sapnap says.

“I don’t know why I’m like this,” George continues.

“Do you need to know?” Sapnap asks.

George moans at the nip Sapnap gives to his lower lip.

“No,” George replies. “No.” Sapnap runs a burning trail of bites soothed by his tongue down George’s neck. “Sapnap.”

Against his skin, Sapnap smiles.

George gasps when Sapnap moves to press George into the couch instead, the cushions definitely comfier than the linoleum counter. “I missed you so much,” Sapnap says, each word punctuated by a kiss.

“You—Sapnap, yes—too.” George gets his fingers twisted and tangled into his hair, drags him up roughly. Sapnap bites back a groan at the sting and George pulls him into a bruising kiss. “Shit. I missed you.”

Sapnap lets himself be pulled down over George’s body, more than happy to press him further into the couch.

;;

George doesn’t let Sapnap skip his first class on Monday.

“School is important,” he tells him, zipping up his jacket like some mother hen. Sapnap makes a face when his hands brush imaginary dust off his shoulders.

“What are you going to do when I’m gone?” Sapnap asks.

George laughs. “Leaving for a week again?”

Sapnap gives him a dry look.

George smiles, soft. “I’m going to work. You’ll see me in, like, four… five hours at most. Is that really the end of the world?”

Sapnap grabs his hands from where they’d come to rest on his chest, pulling George in closer. “I just like spending time with you.”

“I love spending time with you too,” George says, “and you don’t see me clinging to you.”

“You think this is clingy?” Sapnap raises a brow in a silent challenge, and George tries to back up, but Sapnap just gives another tug to his hands before pulling him into a hug and wrapping his arms tight around him. “You wish I were clingy! You want me to be more clingy, actually.”

“I do not,” George replies, words warm against Sapnap’s ear. Sapnap holds back a shiver as George wriggles in his arms. “You’re… I like you like this.”

Sapnap holds him closer. George lets him.

He pulls away after a moment, the day finally catching up to them. “Class,” George tells Sapnap.

“Work,” Sapnap tells George.

They reach the Starbucks and George squeezes his hand. “See you,” he says.

“Love you,” Sapnap replies. And then George is disappearing into the cafe, the words dissipating in the growing space between them.

;;

The rest of the week passes by slowly, each day slouching into the next. Sapnap looks over at George, whose lips are wrapped pretty around a cake pop. He’s been quiet, more so than usual, and it sets Sapnap on edge, each word coming out of him more hesitant than the last.

Come Saturday, and he finds himself confronting the other.

“You’re avoiding me,” he says.

“I’m not avoiding you,” is immediately shot back, and Sapnap rushes forward, George bringing a hand up between them to push him away. “I’m not. I’m just….”

“I’m too much,” Sapnap says, filling in the words himself.

George is adamant. “No! You’re—you’re—you’re you, and I—Sapnap, I really—,” he makes a small noise and Sapnap tries to get closer again, but George’s hand comes back up and he mutters a quick butterscotch.

“What’s wrong?” Sapnap asks. “I did something.”

“You—no,” George shoves past Sapnap to get a glass and fill it up with tap water. He takes a quick drink before pouring the rest down the drain. “You love me so much,” he finally says.

“You’re lovable,” Sapnap replies. “Everything about you, George. It’s just—you’re so easy to love.”

“That’s what Dream had said,” George tells him, and Sapnap swallows at the lump that’s built in his throat like sediment, little bits and pieces added to the pile till it cuts off Sapnap’s airways and he’s left floundering, gasping for air. George gives a quiet laugh. “I thought,” he swallows, takes a breath in contrast to Sapnap’s struggle, “it was too soon. I’m not good at this, Sapnap.”

Sapnap moves to speak, but George continues, setting the glass in the sink before his fingers curl into the countertop, knuckles turning white from his grip. He takes another breath. “I love you,” he says, all in one breath. “It shouldn’t have happened so fast. I’m… I’m terrified, Sapnap.”

When Sapnap takes a hesitant step closer, George lets him. He lifts a hand and brushes back some of George’s hair before running his knuckles over George’s cheek, down to his neck. He curls his fingers around the back, brushes them through the short hair there. Under his palm, George is tense.

George breathes, and it comes out in a shudder. “Everything about you is so much.” He straightens, meets Sapnap’s eyes. “I’m trying, Sapnap. But sometimes I think you’re just too much for me.”

And then he shrugs off Sapnap's hand, moves around him, disappears into his bedroom. Sapnap hears the door click. He stands alone in the kitchen, his only source of light the one over the stove. He thinks it might be dimmer than usual. He waits. George doesn’t come back out. Sapnap wonders if he’s been broken up with. George still doesn’t come back out.

Sapnap looks at the empty plastic bags on the counter. He gathers them in his hands. George can keep his leftovers. He never really wanted them anyway.

;;

“I think George broke up with me,” Sapnap accepts the apple slice Dream hands him, and at the sight of the fruit, it’s like the dam he tried to build surrounding thoughts of George breaks and all those pent up feelings come pouring out, “yesterday. He told me he loved me. And then he left me.” His grandma had made some apple cobbler. It sits on the second shelf of George’s fridge. George’s favorite fruit is apples.

Sapnap takes a bite out of the slice. Dream sits next to him on the couch, setting the tray of assorted fruit on the coffee table. “Did he actually say that?” Dream asks. “That he’s breaking up with you.”

“He left,” Sapnap repeats. “He said, ‘I love you. You’re too much for me.’ Then he just… walked into his room, shut the door, and that was it.”

“Talk to him again,” Dream says. “He told you he loved you. I don’t think that’s nothing for George.”

Sapnap sighs. It’s not. Dream smiles at him, and Sapnap leans over, resting his head on the other’s shoulder.

“It’ll be fine,” Dream tells him. “Communication is always key.”

As always, he’s right.

;;

He doesn’t want to have any major conversations at Starbucks, but he feels if he doesn’t do it now he won’t do it at all. There hasn’t been any word between him and George since that conversation in the kitchen, but Sapnap doesn’t let that deter him, instead pressing on determinedly as he walks inside and sees George’s usual station devoid of, well, George.

“Called in sick today,” Sarah tells him as she finishes putting whipped cream on someone’s drink. “Thought he’d have told you.”

Sapnap blinks. “Uh,” he says, and then, “think he fell back asleep before he could. Thanks.” Sarah waves nonchalantly, but Sapnap is out the door before he can see it.

The walk to George’s has him tugging at the drawstring of his hoodie, the chill settling deep within him, unshakeable now, especially without George’s easy warmth by his side. He’s never been more grateful to see the steps leading up to the older’s apartment than he is at this moment.

And then he has to wait, much the same way he did Saturday, wait for George to see his text, call him back, answer his knock.

He waits, and he waits, and he waits.

The lock clicks, and the door creaks open. Sapnap swears his fingertips are turning blue.

“George,” he says immediately, just to have said something , and then the door is opening wider and Sapnap is rushing into the apartment, getting himself fully inside before George can reconsider.

In the sink, he spies empty Tupperware containers.

George stands next to the couch. Sapnap swallows.

“George,” he says again. “I missed you.”

“It was only a day, Sapnap,” George replies. His voice is quiet.

“You said I love you to me,” Sapnap says. George stays silent. Sapnap falters, continues: “I love you too, and I know I’m a lot, but George,” he comes closer—George lets him—he places a hand on George’s waist—George lets him, “I’ll… you once told me I can’t dial it down, or whatever, and this is me telling you that for you, I’d dial it down. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I can’t, but I want to try. For you. You said you’d try for me. You need to know I’d do the same for you.”

George laughs, but it’s an empty, hollow sound, just air shoved past his lips. “I don’t think it’s as easy as that.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Sapnap asks. “You said it happened so fast. What happened so fast?”

George mutters something. Sapnap moves closer. George pushes him back. “Falling in love, dumbass. I was in love with you before I even realized it was love I was feeling.” He keeps his hand in front of him, a visible barrier between him and Sapnap. “Am feeling.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Sapnap asks. “What are you so afraid of?”

George doesn’t reply.

“It’s only as complicated as you let it be,” Sapnap says. “I’m—we’re—we’re in love with each other, George.” His voice is firm. George finally meets his eyes. Dark and inscrutable as ever. Sapnap is in love with him. “Isn’t that enough? Just for right now, tell me it isn’t enough.”

George moves, a mirror image of the him in Sapnap’s dorm on Tuesday months ago, bringing their lips together and kissing Sapnap with purpose. When he pulls away, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes sparkle. “I can’t. I can’t tell you it isn’t enough. But I won’t say it’s not either.”

“I love you,” Sapnap says, reflex. He presses a kiss to George’s lips, presses one to his cheeks, his chin, nose, forehead. “I love everything about you.”

“You too,” George says. “I love you so much that I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“You don’t need to know,” Sapnap replies. “Just love me. Be in love with me.”

George’s fingers twist in the fabric of his hoodie, pull him closer. Their noses touch and Sapnap feels every single one of George’s breaths on his lips. They’re heavy. So are his own. When George speaks, he may as well be putting the words directly into Sapnap’s mouth, the two of them working as one. “I love you,” he says, and so does Sapnap. “I love you and being with you and being in love with you.”

“It won’t be perfect,” Sapnap says. (So does George.)

“But it doesn’t need to be.” George seals their lips together. He’s right. Neither of them need it to be perfect. Nor, Sapnap thinks, as George wraps an arm around his neck, draws him closer, holds him tighter, do either of them want it to be.

#georgenap #sapnotfound #snf #fic #fanfiction

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zuffer-weird-girl · 4 years

Text

Not again...

The car didn't even had stopped, and Chisaki already had burst the door and started to run the faster he could manage towards the place Mimic had trackened.

"Overhaul they say they are in a building!" Chrono shouted as he loaded his gun in the middle of his running while Mimic tried to mantain his balance on Rappa's shoulders while he followed his boss.

Chisaki didn't shouted back a response, legs hurting already from how much force and speed he was putting on himself to reach that cursed place.

"Kai!" He lifted his gaze from his papers only to smirk at seing you pouting on the door frame "Is been like hours you're there!"

"How pleasing it is to know that you've been tracking time to tell me this dearest." He sighed sarcastically before deciding to put a end on his work for today.

The way you smiled bringed the warmth he missed and didn't even knew he needed after all of his years of... coldness and loneliness.

"Well, I don't want you passing out on your desk like the other ti-"

"I thought we weren't going to talk anymore about this." He growled in embarrassment, making you laugh immediately.

The worst is that he wasn't embarrassed by sleeping on his desk accidentally, but actually flustered at remembering the way you had appeared and left a kiss on his forehead, making him let out a 'I love you' without even thinking.

After you stopped laughing he only scoffed, eyes growing worried while his gloved hand went to your cheek to stroke lovingly and carefully.

"Any better?" Your face immediately fell, the one bright with laughter turned into a sad and hopeless smile.

"Y'know..." You sighed, bringing your own hand to his to hold right against your cheek for a bit longer "I am already used to it."

He glared and grabbed your wrist with his free hand, squezing a bit.

"But I am certainly not." He growled, while you still remained with that lost of hope expression while you sighed.

"Is just... life Kai. We don't choose those things."

He brought you to his chest as he crushed you on a hug, holding your scalp and waist on his firm grip as he glared daggers at the ground.

He was working to find a cure. He couldn't just take this. Why such a beautiful and pure soul like yourself have to had this curse?

The experiments were still being done. He couldn't use you to test, if something went wrong he wouldn't forgive himself.

He was first going to tell Pops about it, the moment the real bullets come out... you would be cured.

His lungs hurted from the way he breathed in and out desperately.

His commurates, woth certain difficulty, followed him. The group stopping by a building as he finally got his breath back.

Yet he didn't spared a second before taking his glove out and placing it on the building... onpy to see that his quirl wasn't working.

"A fucking barrier. They plannned this Overhaul." Chrono cursed under his breath.

Chisaki punched with all his force the wall... surprisingly making it crack.

"DAMMIT!" He shouted at the tops of his lungs, making the three man widen their eyes at seing the anger and force on only that scream that even scared the birds from the florest away.

"Dont you know the meaning of the word 'wait' woman?!" He shouted right behind you, growling in defeat at again failing on grabbing on your hand and forearm.

You giggled at his irritated and annoyed expression as you continued running.

"Maybe if you didn't depend it on your quirk so much you would be able to- SHIT!" you accidentally tripped on your own foot and prepared for the impact... only to feel a pair of those strong arms you absolutely loved around you, preventing your fall.

"You see, this is called karma, brat." He pinched your cheek rather painfully, making you whine in protest. "What if you got hurt huh? You could have gotten a bruised knee or arm, allowing some filth germs and bacterias to enter."

"Dramaaaaatic!" You singed in mockeness before yelping a bit at the discret pinch on your butt before he lifted you guys up.

He only arched a dissaproving eyebrow at you when you smiled back a him... The sun even seemed to make you shine even brighter.

"You know that I always will come back to you, even if hell itself tries to tear me away." You chirped with a smile, making his frown go deeper.

He absolutely despised the double sense on that sentence...

In less than minutes Rikiya appeared and aling with Rappa, both had breaked the wall, Chisaki jumped through the rest of the broken concrete before looking around with wide and hateful eyes.

"(Y/N)!" he shouted, coughing a bit at sieng how dirty this place was, but his mysophobia was weak compared to his wish of getting you back "(Y/N)!" He shouted again.

"Nothing in here!" He heard Chrono and Mimic's yells from behind him as he scowled even more, hives appearing in huge amount on his skin.

