#until I realize it came from my own stupid little head bc I’ve been playing the game so much the sound is ingrained in my brain !!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

1kook · 4 years

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attachment: 1 image

— jjk x (f) reader

summary; But for Jungkook to initiate some sexting, nevertheless sexting at 1pm on a Saturday, when you were at work and you were almost positive he was supposed to be on stream right now? Unheard of, you had to mark this down somewhere. warnings; sexting, dick pics, dirty talk?, phone sex, vivid depictions of jungkook being just so sexy bc its true, rating; mature (18+) misc; mentions of youtuber kook 🥰, he’s just horny, stupid selfie trends (see here), he’s a little whiny but so hot v.v wc; 4.6k

notes; I've had this in my drafts since april 😐 n then i was like maybe we should actually finish this so i started n then last night i hit another follower milestone!!! so then i rlly forced myself to finish this bc i was so 🥺🖤👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 anyway enjoy lmk what u think its not proofread bc uhhhhh yeah 🤩

You’re at work when it happens.

It’s sometime between your usual listless thoughts of what to write for your weekly reflection papers for some course, and your trip to your store’s pharmacy to bother a coworker. Your phone vibrates in the pocket of your work apron. You’re normally pretty good at ignoring the sound, most of the times it’s just a classmate asking for help on homework or Jimin lamenting his love life, so you’ve grown used to ignoring the tiny vibrations, stocking a quarter shelf of different cooking oils before something in your brain tells you to check your phone.

You already know it’s not something grave, but that thought alone means nothing at the sight of the tiny jungkook♡ that appears at the very top of the list of notifications. Your boyfriend’s texts tended to be wildcards, never following a certain routine or alluding to any specifics. He could send you a long paragraph on how much he misses the scent of that one shampoo, the one you’d briefly run through last year because your usual brand was out of stock, with a ten point explanation on why you should switch back to it. Or two word, caveman sentences that drove you crazy because you never understood what exactly he wanted when he’d send those nondescript “munchies dip” texts.

You unlock your phone, clicking to the messenger app instead of directly on the notification. Hopefully the preview will give some warning on whether you should invest in this conversation or not. You hated the read receipts on messages, choosing to ghost conversations as you pleased, but Jungkook had wiggled his way into your phone one afternoon and specifically turned them on for his chat with you, and you’d never turned them off since. So he knows if you choose to ignore Attachment: 1 Image at 1:43pm exactly, and he'll pester you about it until you respond.

You contemplate it all for twenty seconds. It could be a variety of things, you guess, but the only way to find out is to actually see with your own eyes what he’s up to this time. He knows better than to distract you at work, is usually really good at waiting until your shift is over to spam you with messages. For him to send you something now, only a few hours into your shift, is uncharacteristic of him.

But you glance down the aisle anyway, taking note of some elderly woman you’d helped a few minutes prior and another teenager aimlessly walking around, probably looking for the snack aisle. You inhale and press down on your chat with Jungkook.

It takes you a moment to make out exactly what the image is, twisting and turning your phone around as you fight to see it without raising the brightness. It’s only when your eyes finally adjust to the dark screen, the faint beeping of the check-out registers fading into the distance, that you realize it’s a shot of the front of his sweatpants.

“Hm?” you murmur, getting brave enough to pinch the image between two fingers, zooming in until you’re able to decipher a multitude of details. For one, there’s a Flaming Hot Cheeto stain on the hem of his sweatpants, the same one you’d accidentally put on there a few weeks back and haven’t been able to wash out since. Then there’s that huge palm of his, tattoos and all, rested carefully against his thigh. It’s veiny and thick in all the right places, bringing all the attention to his knuckles, which you guess is what he was going for when you consider the centerpiece of the image—his hardened dick straining against the grey material.

There’s no text attached to the message, no snapchat font slapped over the image, so you wonder what exactly he wanted you to do with this information mid-shift. Well, realistically, you know exactly what he wants, but that doesn’t mean you won’t clown him before getting there. After all, Jungkook was seldom the naughty texter; sexting annoyed him, he would whine, because he would do all that and not even get to feel the true pleasure of sex, of being inside you. You’ve dabbled in it here and there, but it never went as perfectly as it did in pornos. He’d drop his phone and forget it, or you would straight up ignore the damn device as you went all in on yourself.

But for Jungkook to initiate some sexting, nevertheless sexting at 1pm on a Saturday, when you were at work and you were almost positive he was supposed to be on stream right now? Unheard of, you had to mark this down somewhere.

you what’s this about?

You decide to play it safe, because as exciting as the image of Jungkook at his computer chair, cock hard and angry at the thought of you, fluffy hair ruffled in that way you adored, jaw twitching and tightening as he touched himself, moaned deep and rough and just how you liked and—

As nice as that image was, for all you knew this vague message was Jungkook sending you a picture from a week ago to purposefully fuck with you at work.

jungkook♡ what time u get off? jungkook♡ miss you bad baby

Your stomach flips, and it takes everything in you to not squeal and bounce between the shelves like a toddler on a sugar rush. Here was your boyfriend, the cutest, sweetest boy, sending you dirty pictures of himself and telling you how much he needed you. Yes, YOU, not some random on the street, or someone else in a club, Jungkook needed pleasure and that pleasure could only come from you.

You glance back down the aisle again, checking your surroundings for the second time that day. You’ve been standing here, stock cart empty for a little over five minutes now, so it’s probably best to change location lest your manager come barking down your neck. You send one quick text before heading off for stock again.

you 4pm :(

Your phone dings again just as you’re leaving the stockroom, but you decide to check it once you get to the hygiene aisle you need to work on next. Still, the prospect of Jungkook having texted you has you walking with a skip in your step, one your coworker teases you about when you pass by her.

jungkook♡ fuck jungkook♡ tell me what panties youre wearing jungkook♡ please ?

You bite your lip, stopping yourself from smiling at the tone you’d picked up from his message. There was no doubt he’d been riled up for a while now, and you wonder if he sat through his usual Saturday morning streams with his cock hard, pushed against the edge of his desk like you knew he did when such things happened. The thought has you nearly fumbling with a bottle of aloe vera.

you seamless black thong you the one you bought me at the last vs sale

Briefly, you wonder if you should have lied and told him you were wearing that red lace set he’d given you last Valentine’s Day, the one he’d bought with his first big YouTube check. But the beauty of being in a relationship with someone like Jungkook is that you could have told him you were wearing grandma undies and he’d still think you were the most beautiful person to grace the planet.

jungkook♡ mm jungkook♡ tiny ones u ruined last time?

You set your phone down, speed stock a row of sunscreen like you’re on some shelf stocking national competition, before daring to text Jungkook again. Your cheeks are still warm, and your hand tightens dangerously around a bottle of shaving cream.

Before you can formulate some response, he’s sending another one in.

jungkook♡ u soaked those jungkook♡ came fast that day jungkook♡ want u so bad

Your cheeks burn, a little embarrassed that he remembers such details. As with all Victoria’s Secret panties, they were, like Jungkook said, extremely thin. You pause, shift your stance just barely, but you’re definitely wet. Not terribly so, but with this fabric, you’d start to notice it sooner than with others.

you mm you makin me wet bunny

It’s not a complete lie, but knowing Jungkook this is exactly what he needs to hear to get that competitive streak going. You shake your head to clear your thoughts, stocking another section of men’s shaving cream. It takes longer for him to message you back, and you wonder if he got off fine on his own. If it’s over now, at least he provided you with some distraction midway into your shift.

When he texts you again, you’ve almost completely convinced yourself he’s finished, so the Attachment: 1 Video that appears on your lock screen throws you for a loop.

It’s a short clip, no longer than ten seconds, but it has you scrambling to lower the volume on your device as some unsuspecting mother of two wanders past. You flash her your practiced smile, the same one you give all the store’s customers. Not like your boyfriend is jacking it off on your phone, shallow pants filtering out from the speakers.

You turn your phone over carefully after she leaves, try to at least pretend you’re still doing your job as you play the video again.

Sweats are gone, but boxers remain. Legs deliciously exposed, thick thighs with muscles that ripple when he moves. Shirt pulled up just slightly to showcase that broad expanse of tummy, cute belly button and defined abs that tighten with each glide of his palm over the outline of his cock. Your mouth fills with drool at the sight. He was so hot.

Your brain hasn’t even processed it yet, all your energy directed towards your clenched pussy, when he shoots another text.

jungkook♡ im so fckin hard jungkook♡ wanna kiss yuo every where baby jungkook♡ come ove r soon ??

Shutting your eyes and counting to ten doesn’t help ward off the sudden wave of horniness that consumes you, but it does remind you of the job you’re supposed to be doing now. You shake your head, as if the image of Jungkook’s dick throbbing beneath his boxers, low voice in your ear, will magically disappear. It doesn’t, and it plagues you even more when you begin stocking a section of sunscreen, numbly instructing yourself on what to do next. Shaving cream, sunscreen, lotion next, you repeat.

It doesn’t help.

Two minutes later and you’re scrambling for the phone you’d hastily tucked into your apron pocket, tapping your passcode in until your messages with Jungkook are pulled up again.

you after work you promise

Your head is absolutely spinning, the coil in your stomach too tight for you to try and be a functioning member of society. Something in you says to sneak off to the bathroom and call him, but your boss is a little bit of a prick when he wants to be, thinks you take too many bathroom breaks as is.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. A curt call of your name has you whirling to face your shelves again, phone tightly pressed against your ribs like maybe it’ll melt into your skin and he won’t see it. At the same time, your sudden fright has you scrambling to turn it off, fingers sloppily pressing against the buttons, hitting the volume like seven times before you eventually feel the familiar click that signals it’s off.

Your boss disappears shortly after, and with his sudden appearance having made every hair on your body stand, you find yourself now slumping against your stock cart. Jesus, that man was a handful to deal with.

The paranoia sticks for a little bit, has you stocking shelf after shelf like a robot until you finish the entire row of hygiene products, back stiff from bending over so much. It’s only when you return to the stockroom ten minutes later that you dare take your phone out again.

A pleasant surprise awaits.

It would appear that during your haste to hide your phone from your boss— Jungkook’s scandalous messages and all —your frantic hands had done something else. A fuzzy picture on your end, a blurry display of lotion bottles you had stacked just before your boss’s impromptu appearance, with no words to accompany them. Normally Jungkook would have ignored that; you frequently sent accidental messages like this, butt texted him, he says.

But there’s something about Jungkook’s horny brain that makes him do stupid things, makes him blow up your phone with a series of question marks, call you four times, whine and fuss in your message thread, and eventually, send you probably the oddest image to date.

jungkook♡ ??? jungkook♡ ????what is that jungkook♡ baby please jungkook♡ I don’t get it ??

jungkook♡ Missed Call (4)

jungkook♡ baby jungkook♡ what does it mean jungkook♡ please ur drivign me insane jungkook♡ jsut wanna hear yuor voice jungkook♡ fuck please just

And then, there’s another one of those cursed Attachment: 1 Image messages.

You shouldn’t be as surprised as you are. You’ve been dating Jungkook for a few months now, know he had that sort of unique personality most college dropouts turned YouTubers do. But every now and then the absurdity of his actions makes you question him still, makes you wonder what exactly goes on in that pretty head of his to warrant such ideas, makes him balance a bottle of body lotion on the thick outline of his cock like this.

Unlike the first few images, this one was taken in front of a mirror. The blinding fluorescent light in his bathroom paints him in a stark color, has every inch of his pretty face on display for you. Rosy cheeks, dewy skin. Perfectly swollen cock straining beneath his grey boxers, curved up against his hip. Shirt pulled up, finally freeing that expanse of muscles on his abdomen, cute little belly button on display once again. The red material is pulled up to his mouth, pearly white teeth biting down on the fabric, and he’s got this flushed expression on his face.

But the real star of the show isn’t his chiseled abdomen or sexy expression, but the sheer hardness of his dick that lets him balance a bottle of body lotion over it, like a fuckin’ shelf or something. He’s so hard, dick so full beneath his boxers. So big too, the little boxers pulled taught around said engorged cock and thick thighs.

Your brain says to laugh, to tease him for being such a clown even when he’s horny as hell. He won’t take it to heart, will probably laugh along with you and you’ll add it to your still growing list of funny memories.

But your caveman libido says call him, so that’s what you do, ducking down behind a new shipment pallet with a squeak as the phone rings. It only lasts four seconds before he picks up, voice breathy and low, but it sounds so loud in the silence of the stockroom.

He doesn’t even let you get a greeting in. “You like my picture, baby?” he husks. It sounds like he’s right there, right beside you, speaking into your ear. Your pussy throbs at the way he sounds. Paired with the picture from before, it has your body tingling all over.

“What the fuck is that?” you hiss, trying to not let the sudden overflow of arousal leak into your words. Jungkook chuckles.

“What?” he huffs. There’s the brief sound of shuffling, the scratchy noise of his phone presumably being pressed against his shoulder. “I’m so hard, baby,” he sighs before you can pretend to reprimand him any further. “Fuck— you, can you just talk to me?” he groans, and the disgusting sound of him spitting into his palm fills your ear.

Your face feels warm, eyes nervously peering across the stockroom like your boss will suddenly appear now of all times to rip you from this important phone call. The anxiety and arousal mix weirdly, have your leg bouncing but every new movement sends a shock up your aching cunt to your chest, and then out to the tips of your fingers.

“You shouldn’t be doing that when I’m at work,” you murmur hurriedly, moving to nervously bite at your finger. Jungkook moans softly.

“Uh huh,” he says.

The air conditioning turns on and you nearly jump out of your own skin. “Kook,” you stress, frazzled by your own burning arousal and the fear of being caught. Like you said. Weird mix. “I— not when I can’t respond.”

He shudders on the line. “You’re responding now,” he points out. You hate when he’s right. Before you can defend yourself, define what a proper response is in this scenario, he’s beating you to the punch. “Baby,” he whimpers, voice so airy yet low, makes your eyes roll into the back of your head, back unconsciously arching. “Couldn’t stop— fuck.”

Your mouth feels dry, all and any form of lecturing fading from your thoughts as you become consumed in Jungkook’s little whines and whimpers. He talks smoothly, a modern day Casanova, and it’s certainly because of that cult-like harem he’s gathered on YouTube. Teenage girls who kiss his ass, tell him he’s cute and dreamy. Make his ego so big.

But then he gets horny and can barely contain that lisp you tease him about, shivers and melts when you put his cock in your mouth. “Couldn't what, bunny?” you mumble, voice drawn tight because now you were really horny, and it was all his fault.

The nickname makes him mewl prettily, your speaker suddenly going scratchy as he fumbles with his phone. “C- Couldn't stop thinking about you— your mouth,” he admits, and now you’re certain he’d sat through that Saturday morning stream like this. “T- Tits,” he adds, lisp slipping through. “Fuck.”

You bite your lip, eyes fluttering shut as you remind yourself now was not the time or place to get yourself off. But, well. That didn’t mean you couldn’t get him off. “Sat through your stream like this?” you murmur, circling your kneecap with a trembling finger as if it’ll ward away the raging lust in your abdomen. Jungkook confirms with a breathy moan. “Had all your little fans wondering why you ended so early.”

He groans. “No,” he chokes, voice hot from how much it wavers. “They— I lied,” he confesses out of nowhere, “s- said I had a doctor’s appointment.”

You muffle a giggle into your palm. “Naughty,” you tease. “Too hard to do your job.”

“Just,” he cuts off, voice feathery. He sounds so close and you haven’t even said anything of substantial value yet. “Tell me,” he says quietly, “what to— mmh, what to do.”

A smirk consumes your features. You try to hide it, but there’s no one here anyway so you’re left grinning at an unpacked box of dental floss like a madwoman. “Why?” you inquire playfully, bask in the sad little whimper he responds with. “Shouldn’t you know how to make yourself cum?”

Another groan of frustration, desperation seeping into his tone when he speaks again. “Baby, please,” he begs, and it feels good. Feels nice to have this big YouTuber begging for you like this, whimpering your name like his doesn’t appear on the top 25 most viewed. “Like when you— ah — when you tell me… what to do.”

Your body feels hot, thighs pressing together with each whimper that falls from his lips. “Okay,” you concede, and he audibly moans in relief. “Tip first,” you instruct softly, eyes defocusing as your brain slowly starts to manifest the image of Jungkook spread out on his bed. Thick thighs, grey boxers pulled taught around them, fat cock between his pretty hands, inked knuckles squeezing around his member. You swallow. You can tell exactly when Jungkook does as you say because another muffled moan fills the speaker. “One finger,” you remind him quickly, head spinning from the mere memory of his dick. “Run it… run it over the slit, bunny.”

“Nngh—“ Jungkook sputters. You can only imagine the face he’s making now, the bottom lip he’s bitten raw by now. He does it a lot; it’s a nervous habit. But as sexy as it looks when you’re in bed, you know he has sensitive lips because of it, bleeds easily if he’s too harsh. You have half the mind to remind him about it now, but then he’s hurriedly gasping out for more. “And, and then? Wha— what then, baby?”

He sounds so sweet, melodic voice dripping with honey. “Touch your balls,” you say a little breathlessly. “Don’t squeeze,” you add, “just roll your palm over them.” Your palm squeezes against your thigh, as if it’s remembering the feel of his body, the soft skin between his thighs when you’re down there. He gets so jittery, thick thighs nearly crushing you if you drag him along too much. “O- Other hand on your cock,” you stumble, thighs squeezed together. “Stroke yourself just like I do, bunny.”

Jungkook complies. “Just like you?” he mumbles, suddenly sounds farther away. As if he’s dropped his phone off to the side. “Fffuck,” he grunts, “m- mouth is so pretty.”

“Hm?” you inquire, so consumed with tampering down your growing arousal for a second that you miss his sentence.

Jungkook’s breath stutters, and for a moment you’re met with the wet squelch of his cock in his hand. And then, “pretty mouth… make me— make me wanna see you cry.”

You bite your lip. “Why,” you say tentatively, finally caving in with a hand fluttering over the front seam of your jeans. Not a question, more of a gentle nudge for him to spill his thoughts.

“Be- Because,” he cries, fucking into his hand. He sounds closer and closer. You have to wonder just how long he had been riled up. It’s been a while since his first message, he was probably desperate by now. “Y- You’re so nice,” he cries, and the sentiment, though oddly out of place, makes your heart squeeze with adoration for the boy on the line. “Wanna be,” he groans, “wanna be so fucking mean to you, baby.”

The sudden change of tone makes you choke on a moan, hand pressing against your mound like it’ll somehow penetrate the thick material of your jeans and give you the sensations you crave. As it stands, it’s a muted feeling you get instead. When your hands fail, his voice compensates. “Fffuck, don’t you— don’t you think about it too?”