"LOOK FOR HER!" He commanded as he runned through that rather giant place, apparently it was once one of those basements of farms things or similiar, due to the big constructure and the akount of open and broken rooms.

He went to shout your name again before he froze.. seing the villain who had announced your kidnapping... in front of a stabbed and bruised... you.

"Where's that yakusa of yours now huh? No where right?" He say it sadistically while he wiped his knife on his clothing.

Chisaki almost throwed himself on that bastard, but he mrely gave him a punch so hard on his jaw from behind that even heard the cracking and sended the man towards the wall.

No no NO NO GOD PLEASE NO-!

"Don't... worry..." you said between choked breaths, eyes teared but yet so relieved at seing gim in your front, wide and watery golden eyes staring at you as he tried to heal you back with his quirk... but didn't work it.

It never did...

"Angel please hang on I-" he said desperately but choked back a sob as he felt your hand cupping his cheek lovingly.

"Stop this... we will see each.. o-other soon... remember..?" He clenched his jaw tightly under his plague mask, holding your hand that was becoming colder and colder each second that passes.

Not again... not again!

25... twenty five times he saw that happening again and again.

He hated your quirk more than heroes themselfes... Evertime some accident happened, even the minors ones... you would die. No matter the quirk or someone that tried to stop it... you would always die.

25 times he saw the love of his life dying in front of his eyes... and returning it back for a few days as the form as a child... with no memories until you recuperated them.

Sometimes it took weeks for you to regain your memories... and when you did, it took at least three days for you to come back to your original form.

"Chisaki!" Your childish voice ranged and he forced himself to smile a bit, seing you unharmed was a at least the good part...

He crouched down with a sigh, accepting the small sakura flower you had handed it to him.

Normally he would keep himself far away from a child... he didn't felt comfortable neither happy being near them... Eri was a pure example of that.

Yet, he couldn't bring himself to despise the little girl that was his lover, blushed cheeks and a pure smile on her lips as she giggled in embarrassment and glee at seing that he had accepted her gift... even despite knowing his... not liking of touching.

Though how on earth he could be repulsed by you? He only found out what it meant to be happy and... loved because you teached him, because you showed him...

He also noticed that comparing from the first times you were in this form, right now you were way more comfortable with him... just like him.

But god, how difficult it was for to pretend to not be disgusted or consumed by hate at you having such a cruel quirk. Allowing you to die many times and returning it back...

You turned around to pick more flowers before you stopped... completely frozen in your place.

"Something wrong brat?" He sighed in false annoyance, before his breath caught on his throat when he saw the look you gave to him right after.

Hopeless... sad and hopeless look.

"It happened again, didn't it?" Your child like voice manifested in pure sadness as he felt his eyes burning.

Those bullets. He needed them. His angel needed them badly.

"Yes..." he sighed in defeat, letting the flower of sakura fall from his gloved hand before he felt your tiny arms circle around his neck "It was my fault angel..." he lifted you up and clinged your small form to him "Im so-"

"You weren't responsible for that building falling Kai. Stop blamming yourself." You frowned more seing the hives slowly appearing on the side of his neck.

"I swear on my grave. I am making a cure for you, just you wait. You will be free from your sickness my angel. I promise."

You giggled bitterly, clearly not believing his words.

He was. You weren't going to suffer anymore... he promised.

He felt the hives appearing in a hige amount of quantity as he brought your cold body to his, letting his tears drip down form his face to your chest as he rested your head on his shoulder and squezzed your body to his... not caring about the blood coaxing his clothes.

"Not again..!" He sobbed, holding your body with one strong arm while the other was subsconciously touching the ground as he holded your legs on his forearm.

His chest hurted, his skin was burning hot and he somehow catched the voices of his commurates and the fucker who had just done this.

"Overhaul!" Chrono shouted, noticing the small bits of concrete starting to float around his childhood friend k eeling on the ground with his dead lover.

"NOT AGAIN!" he let out a bloody, long and loud shout that everyone on that room swore every person on Japan had hearded it... the building started to crack and broke in many pieces forming sharp spikes going into all directions while plataforms formed. Chisaki's quirk was absolutely out of control, yet some spikes of metal had pierced the villain's chest, blood spreading through the room as Chisaki's shout only continued.

"EVeRYOnE OuT oF ThE FuCkInG BUilDinG NoW We RE GonNa FuCkIng DIe!" Mimic sgouted as Rappa and Rikiya quickly made their way out as Chrono tried to get closer to you and Chisaki.

"CHISAKI-!" He cursed out loud when more spikes and ataforms formed, not having any more choices than getting out of the crashing building before he got injured.

The mans got out of the that place intacted... Overhaul's hatred and painful shout only coming to an end when the building was completly destroyed.

"Is Overjerk still alive after that?!" Rappa shouted before getting punched by a very angry Mimic.

Chrono widened his eyes and took of his mask in respect and sorrow at seing the scene he saw his friend going through many times as Mimic only muttered a lainful curse in sympathy.

Chisaki, blood dripping down from the right side of his face, walking slowly out of the scrubs with heart broken eyes but hateful gaze as he stared at the ground... on his arms he carried a little sleeping girl, that seemed to have 4 years at maximun by her appearance, enveloped by his oconic green jacket.

Only Pops, Mimic and Chrono knew about your quirk... so when Rikiya and Rappa saw the badass and cruel boss of them holding a child ok his arms was slightly shocking.

"Boss what is-" Chisaki passed thorugh them without a word, walking numbly towards the car, Chrono noticing how he tighten his grip on the little one as his eyes darkened a bit.

"What the hell is Overhaul doing with a brat?" Rappa mumbled more in disbelief than shock.

"Is his chick's quirk. Can't exactly die." Mimic muttered.

"The more (Y/n) dies, the longer it takes for her to recover her memories of Overhaul and goes back to her original form..." Chrono completed, following Chisaki but giving him his privacy and distance.

He knew that the moment the first bullet came out, Chisaki at this point was going to force that thing into your system... after all, you were indeed one of the few persons he cared for more than anything.

His plan was for to retribuit Pops and free you from your curse after all.

#overhaul x reader #overhaul scenario #fanfic overhaul #overhaul #chisaki kai imagine scenario #kai chisaki x reader #chisaki kai x reader #kai chisaki #chisaki kai #bnha chisaki #bnha imagine #bnha x reader #bnha characters #bnha villains #bnha #my writing #zuffer writing

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whileyoursleeping · 4 years

Text

a buddie fic, as requested last week! (im sorry this took so long omg work has been absolutely insane)

also yes i’ll take buddie prompts but i’m really terrible at getting around to writing them so if you do request something i’m super sorry if it takes me forever

prompt: Bucks off his blood thinners so they throw a little party since he never got one when he came back something happens like he gets cut by a gift and has to remind everyone except Maddie that he's off his meds finally

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

He really should've known a welcome back party was not a good idea.

Not like it was his choice - now that the lawsuit is over and the chill has passed, the family at 118 have welcomed him back with open arms and it's of course Hen's idea to throw him a welcome back party.

If Buck thinks about it the string of unfortunate events otherwise known as his life should've predicted some bad shit happening - first his leg is crushed, then the embolism, then he gets hit by a tsunami... the list is endless. But he's off the blood thinners, which is great, and now he can do everything he used to normally.

He can't help it. He loves his fire family and he loves being included again so when Hen announces it, he's all for it. He's back in the thick of it, with his family, being teased and shoved around playfully - he lives for it, he really does. He loves them. So fucking much.

The only downside is Eddie - things are better, but he's still a little reserved. Buck worries he's done real, lasting damage, and so he refuses to feel needy when he says, "Hey, man. Are you swinging by mine for the party tonight?"

Eddie smiles at him. "Wouldn't miss it."

There's beer and presents and someone has the idea to wrap one of them in a bunch of zip ties, and Buck - who can't find scissors - decides to use a knife to get into it.

A knife that promptly slips and cuts his palm open.

"Buck," Maddie sighs as the whole room goes quiet, in that patented my-little-brother-is-an-idiot voice. "You-"

"Let me see, Buck," Hen says gently, and Buck blinks at the sudden amount of fussing going on. Chimney's running for ice and a towel and Bobby is looking like he's one number away from dialling 911, and Eddie - Eddie's gone bone white which is weird.

"Guys," Buck says, over the sudden shuffle of trained medical professionals launching into action. "Guys, I'm not-"

"Elevate his hand," Hen orders. "Once we've got it wrapped we'll get him to the emergency room."

"But I'm not-" Buck protests.

"Is there a first aid kit around here?" Chimney's asking, and Eddie is taking Buck's hand and raising it above his head.

"Eddie," Buck says. "Eddie, I'm not-"

"Why does anyone let you near knives, Buckaroo?" Hen says, grabbing for a tea towel to press into the wound on his palm.

Buck wants to bask in being called Buckaroo again, but Eddie looks scarily blank, save for the little tic in his jaw that tells Buck he's concentrating. Nobody's listening to him for totally different reasons than they were a while ago, but still, Buck's frustrated that he can't even get a word in edgewise.

"Guys-" he tries again. He attempts pulling his hand away and wow Eddie has a great grip.

"Guys!" Maddie says, loudly, and everyone looks up at her. She nods at Buck.

"I'm not on blood thinners anymore," he explains, a little uncomfortable with the five sets of eyes on him. Normally he'd like it, the attention of the team - of Eddie - but it reminds him a little too much of why they were all cold shouldering him in the first place. "So... you know. It's fine."

He tries for a winning smile. Hen sits back, at least, but Eddie hangs his head and doesn't say anything.

"So we don't have to take you to the emergency room," Chim jokes.

"I think if you do they'll start charging me rent there," he jokes. He's trying to work out why Eddie still has his head down, looks ashamed.

Hen seems to realise what's going on, because she says something about the others helping her with things in the kitchen, and there's a round of agreement. Everyone disappears except Eddie, who at least moves to sit on the coffee table instead of the ground in front of Buck.

"Sorry I didn't tell you," Buck says - he's not sure if this is one of those things that's a big deal and Eddie will be upset over or not. He doesn't want Eddie to be upset, not right after they finally became friends again. "I would've told you, it just didn't seem that important."

"Can I see?" Eddie asks, totally ignoring everything else Buck just said.

Buck blinks, but he holds his hand out. Eddie's gentle as he flips Buck's hand over, palm up, and inspects the cut. It's already mostly stopped bleeding, which is so novel for Buck that even he finds himself staring at it. Or maybe he's staring at it as an excuse to watch Eddie touch him. No one needs to know the reason.

"It reminded me of the tsunami," Eddie says abruptly, finally making eye contact with him. He doesn't let Buck's hand go. "When I found you and Christopher. You had that cut on your arm, it was bleeding everywhere."

Buck has really vague memories of the aftermath of the tsunami. It all goes a little blurry once the team showed up and he collapsed, but he does remember a cut on his arm, how lightheaded he felt. He's not totally sure on how he got to a hospital afterwards either.

"Yeah," Buck says, slowly, trying to figure out the relevance of this to that. "That was uh - I was bleeding pretty bad. But this isn't like that, Eddie. I'm okay."

If he thinks about it, he can remember the throbbing pain in his head, over his eye. How his leg hurt. But mostly he just remembers the water and Chris screaming for him.

"I was more worried about Chris," he admits.

"I know you were." Eddie's still got his hand, but hasn't made a move to clean it or patch it up. "That's why you need someone to worry about you."

"You did though," Buck insists. He won't let Eddie feel bad about this, especially when it was Buck who lost Christopher. "I remember you came and got me at the hospital."

Eddie looks away from him. "Yeah," he says uncomfortably.

They're quiet for a moment. Eddie finally starts cleaning out the wound and Buck thinks back to that night - stumbling out of the emergency room, a fair bit of blood lighter and with rudimentary first-aid having been done, given that there were people hurt a lot worse, wondering how he was going to get home with his car six feet underwater.

And Eddie, in the waiting room, looking exhausted and strung out and who had hugged Buck the moment he saw him. Loaded him into the car, helped him into the house and found him clean clothes so he could shower and sleep.

There were no nightmares that night, because he was too tired and felt safe with both his Diaz boys in the same house.

He'd woken the next morning with Chris piled onto the couch next to him, and Eddie watching them over a mug of coffee in the kitchen. They'd staggered through the day, bone-tired and hardly speaking, and Buck had gone home distinctly feeling like he'd failed both of them.

"I mean," he says, out loud, because Eddie's got that little worry line in his forehead and his mouth is downturned and unhappy, "I lost Chris and you still came and got me-"

"You didn't," Eddie says, almost angry. "God, Buck, I didn't even know anything had happened until I saw you there. It didn't even cross my mind that something had happened because he was with you."

"I know," Buck says guiltily. "I - Eddie, man, I'm... I'm so sorry, if I could take it back-"

Eddie lets go of his hand abruptly, and Buck has a split second to wonder how he keeps making this worse for himself before Eddie's hand wraps around the back of his neck and he's dragged down into a kiss.

He's shocked, for a moment, and then he remembers this is Eddie who's always been there, Eddie who trusts him with Chris, Eddie who doesn't think he's a fuck-up or still Buck 1.0 or anything other than his best friend, and he kisses back, desperately, lunging into Eddie's warmth.

They separate after a moment, and Eddie leans his forehead on Buck's, his eyes closed.

"Buck," he says, softly, "I'm trying to say that I didn't think to worry about Christopher, for once in my life, because he was with you. Because he's safe with you. You're the only place I'm ever sure he's safe, other than me. That hasn't changed, okay? You were there for us when we needed you, and when you needed me I-"

His voice breaks. It's painful to listen to, and Buck shuffles closer, until their noses touch too, and puts his hands on Eddie's shoulders, presses his thumbs into the spaces between Eddie's neck and ears.

"When you needed me I failed you," Eddie croaks. "You were scared about your job and on blood thinners and you needed me and I just - I got angry, because I missed you, and I felt like you'd left like Shannon did, and I didn't even think that it was because you were trying to get back to us. And you still blame yourself. You pulled Chris out of the water, Buck. You. Not me, not abuela, not Pepa, not anyone else from the 118. You."

His eyes are stinging. He feels Eddie's hands on him, stroking him gently, soothing. "Stop," he whispers, and his voice breaks. "You're gonna make me cry, man. It's my welcome back party. I'm not supposed to cry."

Eddie laughs a little, then says, "I'm trying to tell you something, Buck."

"Yeah, I got it, what with the kiss and everything," Buck jokes weakly. "I - Eddie, I'm pretty messed up."

"My wife disappeared, came back, said she was divorcing me, then died," Eddie says. "We're even. I don't mind if you don't."

How could he ever? "So... what now?"

Eddie leans back. Buck feels a little less embarrassed when he sees that Eddie's eyes look a little wet too. "I'm gonna fix your hand," Eddie says. "And then we can tell everyone to stop eavesdropping from the kitchen."

There's a pause, and then Chimney's head peeks around the corner.

"We found scissors," he says sheepishly, and Buck laughs. He doesn't really care if they overhead. In fact, Maddie has that I-knew-it look on her face.

"I told you he didn't hate you," she says, patting him on the head.

He shakes her off playfully. "Not like you've been right before, so-"

"Do you want this present or not?"

"Sorry, Ma'am."

#buddie #9-1-1 buddie

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madeintimeland · 3 years

Text

im oversharing this got long sorry. just reminscing on shit ive thought about a million times over again

theres so much art i want to create and so little motivation. i should start smoking weed again bc every time im high i get my best ideas or at least like, it takes away the layer of film over my brain that stops me from being able to come up with creative ideas, but also im scared its going to send me into mental hell again. like i need to be in a perfect state for it lest i fear im going to invoke my months long existential crisis again and i Cannot be doing that shit rn. but also i wonder if its going to be worth it anyways if i can create something to leave on this earth again. like ive been so bad at creativity lately like i want to draw and produce things and im bubbling over with energy and i feel the ideas fermenting in the deep recesses of my brain like theyre nestled into the grooves and folds but i cant access them yet. and i know i can if im stoned. i might turn into a hermit hunched over my tablet all hours of the day just making shit tbh. i absorb so much of the things around me and i know if i try to make something now its going to basically be direct copies of the things i saw but if im high im sure i can actually create something new and beautiful. im scared of being intoxicated again but i was scared to drink again too and i got drunk and proceeded to love it and want to drink every single day because surprise surprise i have alcoholism coded into my dna and consequentially have an addictive personality in general. which is why i felt like my life was useless without weed. all up until i was finally able to get my hands on a stash that would let me smoke whenever i want versus when i would get a small amount every couple of months and completely and utterly fail at ratioing it out and binge it all and then have ridiculously introspective trips where id start to go a little crazy at the end (i have a distinct memory of looking at a meme that had a woman on it and thinking ‘jesus christ... what the fuck is that’ and then spiraled into thinking about how life is pointless but i didnt have enough weed to continue with that train of thought and if i did i may have had my crisis a lot earlier, it was just inevitable) i just felt like being high was the only time i could actually get in touch with my inner self again. like i used to before the thick clouds of depression and psychosis settled in. but then i finally was able to get high for longer than short bursts of time and it all came to a head where my brain broke and i have existential terror now that i feel im going to not be able to deal with confronting again. but every time i say that it never ends up staying permanently, it comes in waves, it all comes in waves. back and forth. i feel beauty in life and then i feel fear. i feel like its all worth it and then i cant stop thinking about the inevitable heat death of the universe and the pointlessness of it all. and then i get a hug or listen to a really good song and i feel like its worth it again. i wonder if this is just a period in my life im not a total stoner or if its actually permanent. anyways point is i want to make so much stuff that my hands ache and my brain rots when i think about how many things inspire me. thats why my aesthetic tag is #inspiration, its been like that for many years now, its stuff that inspires me. but at what point am i going to turn that inspiration into reality? im bad at initiative. my initiative is going to be when i pick up the pot again because im too lethargic and procrastinatey to create the things i want any other time. but when will that be? i cant see a therapist or anything rn and working it out on my own has been mildly successful, not bad, im not spending every single day in terror like i was at this point last year. it started all going away around august after starting in march. march 30th in fact. from then on its been a constant battle with dissociation. funny because just earlier in march was some of the best experiences of my life. i think if lockdown never happened this never would have happened either but at the same time im left wondering how anybody can go through their life without wondering about the meaning of it all and coming out the other side with purpose and resolve. mine was to enjoy myself and find as much beauty and love in life as i can before i die and enhance the lives of the people around me while i can because i feel too small to do anything on a grander scale. and im fine with that, for the most part, but i still get attacked by these waves of thought where i wonder what the purpose of reality is . i always have to smack myself and remind myself no dumbass you already went over this a million times, just enjoy yousrelf while youre here. but when im high its a million times worse cuz the only time i can get my mind off it is when im replacing it with horny thoughts and thats not the only thing i wanna do when im high ofc i want to experience and create and listen to music. but i mean i havent smoked since june. i think the 15th ? i could go back and read my journals to tell exactly when it was but yeah its been almost a year now and i feel like i might have it in me again. i used to love getting high and working on shit so much. some of my best works and most creative projects and honestly just most enjoyable periods of my life were when i was high. going back to what i was saying about early march 2020 being the best time of my life, idk what it was about me but i was just having a grand old time experiencing absolute beauty playing ark with my friends, feeling so creative and developing new ideas and experiences, and using the freedom and motivation i felt ingame to also want to explore the world irl. i seriously was close to actually finally reading my survival manual and start camping and shit and i wanted to visit my relatives in their hella secluded farmhouse in the middle of fuck nowhere kansas, cuz i did visit there during that time period and i loved it to death, i felt so free. two different relatives actually and they both had that same aesthetic about them. of course they were horribly racist but i mean, thats rural kansas for you. i just wanted to camp in their woods. its funny because that month was simultaneously the best and worst of my life. all because of weed! if i never started smoking or rather never found a reliable source at that point in my life i wonder how i wouldve turned out? id like to chalk this up to fate that im like this, maybe its for the best, maybe smoking again wont help me but maybe it will. i have a way to ease myself back into it i just need that leap of faith and bravery like i felt when i was drinking again. its funny because i used to be such a fucking druggie and i wanted to get high all the time and then after my existential crisis that all just. stopped. i feell ike everyone i know is sick of me talking about it but it really fundamentally changed me on the inside even if it doesnt seem like it much on the outside so i feel its right of me to talk about it sometimes. it makes me feel better at least. like this is jsut a thing t hat happened, not a fated break from the universe i cant come back from yknow? i dunno. ive rambled on way too fucking long and idk if anyones gonna read this. tldr i want to draw and create so many things and i have too many ideas to deal with but i only feel ill be able to unlock my creativity and motivation if im high but due to bad past experiences im terrified to get high again. i mean ive done and made some pretty cool stuff since then but the motivation and ideas are much fewer and far between compared to the absolute deluge i get when im stoned , whether any of my ideas are actually any good or if they were just high ramblings is up to debate but i think it gave me a really good way of looking at things and i made some pretty cool stuff and i miss it a lot but i dont know if going back to it is going to be a mistake or not and im not brave enough to find out if itll hurt me again or if im ready. yyyyaaaayyyyy hahahaha ✌

#this is literally just all about drugs and dissociation

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bang-to-the-tan · 4 years

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i. im a little drunks. I apologize. here’s that yoongi fanfic holding hands that you wanted but Im too coward to give you! inspirted a lot by @honeymoonjin-- “hello sora is drunk and she is writing” will foreve rhaunt me. Just a thing for fun im gonna go sleep now

I have the hiccups so badly i think i might die from it

Anway

So one day you get the call from Seoul that you have to go to South Korea. Delight and amazement flourish in your chest as yo ubook your tickets and go to fly to South Korea for reasons that are probably super businesslike and important. They are.

You enter the stage. The fans are screaming and yelling the names of the 7 gods on the stage in front of you as the lights go wild, casting colors over everybody’s faces and making the whole thing seem like scene from a dream. You wait patiently for them to finish their set, the whole time watching intently as they dance, sing and flirt with the crowd, every second spent with them like a lifetime in their arms.

Finally, one by one, they start coming backstage, coming to (fuck my hifcups) to talk to you and talk about how well they did their set.

“You came all the way from America?” Namjoon sounds surprised, deep dimples carving themselves into his cheeks when he smiles. “Just to see us?”

“Yeah,” you reply. “And I came because I think that one of you is my soulmate,” you add, fucking hiccuping like youre’ gonna die from it fucking why now why dies god hate me. The group is amazed and in awe of your near perfect Korean because you’ve been pracitcing and studying the language for so long.

“Who do you think it is?” asks Jimin, who smiles in a way both flirtatious and shy.

You dont’ answer, but your gaze is drawn by the man standing by he back of the pack, behind some fo the other members. His eyes briefly meet yours before flitting to the side and a thrill of recognition beyond anything you’ve ever experienced dashes through you. Maybe he knows, too.

“I’m not sure,” you lie. Even though you’re standing here in front of them , you’re almost positive you know who it is. “My agency said I should find out for sure before I do anything drastic.”

“That makes sense,” answers Jungkook, noddin.g He licks his lips, and his smile is fucking hiccups im gonna kmsi bright and shiny when he levels it your way. “ We don’t want you dong anything too drastic.”

You nod, but your mind is already elsewhere. There has to be something else that you’re missing. It doesn’t make any sense.

The crowd disperses. In the middle of the walkway stands Min Yoongi, his eyes dark and fixated on you.

“You’re looking for your soulmate,” he says, his deep voice really deep and not having any hiccups in it whatsoever the perfect bastard son of a bitch. “How do you know that’s what you’re looking for?’

“Because,” you reply, your heart beating quickly in your throat. “Because I fet the change in me days ago. The ache in my heart, the coldness of my palms. It feels like the absence of someone important, and it only abates when I’m watching BTS videos.”

He snorts. “I feel okay when I watch cat videos, does that mean a cat is my soulmate?”

“It could mean,” you protest. “You don’t know anything for sure until you gtyr it.”

Yongi hiccups please i’m dying,,my neighbors are hating me im sure of it

He goes silent for a moment. “Do you want to try it?” he asks slowly, unsure.

“Try what?”

“Try holding hands. Just for a little while. To see if it sticks, to see if it’s true.”

You hesitate, thinking of all the times you’ve thought about this exact moment. This second where you can finally hold his hand. Is it right? For you to just hold his hand like that? Like he belongs to you? You aren’t sure. But what else are you going to do?

He extends his palm towards you.

You reach out towards him.

You claps his long fingers in yours, feeling the warmth of his palm, the solidness of his skin against you. For a moment, the world rushes about you, filing your lungs with perfection and letting you know that everything is in place. Even the lights dim, as if out of politeness for this moment of perfection. You feel a shiver crawl up your arm, nesting in the back of your neck and you have to shudder.

A beat passes.

“Did you feel anything?” Yoongi says quietly.

Suddenly cowed, you respond quickly, too quickie. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

Athough you can sense that he’s giving you another chance, and you can feel how hardily you’re failing his expectations, you answer again, more firmly. “I don’t feel anything.” you lie.

“Oh.” he sounds disappointed.

Disappointment crawls up your neck and you have to frown now, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth.

“But,” you add, “But we can still hold hands for as long as you...I mean, if you want.”

Though he smothers it quickly, he lights up with a crooked smile that shows off his gums just as much as his teeth.

“If I want, huh?” he presses.

“Yeah.”

“Then I do want, I guess,” he says, shrugging.

Similarly, you hide your own warm th and excitement at the thought of continuing to hold his hand. “Yeah, me too,” you say.

“But I was hoping to get some coffee after the show,” he says, pointedly, abesentmindedly shaking your joined hands back and forth. (i’m still fuckig hiccuping call the er) “And i don’t know if you can manage that.”

“I can manage anything you can manage,” you retort, haughty. His grin grows, squishing his eyes into sweet little crescents.

“Oh?” he says teasing.

“Definitely,” you reply.

“Then prove it,” he challenges after a beat. “Spent 24 hours with me, attached at the hand, and if you can prove that you’re my soulmate, I won’t press charges.”

“And If it doesn’t work?” you ask after a moment.

“I’m getting the best lawyers money can buy and Im’ going to sue you for getting in my way,” he says easily. Even though you adore him, you can sense the amount of disdain oozing from between his lips.

“You’re on!’ you declare. “We’ll see whose soulmate is whose.”

You dont have money. A lawsuit will ruin you. But god would it be wrth it hough. Holy shit my hiccups are gon.e

#past spexs bedtime #how the fuck do i tag this #idk im sorry #LMAO #etter than me getting drunk and imediately mountin ghte soapbox amirighte #antihistimaines kicking in now i shall go and gto tbed.