Admittedly, no.

Jungkook had always been a gentleman in bed. Always cared for your needs before his own, went out of his way to make you feel pampered and adored during your most vulnerable moments. Contrary to what his online persona might say, he was a good boy. Sweetest boy you knew, touched you like you were made of glass.

So to suddenly learn of this dream— fantasy? kink? —of his that you would certainly enjoy equally as much, well. It made you whimper into your palm, eyes worriedly flickering toward the stockroom’s entrance.

“Why?” you whisper, feeling like a broken doll repeating the same phrase over and over again. You’re suddenly aware of how hot everything was. Your polo felt sticky against your spine, apron too tight, jeans too stuffy. How long had you been hiding in here for? You don’t even know. Hopefully your absence on the floor had gone unnoticed.

Jungkook pants into the line; everything sounds so sticky and wet on his end, hand undoubtedly working away at his cock. “Shit,” he curses, doesn’t really answer your question until you prod a second time. “I- I like it,” he stammers. “When you… fuck, when you look small.” He elaborates before you can even ask, breath heavy and drawn out. He was so close. “When your mouth… when it hurts,” he says, thoughts a scrambled mess. “Like when you— when you cry because my cock is— it’s too big for you.”

A blatant ego boost you’ll ignore for now. Not like you can focus on too many things right now anyway. “Your cock is big, bunny,” you agree softly instead. Your legs feel cramped from crouching so long, so you push yourself to your feet. Except then you’re made aware of how fucking wet you are, panties soaked from the phone call with your boyfriend. You shift and they stick to your folds, make you release a shaky exhale that Jungkook doesn’t miss.

“I— you’re wet,” he says boldly, and this time your meek confirmation isn’t a lie. Jungkook grunts. “Fuck, baby, I—“ cut off by his own whiny cry, probably bucking into his hand like a madman by now. “Wanna, wanna kiss you everywhere,” he says, a call back to his earlier message. Your legs feel like jello. You want him to kiss you everywhere too— lips, tits, cunt that is dripping for him now.

“I- I’ll be over soon,” you stammer, feeling like you’ll pass out if he carries on any further. He sounds so good on the line, soft pants, rough growls. You can’t possibly listen anymore, not when you’re so wet and horny in the middle of your shift. “Just,” you pause, can’t get the image of his pretty cock out of your mind. Every blink makes it more vivid, reminds you of the vein on the underside, the exact shade of the tip.

“What?” Jungkook hisses, voice higher than usual, parts of it lost under the rapid movements of his hand. “Tell me, baby, tell me what to do,” he begs hoarsely, “I’ll do it.” Sounds so desperate and needy, two seconds away from busting all over his hand.

You have to lean against the wall of the stockroom to ground yourself, remind yourself you’re not in the same situation as Jungkook and can’t cum in your pants like a teenager. “J- Just cum,” you choke, eyes fluttering shut.

He must’ve been waiting for that command, because the second the words leave your throat he’s filling the line with breathy groans and cries as he comes all over himself, probably ruins his t-shirt. The sounds have your hips unconsciously bucking forward into nothingness, the frustration of not being able to cum with him manifesting in the form of a tiny little sob. Luckily, he doesn’t catch it.

When it’s all said and done, he’s left panting into the receiver, flooding your speaker with breathy sighs that only make you more and more aroused.

“You’re terrible,” you frown, cheeks flushed, body tingling. You flip your wrist over and check the time; it’s been about sixteen minutes since you disappeared from outside. Sixteen minutes of listening to Jungkook touch himself and moan and whine and whimper. Tease you with new possibilities you had never considered before. And now he’s satisfied and you’re not.

Jungkook chuckles, low and tired. The sound shoots straight to your cunt. “Come over after you shift,” he says, as if you’re not planning to fake a severe case of the flu right now in order to get off early and run to his bed. You only had a little less than two hours of your shift left anyway. Not like they paid you well to begin with. Jungkook shifts, releases one of those saccharine groans as he probably snuggles into his bed, all sweaty and worn out. “Want you to fuck my face, baby.”

You frown, counting to ten to calm yourself down. Another few minutes of listless conversation, and you hang up. Your body feels featherlight, a little woozy as you make your way back out into the floor.

Nothing has changed. Customers pour in and out, your boss scolds you for a display you didn’t do, and life inside the store drags on. No one knows that you’re soaking your panties to hell and back, Jungkook’s soothing moans in your ear. Life goes on.

you shift ends in 20

jungkook♡ sweet jungkook♡ got your seat ready jungkook♡ Attachment: 1 Image

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cantdanceflynn · 3 years

Text

I did the writing! Tada! Yes it’s camp camp, yes it relies too heavily on my own personal hcs, and yes it feels like it’s supposed to be animated instead. But also I’m really really proud of it bc its the first time I’ve written in ages and I think it’s good. So :D

One quiet, quiet night, at Camp Campbell, a young magician was sitting on his cot, fiddling with a mirror. It had been a little over a week since the Convergence, and frankly, Harrison had it on his mind more than ever. That octopus…… thing, whatever it was, knew his brother? His brother was alive? But, more than anything, he was worried. What if he couldn’t bring him back? What if he did but he messed something up? He’d done it before! At least when he thought his brother was gone for good, he didn’t have to think about that possibility. And he still didn’t know what was going on with his eyes. He got up, glancing over at Nerris as he left the tent. She was still asleep, but she wasn’t the heaviest sleeper, especially recently, so he needed to be quiet. She’d been questioning his tiredness recently, and he didn’t want her worried about him. She worried about him too much for someone she was rivals with anyways.

He quietly and carefully stepped out of the tent, and looked up at the moon. The sky was surprisingly clear this night, although it was growing lighter, and he could see it was a……. waxing gibbous? He was pretty sure that was right. He’d ask Nerris if she was in a good mood in the morning and if she wasn’t too questioning. But looking at it freaked him out after a moment. Part of him expected it to start glowing like it had during the Convergence, even if that wasn’t likely. Even if it wasn’t even possible. Not without the chant. He took a big sigh, and glanced in the mirror. He could only stand looking at his reflection for a split second, but it just confirmed the same thing he hoped he’d been imagining for the past week. His eyes had changed. His eyes were blue.

Not a normal blue, and definitely not the hazel they’d been inside the tent. A light, glowing blue. The blue of the ultra moon. His mind flashed back to the first time he’d noticed it. He’d woken up alone, something that didn’t usually happen, especially with Nerris. He’d gone out to try and find her, but going to Preston’s tent first was a…….. bad idea. Preston had left a mirror outside his tent, and he was unlucky enough to look in it. He’d panicked, and tried going to David and Gwen, the only people who might have understood, or at least listened. But Campbell and all the other campers were there. The best he could come up with quickly as to why he was awake was “woke up alone and got scared”. It wasn’t a lie, but it was an understatement.

He didn’t know what it meant, but it scared him. More than he wanted to admit. He crouched, putting the mirror on the ground, being careful not to look at it, before sitting on the ground. He knew trying to sleep would just give him nightmares, and he didn’t want to risk waking up Nerris by going back in at the moment, so he stayed there. Besides, it wouldn’t be that long until daylight. Until he heard something. A familiar, loud, overdramatic voice. Shit, that was right. Preston had started waking up earlier, to do his rehearsals when people wouldn’t be as “bothered” by them. And based on the volume, he was approaching their tent. No one else had been, or really should be, considering how many activities they did each day, awake around this time. He wasn’t exactly ready to talk with him about recent events. Especially not considering Preston’s recent situation and ensuing play. He wanted to go back in the tent, but based on the sound of Nerris falling out of her cot in surprise at Preston’s voice, it was a little too late. So he stood up quickly, and ran for the forest.

It took him minutes of running through an oddly dark forest blindly for him to realize just how stupid he was being. Like, genuinely stupid. He’d gotten emotional when he was sleep-deprived before, but never to this extent. He could have probably slipped back into the tent before Nerris got her glasses on, and just pretended to sleep until Preston left the area. No one would have noticed anything, and it would have been fine. Now she would figure out why he’d been so tired lately. And if Preston had seen him, they might even be trying to find him. And now he was lost to boot. Lovely. He stomped his foot on the ground in frustration. Why did he always do this? Why could he never be reasonable? He’d gotten lost before, but never at night, and never this far in the woods. He sighed, pushing it down. The most important thing was getting somewhere safe for the next couple hours until it was properly morning, instead of a dark grey sky with fading stars and a lowering moon. That’s what David had said in most of his mandatory “camps”.

A few minutes of walking later, he was tired, and he hadn’t even walked all that far. But he was still lost. And that wasn’t a surprise. Almost everyone here hated the woods. And if no one had seen, they might not even try checking the woods. He could be lost here for ages. That thought was terrifying enough to make him consider using his magic. But when he was this worried? He remembered the single card he’d tried to make appear, and how it turned into a huge mess he’d barely been able to clean up before anyone else woke up. That was a no go. He’d probably burn up the entire forest, or start the volcano back up. Or make the forest homicidal again. And if they’d actually come after him? He shuddered.

If he used his magic while he was like this, well… That would be disastrous. Besides that, he really didn’t want to do anything that could potentially get him stuck here in the woods forever or hurt anyone. He didn’t know what he could do like this. So he continued to walk. Hopefully none of the animals David had warned them about would attack him. Bears, wolves, the platypus on a bad day. The trees were too thick to see the moon at all at this point, but he knew his eyes were still glowing. When he held his hand up to his face, there was light blue light still on it. Still dangerous, and still lost with no clue if anyone would find him.

And then he heard their voices. That theatrical voice, this time with a worried tinge. And that all too familiar lisped condescending voice. Except it was oddly worried as well.

“Are you sure you saw him run this way?”

“OF COURSE I AM! He ran off this way!”

For a second there was a glimpse of hope. They were trying to find him! They cared! Then it hit him. He was only hearing them. Just Nerris and Preston. And that’s all the more reason for him to be scared. It was just them! They were getting themselves lost too! He didn’t want to tell them what he was seeing, what he dealt with, what he did, and he didn’t want to hurt them. That’s why he’d ran away! And now they were going to get themselves lost or hurt, or both, or worse! What was he even supposed to do here? Go towards them and explain everything? He didn’t want to do that. They’d hate him. But if he ran away, they’d all just get more lost. And it’d be his fault. He stood still, trying to figure out what to do. And then his magic decided to make that choice for him.

His hat started floating and he tried to reach, and pull it down. More things around him started floating. Little stones, twigs, all glowing and floating. To the point where it was very much visible. In that moment he heard a noise from behind him. One that sounded a lot like footsteps. With no better options regarding the whole situation, he turned around slowly, his eyes still glowing, brighter than ever. And staring at him were Nerris and Preston. Their blue and golden eyes stared right into his glowing icy blue ones, as debris floated all around the dark area.

He stuttered, trying to explain the situation.

“I-I-I……….”

He couldn’t get anything else out. He stepped back, something that seemed to snap them out of their standstill. Nerris stepped forwards first, her eyes flicking around the clearing. Preston followed, staying quiet for once, also looking around. He stepped backwards again, bumping past more floating sticks and pebbles. He kept panicking. They knew now just what he could properly do. And if he couldn’t gain control of his feelings, he’d set something off, or hurt them, or… or…… With every step he took back, a small rumble grew in the background of the scene. Nerris and Preston kept approaching him, a…… new. Was that the right word? New. Look in their eyes. He didn’t know how to describe it. It wasn’t the fearful looks he was used to. And it wasn’t sympathetic or faked. It was similar to the looks Nikki used to give him during his magic shows. Awe. It was awe.

And it was also confusion. Confusion at what was happening. But it was mostly confusion at him. He felt his chest tightening at that. He felt anger build inside. Not at them. At himself. For being such a coward. He couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been. How he’d gotten himself into this situation. At least if they were scared of him, they’d leave him alone. They wouldn’t get hurt by his powers, and they wouldn’t disappear. He couldn’t handle that. The rumbling grew louder, and it became clear very quickly that Nerris and Preston could hear it too. Their faces grew more confused and……. scared. And for some reason, one he knew, even though this was what he wanted, he hated it. When his foot came down again, slightly harder than before, the rumbling turned into shaking. The forest began shaking around them, causing Preston to fall over, taking Nerris down with him.

It was hard to understand what was happening, but he knew enough to realize it was his fault. He was doing it. They were going to get hurt and it was all his fault! This was exactly what he was scared of. His hands flew up to the sides of his head, trying to hold it down, as he fell back onto the ground with a thud, making more debris fly around, some of it almost hitting Nerris and Preston. Preston sat up first, and helped Nerris up into a sitting position as she adjusted her glasses. He met their eyes, and somehow, their eyes still weren’t mostly filled with fear.

But instead, they were filled with a mixture between worry, and the same awe. He shook slightly, tears forming in his eyes and, as much as he tried to stop them, running down his face. As much as he didn’t want to, he couldn’t help but speak. Like he couldn’t control himself. “I d….didn’t want you guys to….. to.. get hurt.. b…..by me. A…. and now….. now.. now you w…. will.“ He tried to push the sobs down, but they bubbled up, wracking his body. The shaking started again, and the floating got worse. Bushes started uprooting themselves, full on stones in the ground and the tips of roots all started floating away, and so did Nerris and Preston, flailing at the air and trying to grab onto something.

Both of them looked panicked and terrified, as each movement threw them further into a panic. They couldn’t move while floating, no matter how hard they reached for something, or how fast they tried to control their floating. He couldn’t look at them anymore. He buried his tear stricken face in his knees, shaking and just trying to keep himself from doing anything else, because if he did anything permanent? Just that thought made everything worse. Huge chunks of the earth pulled themselves out of the ground all around him, and the leaves on the trees started floating away too. At this rate, the trees would completely float away. Along with Nerris and Preston. He buried his head even further into his legs, which were almost completely damp from his crying at this point.

And then the ground underneath him started floating too. He tried ignoring it, hoping with all his heart that it would just go back down, that he could just be left alone, that they wouldn’t worry about him ever again. He hated the idea, but it was safe. It was what everyone else had done, and what he deserved. Everything shook, forcing him onto his feet. The piece of ground around him wasn’t exactly big, and he was barely able to keep his balance. Eventually he could stand there without constantly watching his feet. He knew what he would see if he looked up. He could see the glow, ever present, just as he could still feel the tears flowing down his face. He tried to sigh, to let out some fear and frustration, but all that came out was a body wracking sob.

After a few seconds, he gathered the very last of his courage, and looked up at Nerris and Preston, stuck floating in front of him. They looked like they were desperately trying to move, speak, do something, but his magic had reached a point where they couldn’t even do that. But the looks in their eyes were unmistakable. Fear. Perfect, typical, fear. The safe kind, that would keep them away and alive. Not hurt, not gone possibly forever, not dead. But their eyes hit his, and all that fear morphed into…… pleading. No more awe. No more confusion. Just pleading. They wanted it to be over. And so did he. He turned halfway around, trying not to see that look any longer. He couldn’t stand it. He didn’t want them to be scared of him, it hurt. But it hurt when they weren’t. Because then they’d get hurt. Above the trees, he could see the sun rising. And he knew that they could see it too. They slowly descended as the glow in his eyes faded, leaving them their typical hazel.

The ground and everything around it settled back into place, leaving the clearing almost the same, minus the things he’d bumped into. Behind him, he heard Nerris and Preston gain their footing, now that the magic had faded. He’d stopped sobbing by this point, but tears were still falling. He waited to hear them run off, scream, say something, do something. But the only noise he could hear was a few birds chirping. He turned around hesitantly, expecting standstill fear on their faces. Instead, all he saw was…….. just them. There wasn’t any fear, or any sympathy. No awe or confusion either. It was just…….. them. Staring at him.

Eventually Nerris spoke. "Y…you’re ok…… You’re ok, right?” Her tone was just……. worried. She was worried. About him. After everything? Why did she even care to begin with? Preston followed suit, his voice quiet for once and just as worried, with a hint of fear that Harrison no longer cared about in it. “That was……. terrifying. Are you?” Nerris stepped forwards, and reached out to touch him, but paused when she saw him flinch. She took in a shaky breath before reaching out again, patting him on the shoulder. Preston did the same, both clearly trying to comfort him. And all he could do was stare in disbelief.

They didn’t hate him. Nerris, who he used to antagonize over something he couldn’t even control, and who he’d jab at for nothing. Preston, who he constantly teased for something he couldn’t imagine doing, let alone for as long as he had, and who he’d hurt even after the entire mental breakdown he’d had. And despite that, and despite his magic, they didn’t hate him. Despite what he just did to them. They were worried about him. “W……. why are yo……….u wo……rri…..ed abo…….ut m…..e?” He hadn’t realized how much he was still crying until he heard himself speak. It was a lot. He tried to stop them, but as always, the effort was wasted.

Another sob escaped. And another. Soon, there was nothing he could do to stop or deny it. He was crying more then he ever had before. Nerris and Preston exchanged a look, one he couldn’t read, and wrapped their arms around him. Part of him wanted to pull away. Wanted to make them go away. Wanted to convince them he was too dangerous. Like everyone else he’d really known had. But despite all of that, he found his arms wrapping around them too, as his entire body shook. But even through all the tears, he could still hear Preston’s voice. “Because we’re all your friends.”

“Obviously!”, Nerris added comfortingly. The only response he could muster was cut off by his tears, so he just wrapped his arms around them tighter. And they seemed to understand that. Eventually they sank down to the ground, sitting in what could be best described as a hug pile. When he could finally speak through his tears, he couldn’t think of anything to say other then, “Thank you.” It wasn’t shaky or broken like he thought it would be. They both gave him a loose smile.

“Of course,” Preston said, still quiet. “We’re here for you,” Nerris told him, removing her arms from the mess that their hug pile was. Preston gave him an extra quick squeeze, before doing the same. They sat there for a little bit before Preston spoke again, his voice having regained its theatrical edge, although it was still quiet. “Do you want to talk about it? Gwen’s been trying to help me talk about things more, and it helps. I think it helps anyway. I’m not very good at it.” Nerris gave Preston a much more readable look, one of “not right now”. He’d seen it before. But it took him surprisingly little time to respond.

“Yeah. I haven’t exactly been attending Gwen’s therapy sessions. For a number of reasons.” He hadn’t noticed until this point, but he was barely crying anymore. Nerris gave him a small nod, clearly listening. “I….. I mean, you saw what I did back there. I can’t really control it that well…….. especially when I’m emotional. Which is most of the time when I don’t sleep.” The looks of sympathetic understanding on their faces gave him a little more confidence. “And you were there at the Parent’s day show. You saw my parents, right?” Preston nodded, as Nerris’ shoulders slumped and she rubbed her arm. He’d been too open. Shit. He shrunk in on himself, something that they immediately noticed.