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bl--ankhaeji · 4 years

Text

It all started with a washer(Taeyong)

Pairing - Fashion Design student*TaeyongXCeramics student*Reader

Genre - fluff, slight angst (if you blink it’s gone), slight enemies to lovers(again blink and you miss it), friends to lover, college au, tutor*Taeyong

Warning/AN - learning disabilities and mentions of shitty parenting, also really abrupt ending cause I had no idea how to end so im sorreh (unedited not like any of my shit is though)

W.Count - 2253

The way you met Taeyong was pretty hectic

It was 2 a.m. and you both were in the laundry room on the 4th floor of the apartment building

Surprisingly you two weren’t the only ones who needed a late night laundry run

That shit was PACKED

Well as packed as a laundry room that only has three washers and three dryers can get

You had to wait in a short line to be able to even get a washer even though all you had to wash were your clothes from the previous week

You had just enough washing powder left to wash the little clothes you had

You really just wanted to do your laundry go back to your room open a bottle of cheap wine and drink away the pain you had from your Chemistry exam that you’re pretty sure you failed earlier that day or should you say yesterday

*Le Gasp* Finally a washer is open

You rush to get there before it’s taken only to make there at the same time as some boy

You both immediately turn toward each other to look at the person who dared to steal the washer you so rightfully deserve

“This washer’s mine”

“This is my washer”

You both managed to say at the same time only to pull equally incredulous looks at each other

“I got here first” You both exclaim at the same time and that was like the spark that lit the fire

Not the love fire but like a hate fire lol

A stared down like no other between you two fighting for the washer soon commenced and it looked like neither of you were backing down

You both stood there and glared at each other’s face until a whole new washer became open

The boy saw it and walked to go to that one instead of the one being stolen from him by some girl who looked about as ruff as his scalp is

Please pray for TaeTae’s scalp...ok

Only for the washer to get taken by some kid

His only choice was to go back to his old washer

Once you saw the boy coming back you immediately closed the lid on the washer and turned to look at him with a humph

“Too late this washer’s taken by its rightful owner”

If that didn’t irk him in the worst way then nothing did

That slightly reminded him of his little brother’s annoying friend, what's his name...Doeyuck…

“Look ok I just need to wash my clothes so that I can go to my room and splurge on the possibly life threatening amount of sweets I just bought as a reward for passing my Chemistry exam. Can you please just let me share the washer with you?”

You started to consider letting him use the washer with you then you realize what he said….HE HAS SWEETS and he passed the chemistry exam, but HE HAS SWEETS

“Ok, I’ll let you use it but only if I get to have my pick at two sweets or if it’s candy then one handful. Do we have a deal?”

You could see the pout form on his lips only be offset by a slow nod of agreement to which you rejoiced with a quick Yes and opened the lid

When the clothes finished you both realized that meant that you would also have to share a dryer to which you both looked at each other and raised your shoulders

Even though you both still weren’t on the best of terms you still tolerated each other for the sake of your clothing

Later that night after you have taken your pick of treats from the boy whose name you still didn’t know you retreated to you couch with your wine bottle in one hand and the tv remote in the other

When it’s the next week and you’re in your Chemistry class your teacher passes out the tests

To which you can see and confirm that you indeed did fail it

BADLY

Your teacher asks you to stay back once class is over to discuss something with you

She recommends you a tutor by the name of Lee Taeyong

Says he has the highest grades in her class

At first you decline until she tells you that you might not be able to pass this semester if you don’t get help

You begrudgingly agree to meet this tAeYoNg tomorrow in the upstairs private library room

The dreaded meetup is finally here and you walk into the room with anxiety threatening to bubble over to see

“WASHER STEALING SWEETS BOY”

You walk over to the startled boy and see that he has irritation written all over his face “Please don’t tell my you’re the girl I’m tutoring”

“Yup That’s Me”

He starts to regret his life choices and wonder ‘Why Me’

He gets started on the tutoring only to realize that you...really don't know anything

If your lost look said anything

“Do you even pay attention at all in class”

“I mean I do but its it just it...I don’t know. This is stupid. I’m stupid. I don’t know why I agreed to this tutoring bullshit. I don’t need help.”

You hastily get up and leave feeling as if you just made a fool of yourself

You walk into your apartment with fresh clay you just got from your class and go into your safe place

Your home pottery room

Preparing your space and getting everything ready you press play on your music, wet your hands, and start moulding the clay

You’re pretty deep into what you’re doing to the point where you don’t hear the banging on your door

Once you do it startles you and you almost mess up your creation

You wash your hands and go to answer the door to see Taeyong

He’s staring at you like something is wrong and you look down to see that you’re covered in both dry and wet clay

“What do you want?”

“I’m here to ask why you walked out like that.” He says with a pretty serious look on his face

“I already said it. I don’t need help, I can pass the class on my own.”

He holds up your most recent test only to spread his fingers out and it's every test you've taken and you either failed it or were pretty close, “Does this look like you don’t need help.”

“You can’t help someone stupid Taeyong.”

With annoyance splayed on his face he steps into the apartment and sits his stuff on the couch

“Why do you think that?”

“Cause I am, now can you please leave I was doing something.”

He refuses to leave until you explain to him

You think ‘Fuck It’ and you start to tell him

You major in ceramics but there’s a special love for pottery

It helps to calm your mind...you love it..you’re amazing at it

But that was never enough for your parents who ridiculed and criticized you every chance they got

You have both dyslexia and dyscalculia

Your parents who were both renowned scientists couldn't believe they managed to birth a stupid baby

The only way you were able to get into university was because of ceramics but your parents didn't care

To them you were still dumb no matter what

“So that’s why I’m stupid. There’s no use in trying to teach me, you would be wasting your time”

You looked to Taeyong thinking you would see a disgusted face but you only saw one of sympathy and determination

“I’ve taught someone with dyslexia before but not dyscalculia. I will not leave you behind because y/n you’re not stupid. Regardless of what your parents and others have told you.”

After that you didn't see him for a few days and then one night when you were about to head to bed

BAMM

There he was at your door looking like a lunatic

“I’ve got it.”

After that you and TaeTae(that’s what you call him now) spent every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and sometimes Sunday together

And to say that spending that much time together didn’t have an affect on how you felt about each other would be a fucking lie

Soon you started to anticipate the days you got to study with him or the time you two would pass each other in the halls

It would make you feel giddy inside

Like you were in a shaken up pop can and when you would see him you would combust

But would you ever tell him that. Fuck No

Sometimes the studying would either take place at his or your apartment

To say that after study sessions you wouldn’t sit and watch movies the rest of the night and slick(not slick) cuddle would also be a lie

It’s to the point where you have clothes at each other’s house

You also may or may not have a key to each other’s apartment

Even though you both still irked the fuck out of each other sometimes this tutor and tutoree realtionship had transformed into somethin beautiful

It was getting close to your next Chemistry exam and you were stressing

Soon enough you had two days to go and you were TERRIFIED

Taeyong kept trying to tell you that you were gonna do fine but you didn’t believe him

Your fears were coming back full force

You had been doing good turning in little side assignments with no problem but this is your first test since tutoring and

You really didn’t wanna let TaeTae down

“You won’t let me down. I promise”

“You don’t know that. Like I don’t know, I can know everything on there but when it’s in front of my face I just….blank and everything gets jumbled and I get confused and I just give up.”

“Look if you take the test and pass...I have a surprise for you, ok?”

“What surprise?”

He just gets up and walks out of the apartment

It’s like the two days just flew by and next thing you know the test is right in front of you and you’re looking at it and

YOU UNDERSTAND

Even though you’re one of the last to finish you probably feel the most confident

When you and Tae meet up the day after you guys are chillin in his apartment eating the food you just got delivered

“Sooo since I'm close with our Chemistry teacher she let me see the grades before she put them out.”

“Really??!! What’d I make?”

“I’m sorry to tell you this…”

Taeyong was gonna pull a trick on you but seeing your face fall and the tears build up he couldn’t go through with it

“Noo I’m just playing please don’t cry. You passed, you passed I promise.”

When you hear those words you immediately start to beat his ass..literally you start to spank him

“Why would you do that to me. Do you know how sad I got, I almost cried!!”

He kept trying to apologize but you kept hitting him so he did something to stop you

He kissed you

The feeling of Taeyong’s lips on yours was euphoric

Even with the taste of the takeout on his lips his kiss was still intoxicating

Luckily he pulled back before you could slip too far

You unknowingly chased after his lips after he pulled away, wanting more

“I didn’t plan on saying it this way but yea that was the surprise. I like you y/n. I like you a lot.”

You took a good look at Taeyong’s face to see an unnoticeable blush spread across his cheeks

Que the Fangirl

“AHHH you’re so cuteeee. I can finally say that now without feeling like I’ll make things awkward.”

Also que confused Tae

“Wait so you like me too?”

Uhh duh

So I was gonna stop here butttttt Why don’t I give yall a lil more fluff shall we

Immediately start dating after the confession

Istg you guys are the cutests little shits ever

It’s disgusting

Study dates [check]

Cuddle buddies[check]

Hella pottery dates[FUCKIN CHECK]

You and Tae already stay up all hours of the damn night so why not teach him how to mould a little

“Oooo are you gonna do the little backhug hand guiding thing they do in the movies.”*insert winky face*

You do the making he does the designing

Did I mention that he’s a fashion design major

Him and his best friend Johnny revamp your entire wardrobe because and I quote ‘As the top fashion design student I will not be caught dead letting my girlfriend walk around looking anything less than Fabulous’ and ‘Who says you’re the top student but anyways you didn’t pass Johnny’s Fashion Evaluation...not my problem’

Oh and better believe he has the couples outfits on LOCK

“This passes the Evaluation”

He makes little cup holders and coasters for the cups you make

For your first christmas together Tae makes you a ceramic necklace with the date you guys started dating thanks to the help from your best friend Yuta who specializes in metal ceramics

You knit him a scarf out of you guys favorite colors

The blush you made cross his face when you wrapped it around his neck and used it to pull him into a kiss was totally worth the plenty times you caught a hand cramp trying to make that scarf

“We’re under the mistletoe.” *insert smirky y/n*

AHHHH I can’t deal

But yea that’s it for you and TaeTae’s relationship

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semiconducting · 3 years

Text

just reflecting on some personal growth stuff from last year !

im actually. genuinely okay. like i think im starting this year feeling okay! which is atypical.

i think i can attribute it to the enormous amount of work id put into myself over the past year...i remember one year ago being extraordinarily depressed and really just. high strung? incredibly anxious but exhausted. and i fell down a descent slowly from not eating, to getting really irritable and not handling conflicts with friends well, to actively self harming again, to the point where i remembered sitting in a coffee shop with one of my friends and saying out loud that i need to go to therapy. and that i was going to talk to a mutual friend of ours about how the therapy services on campus are. which was a huge step for me! ive always had trust issues with therapy services since i was 12 for reasons i wont go into, but im sure you can gather the point of.

and then, literally the next day after saying that, got news about campus shutting down because of the virus.

and i made all of the effort possible to reach out to my friends and get things figured out to weather the storm because i KNEW shit was going to get bad if i didnt. but only one of my friends was really keeping up, and thats because he and i do homework together so we were already in a rhythm of talking every single week no matter what. and thats not to say that im ungrateful for him or the fact that even still he was there for me while i was going through hell, i have this thing about Not Putting All My Problems On And Confiding In One Person And One Person Only. so i withdrew, i stopped talking to everyone, i stopped logging into my classes, i didnt do any homework, i didnt lead my workshops, didnt hold office hours...i was just wallowing in my own misery

and i made plans to kill myself. and thats like, i mean i could say that several dozen times over the course of a year since i was like 12, but i mean a legitimate walkthrough plan. had my hiking bag packed with everything i was going to use, decided where i was going to, and was going to prep myself for it. wrote drafts and drafts of suicide notes until i decided just leaving the contact info of people who needed to know asap was all i was going to leave. in addition to sticky notes on some stuff in my room for what needed to be returned to who, or if something should go to someone in particular...

and i acted as normally as i could around my housemates. attributed my not leaving my room much to being busy with classes. i have a rule to myself to always sleep at least one night before killing myself because if im really serious about going through with it it can always wait one day. this time i decided i was going to clean my room and leave it as pristine as possible. the last thing i had to do was a load of laundry, and then i was going to do it.

and then someone from campus showed up at my door. because one of my professors filed a report and i hadnt responded to any of the emails id received checking in on me.

so i readjusted. caught up on my schoolwork, just barely finished the semester and definitely didnt do it strong or well (god bless the pass/fail option bc of covid LOL), but i did it nonetheless. went home, started my internship, had a miserably mundane summer.

i grew bitter and apathetic. i was angry at my friends for not being responsive when i reached out to them to talk or hang out or do anything. i got tired of dealing with it. i was tired of feeling alone and like no one gave a shit about me except for when it was convenient for them. i decided that i wasnt going to deal with people who werent willing to put any effort into me, so i stopped talking to everyone and kept up with people who were willing to reach out after the fact.

it’s definitely not the best approach. it’s really unforgiving and it doesn’t give people a lot of benefit of the doubt, but i think it was necessary in some respect. i didn’t have any criteria for how people needed to reach out, or how long after, or whatever, just that they did. really needed people in my life who are willing to communicate with me. i was honest with how i was feeling and why i did things if they did, apologized for the shitty approach, thanked them for still being willing to talk to me, and worked out the best way for both of us to keep things going.