“Hey…. It’s not your fault they’re like that. We should have noticed sooner.” Nerris was trying her best to make him feel better, he knew that, but her wording just hurt more. At this point he didn’t have the energy to cry anymore, so he settled for curling in on himself more. The two got closer, Nerris draping her cape over him and Preston rubbing his back before speaking. “Gwen says if it hurts too much, you don’t have to talk about it.” Harrison sighed. “I…. I do want to talk about it. But I haven’t before, and it………. definitely hurts. And it really is my fault.”

Nerris seemed lost in thought for a little bit, before speaking. “Well, considering you’re talking to the elf who plays Dnd with her stuffed animals, I don’t think you have to worry about us judging you?” Her tone was oddly reassuring. Preston joined in. “Exactly! I put on plays that everyone hates all the time! How are we going to judge you?” His shoulders sunk at that. “Exactly. I’m a terrible friend. I tease you about your larping all the time, and I didn’t even try to support any of your plays." Nerris sighed. "Well, yeah, it used to hurt, but everyone did it, and either way, you haven’t really been doing it recently. And we’re still friends. And….. I’m sorry too. I did the same to Preston.” Preston had looked more hurt after Harrison had finished speaking, but he perked up at Nerris’ apology. He didn’t say anything but the thankful smile was good enough for Nerris. And he decided to take it as enough too. He sighed.

“What happened was……….. bad. Very bad. If I could change the past, I would. I wish I could, honestly. I’m here to make things reappear because I made someone disappear.” He paused, taking a shaky breath. Any other time, and at the very least, this would have gone smoother. But right now, he didn’t think he had that option. “My brother.” He didn’t expect them to leave. They wouldn’t do that. He’d figured that out by now. But he wasn’t surprised when Nerris drew in a sharp breath, and Preston’s eyes flickered away. He sighed, managing not to cry through a combination of already having cried so much and being too tired. They sat there, all of them thinking, for at the very least five minutes. It felt like longer. He could practically see the gears turning in their brains.

Eventually Nerris spoke. “That………. explains a…………… lot. Do you want to just…………………… leave it at that?” Her tone was worried, in more ways then one. He reluctantly nodded. He’d already told them more then he’d told basically anyone else besides his parents. Preston kept quiet. After this entire situation, Harrison wondered if he’d ever be quiet again. Then, another thought crossed his mind. “How are we getting back to camp? Aren’t we kind of lost out here?” Nerris let out a small chuckle at that. “Yeah, because Nikki doesn’t have your scent down flat from her time as your apprentice. We should just stay here. We’ll be fine.”

He let out a small smile at that. They’d be fine. “We’ll be fine.” He repeated it to himself, looking up. Even though the trees were still thick, he could see that the sun was definitely properly up by now. He really was tired. He yawned, more for effect then anything else, and decided he might as well get as little sleep as he was getting on the ground. He must have been more tired than he thought, because as Nerris and Preston did the same next to him, he didn’t even try protesting.

A few hours later, Nikki lead the rest of the camp to a sleeping trio. If they had been awake, they would have heard the multiple sighs of relief, and the few mutterings of “thank goodness” or “they’re safe”, few being quite literal. They would have seen the worried looks turn into feigned annoyance or apathy or just happiness. But as it stood, they would wake up together at about two, and go about their normal activities, glancing at each other every time they crossed paths. No one asked them about what had happened, and they were grateful for that. But Harrison just slept in his tent that night, and within a week, Preston had moved his bed and some of his stuff in the tent. And for some reason that no one else would get for a very long time, there weren’t any complaints.

#camp camp #cc harrison #cc nerris #cc preston #harrison #nerris #preston goodplay #campcamp #writing #performance trio #cc nikki #ig #for the record the hcs u need to know r #harrison gets super emotional when hes sleep deprived #preston has been attending gwens little therapy sessions #and harrison did not get sucked into the realm of a god and had his soul read by an octopus to have no physical or magic based changes

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green-socks · 3 years

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Hungry Eyes chapter 5

Pairing: Benny Miller x OFC (Dirty Dancing AU)

Summary: Dirty Dancing but Benny is Baby and the dance instructor is a female OC, Jolene. Benny goes to a holiday resort with his family and somehow ends up spending his time dancing and falling in love! This part is practicing the famous lift and like Eye of the Tiger training montage type moments.

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: None.

Notes: This fic is my own little world where I go when I need to. What you see on paper is only a bit of what happens inside my head, but it is what it is. I try. Inconsistent af about posting this bc my muse is a very "it's for me to know and you to to find out" type of gal, so I just follow her lead. Right now she's saying dance, Benny, dance, so he dances. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 4 | MASTERLIST

The next few days continued with more dance lessons whenever they could.

Benny had experience with working out. A lot. He pretty much did that for a living, after all. So he knew he shouldn’t get frustrated when some new bit of information didn’t immediately stick to his mind. And yet it was hard to keep himself from stressing out, because there was a time limit, and he didn’t want to let Jolene and Patrick down.

They had the steps mostly down already, now it was about getting the routine to look like dancing- tying the steps together as fluid movement. Jolene kept saying that it was about the feeling, but Benny was having some trouble with that. It wasn’t easy to try and express feelings while all his brainpower went to focusing on remembering where to step and where to look and what to do with his hands at any given moment.

On the fourth day of practice Benny finally started letting loose, and he noticed he was actually having sort of fun with it. They had had a whole lesson on how to feel the music and let it guide you as much as your muscle memory. Apparently, the music told when there was room to breathe and where to be precise and hit the right accents. Jolene made him practice same bits over different songs to make him focus on the different beats. Once he got the feel of that down more, it became easier to make the whole choreography flow better.

Patrick also came in to help them practice and fine-tune the performance, since he knew the part better than Jolene did. Benny had some trouble with turns and keeping his form at first, but his fight training combined with Patrick’s tips helped with those. Some parts were truly starting to go well, and it was beginning to come together. They were extremely sweaty and exhausted all the time, but happy to be making progress. Benny’s legs were tired, arms tired, feet blistered - “dancer’s feet,” Jolene told him - but despite all that he was having a great time. He thrived on the challenge and physicality of it all, it made him feel alive.

He did still feel guilty about spending less time with his family, and instead spending late nights working on the choreography and occasionally popping into the entertainment crew’s parties. Most of the crew had really taken a liking to him, and even Patrick was slowly warming up to him. Only Jolene was still a closed off, not really volunteering anything personal about herself outside of the dancing they did. They still got along fairly well - they understood each other. They both had a strong work ethic and their teamwork got results.

But their teamwork wasn’t always smooth sailing, of course.

One of the parts Benny was struggling with was a serious and tender moment in the beginning of the choreography that required them to be very up close and personal. He couldn’t stop snickering and making jokes or just bursting out laughing and not doing it properly. Jo got annoyed at him for that, because she thought it was a stupid thing to be stuck on, and she had felt a little like he was somehow mocking the choreography, making it seem silly. But the truth of it was that Benny was a bit afraid of how intensely he would feel things if he let himself be completely serious and truly try to live the moment, be vulnerable. He didn’t know if he could keep his emotions in check.

There had also been a small argument on the fifth day when Benny had complained about a part he didn’t like in the choreo, and Jolene was having none of his sass. The frustration and stress had started getting to her, and she had snapped at him about not taking it seriously enough and not learning quickly enough.

And Benny had bit back, “Hey, I’m doin’ this just to help you and your friend! And we haven’t even tried to go through the whole thing yet, we haven’t practiced the lift at all, so how do you expect me to get it all if I can’t have the full picture?!”

Jo had seethed at him, breathing heavily for a moment, until she had said, “Fine. You have a car?”

--------

That’s how they had ended up borrowing Benny’s brother Will’s car to drive to a place where they could practice the troublesome lift.

Jo had most of the day off, so she decided now was a good time to go and work on the lift, since it would be best to practice it outside the resort. Benny made jokes and laughed at her when she had to adjust every setting on the seat and mirrors of the car to suit her much shorter frame. Jo was used to hearing jokes about her height but somehow, she didn’t mind them from Benny. She found herself surprised at how easy she felt in his company, the argument from before long forgotten already. With the radio playing and both of them joking around, she started driving toward a secluded beach nearby.

Jo noticed that it was much easier to talk with him now that they were alone together and removed from the context of training for a moment. She found herself opening up about her background in dance, how she had started and how her dream was to open her own dance studio someday. She also told him about her family, how she didn’t see them often because her younger brother was in college far from her and her parents had retired and moved to Australia. Benny was a surprisingly good listener, letting her talk and asking questions, seeming genuinely interested in her. Before she knew it, they reached the destination.

Under normal circumstances she would have started with some balancing and trust exercises, but they were past trust exercises, and Benny’s fight training meant he had great balance, so she decided to jump into the thing itself right away.

“Okay. We’ll just- go for it. I’ve shown you the video of what it’s supposed to look like, I’ve shown you where you’re supposed to put your hands and everything. We’re good to go, right? Or do you have any questions?”

“No.. I think I know what to do in theory, at least..” Benny says, rubbing his beard nervously.

She took a deep breath. Okay. There was nothing to it but to just try, it would be fine.

But after tumbling down to the grass a few times Jo realized it wouldn’t work, because they were both holding back for fear of falling. She was afraid of Benny not being able to lift her and then hurting him when he had to bear the brunt of the fallings. And Benny in his turn was scared of hurting her. There was also the added difficulty of their height difference - Benny would have to lift with his legs a lot more, and she would have to adjust a lot from what she was used to with Patrick, too.

So, they would have to make sure the fall was less scary..

“What if we get into the water? It’s safer to fall down there at least,” she suggested.

“What? You serious?”

“Yeah! What, you scared or something?”

Benny rolled his eyes at her childish taunting but shrugged and started taking his shoes and shirt off.

When she had first met him a few days ago, she had dismissed him as just some random dude crashing their party - a seemingly pleasant dude, sure, but nothing special. But now, given the opportunity to admire his back and arms without having to focus on being a dance instructor first, she couldn’t deny the view was very.. inspiring. She had seen him shirtless before because they did work up quite the sweat dancing in the summer heat, and the guy seemed very comfortable with his body. It was different, though, in this new environment and this new, more relaxed energy between them. It was a nice change of pace, truth be told.

Benny started opening his belt and Jo stopped in her tracks.

“What are you doing?”

“If you wanna deal with my brother when we return his car with the seats all wet, be my guest, but I learned to not get any fluids on his car seats when I was sixteen,” he said seriously, shaking his head while pulling his jeans off.

“…You know what, I’ll take that chance. I’m keeping my shorts on,” she said, thinking of the not-covering-much-at-all underwear she had on.

“It’s totally fine, I have a hoodie you can sit on. Plus, he wouldn’t even know how to be mad at you,” Benny smiled.

They got in the slightly chilly water, Jo determinedly not looking at Benny until they were deep enough.

“Alright, let’s try again!”

The added support of the water was a big help, and after a few tries they managed a perfect lift for a moment until Jo lost her balance and dived into the water.

“Yes, yes! You did it! That was so good!” Jo shouted after she resurfaced. “I lost my balance, but you did it!”

Benny’s eyes seemed to light up, and the next few times he tried even harder. Jo had noticed during practices that Benny was good at following orders when working out, and that he responded to her stricter coaching really well. But she had also noticed that when she praised him, he seemed to get an extra boost of energy, and usually performed even better after that. It was as if the hard training kept him focused and sharp, but a few compliments helped free his creativity more. She wanted to keep the compliments genuine though, and not overdo it.

They still ended up underwater more often than not, but they were starting to get the hang of it at least. They were both tired and had wet hair plastered to their faces as they stood there catching their breaths before a new try.

Benny brushed his hair back from his eyes in the way men do in commercials and Jo found herself staring. He looked unreasonably good like this when she was sure she was a total mess. His blue eyes were shining brighter than the water, and the droplets on his chest made her eyes follow their trajectory downward. Oh boy was she staring. How to stop, though?

“Hello?” Benny’s voice was trying to pull her out of her thoughts. “Jo?”

That was the first time he had called her that, and not her full name. She lifted her head to meet his gaze again, and she was sure her face greatly resembled a tomato.

She didn’t know what to do to save the situation when she was so obviously caught ogling. So she splashed him.

Benny spluttered. “Oh, really? That what you wanna do?” he asked with a big grin.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Jo said, and splashed him again.

“Sweetheart, you’re gonna regret that,” he laughed, and started swimming after her.

Then it was a mess of screaming, laughing, splashing, trashing, and wrestling in the water. Jo was breathless from laughing and the exertion, and she couldn’t remember having that much fun in weeks. She was no match for Benny’s strength, though. He caught her, lifting her up and threatening to throw her back in the water. (Which was essentially what they had done all evening, but this was a different situation entirely.)

“I surrender, you win!” Jo managed to shout out through her giggles.

“Hah, told ya!” Benny gloated as he lowered her back to stand on her own legs.

Suddenly it hit Jo how near each other they were standing, and how very little clothing each of them were wearing, especially Benny. And this was no training situation anymore.

She cleared her throat, avoiding his eyes. “One more go with the lift?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.”

But the sun was already setting, and it was getting chilly, so they only tried a couple more times before calling it a day.

They drove back to the resort, Jo sitting on Benny’s hoodie to protect the car like he promised. The radio was playing again, both of them still making jokes and talking, but this time there was also a different kind of tension in the air. Tomorrow they would have time to practice a little during the day and then it would be time for the performance. But Jo wasn’t sure the tension she felt was just performance jitters.

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tagsies: @writeforfandoms @starlightmornings @lorecraft @niki-xie@salome-c @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @sgnjimmy @marvelousmermaid @velocibee @killyspinacoladas

#benny miller x ofc #benny miller fanfiction #benjamin miller #triple frontier fanfiction #dirty dancing au #nobody puts benny in the corner #i accidentally wrote something #garrett hedlund fanfiction #benny miller fic

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deejadabbles · 3 years

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Parkside Confessions (Yami x Reader drabble)

Due to upheavals in my personal life I’ve been unable to write much of anything for several months, so, to help get back into the swing of things I figured I’d make some presents for some people I appreciate here on tumblr. You could also say these are very very, very, very late Christmas gifts. The first one is for @readerinsertfanfiction who is not only an amazing writer and someone I admire, but also someone who wrote me a couple fantastic drabbles not long ago.

I know it’s February but I set this during spring time because I’m desperate for winter to be over before I break my ankle on ice while walking to work bc why not. I also kinda tried to give this a Not Quite Unrequited vibe while still making it it’s own thing, so hopefully you like it, Rif <3

Yugi took note of the way his brother was holding himself; arms crossed tight over his chest, eyes locked firmly on the ground, and lips pursed in a pout unlike any he had seen on Yami before. Yugi was struggling between wanting to laugh and actually feeling sympathy for his big brother.

Instead, the younger man put a comforting hand on Yami’s shoulder, “Hey, you don’t have to be so nervous! Just think of it like any other conversation, you guys have talked a million times before!”

He was glad to feel Yami’s muscles relax a little under his hand, though it only really served to make Yami start shifting his feet in a one-step dance of restlessness. Fidgeting was rare sign in Yami and Yugi fully started to appreciate how shot his nerves must be.

“But this isn’t just any other conversation, Aibou,” Yami muttered and if the sounds of nature in the park were any louder, Yugi might not have heard him. “I’ve practiced what I might say in my mind for over a week, yet I still feel no more prepared to say it face to face than I did two weeks ago.”

That made sense, Yami always did his best thinking on his feet. He was amazing at plans and strategies, but this wasn’t exactly the same as putting good card combinations in your Duel Monster’s deck.

Yugi felt his lips curl into a frown as he turned and peeked out from behind the line of trees they were conveniently settled behind. As always when the weekend weather was nice (and the gang had no plans to hang out) you were there, enjoying the outdoors as you worked on your tablet. Your usual bench was a bit isolated from the main part of the park, set off in the grass some ways away from the play ground and flat field others frolicked through. It was also surrounded by a spattering of trees, so a thick umbrella of leaves protected you from the sun, though your favorite hat did that job well enough. This was the third time Yami had passed through the park when you were here- only to powerwalk passed you without so much as a wave or awkward hello, despite his previous intentions of stealing some one-on-one time with you.

Living up to the ‘ray of positivity’ title his friend’s bestowed upon him, Yugi quickly though of a solution to get Yami over there and under those trees with you. “Okay, new plan. What ever you’ve been practicing in your head- forget it, throw it out!”

Yami finally lifted his eyes from the uneven grass to blink at him, “What?”

Yugi grabbed his brother by the arm and started tugging, “You always come up with your best plans in the spur of the moment, so stop overthinking what you’re going to say and just go over there! It’ll come to you when you need it, I’m sure!” Yami’s eyes went wide as Yugi actually started (gently) shoving him in the direction of your spot.

“Aibou, I-”

“No buts!”

“I didn’t say but!”

“Just get over there!”

Another shove with surprising strength behind it and Yami was stumbling out into the open. You hadn’t noticed, him being too far away and you too engrossed in your tablet. Yami stood frozen, like a cat caught climbing the curtains, until he let out a breath and stood straighter. That literal push was helpful, and just like other points in his life, Yami found strength in his brother’s encouragement. He could do this, it wasn’t like talking to you was anything new! It would be fine if he could forget the fact that this was the only time you two had spent alone...and push exactly why he was wanting to talk with you alone to the back of his mind.

Yami watched your bench for a moment, felt himself smile at how at peace you looked. When the breeze picked up and swept through the park, he saw the way it caught and lifted the strands of your hair. Your eyes closed against nature’s intrusion as you tucked some flowing strands behind your ear and Yami felt something warm and fluttering swell in his chest at the almost cinematic sight. That bubbly heat wasn’t new to him, he had actually grown quite accustomed to it the last few weeks. Warmth clawing up his neck and face when you smiled at him, head feeling light and stupid the few times he managed to get a laugh from you, how he wanted bury himself in the moments where you talked about your passions with that look in your eyes. All of these were signs even he couldn’t ignore.

He had tried, gods had he tried, but he hadn’t managed it for long, he couldn’t. Couldn’t deny the way his eyes followed you like a smitten school boy, or how he scowled in disappointment (and perhaps a drop of jealousy) when he couldn’t snatch the seat next to you, nor how he longed for you to look back at him with similar feelings hidden in your gaze.