over the months i dont think i really regret the decision, because it’s been a weight off my shoulders. i feel a lot better. i’m far more okay with where i stand in all of my friends’ lives, even if that’s not as a priority and even if that’s as just someone to talk to and catch up with like a couple times a year. it took a bit for it to pay off but it��s nice to take a look at people i was putting far too much work into and upon reflection realizing that they only interacted with me when they needed something from me, and not for me as a person. i think there are still people where there are loose ends and i think i may try reaching out myself to tie those up at some point, whenever i have the energy and clarity of mind for it. but i guess at the end of the day i just decided that people who weren’t willing to communicate weren’t worth the time. i’m okay if that communication means i need to be the one to initiate conversations even! i just need to know that.

but yeah. i came back to ny and started the semester totally apathetic and angry. i was so fucking depressed and bored with everything even if i was keeping myself incredibly busy. the only thing that i found rewarding (and what was just barely keeping me going) was leading my workshop for the intro optics class.

and then a friend -- the same friend i was at the coffee shop with -- reached out to catch up. and i was honestly really bitter and angry with him and was prepping myself to start listing out issues that i hadnt been able to address with him beforehand (side note, while telling friends the issues you have with them is important, listing shit out all at once is hardly ever a good approach especially without warning LOL) but ended up...just having a calming and comfortable conversation about what was going on in our lives since we last saw each other.

n later that day i ended up reaching out to an old friend that i had been meaning to catch up with because we fell out of contact, but had just barely been trying to start talking again in the months before this but had kept missing opportunities to properly converse. but we talked again, and we set up a day to hike and catch up.

and he comes to my house and picks me up. and i get in his car. and its like, holy shit, its been almost a year since ive seen you. and we hugged. and just started to catch each other up on the mess that had been our lives since we’d actively been in contact. we hiked, he told me about the books he wanted to write, we talked about people we knew, we talked about politics, we talked about school, we talked about life, and it was just as comfortable as if not a day had passed...even though it was obvious that he and i were both changed people over the past year. nothing about our friendship was any different though.

we resolved to hanging out with each other every week. decided we both needed the interaction, appreciated having each other around, and had a nice overlap of free time in the week that worked well. friday nights unless otherwise specified.

it was totally unexpected. he’d always been a great friend to me, but i never expected us to get as close as we did. neither did he. he’s probably the first person in my life (or at least in a very long time, and certainly the only person at the time) that i’d been so comfortable with that i practically had no boundaries around. none that needed to be addressed, anyway, because the only possible ones to throw up wouldn’t even come up (but of course, i constantly reassured that as soon as anything came up i would let him know because early on he kept asking sjhdkjfh).

he became something for me to look forward to in the week. towards the beginning he was a shoulder to lean on when i needed it and was willing to listen to things i hadn’t been able to tell anyone out loud. and he confided in me as well. it was comfortable. it was safe. it was a level of trust with vulnerability that i’d never shown anyone else.

but it wasnt even just that! it was fun! hes so fun. we could talk about everything and nothing, and hes one of the only people where i feel like i have to keep up with him in conversation instead of the other way around. we’d jump from topic to topic so much faster than either of us could think and it was all always so interesting. littered with humour that was just dumb and simple. i felt comfortable just being an idiot with him. i felt like i had nothing to prove.

for the past few years ive held to the sentiment that i like to hang around with people that make me a better person. but somehow, with him, its not that i felt like he made me a better person, but that he made me more myself. he saw who i was without any kind of fronts. and i always was afraid to show anyone that me because i always assumed that they would be depressing, loathsome, bitter, angry, and vicious.

but....i’m not. i learned that i’m incredibly loving. that i’d do fuckin anything to for my friends, but always in a way that was healthy and rewarding for both of us. i’m very light-hearted and my sense of humour is so stupid, but also very analytical and thoughtful. just a bit judgmental and pretentious, but always for things that people dont expect. totally open minded in discussions. an avid explorer, and a bit of a thrillseeker. and so, so, so affectionate.

i realized im. not as horrible as ive always made myself out to be. i accepted that i didnt need to punish myself for things beyond my control. i realized that i could believe people when they tell me that they enjoy my company, or appreciate things i do for them, or that they think i’m a worthwhile person to keep around.

its not that i dont have my flaws, its not that there arent things that i have to work on still. but maybe, at my core, i’m not actually motivated by spite, i’m not actually a hopeless pessimist, and that i’m not...broken. i’m not some secretly irredeemable monster.

and for a period of time i’ve been in a place where i could say i was genuinely...happy! and i don’t think i’ve ever been able to say that. i’ve certainly been made happy by doing things with friends in the past, i’ve been through periods where i’ve been okay with where i am at in life, but ever since i was like 12 (but probably even before that) i’d never been able to say that i was happy. it’s not that i wasn’t stressed, it’s not that things in my life were all going perfectly....but they didn’t define my mood. they didn’t define my view of myself. school, despite being the primary focus of my life, wasn’t dictating how i was feeling. even when things were agonizing and depressing because of school, i was still okay. i was incredibly stable.

and i owe that all to him being there for me. and hardly any of these things were anything that he was really directly responsible for, like its not that he sat there and just constantly showered me in reassurance and praise or anything that changed how i view myself...it was just having his company. it was just being able to sit there and listen to him go on about some totally random thing that he was exceptionally knowledgeable about. it was exploring caves and climbing hills. it was cooking together. it was talking about science. it was talking about love. it was talking about music. it was just having a consistent presence in my life, someone that treated me like a priority but never at the expense of himself, and someone i didn’t have to walk on any kind of eggshells around. it was someone who trusted me and respected me not by anything id done to warrant it, but just because of who i was.

it was a reminder that i can take care of my own problems, that i just need to be a good presence in someone’s life and for them to be a good presence in mine.

but also that i can accept help from people who genuinely want to offer it! and that that help doesnt always have to be direct. that sometimes helping me means i get to do something nice for someone else LOL

it was everything i ever needed and i wasnt even looking for it. he meant the world to me and i was so, so thankful for the circumstances that led us here because i was so happy to have him in my life again. i was happy that we were able to get closer because we’d only been able to interact in professional environments before.

and then i realized i was in love. and i had a sexuality crisis. but i didn’t recognize it until i fell hard because it was a different kind of love than i’ve felt for anyone before. it was intense but entirely too comfortable. but i knew that i cared about him, and that he cared about me, and that i really didn’t need anything about our friendship to change but that it had potential to be something even greater than it was.

and i resolved to tell him about it...until he told me first. and that moment was, as cheesey as it sounds, nothing less than magical. we were both so happy and giggly and it was so sweet and warm and i dont know if im ever going to be able to recreate that feeling because it was just so particular, so specific to being something between me and him. its not that i cant love anyone else as strongly or be as happy as i was necessarily, but it’ll never be that same kind of feeling.

but things happened. things got complicated. i think he panicked. and then things that happened just felt so dirty and hollow and dark. he hurt me really, really, really badly, and it managed to happen in the span of four days.

and i’ve spent the last <2 weeks dealing with it. i think he’s dealing with it in his own ways, but realistically i don’t know how because i havent seen him since christmas eve, and we were both definitely not being completely genuine that day. was at his house for a small family party and he and i were the only ones who knew what happened. it was too soon to have healed from it any, but we couldnt exactly be honest about it then either.

and im doing better. im genuinely okay now. and, interestingly, i think i owe it to the past few months of hanging out with him and how ive been able to come to terms with a lot of things about myself. ive been able to show myself compassion. its really ironic.

its a situation where i was desperately trying to throw blame onto myself for, because if i could then i could punish myself for it and use it to fuel that deep rooted self hatred and then i could fix it, because i’d be the one responsible for fixing it. but, and i’ve talked to quite a few friends about it trying to figure out who to confide in about it, everyone who knows about it insists that i cant blame myself for it. theres not a thing about the situation that i can blame myself for. and its so fucking weird, because i cant bring myself to fully blame him for it either, just because it was so ABSURDLY out of character that it doesnt feel like it was anything he could have done to me. it was a boundary that i wasnt ever supposed to worry about him crossing, because he’s just not that kind of person.

and it’s the type of situation that you’re supposed to totally be willing to cut someone off for but...i can’t. he’s genuinely remorseful and i think he doesn’t really know how to deal with it either. and despite it being a massive fuck up its still like...the first fuck up in our friendship from either of us. and i’m willing to see this through. i think it’s salvageable, even if it’ll never be the same as it was. i have faith in our friendship. i think we can make it work.

but no matter what happens. i owe him more than i’ll ever be able to repay him for. and i’ll never, ever be able to hate him because of that. i’m in a much, much better place because of him and for that i’ll always be thankful.

#shut up mega #this ended up being longer and more in depth abt the earlier half of the year than i meant it LOL #a summary of my 2020 i spose #also there's some kinda detailed talk of #suicide ment -#self harm ment -#IM CRYING AFTER WRITING THIS OUT LMAOOOO

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ghostyprince · 5 years

Text

wrap me up, with your heart

word count: 3.537 rating: T fandom: BuzzF. Uns. relationship: Ryan B./Shane M. summary: Ryan's a little shit with a weakness to the cold weather (and Shane's jacket) and Shane isn't as tough against it anymore as he'd like to think. author’s note: 3.5k of nothing but pure self-indulgent fluff that took too long to write and now i’m just happy i don’t have to look at it anymore tbh, but enjoy!

[READ ON AO3]

Or read more here

"I'm fucking cold," Ryan says, arms wrapped around himself, grasping at the sleeves of his thin sweater with icy fingers as they're walking back to their hotel after a long, long filming session in a supposedly haunted prison. It wasn't much warmer in there either, but Ryan was too on edge at the moment to care. But boy, did he care now, late at night, probably like one in the fucking morning in the middle of Pennsylvania in November as his ears and fingertips are about to fall off.

Shane immediately lifts his gaze off his phone to look at Ryan. He looks cozy, sporting a soft-looking beanie and his farmer jacket that he always seems to have around, and yeah, Ryan is a little bit jealous. But he knows it won't take long if he plays his cards just right. Shane's eyes narrow and he pockets his phone and yep, there it comes. "I told you, man. Told you to put on something warmer. But no," he drags out the last word while he pulls the hat off his head and straight onto Ryan's with a swift motion, maybe a bit more rough than the situations calls for. It does make Ryan yelp and wheeze out a laugh immediately after, though.

"You have to be the cool manly man who's never cold. When we all know that's a bunch of bullshit, little guy." He huffs, genuinely annoyed and Ryan has seen it many many times but it never fails to amuse him and also make his heart flutter.

Shane takes off his jacket too, pushing it into Ryan's hands who only hesitates for a moment before putting it on. Purely for show, like it wasn't what he was fucking playing at ever since they stepped out of their hotel rooms that evening.

"To be fair, it wasn't that cold when we started filming."

Ryan does up all the buttons, feeling warmer already. Shane's jacket fits him just right to be one of the most comfortable things in the world, just a tad too big, considering how much shorter he is than the big guy. Though, Ryan's opinion might be biased.

And then Ryan catches a whiff of Shane's cologne and something that's just so Shane. It clings to the jacket and it will cling to Ryan too for the rest of the night. Which was the goal all along. It was Ryan's idea to check out this fast food place, tell Shane he wants to walk, to see the city, and complain about being cold eventually so Shane would baby him like he always does. All part of his stupid plan that seems to work flawlessly every single time somehow.

"No, it wasn't. However, I don't know if you know this Ryan," Shane leans to whisper like he's sharing a secret as they're walking and Ryan is already losing it, giggling helplessly into the back of his hand, "But you can use your big detective brain to figure out that it will be cold later at night."

"Shut up, Shane. I thought I would be fine, okay?" Ryan grins, tugging the sleeves of Shane's jacket over his hands even more.

"You always do. I'm starting to think you're doing this on purpose." Shane teases him, hands stuffed into his pockets. Ryan's heart jumps into his throat immediately. Maybe after about a year of intentionally leaving his jackets and warm clothes at the bottom of his suitcase or not packing any in the first place, Shane had finally caught on.

Despite the dread settling in Ryan's stomach he almost hopes he got caught. Just so he could get that push he desperately needed in the last year to finally confront his feelings, getting rejected or not. This awkward and albeit creepy flirting needed to stop, Ryan knew that much, but couldn't bring himself to actually end it yet. TJ and Devon knew too. They witnessed a handful of these scenarios and all it took was one glance at Ryan's shit-eating grin over Shane's scarf wrapped around his neck to figure out what's going. Shane's the only one who's so goddamn oblivious to it all.

"Are you telling me that you're not freezing to death in that flannel?" Ryan asks eventually, elegantly pushing the subject to another direction.

"Nope!" Shane answers cheerily. "It's pretty nice actually. You're just a wimp who got spoiled on the constant warmth of L.A."

"We all can't be weird cryptids who are immune to the cold, big guy." Shane laughs softly at that and bumps his shoulder to Ryan's. They're walking impossibly close now, and Ryan is tempted, he's so tempted to reach for Shane's hand. Blame it on the cold, wrap Shane's hand around his, let it warm him up from the inside out. Instead, he stuffs his hands deeper into the jacket. He's already seeing the entrance of their hotel, it doesn't matter now. It's not because he's a coward. It's not, it's just wasn't the right time. It's all not a big deal until Shane gets sick a day or two after they arrive back home in L.A. He doesn't show up to work in the usual time, so naturally, Ryan gets worried and shoots him a text when Shane is approximately an hour late, asking if everything is alright.

He gets a reply shortly, three lines sent in separate messages and he rolls his eyes at the dramatic nature of them, but then again, it's very Shane.

im so fuckin sick rxan i thing im dying take care of obi for me please

Shane has been complaining about his throat being sore and being a bit out of it. It's probably just a nasty cold, nothing to be worried about. At the same time, Ryan can't help but think he's at least partially to blame.

He rarely felt guilty for stealing Shane's warm clothes, because Shane kept bragging about how the cold doesn't affect him at all, that he's just peachy wearing only a thick jumper in the middle of a heavy snowfall. And well, Ryan believed him, took the offered jacket and scarf or gloves in spite of Shane making fun of his 'delicate skin'. He even thought Shane deserved to be cold, that asshole.

But now Shane has to miss work and feel like shit because he acted like a fucking child, instead of fessing up to his attraction and asking Shane on a date like a proper 28-year-old grown-ass man would.

Sure, it was Shane who offered his clothes all the time and without hesitation, however, Ryan was the one taking advantage of it. So he's going make up for his stupidity right now, it's decided. He doesn't have to worry about work, he can do the editing at home that day, it wouldn't be the first time.

Ryan's determination and confidence instantly disappeared into the void as he was standing in front of Shane's apartment, hesitant to knock or move or breathe. He has no idea what happened, he was doing so well up until this point. Sure, he spent like ten minutes in his car, frantically googling chicken soup recipes and being on the hunt for the best and easiest one to prepare.

He ended up going with an instant pack from the grocery store he stopped at on the way to Shane's apartment because he figured it's not the most convenient time to experiment in a kitchen that's not even his. He bought some popcorn too while he was there, the kind he knew Shane loved. It might not be the best choice of food when he's sick, but he can have it later.

He may or may not have gotten this ridiculous looking hot dog-shaped keychain for him also, sporting big googly eyes. That's how fucking guilty Ryan feels. He also thought it was absolutely disgusting, so naturally, he knew Shane would love it.

To be honest, Ryan never once stopped to think that maybe showing up to Shane's apartment out of the blue, when he's most likely feeling miserable and just wants to be left alone is overstepping a line. That maybe it's a little too much, even if they're as close as they are. Just a tad bit. He just went on his own little quest to do anything that would make Shane feel better and to ease the guilt that keeps twisting his stomach into knots without any regards at all to what Shane wants.

So he backs into the wall across Shane's door and fishes out his phone to send him a text, praying to every god he knows that he's not sleeping. To Ryan's absolute relief the little 'seen' pops up under his message shortly after it's been sent.

is it okay if i come over? bring you some soup and shit?

you don't have to

Ryan's heart sank into his fucking stomach and jumped back up to his throat with the same intensity as another message was sent.

but i could use some food. too sick to make anything.

well im kinda already here dude

gimme a minute

Shane scrambled to his feet, and apparently, it was the worst thing he could've done because everything went black for a few moments as he caught himself on the back on the couch with one hand. He has no time to worry about almost blacking out though because Ryan is waiting outside his car probably and Shane's apartment is as disgusting as he himself feels. He picks up most of the tissue paper that's scattered all across the couch and floor.

A small trail of them leads to the bedroom where Shane dragged himself out of earlier, a soft blanket wrapped around his shoulders like the world's most pathetic superhero just to watch some cooking show on Netflix because it requires the least amount of brain cells for him to use at the moment.

He attempts to make the couch look acceptable and runs a hand through his hair a few times, but it simply can't be helped. He does make his place look just a tiny bit more decent than it was five minutes ago at least. And that's when the knocks came from his door.

Ryan stands there, as Shane opened the door, hands stuffed into his jeans and paper bag hanging from one of his wrists. Shane would've taken note of his awkwardness if he wasn't so hyper-aware of the way his hair is standing in every direction and how he's wearing one of the less nice pajama pants he owns and an old worn t-shirt.

But then Ryan smiles at him, just like he always does like he's just happy to see Shane even when he's at his lowest and suddenly everything seems a little brighter.

"Hey, I thought you could use a little cheering up and something to make you feel better," says Ryan, almost sheepishly. He lifts the paper bag and giving it a shake. "Got you popcorn too, but you're not allowed to have any until you're better."

Shane frowns at him and honest to God pouts. It's the most hilarious, adorable thing Ryan has ever seen.

"Thought you came here to make me feel better, not kick a man when he's down, but come in, I suppose." He sighs, stepping aside and letting Ryan in who just barely catches the crinkle to his eyes and the mischievous smile Shane couldn't hold back anymore.

Ryan makes a beeline for the kitchen, immediately finding a pot so he can make Shane some soup and hoping it doesn't seem like he's doing this out of guilt. He's just helping his best friend out, not feeling horrible at all about how Ryan's shitty flirting technique got him sick in the first place. Nope.

Shane takes a seat at the dining table, chin propped up in his hand and watching Ryan bustle around in his kitchen. Reaching for a spoon without even having to look and standing on his tippy toes to grab a bowl from the top shelf, knowing exactly where they are. Like he's at home.

The sudden rush of fondness hits Shane like a sack of potatoes at the sight of it. The sheer domesticity of it nearly makes his heart melt.

Shane almost stands to help, but it's not needed, so he just huffs out a tiny laugh and wheezes a bit harder when he starts grumbling about "fucking Sasquatch putting everything on the top shelf on purpose". This is exactly one of the many reasons why Shane adores him so much.

And when Ryan still turns to grin at him, like he always does, even if he's being fake pissy, Shane physically has to stop himself from getting up and just kissing him silly right there. He distracts himself with getting the popcorn out of the bag and that's when he spots the little keychain. A big grin finds itself onto his face as he traces a thumb across the little charm. It's cheap-looking and fucking ridiculous but Shane couldn't give a single fuck, he is so in love.

"Really?" He asks voice strained from trying not to laugh. He holds up the keychain, hooking it on his middle finger and dangling it when Ryan turns to look. He immediately rolls his eyes and oh man, he's definitely blushing, it doesn't matter he's turning away, doing his best hide it, Shane still catches a glimpse of it spreading out on his cheeks and ears beautifully.

"Look, your stupid animated food series ruined my life and I know you have zero taste, so it's a perfect gift." Ryan wouldn't meet his eyes, but Shane can see part of his smile, hears the waver of his voice, despite Ryan being so defensive about the stupid keychain.

"Thank you, Ryan. I like it a lot."

The sincerity which he said that with even surprised Shane, not to mention Ryan, who almost spilled the hot noodles all over himself while attempting to pour them into a bowl.

"Why are you here? Not that I don't appreciate the food and treating me like a princess, I sure do, I'm just curious." Shane says, much later, when he's all wrapped up in his soft blanket, belly full of soup.

Which was mediocre at best, but Shane was starving, too sick and lazy to make himself anything earlier, so that damn soup tasted like the most delicious thing he ever had. Of course, it has nothing to do with the fact that Ryan made it for him.

Ryan turns his head towards him now, and Shane's a little taken aback by how close they are. Not even ten minutes earlier Ryan was sitting on the other end of the couch, and now they're practically pressed up against each other, from legs to shoulders, the only barrier between them being Shane's blanket. He must've migrated there while they were having a heated discussion about the contestants of the British Bake Off. (Ryan always picks the worst fucking people, goddammit.)

Shane can't believe he hadn't noticed the warmth of Ryan next to him earlier, or the whiff of that cologne Ryan always used lately Shane learned to love. Now that he's very much aware of it, the heat radiating off of Ryan is almost too much, combined with the blanket, so he shrugs it off. If anything, it's worse because Ryan's bare arm is now completely pressed against his and Shane's heart takes that as an excuse to pick up the pace.

"Because you're my friend? I just- I wanted to make sure you're okay. Wouldn't want you to die because of a little cold, what would happen to Unsolved?" Ryan jokes, playing it cool and casual. If Shane wouldn't know him extremely well, maybe he'd even buy what he's selling.

"Sure, that makes sense. Except, all those other times I've been sick you just gave me a 'gross, keep your germs away from me, please' or a half-hearted 'get better, dude'. You never showed up in my apartment and cooked for me. I didn't even know you knew how to work a stove!" Shane grins at him brightly. Seems like they can't have a normal conversation without insulting each other. "How do you explain that, Ry-guy?"

Shane doesn't expect Ryan to go quiet and stare at his hands, the TV, the ceiling. Anywhere but right at Shane. And he doesn't expect the guilt written all over Ryan's face when he does finally meet Shane's eyes.

"First of all, I don't sound like that. And second- I'm not proud of this, okay? Just don't be too mad." Shane's about to open his mouth and ask what the living hell Ryan is talking about, but he gets cut off.

"You're sick because of me. You kept giving me your jacket, remember?"

Shane does remember, but he has no idea what that has to do with him getting sick?

"Ryan, how is that your fault? I was the one giving you my jacket cause you're so goddamn cold all the time. You didn't force me. And here I thought I was the one who tends to overthink." Shane says jokingly, and he immediately realizes they're having one of those rare Serious Conversations because Ryan doesn't laugh. If anything, he looks even more on edge, his hand fisting into the blanket pooled around Shane's hips.

"I didn't force you," Ryan repeats, still not quite meeting Shane's eyes. "but I did leave my warm clothes at the hotel on purpose."

Ryan shuts his eyes as soon as the words leave his lips. If he can't see Shane, Shane can't see him, right? He almost looks relieved, finally putting it out there, lifting the weight of it off of his shoulders. And he can't stop there now, he has to push through while he's on a roll.

With a sudden surge of bravery Ryan doesn't know where he mustered up from he looks right into Shane's eyes, takes in his utterly confused expression and flat out ignores it for now, even when dread grips at his heart. It's worse than any haunted place they've been, but he's gonna say what he has to say right now, fear of rejection be damned.

"I wanted your clothes because I love- liked how it made me smell just like you." He says, voice cracking despite all the determination and courage he could muster up to say it. Ryan closes his eyes then, waiting for Shane's judgment. He braces himself for the outcome, for Shane to call him creepy, or even ask him to leave.

His heart would break, oh yeah, it sure fucking would but he could do it, he could walk out of his life if Shane would ask him to. There was very little Ryan wouldn't do for him.

It's dead silent around them for about a minute, thanks to one of them pausing the baking show while they were talking. Just as Ryan's about to open his eyes and face the situation, Shane's lips pressed against his in a split second.

It's a soft kiss in general, but it could be so much better, so much more if Ryan wouldn't be so damn difficult. As soon as Shane's mouth brushed against his, Ryan flinched back, even letting out a yelp, because he was just caught off guard, alright?

And Shane was looking at him now, embarrassed, like he did something wrong and oh God, Ryan can't have that, absolutely not. So he reaches out, not paying any mind to the uptick of his heart as he practically crashes their lips together.

Shane makes a surprised, muffled sound and shortly turning his head out of the kiss, fucking wheezing at him while Ryan's about to jump out of his skin. However, it soon turns into a coughing session and another pang of guilt hits Ryan's chest. At least Shane's smiling when he can finally speak again, eyes all crinkly. Ryan has the urge to kiss him again.

"Yeah, let's not do that unless you want me to choke." Shane's unfairly big hand comes up to cup his cheek and the way Ryan leans into the touch immediately says a lot about how gone he is for Shane. "Besides, wouldn't want you to get sick. I'm absolutely not dealing with your whiny ass."

"You're such a dick, Shane." Ryan barks out a laugh that maybe sounds a bit hysterical, but just as relieved. It's also not so much of an insult when it's said with all the fondness in the world.

We're okay, Ryan thinks, one leg draped over Shane's lap. They're basically pressed against each other as much as they can. Shane's arm fits perfectly around him as if it belongs there. Shane won't kick him out, they're more than okay.

And sure, Ryan moves to get up and move to the other end of the couch, or fucking leave every five minutes, refusing to put up with Shane's bullshit and terrible choices in bakers. But Shane grabs his wrist every single time, pulling him close and not letting go, even when his side hurts from laughing and Ryan wheezes into his neck.

#shyan #skeptic believer #shyan fic #shyan fanfiction #fanfiction #my fic #fluff #gay stuff #bfu

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sunrisespidey · 5 years

Text

ceo!tom

pairing: tom holland x reader

summary: ceo!tom falls in love with smoothie-loving intern, y/n

word count: 5.9k im sorry

a/n: i’m literally never writing shit like this again wtf?? the ending is so rushed and i’m rlly sorry but i got so bored of this i just wanted it out and done with. it was 14 pages on google docs bye

it’s a different style that i usually write in, but i wanted to branch out so idk let me know what you thought about it?

PLEASE DON’T LET THIS FLOP! I WORKED ON THIS FOR LIKE A WEEK

warnings: swearing, long read, and unedited

masterlist ♡

Y/N’s made a mistake.

Or at least, that’s what she thinks, staring up at the daunting skyscraper that towered before her, with the large Holland and Co. sign glinting under the bright glare of the sun. How had she ended up here? Her, a struggling college student, and yet here she was, interning at one of the biggest business firms in England. It really didn’t add up. It’s all been a blur. She remembers getting the phone call, being told to arrive at, and she quotes, “7AM on the dot, tardiness will not be tolerated”, and it’s almost as though she’s reliving high school all over again, only this time around, her future is actually on the line.