With another deep breath, Yami finally moved his feet in something other than nervous fidgeting. He could practically feel Yugi’s eyes on his back as he took strong and sure strides towards you. He passed a young couple on a walk as his mind worked through encouraging words. He tucked his hand in his pockets for a bit of security when he thought of how you would look up at him and greet him in your usually fashion. He took more calming breaths as even that mild imagery made his face heat up. He was closing in on you now, all he had to do was call out and wave and he would be one step closer to everything he had been planning and-

And without breaking stride Yami spun on his heel in a sharp U turn, stormed for a few hot-faced paces, and planted his butt firmly on a bench that was definitely not yours.

He was staring forcefully at the ground again, lips tight in annoyance, and fists clenched over his knees so tight the knuckles were already whitening. He knew he heard Yugi’s voice carried to him on the wind, but at the moment his mind was too busy scolding his love-struck cowardice.

Back in their hiding spot, Yugi huffed, wishing his beloved brother was in reach for a good shaking. “For the love of...”

Now, Yugi was not usually one for acting on impulse, but seeing his brother look so frustratingly hesitant made him act on the first plan that came to mind. Yami just needed a little push, that’s all.

Yugi ran out into the field, put his hands around his mouth like a megaphone, and in the best possible impersonation of his brother’s baritone he could muster, he yelled your name.

On the lonely bench, Yami’s heart sank when he heard a voice (trying to sound like his??) shout your name so loudly it carried across he park. His head snapped up in time to see Yugi retreating back to their previous hiding spot, darting out of sight- but not before the young man flashed him a thumbs up.

A few choice words to hurl at his brother ran through his mind, before Yami heard the voice that made a fresh wave of bubbly heat start in his chest.

“Yami? Is that you?”

Taking an almost audible gulp, Yami turned his head towards you sitting not far across the field. He prayed his dark skin would hide the blush he knew was scorching his face.

“Hello,” the tone was flat and awkward as he lifted his hand in an equally awkward gesture.

You didn’t seem to mind, or maybe you did and were trying to spare him further embarrassment, because you nodded in greeting with a half smile. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“I was- I” Yami cleared his throat in a hurry, “I was just taking a walk.” Somehow through the haze of panic and mortification he managed to stand up and start walking towards you. Of course he noted how his legs felt like jelly and his stride was likely very odd looking as he closed the distance. “I see you’re enjoying the nice day,” he observed, scrambling for any start to a conversation.

You nodded, “Just until it gets too hot anyway, we won’t have many more cool day like this with summer getting closer.”

“Right. I’m sure Anzu will try to get us to go to the water park when it gets hot.”

When you huffed in bemused laughter he felt some of his tension ease, especially when you said, “Probably, so I’m definitely going to enjoy the spring days while I can. Hey, you want to sit down?”

He found his lips lifting in a smile as you scooted over a bit and patted the newly freed spot beside you. He took it, glad to give his jelly legs a rest, though they were getting better with every passing moment.

“What are you working on? If you don’t mind me asking.”

And just like that you two fell into easy conversation. It didn’t take long for Yami to forget that he was alone with you for the first time, in a nice private setting. Rather it felt like any other day: you and the rest of the gang coming over for an anime marathon, all of you going to the arcade, or playing Monster World at Ryou’s house. It was...simple. Well, almost, but it was getting easier with every word and sentence.

Of course, he eventually realized that the words to tell you the deeper things in his heart weren’t coming, like Yugi thought they would. Yami wasn’t even able to conjure up the speech he had planned when he took a second to think about it.

Then again, maybe it just wasn’t the right time. Maybe this was all he needed for now. Some time between the two of you, one on one. Something simple, though no less special. Something to help ease him into the things he wanted to say someday.

Yes, this was more than enough right now. He could tell you those deeper feelings held in his heart another day, right now he was more than content to sit by your side and enjoy your smile, your voice, and your company.

#atem x reader #yami x reader #ygo x reader #ygo #yugioh

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samwrights · 4 years

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Pining After You [hc]

Just some Haikyuu!! head cannons about my favorites pining after the object of their affection—you. I’m gonna limit myself to only one Seijoh 3rd year >_> instead, I’m just gonna make Makki’s super long bc love.

I might turn these into one shots. I’m planning a special series to be released for the entire month of May—let me know what you guys think!

Hanamaki;

Ya know, with my last head cannon, I had such a hard time writing for Makki and now that’s all I wanna do.

Cause THIS BOI is too easy-going, too cool, to ever be blunt and up front about his feelings for you. He can’t ruin his image by stumbling over a confession.

Definitely has been in love with you since your guys’ first year—all thanks to your laugh.

Every time he hears you, even if said laugh is occasionally broken with a gentle, genuine snort, Makki feels every single electrical pulse being sent into his nerve endings.

It was a huge part of the reason that he had started owning the class clown trope, cracking jokes with his peers and even the teachers even though that definitely was not kosher. But his almost dry, sarcastic sense of humor always seemed to be rewarded with the angelic gift that was your laughter.

But he doesn’t know how to talk to you. At all.

He tries really hard not to stare at you, or at least tries not to make it super obvious and fails considering you sit on the opposite ends of the classroom

Makki always has lunch in Mattun’s classroom just so he can freely talk about something you did in class that made him laugh or smile, even if it was something stupid like you dropped your pencil or you raised your hand to answer a question.

In your third year, Mattsun is tIRED of it all.

“Just go fucking confess your feelings, I swear to gOD, or I’ll tell her.”

“Dude no, I can’t she’s way outta my league.”

Did I mention Mattsun is over it? So over it that one day, instead of waiting for his best friend to come to his classroom for lunch, he decides to pay yours a visit.

Makki’s freaking out because the fCK was Mattsun walking over to your desk?!

“She’s coming to our tournament this weekend, so bring your A game.” Was all he said before leaving the poor wing spiker to drown in the blood rising up his neck.

You weren’t friends with anyone on the VBC, but you did actually end up at the tournament with a few friends.

Exhilarating was the only way to describe it, up until Seijoh’s loss to Karasuno.

After the team thanked the spectators for watching, you noticed all the third years crying, signifying the end of their careers.

“Thank you for inviting me to watch, Matsukawa. It was really fun.” You said politely, approaching them afterwards.

Mattsun shoves his best friend towards you, “actually, he wanted to invite you. He just didn’t know how.”

Makki.exe has stopped working. He’s too busy spluttering because he literally has no idea what to say to you now. Cool boy? Not even close.

“I’ve actually wanted to come to one of your matches for awhile. I just thought it was weird because I’m not friends with any of you.”

Oh. O H.

“Y-you could’ve asked me...”

“I was hoping you’d ask me. Why do you think I always laugh at your jokes, Hanamaki?”

“Wait, does that mean you don’t think I’m actually funny?” 💀💀💀 Rip.

“I do. You’re funny, talented, handsome, and I’ve liked you since first year.”

Makki.exe has stopped working.

Akaashi;

Akaashi has studied everything he could about you without ever having actually interacted with you.

He knew you were in Bokuto’s class, he knew your name, and that the two of you interacted often, but never outside of the classroom.

He knew that you always carried your school bag over your left shoulder, and tucked your hair behind your right ear when you felt it was in your face.

Your energy somehow matched his best friend’s while simultaneously calming the owl captain like a gentle wave. You reminded Akaashi of the sun rising over the ocean.

Bokuto, oblivious to nearly everything, never realized that his best friend’s calculations went beyond analyzing the ace. One small section of his brain was dedicated to your ass.

Really, there wasn’t anything extraordinary about you, or at least that’s how you felt about yourself. But every time Akaashi swung by Bokuto’s class to walk with him to practice, his eyes were immediately drawn to you for .067 seconds before he’d look away, so as not to make you feel uncomfortable.

Once in a while, Bokuto would let small details about you slip, like how you were in the art club and that you had a showcase coming up displaying the portfolio you had built over the last three years.

He definitely didn’t ditch practice to be there for your showcase.

Showing up to the venue where the showcase was being held, he suddenly felt very under dressed seeing other third years and teachers adorning formal attire while he showed up in black jeans and a grey button up.

Wandering around the venue, Akaashi looked for you or your artwork, his breath held in his lungs when he saw the arsenal of works displayed on large black boards with your name written elegantly at the very top. Made with various mediums, he was stunned by different paintings and drawings of surreal, exquisite landscapes that could not possibly exist.

Then again, he didn’t think you were real either.

One particular painting invoked a strange emotion in him—a large, desecrated shipwreck amongst of field of bright flowers with the sun setting in the back. Titled “Crack The Sky”, the piece emanated joy and grief in one. It was almost as stunning as you were.

“This one’s my favorite.” You announced sheepishly from beside him and he realized he had never heard your voice before. The setter turned to look at you, drinking in your appearance up close for the first time. “You’re Bokuto’s friend, aren’t you? Akaashi?”

He was kinda hurt to hear you mention Bokuto for reasons unknown to himself jealous much?

“Yeah. It’s nice to meet you.” He bows slightly, remember that no matter how infatuated he was with you, you were still his senpai.

He began walking with you as you explained the creation process of your different pieces. Not that he was actually paying attention, though he’d never admit that. He just liked hearing you talk and he would definitely never admit that.

You excuse yourself as your phone rings, though you don’t walk away, allowing him to hear your end of the conversation. “Yep, he’s here. I owe you dinner. You wanna talk to him?” Akaashi cocks a brow in your direction, staring at your cellphone that you’ve now held over to him. Bokuto’s name flashed on the screen.

“Uh, hi?” The setter asked, confused.

“I made a bet with her that you would ditch practice to go to her showcase because yOu LoVe HeR.”

Aight, imma head out.

Before he could run away out of embarrassment, you grabbed his wrist though you were still on the phone with Bokuto.

“Would you like to join us for dinner? Seems kinda unfair for him to get dinner when you’re the one who made the effort to be here.”

Akaashi graciously accepts to which you respond by telling Bokuto where you would meet him for the evening.

“So you love me, huh?” 💀💀💀 If Akaashi could magically disappear, he would. Or even better, if his blush ran hot enough to melt the skin off his face, that’d be great too.

But you never let go of his wrist until now, opting to wrap an arm around his instead.

“I like you too. Why do you think Bokuto and I made a bet about you coming here, silly?”

Kenma;

Poor Kenma. The worst part of his whole situation was actually being friends with you, knowing he would never get to have you.

Why would you want him, anyway? You were more fit for someone like Kuroo—someone who was as boisterous and confident as you were. He anticipated the day you two announced your relationship and left him behind in your little trio.

Not even Kuroo knew that he was in love with you and maybe that was a mistake on his part but he could never tell his best friend that you were his entire world. It was too embarrassing for him.

It took entirely too much energy to even sort through his feelings alone, how much more exhausting would it be for him to run through every single thing he felt about you to someone else?

Like the way you would nearly skip out your home every morning when the boys came to fetch you to walk to school together.

Or the way you unabashedly asked almost too personal of questions, or questions that were just soooo left field of you were friends with a person. “Hey Kuroo, how many brushes do you think you would break if you finally decided to brush your hair after 17 years?” Was one of Kenma’s favorites.

The way you sing along to every song that plays on your iPod or even the radio, even if you didn’t know the song, you would try to sing along anyway.

Some days, Kenma would look out the window and see you practicing some form of a dance routine in your backyard. He would watch you for hours until you went inside, suddenly feeling shame for being so creepy.

Nearly every night, Kenma just wished he could turn his feelings off while simultaneously wishing you were next to him so he could hold you while he slept.

Your smile was his favorite. Seeing you smile every morning as the three of you walked to school together was what got him through his day. “Hey, hey are you guys coming to my dance competition tomorrow?” You asked in your typical, jovial lilt.

“Of course.” Was all he was able to reply, while Kuroo enthusiastically responded about their attendance.

“Great! I can’t wait to see you guys in the crowd!”

The “C” word, was almost enough to make Kenna regret his decision to come. Even more so when he was surrounded by the masses, all waiting to watch their respective dance teams. But it was for you, and he would do anything for you.

Kuroo was right beside him, a small bouquet of roses in his hand to give to you after you competed. The blood red flowers made Kenna glower and glare in secret, or as secretive as he could be. “I got these for you.” The captain says quietly, handing them over to his best friend.

“Sorry, Kuroo, I can’t say I return your feelings—“

“For you to give to her, you idiot.” 🤡🤡🤡 “I’m not that dumb, Kenma.” The setter really wanted to argue and say that he was, but your school’s dance team was up to perform so he opted to stay quiet.

Have I mentioned that Kenma loves watching you dance? There was a reason he would watch you practice in your backyard. You moved with elegance and grace that was foreign and so opposite to his own demeanor, it was no wonder he was always so captivated by you.

After you compete, there’s a bit of downtime between the other competitors and the awards ceremony, giving you the chance to hang out with your besties.

“These are for you.” The second year says quietly, handing you the bouquet with a blush dusting over his cheeks. The red rivaled that of the roses.

“Aw, thank you, Kenma!” You squeaked out before giving him a kiss on the cheek, his skin burning even hotter. Kuroo’s just over there laughing but ya know.

During the awards ceremony, you’re sitting in a circle with your team not too far from your friends while they announced that Nekoma had taken first. Everyone in the dance troupe began screaming and hugging each other, while you ran straight to your boys.

While still jumping, you were hugging Kuroo so tight, arms squeezing around his neck while sharing the joy. Which made Kenma just a little bit jealous.

Just a little.

Until you’ve settled down from your jumping before wrapping your arms his neck as well. But rather than going for a hug—

Wait what is hAPOENING

You brought your lips to his briefly before burying your face into his neck out of embarrassment because wHY you had thought that was a good idea was beyond you.

Deciding you couldn’t just keep holding onto him, because he was probably embarrassed too, you stepped away, ready to run back to your team. But Kenma didn’t let go, his arms seated securely at your hips as he stared at you.

“I-I’m sorry, I-I don’t know w-w—“

“I love you.”

Wanna see a specific character? Or a different head cannon? Want to see a whole story?

Send in requests!

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hstyleshoney · 4 years

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Stay With Me - part two

AU friends with benefits but things get complicated, like they always do

word count: around 8.5 K // angst, alcohol consumption, language, hints of sexual content

A/N: Wooow, I’m honestly soooo overwhelmed from the response on part one!! like thank you all so much!!!! I’m very nervous to post part 2 because I struggled with this part a lot more and I’ve edited over and over and I just don’t know.. I’m terrible at endings so I hope no one gets disappointed!! You’ve all been so nice so I really hope and want you enjoy part two as well! Happy reading! And pls do let me know what you thought about it bc I’m even more nervous this time around. Please be nice hehe

Enjoy! <3

PART 1 ♡

She never replied to Harry’s messages and nothing else really happened after that. The next few weeks went by in a bit of a haze and she didn’t see Harry except for one time when she stopped by Tom’s place with Louisa to pick up Lou’s purse that she had accidentally left there. They didn’t speak. She could barely look at him where he sat in the red armchair but when their eyes met for just a split second the evening of him kissing Cleo came flashing back to her. It was uncomfortable for everyone there and they didn't stay longer than necessary.

Then they were all just busy with exams and final projects and before anyone knew it was Christmas. She was going back home to Norwich and Harry was heading back home to Manchester. It was a nice pause from all the drama. Most of her Christmas break was spent playing cluedo with her brothers, helping her mother out in the kitchen and running away from her younger cousins. It was nice. It was fun. It was relaxing.

She didn’t think about Harry.

Not until she was on the coach back to London and she realized how badly she wanted to tell him about her neighbour's new puppy and how badly she wanted to tell him about the shitty movie she had watched with her dad because she knew he’d probably enjoy it.

And she realized that she did in fact miss him.

Then she got annoyed again. Because everything was fine between them and he just had to go on a date. A date with stupid Cleo who was so stupidly perfect and nice it was impossible to hate her.

Louisa kept trying to persuade her to talk to him because; “he’ll never know how you feel unless you say anything.”

But what was the point of telling him about her feelings when he had Cleo? If everyone else could see she was head over heels in love with him then why couldn't he see it himself? Why couldn’t he see the mess she turned into any time he was around? She refused to talk to him. She had made a mess of herself enough as it was already.

Besides, she hadn’t heard from him either so he had clearly made his choice and she wasn’t it.

Once back in London and back in her house with Lou, Beth and Aliyah she kind of forgot about him again. The girls all told her about their breaks and it was familiar and so calming. She felt just as much at home with them as she did going home to her actual family.

And no one asked about Harry so that was just a bonus.

On Friday the whole gang decided to meet up down at their favorite pub and once again she spent hours in front of her mirror preparing to see Harry again and trying to think of what to say if he was to come up to her. She was nervous. Almost as nervous as she was on her first day of uni and Louisa spent 30 minutes trying to calm her down.

It didn’t work.

The pub was packed when they arrived and they all ran into people they knew from their courses and caught up swiftly with everyone as they made their way through, trying to find the boys. Jax was the first one to spot them and leapt up to give them all a hug, spilling beer all over the floor as he moved.

Harry wasn’t with them though.

Not yet.

Him and Isaac were on their way Tom told them and her stomach was in knots as she sat there. She was waiting for him and she hated it. It frustrated her that he still had that effect on her despite everything that had happened the past few weeks. She knew the rest of them could see how much she was fidgeting in her seat but no one mentioned anything or asked her about it and for that she was thankful. It was embarrassing how everyone else seemed to know how she felt; everyone except Harry that is.

After a while the nerves got the better of her and she excused herself from the table. She wasn’t sure where she was going or what she was going to do; she just knew she couldn’t sit around waiting for Harry to show up.

So she walked over to the bar and sat down on her own for a while to collect her thoughts.

Around her the pub was loud. Everyone was laughing and having a good time catching up with their friends, sharing stories from their time off. The spirits were high but she was as low as ever. Having learned her lesson from the last time she drank while upset she decided to just order a coke and sipped at it slowly as she watched the people around the bar.

Time passed and slowly she felt a little bit better; almost ready to face the boy with curly hair who made her heart beat twice as fast. But someone approached her at the bar before she had the chance to move.

“What’s a pretty little lady like you doing all alone on a night like this?”

It was a guy. He winked at her as looked up at him and she had to stop herself from wrinkling her nose in disgust.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re way too gorgeous to be sitting all alone,” he said and leant against the countertop with a small smirk. “Someone ought to keep you company.”

“I’m good thanks,” she replied and gave him a sarcastic smile.

“Aw, c’mon,” the guy continued. He was dressed in a white t-shirt that was way too tight for him and some gray jeans equally as tight; not a look she’d rate very high. He also smelled too much of what she guessed was his aftershave and he obviously had a few too many beers because even though he was standing a few feet away from her she could tell his breath stank from it. “I promise I’m great company. Let me buy you a drink.”

“I’m sure you are,” she told him and rolled her eyes at him. “But I’m fine on my own.”

“Sassy, I like it,” he said as he took a step closer to her. She frowned at him as he did. “If you let me buy you a drink I can assure you you’re gonna have the night of your life.”