Which is probably why she’d dragged herself out of bed at 4 in the morning, and then proceeded to spend an hour pep talking herself in the mirror. Was it too late to back out now? She figures if she turns back and leaves, she can probably make it back to her apartment in 20 minutes flat, and then she can call in faking an illness or whatnot. After that, she can stay in, snuggled up to her cat, Dusty, and stay curled up in front of her tv with a warm mug of hot cocoa in her hands and an episode of The Office playing quietly in the background. (This, she decides, smiling internally, is her ideal day.) She’s almost ready to give in, leaning back to book it, the idea of leaving almost too enticing. Instead, she finds herself placing one foot in front of the other. Y/N doesn’t even know what motivates her to take that step forward, the step that began to lead her to those terrifying glass doors, but she’s managed to take a second step, then a third, a fourth, and—

A rush of warmth surrounds her, sending a shiver through her body, and she immediately misses the cold outdoor winds that previously nipped at her ears. Y/N doesn’t think she’s ever wanted to venture back out into the cold winter as much as she does at this moment. Her eyes stay trained on the ground, and she dreads the moment she’ll have to inevitably look up, so she doesn’t. Instead, she studies the marble floors (they’re really nice, she should consider investing in something similar, she thinks), until she hears a voice, practically coated with sugar, pipe up.

“Excuse me, Miss?” Her head whips up, swallowing nervously, and she’s greeted by a lady who looks to be in her mid-twenties with a sickly sweet smile plastered on her face (fake, no doubt, but really, who was she to judge?), head tilted in concern. “Are you lost?”

She considers saying no just to turn back around rather than face the fire, but she steels her nerves and sends her an abashed smile. “Yeah, I am. Would you mind helping me?” And Y/N nearly cringes at her attempts to be polite but continues anyways. “I’m an intern, Y/N Y/L/N?”

She isn’t really listening when the receptionist lady answers, and she knows she should’ve, but she listens to the lady drone on, the same smile that didn’t seem to reach her eyes glued to her face, and Y/N wonders what kind of toothpaste she uses to whiten. Somehow, Y/N finds herself being whisked away and up into the elevator, where she finally starts paying attention long enough to meet a kind woman who she remembers is named Nadine and would be her shadow for her time at Holland and Co.

She listens attentively (or at least she tries), as Nadine gives her a tour of the floor, and she can’t help but wish that she brought along a strawberry smoothie. She ends up so lost in thought that she nearly stumbles into Nadine after she stops abruptly, and Y/N peeks around her to see what’s happened. She’s startled when the noise reaches her ears, and she realizes that it’s a grown man backing away slowly from an office, pleading for someone to rethink their decision.

“Please, Mr. Holland, I’ll do better next time, please—” Y/N hears the slam before she sees it, yelping quietly at the shock of it, the noise still reverberating through the office. Her eyes blow wide, mouth gaping. She hopes she never comes in contact with this Mr. Holland.

Y/N finds that the tour ends quickly after that.

It’s not that Tom’s a cruel person.

He doesn’t jerk off to the thought of firing employees — he’s most certainly not a masochist — it’s just that he works with absolute morons. So really, what’s he supposed to do when some twat from accounting screws up some simple numbers that cost his company 10,000 pounds? (it’s not like his company can’t afford it, but the thought still makes a scowl form on his face) The only reasonable choice he can make is to fire the man, and it certainly isn’t his fault if the twit stumbles out of his office blubbering about how he’ll do better. And it definitely isn’t his fault if a cute, smoothie-loving intern witnesses the whole thing, because why does it matter if a bloody intern is afraid of him? (at least, that’s what he tries to convince himself)

(spoiler alert: it doesn’t work)

It’s day two, and Y/N thinks she’s made some friends.

She’s promised to bring each of them a smoothie (“They’re the light of my life,” she’d said, “can’t live without ‘em.”), which explains why she’s currently juggling four smoothies, one for herself and each of her new friends and, Sarah, Jacqueline, and Mike, while arriving at work at 6:50 in the morning. She’s so focused on carrying the drinks, eyeing each one with a careful precision that she fails to see the man donning a crisp suit (expensive. Gucci, maybe?), and a stern expression on his face, walking in front of her. She doesn’t realize that he’s been eyeing her the entire time, face softened into an unusual smile, rarely seen around the office. And she definitely doesn’t notice when he stops walking — at least, not until it was too late.

It all happens in slow motion to Y/N. She watches, helpless, as the smoothies in her hand tipped, and as Tom Holland, CEO of Holland and Co., turned around to be met with not one, nor two, nor three, but four strawberry smoothies. His mouth gapes, and hers does too, a quiet but sharp “oh fuck,” spilling from her lips. She stands, motionless, for less than a second before she’s sprung in motion, leaping for the nearest towels, endless apologies spewing from her lips.

This is it. Months of effort to even be considered for this position, and she’s fucked it up on the second day.

Y/N waits, eyes closed, preparing for the inevitable blow of being fired, the humiliation she’d face (god knows the entire floor was already staring at them wide-eyed), but to her surprise, it never comes. Instead, the towels are plucked from her hands, and her eyes snap open to be met with the prettiest face she thinks she’s ever come across, amusement flitting through their eyes.

“Don’t do that again, yeah, love?” And he’s gone, strolling away from her stunned form, so casually that Y/N wonders how he can ignore the smoothie dripping off his suit so easily. The rest of the floor stare after him as well, each of them with eyes blown wide and mouths hanging open.

Tom has no idea what just happened.

He’s got smoothie dripping from his suit that — mind you — was quite possibly one of his most expensive clothing investments, and he’s not even that angry about it. He isn’t really sure what had happened. He remembers looking over at the intern, Y/N, he remembers (and god, was she adorable), and then suddenly being drenched in a thick, gooey substance that suspiciously smelled like strawberries. Had it been anybody else, Tom’s sure they’d be out of his company faster than they could blink. But there was something about Y/N that captivated him, and he isn’t sure he’d be able to handle firing her over such a trivial mistake (of course, he’s fired employees over less, but he dismisses that thought). So instead, he’d strolled away as casually and as quickly as he possibly could force himself to act, trying to disguise the red blush that would’ve surely risen to his cheeks and turned his ears a bright, piercing red. His heart had pounded in his chest, so loud he wonders if Y/N had heard it, and as soon as he was out of sight, he’d darted into his office and shut the door.

His heart is still pounding in his chest, and he has no idea how some intern he’s never even said more than three sentences to can have such an impact on him. (Tom almost considers turning to Harrison for advice, but he would prefer not to be called a sap for the rest of his life) So, he strips himself of his smoothie-soaked suit jacket and prays to avoid any future interaction with Y/N.

Of course, Tom’s wish refused to come true, because the next morning, walking into the building, he bumps into her again.

Well, not literally. He’s strolling leisurely into the warm building, shooting a tight-lipped smile to the receptionist who always seemed to be showing a ridiculous amount of cleavage whenever he came around when he hears his name being called and the sound of approaching footsteps. Turning around, he crosses his fingers desperately, hoping that it was some other employee — preferably one that didn’t make his heart skip a beat at the mere thought of them.

But he’s still met with the sight of Y/N running through the doors of the building, regardless of his desperate wishes. It only takes a few seconds for her to catch up to his still figure, and when she does, she bends over, panting with her hands resting on her knees.

“Holy fu— sorry, language. M’so out of shape,” Y/N heaves, straightening up and wiping at her head, “you’re so fast, wow—” Tom finds himself unable to respond, head dizzy from her presence. He’s pretty sure if she knew he was taking such deep breaths because she smelled so oddly intoxicating, she’d call him a creep and run away and never speak to him ever again. He thinks she smells like vanilla, which is so common that he wonders how she can make it work so well, and—

“Mr. Holland?” Y/N’s hand waves in front of his face, and Tom snaps out of his daydream to muster up a charming smile for her. “Were you listening?”

Tom hums, nodding his head to show he was interested — a common courtesy. She shot him a suspicious glance but returned his smile nonetheless. “Well,” she started, clapping her hands together, “I brought you something — to say sorry for spilling my smoothies on you yesterday.” Tom doesn’t really know what to expect, but as she reaches into her purse, he’s definitely not expecting her to pull out a small pastry wrapped in a Greggs wrapper, neatly folded into a small rectangle.

“It’s a sausage roll,” Y/N explains, pushing it into his hands, “from Greggs. I just love their sausage rolls, and I just passed one as I was pulling into work, so I thought I’d buy you one as an apology.” At this point, he’s working overtime to not consciously drool over the sausage roll in his hands, because he’s sure that Y/N would run for the hills if she saw him so unprofessional.

So, he musters up a polite nod, a smile, and a: “Thank you, love.” And she takes that as her cue to scurry off, with a wave to the receptionist who’s not so inconspicuously scowling at her, and she’s out of Tom’s sight.

He stares after her until she’s completely out of his sight, and when she’s gone, he breathes a sigh of relief.

He’s got an issue on his hands.

---

When Y/N tells her new friends about the traumatic incident that had occurred the previous day, she finds that they’ve taken to staring at her in awe, because holy shit, you’ve spilt four smoothies on the most temperamental CEO in the business and yet you’re still here. (how reassuring. mind the sarcasm.)

“Are you joking?” Mike stares at Y/N, mouth open so wide that Y/N’s curious if his jaw is achy yet. “If that were me, I would’ve been fired quicker than I could’ve said sorry. And he called you ‘love’ too? Man, you’ve got him wrapped around your little pinky finger.” (Y/N’s sure they’re just saying this to make her feel better — after all, it’s not every day you spill four smoothies on a multi-millionaire CEO)

“I bet Mr. Holland’s got the hots for you,” Sarah whispers, turning her head to make sure nobody important is in earshot (because anything can set Mr. Holland off, really), “you could probably bust up all of his cars and he’d smile at you, babe.”

“Yeah,” Jacqueline butts in, and Y/N sends her a frown because this entire time they’d been talking, Jacqueline had been quietly filing papers (or at least that’s what Y/N thought), only to realize she’d actually been listening in the entire time, “Mr. Holland likes you— like, like likes you.”

Y/N snorts, sending Jacqueline an unamused stare. “What is this, middle school? M’sure he’s just being nice, s’all.”

Sarah scoffs, raising her eyebrows disbelievingly. “Yeah, right, and I’m a millionaire,” she jokes sarcastically, glancing at Y/N with a lopsided grin on her face. “Trust me. Mr. Holland is anything but nice.”

But Y/N can’t seem to believe that. Surely, he wasn’t that horrible, right?

Days pass and Tom hasn’t seen Y/N in a while, and although he has to admit that popping out a stiffy in the middle of a business proposal at the thought of her isn’t the most enticing, he’s starting to miss her. (of course, the only interaction he’s truly had with her is the disaster that cost him a fortune at the dry cleaners, but he still admires her from afar in the least stalker-y way possible)

Most employees would find it beneficial to have the least contact with Tom as possible. It’s been a bit of a known fact that when called into his office, chances are, they’d be leaving with their belongings in a box. So when Nadine, her supervisor, tells Y/N that he’d like to see her in his office, (and in a very loud tone, at that, so now she’s got the whole office staring after her as she shamefully trudges to Tom’s office) she’s quite terrified. She’d only heard horror stories about what went on in his office, and she’s really come to love the company and crosses her fingers and toes that he isn’t going to terminate her internship. (maybe, Y/N thinks, Tom changed his mind about the smoothie incident. Or even worse, he hated the sausage rolls)

So needless to say, Y/N is just about ready to piss herself pushing open the door to his office, because she remembers what happened on her first day and she has no desire to receive the same treatment. As soon as she sees Tom, sitting in his office chair sorting a few papers, she’s already immediately blurting out a plea.

“If you’re going to fire me, please just make it quick.” Tom’s face twists into one of confusion, and he chuckles. (my god, was she dense.)

“Fire you?” He laughed, placing the papers to the side. “The opposite, actually. When your internship finishes, I was going to offer you a permanent job here at Holland and Co. Unless you don’t want it?” The grin that he offers her is so cheeky that Y/N considers saying no just to wipe the smile off his face for scaring the shit out of her like that, but she isn’t nearly rich or petty enough to refuse such a huge proposal. So instead, she nods eagerly, holding in a squeal that threatens to burst out of her throat, and thanks him profusely. What Tom doesn’t expect is for her to pull him into a tight hug, and he’s floored. (he realizes that he really enjoys her hugs.) When she’s pulled back, her face has contorted into one of embarrassment, and she mumbles an awkward apology before she escorts herself out of the door.

(Tom’s grateful, because maybe then, she wouldn’t have seen the blush that tinted his tan cheeks a rosy red.)

Tom has a problem.

He’s found that he’s got a crush on one of his company’s interns, Y/N. A real, massive, red-faced, crush on her. In fact, he’s found himself looking forward to seeing her when he can — even though he only sees her a handful of times in a month — and yet, he feels an oddly joyful twisting in his gut when she directs that brilliant smile of hers towards him. He’s realized that she’s weaseled her way into his heart and life, and truth be told, he really has no problem with it. Even embraces it, at that.

So yes, he’s got a problem.

Tom is absolutely fucking exhausted.

He’s just about ready to go home, make himself a cuppa, and crash in his obnoxiously soft bed. He’s sure that the company is empty by now because it’s well over the time they get dismissed, so he stumbles out of his office before closing and locking the door. Tom scans the room a final time, ready to leave, but his eyes catch a dim light left on in the back, and he rolls his eyes to go check, annoyed at whichever wanker decided to leave the lights on before they left. So he’s certainly caught off guard when he comes across Y/N tapping away at her computer, sat in her little cubicle.

“Y/N?” Tom asks cautiously, brows furrowed. He has no idea what she’s still doing here, especially since she was supposed to leave at five and the sky outside has already darkened drastically.