“Like I said, I’m not interested.”

“C’mooon, it’ll be fun! Just one drink and I can show you-”

“She’s not interested.”

A warm, strong hand was suddenly on her waist and her whole body froze at his familiar touch.

The guy took a slight step back as he saw Harry behind her. He was standing close to her. His chest pressed into her side. It was almost too close and she was too scared to turn around and look at him. But she knew it was him. She’d never mistake that voice or that touch.

“And who are you?” the guy asked and crossed his arms across his chest and she was sure his t-shirt was about to burst at the seams from how tight it looked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Harry replied firmly, his fingers digging into her waist slightly as he spoke. “She’s not interested, so back off.”

“Look, I dunno who you think you are-”

“Mate, just fuck off,” Harry interrupted him, already fed up. His voice was loud across the bar and it captured the interest of a few bystanders who turned their heads to look at the three of them. She blushed as they did but Harry didn't move. He stayed close to her, hand firm on her waist. The guy in front of her muttered something under his breath before finally leaving.

Then it was just the two of them. “You okay?”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“It looked like he was bothering you so... “ Harry said awkwardly and moved so he was standing in the same spot the guy was in just moments ago. She still couldn’t find it in her to look at him and kept her gaze on the drink in front of her. For some reason she was annoyed and it was hard to pinpoint exactly what was triggering her but one thing was certain; her emotions were running wild. She hadn’t seen him for weeks and then there he was. Just like that.

“Yeah, well, I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can,” he replied quickly and tilted his head to get a better look of her. “I just wanted to help. I care about you.”

“You care about me?” she scoffed. “Sure.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Hey,” he said and reached out to touch her arm. “Can you look at me?”

And she couldn’t. She really couldn’t. It was just too much. It felt like her head was about to explode from everything she was feeling. She was happy to be near him again. She was upset. She was angry. She was nervous.

And mostly she was so aware of his hand on her arm. It was burning almost.

“Why?” was all she managed to say.

“Because I’d quite like to look at you when I’m talking to you” he revealed and gently squeezed her arm. “You’ve been avoiding me. Why?”

It was at that moment something inside her shifted. She turned to look at him and pushed his hand off her simultaneously. Harry frowned.

“Are you being serious?” she hissed. She felt dizzy for a moment and all she wanted to do was to scream out in frustration. How could he be so dumb? How did everyone else figure out why she was upset besides him?

“I- yeah. Are you mad at me?”

She had to close her eyes for a second and took a deep breath to stop herself from losing it completely. All she wanted to do was to tell him that she was in fact mad. Fuming even. But there were people around the bar, around them, still watching and she did not want to give them more of a show than they already had. Harry kept his eyes on her though and didn't seem to care that they were in the middle of a full packed pub and she couldn't help but notice how tired he looked. He had dark circles under his eyes and his curls were dull and fell flat around his face and he also had a stubble longer than she had ever seen him with before.

And if she hadn't been so annoyed with him she would’ve worried something had happened and she certainly never would’ve said what she said next.

“Fuck you Harry.”

She didn’t stay around long enough though to find out how he reacted. Instead she turned her back to him and jumped off the barstol and marched right out of the pub without looking back. It was unclear exactly what had made her speak to him like that. It wasn’t like her to tell people to fuck themselves. Especially Harry.

It was far from what she had rehearsed in her mirror before they went out.

And it wasn’t until a strong hand grabbed her and she was face to face with him again that she realized he had followed her.

“What the fuck was that?”

She pulled her hand out of his grip and crossed her arms over her chest. It was colder outside than she remembered and in her hurry to leave the pub her coat and scarf was left behind. She felt stupid standing there infront of him only in her blouse and ripped jeans, but she couldn’t really think straight and all she wanted to do was to get away from him; which was a first.

Harry on the other hand didn’t look like he was freezing one bit in his much thicker jumper. Instead he looked quite irritated with her as well; which was also a first.

“What?” she snapped and Harry exhaled deeply.

“What’s going on with you?” He asked and she had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. The logical part of her knew she was being dramatic but something inside her had sparked. Something she wasn’t used to feeling when it came to Harry but it was too late to stop it all from coming out now. The way he was acting so inconsiderate about everything that was going on, like he had no idea as to why she could possibly be upset with him, stirred an anger in her that she had held back for too long now. How could he not know by now?

“What’s wrong with me?” she snickered. “No Harry, what’s wrong with you?”

Harry’s eyes widened and he faltered slightly as he stood before her. It just made her blood boil even more; because he really had no idea why she was upset with him. A part of her wanted to march off again but another part of her remembered Louisa's words to just tell him how she felt.

So she stayed.

“Are you mad at me?” Harry asked again. This time he was more hesitant as he spoke, almost as if he didn't want to find out the answer. And now she didn't even try to stop herself and rolled her eyes at him. What a stupid question. He looked at her with careful eyes and had this been any other time she would’ve swooned over how perfectly the green in his eyes matched his lilac jumper. But now she was just too worked up to care. She didn’t even pay attention to the people going in and out of the pub who looked over at the two of them with curious eyes.

“Yes!” She practically screamed at him.

It wasn’t like her to behave like this; to argue and shout at someone. She felt stupid almost for how good it felt to finally say it outloud and to admit it not only to herself but to Harry as well. She was in fact, underneath all of the sadness, actually angry and it was nice to finally have an outlet for all her feelings. It had all been locked up inside her for too long now. Harry looked at her with narrowed eyes.

Perhaps she was being unreasonable; having an argument with him in the middle of the street, in front of a pub of all places, but she couldn’t help it. She’d most likely regret it in the morning, because she was usually avoided conflicts as much as she could since it gave her a lot of anxiety just thinking about it, but at that moment it felt too good to stop. It was liberating.

“Is this about Cleo?”

Her heart almost stopped beating then; hearing the name leave his lips made her completely lose her train of thought and suddenly, in just seconds, the sadness in her chest was so present again and the anger faltered for just a moment. It hurt to hear her name. Cleo. The girl who was everything she wasn’t. It took everything in her to stop herself from falling apart right there and then. Especially with the way he looked at her. His eyes pierced right through her soul.

But she couldn’t turn back now, so she took a breath to gather herself again.

“Yeah, it is,” she admitted.

Harry breathed in deeply and his jaw tightened as he looked up at the dark sky, collecting his own thoughts.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

She laughed and dragged a hand through her hair in frustration.

“What was I supposed to say Harry? Tell you to not go on a date!?”

“If that’s how you felt, then yeah, you should’ve,” he responded and his voice matched hers. Harsh and taut. It was obvious her attitude had sparked something in him as well now. “Instead of biting my head off.”

“Oh, well at least I’m not the one who literally jumped from one girl’s bed to another!” It was a low shot and she knew it. A small part of her regretted it straight away but an even bigger part of her felt relieved. Relieved to finally be able to put into words everything she had felt for weeks.

“Wow, really?” Harry replied and scowled. She nodded. “You told me it was okay.”

“Yeah well,” she started and had to take her eyes off him for a second. It was overwhelming confessing to him how she actually felt about him dating someone else. Overwhelming to see him so tense and worked up. Overwhelming having an actual argument with him. Everything she felt was overwhelming; but there really was no going back now. “I guess I lied.”

“You lied?”

“Yeah.”

“You should’ve told me that and I wouldn’t ha-”

“You wouldn’t what?” she cut him off. “You left me behind like I meant nothing Harry! How do you think that makes me feel? You obviously didn’t feel the same way about it so what was I supposed to do? You wanted to go on a date and I had no right to stop you, that’s fine, whatever, it is what it is. But you didn’t have to be a dick about it.”

“When was I a fucking dick about it?”

“You literally forgot I existed after you met her.”

“I never forgot about you. I’ve tried to talk you. You’re the one who didn’t want to see me when I came over!”

She raised her hand and pointed directly at him, ready to give him another piece of her mind. Her body was shaking with emotions while her chest tightened and cheeks flushed red in anger. Her tears were dangerously close to falling at any second and she opened her mouth to speak.

Only to have nothing come out; because he was right.

He had tried.

And she didn’t know how to respond to that.

She was at a loss for words and slowly the feeling of shame and regret washed over her. She felt stupid and the way Harry looked at her now made her want to disappear. Harry dating Cleo had affected her in more ways than she ever thought it would. It hurt. It hurt so much.

It did however not give her the right to behave like this and tell him to go fuck himself. They were always just friends.They were never even close to being exclusive. She had no excuses. He didn’t owe her anything. She was never his type. She always knew that. Harry was never truly hers.

And she was lucky, because in the very same moment her tears rolled down her cheeks the door to the pub opened.

It was Louisa; who very hesitantly stepped outside to join them, and as Harry looked over at their new company she used those few seconds to quickly wipe away the small tears before he could see she was crying.

“Is everything alright out here?” Louisa wondered and looked between the two of them slowly; as if she knew exactly what was happening.

“Actually-”

“Yeah, everything is fine!” She interrupted him quickly once more before he got the chance to say anything about it and flashed Louisa a fake smile which she knew Louisa saw right through. Harry turned his attention back to her, jaw clenched shut with a look in his eyes she couldn’t really figure out. “I’m just heading home. I don’t feel too well.”

“You left your coat,” Louisa said and gestured to the beige coat in her arms.

“Oh, did I? Silly me.” She tried to laugh it off but more tears were dangerously close to falling and all she wanted to do was to get away from Harry before they did.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Louisa asked and looked at her knowingly. All she could do was nod because she didn’t trust her own voice to carry her anymore. She was too close to breaking.

And just like that Louisa linked her arms beneath hers, whispered a soft goodbye to Harry and they were on their way back home. She on the other hand didn’t say a single thing as they left and kept her eyes on the ground. She didn’t dare to look at him and her tears spilled over the second her back was turned to him and she leaned into Louisa. Her body felt so heavy and with every step she took she worried she might just fall over from how much her heart ached.

It took them a little awhile to get home but once they did Louisa made her a cup of tea and they sat down together in the living room. She felt empty. Everything she had felt earlier; the nervousness, the anger, the frustration, the sadness... it was all gone now. There was just nothing.

Louisa tried to talk to her a few times, but quickly figured that it was better to just leave her be for the time being. They sat together though and watched whatever random show it was that was on the television in stillness. She couldn’t take anything in. Nothing was registering in her head. Her mind was blank, with one exception. Harry.

She had never intended to get in a fight with him. She couldn’t stop replaying the fight in her head. Everything she had told him was how she felt, there was no denying that, but she wished she could’ve said it a bit nicer and not been so hostile towards him. Because it didn’t help the situation. Nothing was going to get better by shouting at each other. It was just so pointless the whole thing. She had exploded and she wasn’t proud of it. It was far from how she had imagined seeing Harry again would go.

Sure there wasn’t a version in her head that ended up with him wanting her again but never did she think she’d end up storming off the way she had. She had at least hoped that she would be able to be in the same room as him again after tonight but now she wasn’t so sure she ever would be.

She was incredibly grateful Louisa had come out when she did and stopped the argument before it turned uglier. She never would’ve made it home without her help.

But there was one thing that did in fact alarm her about Louisa's disruption and that was the fact that Louisa was ready to leave the second she stepped outside.

Which could only mean one thing - they had all witnessed the fight from the inside.

The fact that all their friends had seen and knew that something had happened between the two of them was more embarrassing to her than all the strangers that had seen and passed them on the street. Their friends had all seen her lose control over her emotions and it made her incredibly uncomfortable knowing they had. She didn’t know how she would ever be able to face them all again without wanting to sink through the floor.

It didn’t take very long until she had to see two of them though. Beth and Aliyah came home barely an hour after her and Louisa. They didn’t say anything about the argument at first. They just got themselves a cup of tea and joined them on the sofa.

It was Beth who eventually broke the silence when the end credits of the show they were watching came on.

“How are you?” she asked.

She didn’t reply at first. There were no words good enough to describe how she was feeling and she wasn’t even sure exactly what she was feeling; so she stayed silent and kept her eyes on the television.

“You can talk to us, you know that right?” Louisa said softly. “We’re here for you.”

“Yeah, Harry is the one being a twat,” Aliyah chimed in.

“Aliyah” Beth groaned.

“What? It’s true!”

It was exactly at that moment she broke her silence and let out a laugh. A laugh that little by little turned into a sob. Her three friends were all quick to her side and embraced her in the best way they could.

And then she told them everything.

About how Harry had first ended up in her bed, how she first thought she had her feelings under control, how he always left jumpers out for her to wear in the morning, how much it hurt her when he told her about the date with Cleo, how much she had missed him during Christmas, how he had stepped in during her encounter with the guy at the bar, how she had told him to go fuck himself and everything else that was said between them before Louisa exited the pub.

“One thing I don’t understand is how Harry missed all of this,” Beth said when she was finished and handed her a new fresh tissue to wipe her tears away. “He’s always so observant about everything that's going on around him and considerate, like I just don’t get it. We all thought he liked you.”

“He’s a fuckboy in disguise, that’s why,” Aliyah fumed and got another dirty look from Beth. “Ugh, c’mon, he is. It’s a shitty thing to do to.”

“He did look quite miserable when he came back inside.”

“Has he even apologized?”

“I don’t blame him,” she spoke quietly and interrupted her two friends. “Cleo is gorgeous.”

“So are you.”

“Not like her,” she sighed and looked down at her hands.

After Harry had stayed over at her place for the first time she couldn’t believe a guy like him even wanted to be with a girl like her. She thought he was just being friendly before that because they were in the same group of friends. But every time she woke up next to him it became more and more real to her. Every time they went home together kept her daydreaming about a future she knew would never exist. She got addicted to his touch and a losing game of love.

Now she couldn’t help but feel like a fool for ever thinking he could be hers. She hurt herself more than anything for putting herself in that situation to begin with. Maybe if she had just stopped thinking about what it would’ve been like to introduce Harry to her mother she could’ve saved herself from this heartbreak.

Or maybe if she had listened to Louisa in the first place none of this would’ve happened and Harry would’ve just been a simple one-night stand. But she got lost in him as soon as she saw him even though she was nothing more than a friend to him.

She was simply put defenceless against him.

“Stop it. Anyone would be lucky to be with you. You’re amazing.”

“Yeah, there’s plenty of fish in the sea.”

Aliyah gasped.

“You should get back on Tinder!” she exclaimed excitedly with wide eyes. “Go on a date with some hottie and forget all about stupid Harold.”

“I don’t know if I’m really ready for that yet,” she replied sadly.

“That’s okay,” Louisa smiled. “There's no rush. You’ve got all the time in the world to meet someone.”

She tried to give her a weak smile in return but it was near impossible. She felt completely drained after the evening she’d had.

And yet when she crawled into bed later on she was wide awake. With every breath she took she felt her anxiety grow. She couldn’t relax. It was impossible to think about something else. Her mind kept wandering to Harry no matter how much she tried to stop it. Did he ever think of her? Had he ever imagined it was her when he was laying next to Cleo? Did he miss her? Or was she just someone to keep him company during the cold dark nights?

The girls had all told her the aching in her chest would get better but she didn’t want to wait for things to change. She wanted things to be like how they used to. She wanted her sheets to smell like him again. She wanted to feel him run his fingers down her back and have him curled up next to her. If anyone told her she could get anything she wanted in the world; her only answer would be him.

And then there was a soft gentle knock on her door that brought her back from the dark hole she was making for herself. Aliyah peaked in carefully.

“You asleep?”

“No. ”

“Can I come in?”

“Mhm” She nodded and Aliyah stepped in and closed the door behind her before coming over to her bed and sat down.

“Look, I kinda just wanted to apologize if I sounded harsh earlier. I didn’t mean to. It’s just…” Aliyah fidgeted with the ends of her sleeves and sighed. “I hate seeing my friends upset, you know? Especially over some stupid boy. I just want you to be happy because you deserve it more than most people I know and I’m sorry if I pushed the Tinder thing. I know I can come off as quite unsympathetic sometimes but I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything. I understand that it might be a bit too early. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think you’re unsympathetic Aliyah,” she told her and for the first time that evening she managed to crack a small genuine smile. “I’m really glad I have you in my life. I don’t know what I’d do without you and I wish I could just put myself out there... I just don’t know how to.”

“You’ll figure it out eventually.”

“What if I don’t want to figure it out?”

“Well,” Aliyah started and scooted over to lay next to her. “No matter what happens or what you decide, you’ll always have us.”

Aliyah stayed in her room for the rest of the night and they talked about everything that didn’t involve Harry.

And with the help of her friend her mind got a small distraction and she eventually dozed off into a dreamworld where Harry had never gone on a date and still made her breakfast in the morning.

A week later she got tired of being so exhausted from going to sleep with such a heavy heart and decided it was time to stop feeling so sorry for herself. She had spent most of her week at home studying, throwing herself into her books more than ever before. She only left her house to go to her lectures and decided to not join the others down at the pub for quiz night.

She didn’t want to risk running into Harry.

However when her roommates came back home they told her Harry hadn’t showed up either and she could only think of one reason he hadn’t; he was with Cleo.

So with the help from her friends she set up a new profile on Tinder and started swiping. If he could move on then so could she. They spent the whole night reading and going through different guys profiles, swiping left and right. When her phone notified her later that she had a new message she threw her phone at Aliyah in panic who took over and stepped in without hesitation.

And that was how she ended up on a date.

His name was James.

She nearly had a nervous breakdown while she waited for him to show up; only for him to walk in looking like a model fresh off the runway. Her jaw almost dropped and she was a sweaty mess when he approached her and kissed her on her cheek. He was handsome. Almost too handsome; and he knew it.

But he was nice.

He was actually very nice, and polite. They had lots of things in common and there was never an awkward moment of silence between them. They talked all night about everything from what their favorite film was to silly stories about their childhood. She told him about how her brothers used to cover her in bubble wrap and use her as a human punch bag and how they were always punished for the mischief she got up to because their parents thought she was just too innocent and pure. Perks of being the youngest child and only girl she used to call it. She made him laugh and she felt proud. Confident even. He also made her laugh. He made her blush and he made her feel comfortable. The date was nice and it was exactly what she needed after everything that had happened.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with James. He didn’t have a single flaw.

... he just wasn’t Harry.

No matter how badly she wanted to like James her heart wouldn’t let her.

On the bus back home she felt guilty because James was such a nice guy and she had spent their whole date thinking about someone else. Harry was still so present in her heart and mind. She had compared the two of them all night. She couldn’t help herself. James didn’t have a single tattoo. He had shorter hair. It wasn’t curly. Not even wavy. He had a beard. Bright blue eyes. A different parfyme. A different accent. He didn’t wear any rings.

And all of it just made her realize how badly she wished it had been Harry. It was frustrating how easy he had just replaced her with Cleo while she couldn’t even go on one date with a perfectly good boy like James without thinking about his pretty curls and beautiful green eyes.

She was completely head over heels for Harry.

She sighed and leaned her head against the window of the bus and watched the small drops of water run down the glass. There was a light drizzle outside and it matched her mood quite nicely she thought and chuckled. Her life was just a big stupid cliche. If only she hadn’t been so scared from the start. If only she hadn’t suppressed her feelings for him for so long. If only she could’ve admitted how she felt earlier. Then maybe none of this would've happened. Maybe she would’ve had a chance.

She missed him.

That was the worst part. She missed being close to him; missed feeling his skin on hers.

But most of all she missed just talking to him.

Now they hadn’t spoken in months, except for the fight and she didn’t want to count that because it made her sick just thinking about it. The fight had made things worse and it was so stupid. If it wasn’t for the fight and the fact that she had a habit of avoiding her problems when it became too much they could’ve talked things through and at least had a chance to keep their original friendship. It would’ve hurt seeing him with Cleo but she was starting to feel like it was a lot worse not having him in her life at all.

And maybe it was the three pints of beer she had consumed during her date or the fact that James had made her feel a bit confident or maybe it was just the simple fact that she missed Harry that made her decide to go face her problems.

So instead of getting off the bus at her usual stop she waited three more before getting off.

And she ended up outside Harry’s building.

It wasn’t until after she had knocked on his door that she realized what a terrible idea this probably was. She didn’t even know if he was home. What if Cleo was there? What was she even supposed to say? She had no idea. Harry might not even want to see her.

Her head was spinning but it was nothing compared to how she felt when the door opened and Harry was standing in front of her.

“Hi” she breathed out. Harry’s eyes widened in surprise as he saw her.

“Hey?” he replied and she felt a little bit awkward standing there as he stared at her with a puzzled look across his face.

“Um, is this a bad time?” She felt light-headed and her heart was beating so hard inside her chest it almost hurt. She was scared; because if he shut her out now she might just pass out on the floor right in front of him.

“No, no of course not,” he answered quickly and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to flatten the wild curls on his head. He stepped a little to the side. “Do you wanna come inside?”

“Sure,” she nodded in relief. A tiny bit of hope sparked in her as he invited her inside; hope of what exactly she didn’t know but at least he hadn’t slammed the door in her face and that was always something. She followed him and felt her knees weaken as his familiar scent washed over her.

Isaac sat on the sofa and looked over at her in surprise as they passed. She nodded a shy ‘hello’ towards him and he greeted her back with a small wave. It wasn’t as hard as she had imagined it to be to see Isaac again after everything and it made her somewhat relaxed for what was to come.

Harry led her to his bedroom to get some privacy and she just couldn’t stop looking at him. She had spent all night wishing James was Harry and now here she was; standing right infront of him. He looked just as perfect as he always did. It took all of her willpower to stop herself from throwing herself over him. She wanted to feel his arms around her more than anything but she couldn’t and she had to stop imaging it because she was only making it harder for herself.

“What are you doing here?” He was the first one to break the silence. Her first instinct was to make up some story about how she was just randomly in the neighbourhood and lie about her reasons for knocking on his door so late. But lying wouldn’t make anything better and she had, for probably the first time ever, pushed herself to go face her troubles instead of going the other way.

She had simply come too far to lie now.

“I eh... ” she swallowed the big lump in her throat and took another deep breath, trying to calm herself down. “I came to apologize for how I behaved the other weekend.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Harry said softly.

“I want to,” she insisted. They were both still standing, neither of them taking their eyes off the other. It was awkward and she had no idea what to say next. She hadn’t really thought it through. All she knew was that she didn’t want this to end in tears. She didn’t want to shout and storm off. She wanted closure.

Harry nodded slowly and waited for her to continue. He had the yellow jumper on. The one she had borrowed so many times before. It made her heart skip a beat. “It was unnecessary of me. It was just hard to come to terms with everything I suppose. I don’t know... It felt like you kinda just forgot about me.”

“I didn’t,” Harry assured her and took a step forward to come closer to her but stopped himself before he could reach her, uncertainty written all across his face. “I could never forget about you. I’m really sorry I made you feel like I did.”

“Do you like her?”

“What?”

“Cleo. Do you like her?”

Harry didn’t say anything. He just looked at her, taking in every inch of her and she felt her blood rush to her cheeks. Time was frozen and it was so quiet between the two of them. She could hear cars passing by on the street below them and how the light drizzle had shifted and was now pouring down. It was hard to breathe with him right there because she couldn't figure out whether he was happy to see her again or not.

And when Harry still didn’t say anything the panic inside her started rising and she felt like the biggest idiot in London for even asking such a thing. “I mean,” she started and had to clear her throat before continuing. Her voice was shaky as she spoke and she didn’t know where to look; because looking at Harry just wasn’t an option anymore. He made her too anxious. What a stupid idea. “I totally understand if you do. She’s obviously so beautiful and you two look really good together and like I always knew you didn’t like me in that way and that’s okay, because I’m not like Cleo. I know that she’s prettier than me. I just miss you, and us. I don’t know. This is weird I shouldn’t have come I’m sorry I should g-”

She never got the chance to finish her nervous rambling.

Because within a matter of seconds Harry had moved from where he was standing, cupped her face and pressed his lips to hers. It all happened so fast her mind didn’t get the chance to understand what had happened at first. She just stood there in shock.

But as she realized Harry was indeed kissing her she melted right into him. His lips were warm and rough against hers. Everything else faded away the second their lips met. She didn’t have time to think about whether she should even be kissing him or not. It just felt so familiar she could cry. Her hands quickly found his hips and pulled him even closer, wanting him as close to her as physically possible. Kissing Harry again was so arousing and she needed it. She needed all of it.

It started out as a small and innocent kiss but when neither of them made an attempt to pull away from each other it deepened. His lips moved with hers with eagerness and she couldn’t get enough. She wanted all of him and despite having kissed him many times before it was like nothing she had ever experienced. She had spent weeks dreaming about kissing him again but it was nothing compared to the real thing; to actually be kissing him again.

Harry pulled back for a second to breath but she pulled him back in just as fast. He laughed lightly as she did but she didn’t care if she came off as desperate. She was. She couldn’t get enough of him. Lust had taken over her completely.

Harry’s fingers slipped through her hair and he deepened the kiss further, and her stomach fluttered when he swiped his tongue across her lower lip. She inhaled sharply as their tongues met. Her whole body was on fire. Harry groaned into her mouth and moved his hand down to her hips. He had a tight grip on her as he pushed her backwards towards his bed.

She fell back and landed on the bed with a gasp. Harry stood before her breathing heavily. His lips damp and begging to be kissed again. She reached out to pull him down to join her, already missing his touch, but he stopped her.

“Are you okay with this?” he panted and looked down at her with concerned eyes. The tension around the room was high and hot. She couldn’t really think. She could hardly breathe. Everything felt like a dream. It was hard to grasp what was actually going on and how they had gotten to this point, but she was okay.

“Yeah,” she whispered and extended her hand towards him. Both of them were breathing heavily while staring at each other. Nothing else mattered in that moment. She forgot about everything that had happened as she tugged at his arm, wanting him to join her. “I just want you to stay with me” she whispered and it was the most vulnerable she had ever felt.

His body was warm on top of hers as he joined her on the bed. He gently brushed a strand of hair away from her face and leaned down and placed a light kiss on her cheek. Then her other cheek. A kiss on her forehead. On her nose. Her jaw. Her neck.

Before he reached her lips he pushed himself up and looked down at her.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed.

Then he reconnected their lips.

She sighed happily into him and let her hands explore his body. He kissed her gently and slowly, but she didn’t want him to be gentle, not now; not after missing his touch for so long. She rolled her hips against his and he groaned again. She felt high. Every touch from him gave her goosebumps. It had been too long.

Her fingers finally found their way in under his jumper and Harry’s kisses became more urgent and hot. His skin was so smooth under her fingertips and it was almost intimidating touching him again, yet it felt so right.

It was Harry’s top that came off first.

Then hers.

And then they were naked; moving together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Skin to skin. Pressed tightly together. His hair tickled the side of her face as he moved over her and she left kisses anywhere she could reach. Desperate to feel all of him. A low moan came from him as she raised her hips to meet his.

And when her body later exploded in pleasure he held her close while she buried her face into his neck to muffle her cries.

They laid in silence after that. She rested her head on his bare chest as he stroked her back lightly. He pressed a lingering kiss on the top of her head and she didn’t really know what to say next. She had gone there hoping that they could move past everything and at least be friends. She never expected them to sleep together and now she didn't really know what to think of it.

Regret was slowly building up inside her because what if it didn’t mean anything to him? What if he still wanted Cleo? Maybe he still just saw her as a friend and just slept with her because he felt sorry for her.

But laying in Harry’s arms again felt like a dream and if it was the last time she got to do so she didn’t want to ruin it. She didn’t want to risk them arguing again; didn’t want him to tell her it was all a mistake. Not yet.

Instead she kept quiet, despite being even more confused about their situation than before. She was just too scared of what his answer to everything might be.

So she laid awake all night trying to come up with what to say to him once they woke up the next day and had yet another sleepless night, even with Harry right next to her.

Harry was gone when she woke up and her heart sunk a little when she noticed. She had managed to eventually get a few hours of sleep but she felt far from well rested, and it was disheartening to wake up and not find Harry next to her. She’s not sure what she expected. She had woken up alone in his bed many times before. Harry was an early riser and she just wasn’t. But now it just made the regret in her grow. She should’ve just gone home. It felt more and more like a mistake for every minute she stayed in his bed, and it was hard to find the motivation to get up and face reality.

His yellow jumper was folded and sat neatly at the end of the bed, almost like it was waiting for her. She couldn’t stop staring at it. She wanted to put it on more than anything and feel the soft fabric on her skin again; relish in his scent. It was so tempting, but she couldn’t. It didn’t feel appropriate.

She forced herself out of his bed and took a deep breath, trying to remember what her mom had taught her about mindfulness. She really should’ve read more of the books she had been given.

Her own clothes felt cold and stiff when she put them on. The warmth of the yellow jumper taunted her from it was sat and she tried to ignore the thought of just putting it on for a second.

Just breathe.

Harry was sat on the sofa when she found the courage to leave the safety of his bedroom. The flat was quiet and if she hadn’t seen him as soon as she stepped out she would’ve worried she was all alone. She tried to see if Isaac was anywhere near but couldn’t see him. It was just Harry, and he was too invested in the book he had in his lap to notice that she was approaching him.

It wasn’t until she sat down in the armchair opposite him that he realized she had actually gotten up and joined him.

“Oh, good morning,” Harry said and sat up a little straighter as soon as he saw her. He brushed off a few crumbs that was stuck on the front of his hoodie from breakfast in an attempt to look more presentable and put his book away.

A heavy silence settled over them almost straight away.

“Morning,” she replied quietly; wanting the awkwardness between the two of them to fade away. She nervously tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and tried to ignore the nausea that clawed at her throat.

“Did you sleep well?” Harry asked and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He couldn’t really look at her as he spoke and it didn’t help her feel better about the situation.

“Not really,” she admitted. Harry frowned a little and her stomach was in knots as they just sat there. It was their first morning together that was so awkward, not even their first morning together had been this uncomfortable. It didn’t feel right.

“Can I get you anything? Tea?”

“No, thank you.”

They both knew they needed to talk. The tension in the room said it all. It was obvious. She just didn’t know where to start and she was still too afraid to learn about the reasons he kissed her. He could’ve just kissed her because he wanted their old arrangement again. Friends with benefits. Maybe that was all she was to him.

Her heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

Then out of nowhere she remembered Cleo. Harry was with Cleo. She had forgotten all about the stunning girl with perfekt skin as Harry kissed her last night. It made her feel sick now, sick and dirty. She also felt a little angry again because it wasn’t fair of Harry to kiss her and sleep with her when he had Cleo. “You never answered my question last night,” she said flatly.

“Huh?”

“You never answered my question,” she said again and this time she looked right into his eyes as she spoke. The confident that made her come over in first place sparked a little inside her again. She didn’t want Harry to be with her if he had someone else. It wasn’t the type of relationship she wanted with him.“Do you like Cleo?”

Harry looked up and met her eyes after that and she held her breath waiting for his answer. She didn’t know what she would to do if he said yes.

Harry took a deep breath and licked his lips.

“No. I don’t.” His eyes never left hers. “I haven’t seen her since before Christmas.”

“Oh.”

She could feel her heart in her throat. He hadn’t seen Cleo since before Christmas. That meant he wasn’t seeing her when they fought which also meant this mess could’ve been sorted weeks ago if she hadn’t lost her control. How fucking stupid. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“I didn’t think you wanted to talk to me. You seemed like you wanted some space, wasn't gonna force you to.” Harry was calm as he explained. His voice was still a little raspy from sleep and he looked so warm and soft were he sat opposite her in his hoodie and matching sweatpants. Her head was spinning.

There were so many things she wanted to bring up and now when she kew that he wasn’t with Cleo anymore everything changed. Harry didn’t have anyone and he had kissed her last night; he had done more things than just kiss her and it was scary to think that maybe he had just done it because he was lonely and wanted some company. Maybe he had just been with her because he wanted to continue their friends with benefits thing until he found a new Cleo.

Maybe he would leave her again.

And it was scary to think about losing him to someone else. She couldn’t go through that again.“I heard you went on a date yesterday,” Harry acknowledged and cleared his throat to get her attention. It snapped her out of her thoughts. “How was it?”

“It was good,” she confessed.

Harry’s jaw tightened and he nodded slowly, a sour expression on his face, and she was a little taken aback by it. Was he jealous? It was something she had never thought about before; Harry being jealous about her dating someone else.

She couldn’t help but feel a little pleased at how he reacted hearing about her date as he took a deep long breath through his nose. It was about time he got to hear about her dates rather than the other way around. But she also decided to not leave out the most important thing. “He wasn’t for me though.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed and watched as Harry struggled to hold back a smile. It made her heart flutter and for once she didn’t feel so insecure about the situation she was in. “So, how come you broke things off with Cleo?”

She was still nervous though. The knots in her stomach were still there, along with a bunch of butterflies, and her fingers ached to reach out and touch him. It was close to impossible to not think ahead at this point but she tried her best, because she didn’t want to be left disappointed.

“She wasn’t for me,” he said. His eyes twinkled as he spoke and she noticed him shift in his seat again. This time she was the one who could’t hold back her smile.

Silence fell between them again but it was nowhere near as tense and uncomfortable as before. She knew her cheeks were flushed; she felt hot and light-headed. All she really wanted to do was scream out that she wanted him to be hers. She was tired of dancing around the subject and she wanted, needed, to know if he wanted her too. “I never should’ve dated Cleo,” Harry said and swallowed hard. She sat on the edge of her seat. “It was stupid, and the fact that you thought I forgot about you kills me. I could never forget about you. You’re too special to be forgotten"

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why was it stupid to date Cleo?”

“Doesn’t really seem fair to her when I’m in love with someone else.”

“Who?”

She had to ask. Her whole body trembled in anticipation and she was terrified despite having no real reason to be anymore. At least she hoped she didn’t. She didn’t want to be wrong.

“It’s you.”

And that was all it took for her to literally jump to her feet and throw herself over him. She accidentally knocked her nose into his going in for a kiss and it was sloppy and it was clumsy but she didn’t care. Not even a little. Neither did Harry.

Because at that moment nothing else mattered. Harry was in love with her. He wasn’t with Cleo; she wasn’t for him. He had told her so himself.

He was hers.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry #harry styles #harry styles concept #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles x you #hs #writing #harry fic #Harry Styles fic #stay with me #SWM

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grapesodatozier · 4 years

Text

Dreamboat

summary: Richie’s his pining mess self, and it only gets worse when he has sex dreams about Eddie every night for a week. Eddie asks him why he’s been avoiding him all week, love confessions and smut ensues~

tags/warnings: pining-typical angst and guilt in the beginning, but it’s all resolved by the end! also, this is top!eddie/bottom!richie bc i haven’t written that dynamic in forever, gotta balance the scales lol

this didn’t need to be 7k words, but it is lmao enjoy

(also, if you wanna be taken off or added to my taglist, lmk! i have one for reddie fics and one for all of my fics, so please specify which one you’d like to be added to. thanks!)

read on ao3 or below!

notsfw below the cut!

Richie could not believe this was happening a-fucking-gain. This was the fourth time this week that he’d woken up hard after a dream about Eddie. He ran his hands over his face and groaned, his skin burning from his face down his chest. Guilt sank low in his stomach as he shut off his alarm and stared up at the ceiling of his dorm room.

Guilt, and a sizable helping of heartbreak.

It had felt so real. He could still feel dream-Eddie’s fingertips ghosting over his skin. He could feel his tongue teasing over Richie’s own, so soft and warm and the perfect balance of rough and smooth. He could feel Eddie grinding against him. He could picture so vividly Eddie dropping to his knees, a sweet smirk on his face as he—

No. Fuck, fuck, no. Richie breathed in sharply through his nose and scrunched his eyes shut, willing his aching boner to go down. The emotional come down helped, realizing he would never get to touch Eddie like that, would never get to know what he felt like, how he liked to be touched. He tried to ignore it, he really did, he’d been trying to get over it for years. But how was he supposed to get over someone like Eddie? Richie had never felt his heart flip like it did around Eddie. He’d realized one day in the seventh grade that Eddie’s laugh made him feel different than anyone else’s, warmer. He wanted to know that Eddie was okay all the time, and he selfishly wanted to be the one to make him happy. His heart sang every time Eddie chose to sit next to him. The first time Eddie rested his head on his shoulder Richie thought he was gonna vomit. But, like, in a good way.

So yeah, being in love with Eddie was par for the course. It was a part of Richie as much as his freckles and knobby elbows. But these dreams… He’d had a few before, scattered here and there across the years, but he’d managed to black them out. One or two flukes was okay, right? He’d had a sex dream or two about Bill before. Hell, he’d had sex dreams about a cashier he saw once at a Burger King. It was fine. The mind was a weird thing.

But four in a week? That was different. It made him feel like a fucking creep; he made his own skin crawl. And they were so vivid. How could he look at Eddie now? How could he let Eddie touch him, not knowing what Richie had dreamt of those hands doing?

He bit his lip as he thought about it, the most confusing mix of arousal and shame blooming in his chest. He only came back to his senses when he tasted copper on his tongue. He did his best to shove the thoughts aside as he swung his legs over the side of his bed, halfheartedly tossing his comforter back toward the top of his bed before deciding to smooth it down more neatly. He took another deep breath and ran his hand through his hair, trying to collect himself enough to pick out an outfit for the day. He just needed to locate a shirt, boxers, and pants. And socks. God, why did that feel difficult?