“Holy fucking shit—” she screeches, her arms jerking up to cover her mouth, “oh my God, Mr. Holland, you scared the shit outta me.” He finds it quite adorable that she’s sitting there, eyes wide, a hand placed on her heaving chest.

“What’re you still doing here?” Tom questions, because he hasn’t known a single person who would stay past the time they were supposed to return home, and he wasn’t expecting an intern of all people to do so at all.

“I was gonna leave soon, promise, s’just that I almost had this done, so I just wanted to stay to finish it.” Tom nods thoughtfully, switching his briefcase from his right hand to his left, and beckons her to follow him to the parking garage.

“Well come on then, I’ll walk you to your car.” And although Y/N appreciates the thought, (a foolish one, to be honest, because what university student can afford a bloody car?) she shakes her head.

“Well, I was just planning on walking home, because it’s not too far, y’know, and—“

“No way you’re walking home at — 9 at night!” Tom scoffs, checking his watch. He’s gotten way too attached to her to let her put herself in any sort of danger, so he proposes the only idea he could think of in the spur of the moment— “I’ll drive you home, darling.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, Mr. Holland,” she protests, shaking her head wildly, “besides, I’m sure it’s not even on the route, so—“ He interrupts her yet again, (a repeating occurrence, she realizes) shaking his head.

“Nonsense. Come on, now. The sooner we get you back, the better.” And with that, Y/N watches him turn around, followed by her trailing behind him like some sort of lost puppy.

It’s not long until they arrive in the parking garage, but Y/N sees a stunning Rolls Royce and gushes over it internally. She’s ready to pass it by, wave goodbye at it, (call her dramatic, but it isn’t every day you can admire a sleek red Rolls Royce in person) but instead, they stop in front of it.

Y/N, who experiences an odd sense of deja vu, crashes into his sturdy back in response. Tom raises an eyebrow, amused, and shoots his hand out to steady her. “Thank god you didn’t have any smoothies this time, hm?” Y/N watches as he moves to the driver’s seat, opening the door, but pauses when he catches sight of her frozen figure.

“What’s the matter, love?” He grins, his hand resting lazily on the open door. Y/N stays where she stood, too terrified to even approach the vehicle (because let’s be real, if she fucked anything up, she’d have to sell every single one of her internal organs to pay it back).

“Oh—Oh fuck— sorry, but shit, Mr. Holland, there’s no way you can expect me to get in that car,” she swallows, backing up slightly, “that’s gotta cost more than I would if I sold myself on the black market.”

Tom simply chuckles, and Y/N’s heart sort of bursts at the sound since it’d been her first time hearing the joyous sound. He ducks his head to crawl into the luxurious car with a simple, “Alright, doll, just get in,” and she practically scrambles to the passenger seat. (as reluctant as she was, she wasn’t thrilled to walk the long trek home in the slightest.)

She’s barely halfway inside the car before she’s already cramping herself to occupy a smaller area of space despite the spacious interior. Tom notices at the same time, tilting his head as he watches her cautiously press the seatbelt into its buckle as if she’d shatter the buckle with too much pressure.

“You look like I‘ve just forced you into an airtight box, love.” He mutters casually, placing a hand on the back of her seat to reverse out of the garage, “Loosen up for me, alright? Where am I dropping you off?”

She gives him an address, and he programs it into his phone. “Well, look at that, darling, you’re right on my route home.” (he’s lying, but she really doesn’t need to know that they essentially live on opposing sides of London, because the last thing he wants her to do is to leave and walk home) He can see her exhale a sigh of relief and grin, and that alone is enough for Tom not to feel an ounce of regret about his choice.

In hindsight, this was a great idea.

Now, Tom’s not too sure, because she’s got the radio on now, and she’s singing like nobody’s there and it makes Tom’s heart grow three sizes too big. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s starting to fall for her, further than any point of return, and if anyone saw them in that car in that very moment, they’d see him staring at her with the softest gaze anyone had ever seen on the seemingly apathetic CEO in a long time.

It’s when they approach Y/N’s apartment building that something happens. Y/N whispers out a thank you, and she’s almost out of his car, that Tom catches a glimpse of her phone wedged in the cup holders, and he reaches out for her wrist, calling out for her to wait. He doesn’t expect her to unceremoniously tumble back into his car and lap with a squawk from the sudden tug on her wrist.

“S—Sorry!” Tom yelps, a flush crawling up his neck, and it’s then that he realizes how close their faces were. If he were to lean down in the slightest, their lips would meet and— “Your phone! You forgot your phone!”

Y/N never really had the ability to think rationally in unforeseen situations. Which is maybe why she can’t help but lean up and press a quick kiss to his lips, stunning into silence, but it’s not even her fault, truthfully! (it is, but she tries to give herself the benefit of the doubt) She’d never seen him so uncomposed and flustered, and it was honestly the most adorable thing she’d ever seen.

Her eyes blink at her sudden bold attitude, and then she’s scrambling out the car, maneuvering herself in a way that she wouldn’t headbutt Tom, and she’s gone, running into the building with a loud stuttered “sorry!” Tom loses sight of her, still staring after her, dazed, one singular thought running through his head.

Holy fuck.

Tom calls Harrison as soon as he gets home. Harrison arrives in ten minutes flat. (“God, you’re such a drama queen. I’m on my way.”)

“C’mon, mate, don’t just stand there and call me a sap, what do I do?” Tom groans, throwing a toy to Tessa who lay on the couch beside his body, staring at him with a peculiarly knowing look, and Tom groans again because even his damn dog knew about his dilemma.

“She probably likes you, you div,” Harrison grins, raising his voice to imitate Y/N. “Mr. Holland is just… so hot! I dream about kissing him every night!”

“Oi, come off it, you dickhead, she doesn’t even sound like that,” Tom mutters, shoving Harrison to the side. “Probably didn’t even mean shit to her, just like, a friendly kiss or summat.” Tom knows it was more than that. If the amorous gazes and gestures were anything to go by, it would be easy to mistake them as head over heels for one other (unfortunately for them, it’s not exactly a mistake to assume they’re goners for each other, because it’s absolutely true).

Harrison shoots him a look. “Yeah, mate, I kiss all my friends too. S’just a normal friend thing, innit? Now c’mon, gimme a nice smooch.” Harrison teases, puckering his lips to make obnoxious smacking noises towards Tom. He’s met with a pillow to the face, and he laughs, throwing his head back. “You’re so whipped, mate.”

Maybe just a little, Tom thinks.

The next morning, Tom’s prepared to man up and do something about his hopeless crush on Y/N. He’s got his entire speech planned out, in fact.

He’ll start it off by handing her a muffin. Chocolate chip, to be specific. And then, he’ll woo her with a romantic speech, as follows: “Y/N, I think I’ve liked you ever since you spilled those drinks on me. I’ve been wanting to ask you to dinner for a while now, and the kiss we shared last night was amazing. So, will you go out with me?” (it sounds better in his head, it really does)

But none of that happens, because when he catches her eye, he beelines for her and they both let out a rush of words at once.

“I brought you something—“

“Last night was a mistake—“

Tom stops, mouth drying at her words. “Sorry, what?”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Holland, that was so unprofessional of me to kiss you. We can just forget it ever happened if that’s alright.” And Tom’s mouth snaps shut, his hopeful words dying on his tongue before they could escape. Y/N stood in front of him, wringing her hands, a smoothie by her side. “I brought you a smoothie to apologize — you seemed like a Berry Blast kind of guy. Hope that’s alright.” She hands him the smoothie, unaware of Tom’s internal battle because damn it all to hell, he so desperately wanted that kiss to mean something to her and no, he never wanted to forget about it. He sends her a pained, restrained smile, accepting the smoothie she holds as a peace offering and tries to retreat to his office.

“Wait, Mr. Holland!” Y/N cries out, running to tap his shoulder, “What were you saying? I cut you off earlier.”

Tom carefully hides the chocolate chip muffin behind his back, shaking his head. “It was nothing, you took the words right out of my mouth.” Tom laughs, and yet the sound is so forced it almost makes him wince. Y/N’s smile drops for the slightest moment before it’s up on her face again.

“Oh, alright then!” She smiles, waving her hand towards him, “Have a nice day then!”

Tom decides he most certainly will not.

“You guys are such bloody wankers!” Y/N cries as soon as she reaches her cubicle, “Y’said he liked me! And just now, he told me that he wanted to forget about the kiss too. God, I’m so humiliated! I might as well just go on and die from humiliation now—“

“Okay, babe, chill,” Sarah tries, but to no avail.

“—I can see the headlines already! ‘Intern kisses boss, gets rejected and dies.’ Fuckin’ hell—“ Y/N’s mini-rant is cut off by Sarah’s hand coming to clamp over her mouth, muffling any sound, but quickly yanks her hand back at the feeling of Y/N’s tongue licking a stripe across her palm.

“I’m sure everything’ll be fine, no harm done. He’ll forget about it in two days flat, promise.” Sarah reassures her, patting her back awkwardly.

“For fuck’s sake, mate,” Tom grumbles, head in his hands, “you said she was into me!” Tom’s in shambles because as far as he knows, he’s just humiliated himself in front of the girl he’s taken a liking to.

Harrison laughs at his distressed state teasingly, tossing a pen in the air and catching it to cease his boredom. “M’sure she was just doing what she thought you’d want — hope you realize you aren’t the most approachable guy.”

“Fuck off, you div,” Tom mutters, tossing a highlighter at Harrison’s head, “I resent that, mate.”

The next time Tom interacts with her, it’s not for at least a month. (he needed the time to shake off his humiliation.)

It’s so similar to the previous time that it makes Tom’s heart clench at the memory of her soft lips on his. This time though, it’s because the weather outside was pouring buckets that flooded the streets and soaked everything in contact. So it’s not even a question of ‘maybe’ before Tom’s already insisting on driving her home.

“Love, there’s no way in hell that I’m letting you walk through that rain,” Tom tells her, already pulling on his jacket. “Now c’mon, what kind of boss would I be if I didn’t drive you home?”

Y/N reluctantly agrees, shutting down her computer and picking her purse up from under her desk. “Alright. But you’ve got to promise me that I’m not a bother, Mr. Holland.”

“Never,” Tom promises, placing a hand on her arm to gently guide her to the exit. “D’you want me to pull the car up? I know it’s raining pretty hard out there, don’t want you to get wet or summat.” He picks up on his unintentional innuendo too late, his cheeks and ears flushing a thorough red blush. “Not—not like that, I mean like—”

“No, no, it’s alright, I can survive a little rain.” Tom’s never been more grateful for Y/N ignoring his slip-up, because he’s sure that if she’d acknowledged it, Tom would’ve stayed red for the next century or so. (get it together, he tells himself, she’s just a girl, and you’re not a virgin, you moron,)

The drive to her place is quiet apart from her loud singing, but the real dilemma comes when they pull up to the door.

“For fuck’s sake, I—ugh.” Y/N groans, hand leaving her purse dejectedly. “I’ve locked myself out. Don’t even have a spare key.” Tom’s headgears are already turning before she can finish her sentence. “S’alright, I’ll just call my landlord and sleep with a neighbour or something.”

“Why don’t you come sleep at my house?” Tom offers, and Y/N is quick to refuse, insisting that she’s already a bother, and she wouldn’t force him to deal with her presence any longer. “I already promised you weren’t a bother, darling.”

When Y/N buckles up her seatbelt again, she’s expecting Tom to just continue down the road, but instead he makes a swift u-turn and drives back down the same road the came from.

“Mr. Holland! You told me my apartment was on route to yours — why’ve we turned ‘round?” She gapes, head spinning to look back through the window towards her flat. Tom gives her a cheeky shrug, flicking his windshield wipers to a higher speed as the rain came down harder and obstructed his view of the road.

“Must’ve slipped my mind,” he mutters, sending her a smile. “Plus, that’s Tom to you outside of work — Mr. Holland is my dad, love.”

Tom doesn’t know how he’s gotten into this position.

He’s got Y/N in his arms, sound asleep, wearing his shirt, sleeping on his bare chest, and his mind is still hazy from the kisses they shared that night. He remembers how they walked into his penthouse, and Y/N had gushed over everything inside, (“holy shit, Mr—Tom, you have a fucking fluffy bath mat? I’ve always wanted one!”) and awed over his dog Tessa, (“ohmigod, you have a bloody dog too? You’re like… the perfect man!” and Tom has to admit that he took this in a different way, because he would love to be Y/N’s perfect man.) Tom had set up his Netflix for her to browse as he prepared them both a warm cuppa, and he’d returned to see Y/N and Tessa cuddled up in a blanket he’d brought for her. The sight tightened his chest, and really, everything from there is a blur.

The main part that he remembers is that they kissed. (and oh, did they kiss)

“You’ve driven me bloody insane, darling,” Tom admitted, pulling her in for a kiss that frazzled her nerves and curled her toes. Y/N’d pulled away, gasping for air, and Tom trailed light kisses down the length of her neck, his arms wrapping themselves around her waist.

“What’re we doing, Tom?” She’d asked between kisses that he’d pressed to her face.

“What I’ve been wanting for a long while, love.”

And here he was, her head heavy on his chest, nose tucked into the crook of his neck, and Tom’s never felt more at peace. Y/N blinks awake, yawning softly and blinking blearily before she readjusts herself, pulling her body to lay on top of his.

“You’re my… my pillow now, m’kay?” She murmurs, reaching up to press a kiss to his jaw.

Tom smiles, tightening his hold on the sleepy girl, humming. He’s pushing her hair back to kiss her forehead, and Tom decides that he’s never been happier.

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