Showering didn’t help clear his mind. Cocoa puffs didn’t help. Not even his acting class could help; his teacher just had them lying on yoga mats that smelled like disinfectant and stale rubber doing breathing exercises for the first half of class, which did absolutely nothing to calm him down or take his mind off of the fact that it was Friday, which meant movie night in Bill and Mike’s room. Nights when Richie and Eddie “fought” over who got to sit on the giant Yogibo before settling into it together, nice and dizzyingly close.

He managed to avoid sitting next to Eddie at lunch just by luck of the draw. But Eddie was still there laughing harder than anyone else at Richie’s jokes and trying to toss things into Richie’s cup without him noticing, and it still made Richie glow, he still pretended to not notice who was throwing things at him, playing along with Eddie’s innocent shrugs and smiles until he “finally” caught him, which in turn made Eddie burst into giggles that were so precious they made Richie want to cry. And then after lunch Eddie came up to Richie and touched him on the arm, making him jump like he’d touched a hot stove.

“Jesus, you good?” Eddie asked with a confused smile.

“Yeah, must be the static electricity,” Richie said, fumbling over his words, “or the fluorescents.”

Eddie gave him a look, but he was still smiling. “Okay, that was bad, even for you.” Richie gave a small laugh. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Do you wanna go to the Auburn to study? This stupid fucking poetry class is melting my brain, so I think you owe me a scone as compensation for making me sign up for it.”

Richie’s heart ached. There was nothing he wanted more than to fuck around with Eddie at one of the too-small tables at their favorite little coffee shop downtown. But then he was looking at Eddie’s lips and the guilt was rising in him again like bile. Or maybe it was actual bile. Richie clicked his tongue. “Sorry, you know I’d love to treat my little muffin to a scone, but I’ve got a paper to write and you know they turn the wifi off Friday to Sunday.”

The disappointment on Eddie’s face made Richie’s chest ache. “Okay, well, I’ll see you tonight then.”

“Wear those panties I like,” he winked, his mouth getting ahead of him as usual. God, Richie wanted to kick himself. And maybe puke. But Eddie left him with a smile and a playful shove, so Richie figured he wasn’t in too much trouble.

Richie, Stan, and Patty had been tasked with getting the pizza that night, so the three of them showed up to Bill and Mike’s after everyone else. Richie��s heart did flips when he saw Eddie lying sprawled across the giant bean bag, just like he always did when he beat Richie to it. He blushed when Eddie met his eyes and beamed, leaping up and bounding over to him. He nearly choked on his tongue when Eddie draped himself over his arm, having to get up on his tiptoes to rest his chin on Richie’s shoulder. Richie instinctively crouched down a bit to accommodate him.

“Did you get barbecue chicken?” Eddie asked, batting his eyes.

“I’m offended you would even have to ask,” Richie grinned as he opened the box. The others were scrambling around the boxes, trying to get slices of their choice, but Richie’s long arms gave him an advantage.

“Will you get me a slice?” Eddie asked.

“And let you get to the Yogibo first? I may be pretty but I’m not stupid.” Richie grinned as he lifted his plate far above Eddie’s head and spun around, finally able to breathe once he no longer had to worry about the electric feeling of Eddie leaning against him.

“You’re gonna regret that, Tozier,” Eddie huffed, but he could never hide his smile.

“Ooh, last names,” Richie grinned as he plopped himself down on the beanbag, fully spread eagle. “I’m scared now.”

Eddie stuck his tongue out at him before ducking under Bill’s arm to get at the pizza he was going for. Richie really tried not to linger on how cute that was.

However, it was becoming quickly apparent that Richie was not going to be able to avoid those thoughts, as well as his less savory ones. As soon as Eddie got his pizza, he was standing over Richie with one hand on his hip. Richie made sure to look at his face and not his thighs, which his movie night sleep shorts left on full display. Richie didn’t dare let himself look down, because right then he was wondering if he’d be able to see up Eddie’s shorts from this angle. God, he bet he could. “I was sitting there,” Eddie groused.

Normally Richie would’ve replied with something crude, would’ve grabbed his crotch with an obnoxious wink and said, “I’ve got a seat all warmed up for you right here, baby.” But now his stomach twisted at that, and when Richie managed to stop himself from saying something he struggled to come up with something else. So all he could manage was a halfheartedly sarcastic, “Here?”

He pointed to what he thought was the beanbag, but Eddie apparently had something else in mind. “Yeah,” he smiled before dropping himself into Richie’s lap with a grace and bounce that left Richie breathless. “Right here.”

Eddie looked so smug, and he was on Richie’s lap, and Richie could feel the situation getting real bad for him real fast. So, setting the slices of pizza aside so as to not earn himself any disappointed looks or lectures from Bill and Mike about respecting and maintaining the cleanliness of their space, he grabbed Eddie by the waist, doing his best to ignore his own rushing blood and the amused look on Eddie’s face. “Alright, short stack, you ever try asking a guy to move over?” With Eddie lifted, Richie scooted over to one side of the bean bag, then plopped Eddie on the other. Richie couldn’t decipher the look Eddie was giving him, but it somehow was making him even hotter under the collar than Eddie sitting in his lap had.

Richie thought he was safe when Eddie huffed and grabbed his pizza, but he barely had three seconds to breathe before Eddie was wriggling his way across the bean bag to press himself against Richie. “You’re taking up the whole thing,” he grumbled as he tucked himself against Richie. Richie could not have been closer to the edge of the bean bag, but he didn’t have the breath in his lungs to say that. Every time he breathed he could smell Eddie’s shampoo, clean and fresh and somewhat minty. Richie shovelled his pizza into his mouth so he wouldn’t have to respond. And to give himself something to do with his arms other than wrapping them around Eddie and pulling him closer.

Richie could not for the life of him focus on the movie. He felt like he was dropping on a rollercoaster, but it had been twenty minutes and the feeling hadn’t stopped. Eddie kept shifting, but never away from him, and Richie was going to lose his mind. Then, Eddie leaned up to whisper something to Richie, and he couldn’t even process what he was saying, just that the feeling of Eddie’s breath warm and soft on his neck was going to make him pop a boner. Eddie’s face was so close to his, and his hand was on Richie’s chest, and Richie couldn’t stop seeing his dreams playing on repeat.

Eddie’s tongue in his mouth.

Eddie’s hands running down from his chest, to his stomach, lower…

Eddie on his knees, Eddie in Richie’s lap, Eddie on top of him, inside—

“Well!” Richie exclaimed, rolling off the Yogibo with the grace of a newborn calf, popping up to the fond annoyance of his friends, “I do say, nature calls, so pip pip and tally-ho, off I must go to the loo.”

“Seriously?” Eddie groaned.

“Hey, you’re the one who’s always telling me to stay hydrated!” Richie retorted. “You’ve only got yourself to blame for this waterfall.” Really? he thought to himself. Yeah, that’s gonna get him to like you. Nice one, dumbass.

“You know you really don’t have to announce that,” Bev snickered, throwing Mike and Ikes at him until he reached the door.

“Alright, alright, tough crowd. Try not to miss me too much.”

He could hear Stan yelling something about not getting lost on his way back as he closed the door, finding himself alone in the hallway of Bill and Mike’s dorm.

God, fuck, he was so fucked. He had to take himself on a walk up and down the hallway just to calm himself down. Eddie made him so hot, like he was burning up. And he’d thought his feelings were messy before he started having the dreams. Eddie whispering to him like that, touching him like that… He knew when he got back in the room that he couldn’t do it. He felt a guilt heavy in his stomach when he plopped down next to Bill, squeezing himself in obnoxiously, but he knew he couldn’t be next to Eddie just then, not without crawling out of his skin.

He ignored the weird look Bill gave him, the weird looks everyone gave him. He ignored the way Eddie kept glancing over at him, looking so small sitting on the bean bag by himself. He ignored the aching in his chest when Eddie asked Ben and Bev to walk him home instead of Richie. He told himself this was better as he walked home alone, that yeah, he missed Eddie’s banter, he missed the sleepy way he would bump into Richie, but it was better this way, better to get some distance and let the dreams peter out. Maybe if he didn’t touch Eddie, maybe if he didn’t see him for a few days he’d get his lips out of his mind, maybe he could forget the way Eddie’s skin felt against his own, and then the dreams would stop. Things could go back to normal if he could just stay away for a bit.

But that night only brought another dream, one filled with moans and giggles and Eddie’s hands and tongue all over him, inside of him. Another dream that had his blood rushing to his cock.

He woke up hard and grinding against his mattress. His mind still lingering in the dream, the sensations still fresh in his mind, warming his skin, Richie rolled over onto his back and desperately shoved his hands down his boxers. He stroked himself tight and fast and came into his fist in under a minute, his toes curling and his breath coming out in gasping moans. It took a minute for his mind to clear. Once it did, his blissful haze shattered pretty abruptly. “Fuck,” he muttered, reaching for the roll of toilet paper on his desk to wipe his hand off with. He tossed the wad at his trash can with way more force than necessary before angrily throwing his sheets and comforter off of himself. He needed a fucking shower. A cold one.

He didn’t get why the fuck this kept happening. Like, fuck, the dreams were amazing, sure. But Eddie was never gonna touch him like that. He could dream and fantasize all he wanted, but that was all he was ever gonna get.

He dodged Saturday brunch, grabbing a cinnamon roll from the dining hall and eating it in his room alone. He ignored Bill’s text asking if he wanted to talk about the night before. He holed up in his room and threw himself into the essay he had to write, hoping that that would be enough to make him forget. But finding quotes didn’t exactly scratch the same itch, and his mind kept drifting to Eddie, always Eddie, whispering in his ear, touching his chest on the bean bag the night before. There was no song he could blast loud enough to get it out of his mind.

It was around three when Richie heard an insistent knocking at his door. He paused the music and groaned, figuring Bill had come by to talk to him. But when he opened the door, Eddie was standing there with his arms crossed. Richie’s heart stopped. “Hey,” he said, “wasn’t expecting you. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

But Eddie was already pushing past him into his room. Richie closed the door; the pout on Eddie’s face made him figure this was about to be a door closed kind of conversation. Which made him want to vomit, but here they were. Eddie took a breath, paused, then finally blurted out, “Did I do something wrong?”

Richie’s head was spinning. “What?”

“You’ve been weird all week.” Shitshitshitshit. “You didn’t wanna study together, you sat next to Bill last night, you haven’t called me Eds in days—” Eddie cut himself, his voice breaking and eyes falling to the floor. Richie’s heart was beating so hard he was pretty sure he’d be able to see bruises on his chest in a few hours. “So, what, are you mad at me? ‘Cause whatever I did, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what I did, I don’t know why you’re avoiding me like this.”

“Eddie,” Richie started, stepping toward him. He reached his hand out, but let it drop. He was so torn. Eddie looked so small, so sad and confused, all Richie wanted to do was scoop him up into his arms and make everything better. But how could he touch him? How could he make this better? How could he explain what was wrong without scaring Eddie off? “Fuck, Eddie, I don’t know what to tell you.”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because Eddie’s eyes started filling with tears. “So, what? You just don’t like me anymore?”

“What? No, fuck no, Eddie, jesus, I love you!” Richie blurted. Every nerve in his body was screaming at him to run out the door, to get the fuck out of there, to not say anything more. But fuck it, he couldn’t see Eddie cry and do nothing. Grossing him out was better than hurting him, right? Eddie didn’t say anything, but he wiped a tear away and stood up a little taller, his eyes wide, urging Richie to go on. Richie took a tentative step closer before deciding against it and leaning against his bed. “Fuck, this is so awkward. Um. So, okay, so I’ve been acting weird.”

“Yeah?” Eddie prompted, turning toward him. He started to move closer, then apparently thought better of it.

“And I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” Richie ran his hands over his face, pushing his glasses up then readjusting them. “Fuck,” he said with a humorless laugh. “So um. So you’ve kinda been livin’ rent free in my dreams this week.”

Eddie gave him a confused look.

God he was gonna have to spell it out, wasn’t he? “Like…” Richie mimed jerking himself off. Eddie raised his eyebrows. “Like, every fucking night this week.”

“Oh.” Eddie’s cheeks were pink.

“Yeah. So, you know. Kinda makes it hard to be around you knowing I’m such a fucking creep.” Richie gave a sheepish smile.

Eddie gave him a long suffering look.

“Sorry, that was supposed to come out a lot funnier than it sounded—”

“Richie,” Eddie sighed, walking over to him. Richie straightened up, his heart in his throat as Eddie stood right in front of him. “You’re not a creep for having some wet dreams.” He gave him a smile and smacked him playfully on the chest. “I can’t believe that’s the whole reason you’ve been a dick this week.”

“Yeah, but it’s different,” Richie said before he could stop himself, thoughts flooding out on their own.

“Why? Because we’re friends? I mean, sure, maybe every night for a week is kind of a lot, but I can’t say I’m not flattered.” He smiled then, but it softened, and he took Richie’s hand in his, running his thumb comfortingly over Richie’s skin. “I’m definitely not creeped out.”

You have to tell him, Richie’s mind screamed at him. You have to fucking tell him. If you don’t tell him now you never will. “Not just because we’re friends,” he whispered, his voice shaking. He tried to slip his hand out of Eddie’s, but Eddie just held him tighter as he looked into Richie’s eyes, waiting for more of an explanation. “I’m kinda, like… in love with you.” He waved his free hand in a ta-da motion, hoping to god that he could joke his way into making this less painful for both of them. Eddie’s eyes widened, but he didn’t let go, he didn’t move or say anything, and fuck, what was Richie supposed to with that? Fill the fucking silence was his go-to, so he started rambling, but nothing that came out was funny. “So, it’s like, the dreams are shit I’ve thought of, y’know? And I feel really fucking gross, because like, I’d do it. And I didn’t want you to find that out and think that I was taking advantage of you or whatever by letting you cuddle me and shit, because, fuck, when you were whispering to me last night, and pressing against me, I want that, y’know? You were gonna give me a fucking heart attack, and that’s weird, that’s gross, and I didn’t want you to be mad, or to leave me—” He broke on that and had to bite his lip to keep himself from crying.

“Richie,” Eddie sighed, pulling him down into his arms. Richie collected himself as Eddie held him, slowly bringing his arms around Eddie, trying to process what was happening.

“You’re not mad?” he asked as he pulled away. Eddie cupped his face, and Richie couldn’t help but lean into his hand.

“Why would I be mad? All you’ve done is love me back.”

Richie’s eyebrows lifted hopefully. “Back?”

“Yes, back,” Eddie grinned. “I love you, too. I’m in love with you, too.”

“Fuck, for real?”

Eddie giggled and leaned up on his toes, bringing his lips to Richie’s. Richie placed his hands lightly on Eddie’s waist, kissing him back softly, making sure this was all happening, that touching him like this was okay. Once he was sure he wasn’t being pranked, he wrapped his arms around Eddie and pulled him closer, kissing him deeply, hungrily. God, he’d needed this for so many years, but he never could’ve prepared himself for how amazing it would feel. Eddie’s lips were so soft, so intentional with every move, and Richie could feel him smiling as he pulled him closer into him. Eddie’s arms were wrapped around his neck, their chests were pressed together, still Richie needed more, needed him closer. He needed to satiate the years and years of pining.

“God, Eddie, Eds, my love, I love you so much.” He felt breathless and giddy to finally say it.

“I love you, too, Rich,” Eddie beamed, kissing the corner of Richie’s mouth, then his cheek, then his jaw. Richie moaned as Eddie pressed a kiss to the pulse point where Richie’s jaw met his neck and ran his hand over Richie’s chest, just like he had the night before. “So these dreams… what happened in them?” Richie shuddered at how low Eddie’s voice had gotten. “What was I doing in them?”

“Shit, what weren’t you doing?” Richie laughed breathlessly. “Sucking me off on your knees, stroking me and kissing my neck, fingering me, fucking me…”

“Yeah?” Eddie asked, his eyes sparkling. Richie gasped as Eddie’s hand travelled lower, teasing over Richie’s belt. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Fuck, yes.” Richie’s breath trembled over the words. He had to grab the bed behind him to steady himself when Eddie’s palm pressed against Richie’s cock, which was quickly growing hard under his touch. At the same time, Eddie nuzzled his face against Richie’s neck, kissing the sensitive skin there. RIchie couldn’t help but moan and roll his hips into Eddie’s hand. “Eds, fuck…” he groaned. Eddie kept kissing his neck, his lips wet and warm and soft, and he tightened his grip on Richie a bit, the outline of Richie’s hard cock clear through his jeans by this point.

“Is this what you want, baby?” Eddie murmured against his skin. Before Richie could gather himself to respond, Eddie was swiftly dropping to his knees. His brown eyes were wide and full of faux innocence, glittering with mischief as he looked up at Richie. “Is this what you dreamt about?”

“Yes, fuck, oh my god,” Richie whined, his voice thin and already so desperate as Eddie rubbed his face against the tent in Richie’s jeans. “Please, please, will you suck me, baby?”

“Wow, you’re so polite when you’re turned on,” Eddie mused. Then, with a wink, “I’ll keep that in mind.” God, Richie was excited to find out what Eddie meant by that, but for now he was fully occupied with watching Eddie undo his belt, then the button on his jeans, then his zipper. Richie got with the program as Eddie tugged his jeans down and stripped his shirt off, tossing it aside as he stepped out of his jeans, leaving him in his boxer briefs. He giggled at the exasperated look on Eddie’s face. “Where the fuck did you find Hello Kitty boxers?”

“What, like it’s hard?” Richie said. “You can find anything on the internet, my love.”

Eddie shook his head, but he was smiling. “I really love you,” he sighed, leaning in and pressing kisses to Richie’s stomach. He took his time trailing his lips down. “God, you’re so hot,” Eddie murmured against his skin, nuzzling into the patch of dark hair just above his waistband. “Every time your fucking shirt rides up I get half hard, can’t believe I’m finally getting my mouth on you.” Richie cursed as Eddie ran his lips over the outline of Richie’s cock.

“Fuck, Eds, please.” Richie had one hand still supporting himself on his bed, but the other was now in Eddie’s hair. “I need you so fucking bad.” Richie felt his breath being knocked out of his chest when Eddie looked up and met his gaze as he sucked on the head of his cock through the fabric. But this time it was a fun breathlessness, the best kind of breathlessness. Feeling himself leaking, his cock throbbing, Richie let out another, “Eddie baby, please,” genuinely whining.

Eddie gave him a satisfied grin as he finally pulled Richie’s boxers down and let his cock bob up against his stomach. “Fuck, you have such a nice cock,” Eddie marvelled. Richie gasped as Eddie wrapped his fingers around him, stroking him. “Did you touch yourself after your dreams? Did you make yourself come while thinking about me?” Richie couldn’t believe Eddie, his Eddie Kaspbrak was talking to him like this. It made his head spin.

“Yes, oh fuck,” Richie groaned as Eddie lapped at the head of his cock, his tongue all pink and warm and wet. He pressed it flat against the base of Richie’s shaft and licked him all the way to the tip, never breaking eye contact as he did. “God, it feels so much better when you do it.”

“I know, baby,” Eddie purred. Richie let out a strangled moan as Eddie tongued at the sensitive bundle of nerves under the head of Richie’s cock. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

Richie had barely gotten out another, “Please,” when Eddie wrapped his lips around him and bobbed his head forward. Taking him in his mouth. Sucking on the head, making his knees shake. “Eds, fuck, oh my god,” Richie moaned. His eyes fluttered shut as Eddie took him further down his throat, but he didn’t wanna miss this. He’d already messed up Eddie’s hair, and his cheeks were pink and hollowed as he ran his tongue along Richie’s shaft, as he moved his lips over him. Eddie looked him in the eyes as he slid off with a popping sound, clearly happy with himself as he swirled his tongue around the head of Richie’s cock. To Eddie’s credit, the triumphant smirk was well-earned; Richie was already a whimpering mess, his knees trembling. “Eds, want you, please.”

“What do you want, baby?” Eddie asked. His voice was soft as he covered Richie’s cock in kisses that were so sweet in the filthiest way.

“Wanna touch you,” Richie breathed. “Please, I need to feel you.”

Eddie groaned and pressed one more heated, sloppy kiss to Richie’s hip before standing up and bringing their lips together. Richie leaned into it, happily pliant in Eddie’s hands. He was still chasing the feeling of Eddie’s lips against his own when Eddie pulled back to pull his shirt off over his head.

“Oh fuck,” Richie muttered, staring at Eddie’s chest. Richie’s entire body burned as he drank in Eddie’s skin, the toned muscles underneath. Was he really allowed to look at him like this? Was he really allowed to let his gaze linger as long as he wanted?

His hesitation must have shown on his face. Softly, Eddie said, “Touch me.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Richie joked, but his voice shook, and his movements were slow as he brought his hands to Eddie’s chest, sliding them down to his waist and pulling him in. He saw Eddie grin, then felt it against his lips. Richie melted into it. God, Eddie’s chest felt so nice pressed against his own. He was so warm, his heartbeat right against Richie’s. As much as Richie’s heart was racing, he felt so incredibly safe. And that safety and warmth flooded into heat as Eddie shifted Richie’s hands down, guiding them to his belt. “Fuck,” Richie shuddered, fumbling to undo Eddie’s belt. He couldn’t get his hands to stop shaking.

“I got it,” Eddie giggled, gently pushing Richie’s hands away. Richie watched in awe as Eddie rid himself of his jeans, leaving himself in tented Calvin Klein boxer briefs.

The fumbling and giggling actually helped Richie relax—enough to laugh as he pressed his lips to Eddie’s neck and palmed him through the black fabric. “You are such a brand whore.”

“Fuck you,” Eddie laughed breathlessly, bucking into Richie’s touch.

“Oh, you better, Mr. Gucci,” Richie winked. Eddie shook his head and brought his lips to Richie’s. He slid one hand down and took a hold of Richie’s wrist, guiding his movements.

“Don’t worry, baby, we’ll get there.” Richie groaned at the low tone in Eddie’s voice; he had no idea he could sound like that. He dipped his hand past Eddie’s waistband and wrapped his hand around Eddie’s cock, unable to wait any longer. He moaned as soon as he felt him, his cock hard and smooth and warm in his hand. Kissing his neck, he stroked Eddie slowly, running his fingers over him. “Fuck, that feels so good,” Eddie moaned. “Just like that, baby, yes, fuck.” While Eddie pushed his boxers down and stepped out of them, Richie spit into his palm, wrapping it around Eddie’s cock as soon as he was ready, getting it wet. They both groaned at the slick, smooth way Richie’s hand slid over Eddie. Richie’s chest bloomed with warmth as Eddie leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Richie’s shoulder, pressing kisses to Richie’s chest.

“You are so fucking hot,” Richie said, pressing kisses to Eddie’s hair. Then, feeling emboldened by the way Eddie moaned and rocked his hips into his fist, he continued, “Can’t fucking wait to feel you inside of me.”

“Fuck, I love you,” Eddie groaned. He pulled Richie into him, kissing him deeply, messily, desperately. Stroking him faster, Richie kissed back, matching his passion. “Oh my god, fuck, Richie, get on the bed.”

“Holy shit, yeah, okay,” Richie breathed, scrambling to do as Eddie said. At first he sat up, unsure where to put himself. But Eddie made it clear what he wanted as he climbed between Richie’s legs and pressed his hand against Richie’s chest, guiding him to lie back. With the way Eddie draped himself over Richie’s body and brought their lips together, running his hands over Richie’s thighs, he really truly could not believe this was his life. He moaned into Eddie’s mouth as their cocks rubbed together. “I love you,” he panted as Eddie kissed down his neck. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Eddie looked up at him and gave him a smile, pressing a kiss to his lips, one much softer than his previous ones. “So have I.”. Running his hands appreciatively over Richie’s body, he asked, “You sure about this?”

“Fuck yes,” Richie said, nodding enthusiastically.

Eddie giggled and kissed him again. “Do you have lube and condoms?”

“Top drawer of my desk.” As Eddie leaned over to grab them, Richie said, “God, this is actually happening, wow, okay, fuck. I’m clean by the way, like STD-free and everything, and also in the shower earlier—”

“Hey.” Richie shut up as Eddie stroked his hair. “Relax, okay? I’m gonna take care of you. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.” Richie nodded, but that wasn’t why he’d been rambling. Luckily, Eddie knew him, and he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to Richie’s lips and told him, “You’re my best friend, you know that?” Richie let out a small breath as Eddie kissed the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, then his chest. “You are so gorgeous.”

Richie grinned. “So what you’re saying is you only like me because I’m hot?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yes.” He cut off any response by spreading Richie’s legs.

“Oh, fuck,” Richie moaned, happily going where Eddie guided him. The satisfied smirk on Eddie’s face made Richie glow.

He watched, enraptured, as Eddie poured the lube onto his fingers and spread it around. He watched Eddie’s eyes track his own movements as he brought his fingers down between Richie’s legs before looking up at him. “You ready?”

“Hell yeah,” Richie said, his grin wobbly from how breathless Eddie already had him. Eddie snickered at that before circling Richie’s entrance and slowly pressing his finger inside of him. Richie gasped, his head falling back to the pillow with a broken moan. He tensed at first, but soon relaxed as he felt Eddie work him open.

“You look so good,” Eddie murmured, almost as if to himself. It made Richie blush. He really wants this, he thought to himself, He really wants me. He settled comfortably into that reassurance as Eddie pressed kisses to Richie’s thighs and hips as he worked him open, thrusting his finger in and out gently. When Richie began rocking his hips with Eddie’s movements, seeking more, Eddie complied and thrust into him faster, soon adding a second finger. Richie moaned at the stretch and spread his legs wider. “Do you like that?” Eddie asked.

Richie could tell from his voice that he knew the answer. Still, he breathed a blissed out, “Yes,” and groaned as Eddie thrust even deeper inside of him. It felt so amazing, Eddie’s fingers filling him up, sliding in and out of him. Just as he was settling into the rhythm, his mind pleasantly warm and fuzzy, Eddie curled his fingers, sending waves of electric pleasure through Richie. “Oh my fuck—” Richie cried, arching off the bed. He twisted his fingers in the sheets as Eddie’s fingers continued to graze over his prostate, making him buzz, the pleasure so deep and so intense.

And Eddie had the nerve to fucking giggle. “What? Does that feel good?”

“God, yes, yes, oh my god, oh my fucking god, fuck,” Richie answered, his words a string of broken whimpers. As he continued massaging that sweet spot, Eddie leaned forward and licked a stripe up the underside of Richie’s cock, making him practically scream. “Eds! Fuck, fuck, not gonna—shit oh my god, I’m not gonna last if you keep doing that.”

Eddie looked up at him, feigning innocence. “You want me to stop?” Richie was so conflicted as Eddie licked the tip of his cock in short, light strokes, making his cock throb as he lapped up the precome dripping down the head. It was fucking heaven, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out if Eddie kept going, and he needed to feel Eddie inside of him. So, reluctantly, he nodded. “Why? What do you want?”

“God, fuck me, please,” Richie whined, shamelessly impatient and petulant.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Eddie said. He pressed slow kisses to Richie’s hip as he slowly pulled his fingers out. Richie sat up on his elbows to watch as Eddie rolled the condom onto his cock.

“Now that’s hot,” Richie said as Eddie poured lube onto his cock and stroked it, spreading the lube around. Eddie grinned and leaned down to kiss him. Richie ran his fingers through Eddie’s hair, holding him close a moment, really feeling his lips, the way he kissed him. He melted when Eddie pulled back and nuzzled his nose against Richie’s. He straightened up a bit then and lined his cock up with Richie’s hole. Eddie gently took Richie’s chin in his hands, guiding his gaze up to meet his.

“Are you ready?”

Looking into Eddie’s eyes, warm and brown and more familiar than the back of his own hand, Richie had never been more ready for anything in his life. “Eddie, my love, I’ve been ready for this for years.” His voice was soft as he reached out and stroked Eddie’s arm. “I am so in love with you and so, so, very horny.”

“Richie,” Eddie sighed, an exasperated but amused grin on his face. “I love you, too.” Any other words Richie might’ve said died on his tongue as he felt the head of Eddie’s cock begin to stretch him open. He held Richie’s hips still with one hand and intertwined his fingers with Richie’s with the other. “Tell me if it’s too much, or if there’s anything you don’t like, okay?” Richie nodded, squeezing Eddie’s hand. He took a deep breath as Eddie moved his hips forward, going slow, letting Richie adjust. He needed a few moments to even out his breathing and get used to the sensation; as amazing as it felt, it was a lot. Soon, however, he was pressing his lips to Eddie’s knuckles and asking him to move. He gasped as Eddie pulled his hips back, but all of the tension flowed out of his body as Eddie pushed back in. It felt so natural, having Eddie inside of him, being connected like this. He could feel every nerve in his body sighing out a finally. “How does it feel?” Eddie asked. His voice was soft as he slowly, shallowly rocked his hips.

With a lovestruck grin on his face, Richie answered, “Perfect.”

A look crossed Eddie’s face then, one full of love and overflowing feelings. Richie only had a second to commit it to memory before Eddie leaned down and kissed him, kissed him like he wanted to press all of those feelings into Richie’s lips to make him understand them. Richie had a feeling he would never forget what Eddie looked like in that moment, how it felt when he kissed him like that.

He whimpered when he felt Eddie tease his tongue over his, somehow gentle and so, so dirty at the same time. Eddie groaned and leaned in further, deepening the kiss and pressing his cock even deeper into Richie. Richie moaned at how good that felt; it was so much, almost too much, but he needed more. He rolled his hips as Eddie kissed him, pressing small moans into Eddie’s mouth every time his cock brushed against Eddie’s toned stomach. Searching for something to hold onto, something to ground him, his hands ran up and down Eddie’s back, gripped at his shoulders. It felt so amazing to have him so close, to be able to linger and really appreciate the feeling of Eddie’s soft, warm skin under his hands. “I’ve wanted to hear you moan like that for me for so long,” Eddie murmured, kissing along Richie’s neck, making him shudder.

“Feels so good,” Richie breathed, his ability to string a complete sentence together already faltering.

“Yeah?” Eddie said, smirk evident in his voice. Richie moaned and threw his head back as Eddie picked up the pace of his thrusts. Hands sliding down to Richie’s hips, holding him up a bit as he fucked him harder, Eddie told him, “Fuck, you look so good like this. You feel so amazing.” Richie’s skin burned under the praise. He went to cover his face with his arm, not used to being complimented like that, but Eddie caught him by the arm and brought his lips to the inside of Richie’s wrist. He couldn’t believe how good such a simple touch felt. It had him bucking his hips into the air, his cock begging for attention as pleasure bloomed deep inside of him. It had him whimpering for more.

“Harder,” he begged. “Please, please fuck me.” With a hungry look, Eddie leaned over and pinned Richie’s wrist above his head and began fucking Richie hard and deep and fast, just like he’d asked for. Richie’s eyes went wide as he let out a broken, “Yes.” He threw his head back and screwed his eyes shut, really feeling every thrust. Eddie was fucking him so good, filling his room with the sound of skin on skin and Richie’s desperate moans of yesyesyesrightthereohfuckyesyesfuckyes. As he opened his eyes to find Eddie’s hooded and trained on his face, Richie couldn’t help but let out a dreamy, “I love you.”

Eddie groaned and pressed himself against Richie, chest to chest, his face buried in Richie’s neck. “I love you so much.” Richie wrapped his arms and legs around Eddie and held him tight. Eddie rolled his hips, burying his cock so deep inside Richie before pounding into him hard and fast again. With the way Eddie was fucking him, Richie’s cock sliding between them where they pressed against one another, Richie was getting close fast. It was all so much in the best way. He buried his face in Eddie’s shoulder, biting down. His muffled moans were punctuated by every thrust. He raked his nails down Eddie’s back as he felt his pleasure building, coiling within him. He was right on the edge, and he wanted to live in that intensity forever. Sinking further into his desperate haze, he rocked his hips, making his cock throb.

“Eds,” he panted, throwing his head back, “‘m close, fuck, oh my god, I’m so close.”

Eddie sat up then, and Richie let his legs fall back to the bed, spread open wide. He cried out when Eddie wrapped his hand around Richie’s cock. He arched into Eddie’s touch, his hands gripping the sheets tight. “Come for me, baby,” Eddie moaned. “Fuck, I’m so close too, wanna watch you come on my cock.”

“Oh, fuck!” Richie cried. “I’m coming, I’m coming, fuck, fuck, yes,” he moaned, his eyes screwed shut and words slurring into moans as he came, his pleasure crashing over him like a wave, engulfing him entirely. All he could feel, all he could think was Eddie. Eddie, inside of him, touching him, making him feel like this. It made it so much better than it had ever felt, knowing it was Eddie holding him, that it was his Eddie looking at him, fucking into him, telling him:

“Rich, baby, I’m coming.” Richie was still catching his breath and coming down when he felt Eddie still his hips, burying his face in his neck, biting down and sucking hard as he groaned and gasped. Richie held him and stroked his hair as he came, barely believing he was making Eddie make those noises, that he made Eddie shake like that. Once he felt Eddie relax against him, pressing light kisses to Richie’s skin, Richie held him tight and buried his face in his hair.

“Fuck,” he laughed, kissing Eddie wherever he could reach.

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed breathlessly. “That was… wow, that was amazing.” He rearranged himself so his head rested on Richie’s chest and smiled up at him.

“Tell me about it.” Richie kissed his nose, then delighted in the adorable way Eddie scrunched up his face.

Eddie’s eyes searched Richie’s for a moment before he said softly, “I really love you. A lot.”

Richie melted; for a second he thought he might actually cry. “Eds, you’re the fucking light of my life,” he said, barely able to finish his sentence before he was bringing his lips to Eddie’s. “I love you so much.” He knew in that moment that he would never get tired of feeling Eddie smiling against his lips.

Eddie pressed a kiss to Richie’s cheek before saying, “I’m gonna pull out, okay?” He giggled when Richie whined.

“Just a little longer?” he pouted. Eddie kissed it right away.

“As long as you want. I could stay like this forever.”

Richie snuggled into him, taking a moment to bask in the glow before saying, his voice smug and full of love, “I knew you’ve always liked it when I call you Eds.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Eddie giggled before attacking Richie with kisses.

taglist: @clouded-eyes-and-salty-tears @eddieeatsass @deadlighturis @constantreaderfool @reddieloserz @jessicaheartsderry @vegetarian-avocado @tinyarmedtrex @sml1104 @thelazyeye @itfandomprompts @montconde @fizzylemones @lexinatorwrites @scribbles-solo @nancythebisexualslutwheeler @cutedubutokki @peachcartoon123

#reddie #reddie fic #reddie smut #notsfw

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19tozier · 4 years

Text

polaroid boy (richie tozier)

request:if/when requests are open (if this is okay bc idk your request rules) could you write an angst fic for reddie based on the song polaroid boy by nicole zefanya, it can be from either persons pov i think that decision is more of a personal one based on who you think fits the song better

warnings: angst, swearing, allusions to sexual things, i tried out some stuff w tense so hopefully it still makes sense lol

[losers + reader are college aged (20/21)]

there is an exquisite beauty in falling in love. in feeling your heart quicken at the sight of their smile, or feeling your cheeks blush at the sound of their laugh. in letting yourself tumble off the edge of the cliff because you are certain they will be there to catch you.

there is an exquisite pain in hitting the ground after they fail to do so.

you want to curse yourself for having stepped off the edge. you aren’t sure you’d have been able to stop yourself from falling anyways, but you did it with no hesitation. you didn’t just trip over the cliff, you leapt off of it. no parachute, no net, no caution. and now you’re the one paying the price for it.

it started, innocently enough, in your first lecture fall semester of your sophomore year. you were still drudging through your gen eds, doing your best to stay motivated through endless classes that weren’t at all related to your major. the lectures made your eyes glaze and your head pound, but you were getting through them. nothing exciting ever happened in them but that was fine with you.

until, of course, richie tozier sat next to you in the middle of a half-empty history lecture, fashionably late and a devil’s smirk on his pretty face.

you’d done your best to ignore him at first, furiously writing down anything and everything the professor said. just because a beautiful boy had sat beside you didn’t mean you would compromise your education. class first, dick later, you thought.

but richie, still wearing that gorgeous smirk, had leaned into your side and murmured, “you look a little tense there, doll. want some help with that?” and his left eye had dropped in a wink that sent prickles down your spine.

fuck, had you wanted to slap him for such a suggestive comment. did he always go around propositioning random girls? you were certain the answer was yes, and yet... part of you loved the attention, and another part of you wanted to keep those blue eyes on you at all times.

you’d scowled, glaring at him, refusing to rise to his bait and give him the response he so obviously wanted. you’d pointedly turned back to your professor, ignoring richie for the remainder of the class.

you’d expected him to give up the chase, maybe find another girl who’d take kindly to his attempts at seduction, but he’d stayed by your side while you packed up your bag and walked out beside you, body in a long loose sprawl as he asked—no, begged—you to let him take you to lunch. and were you really going to turn down a free meal? he may be irritating, but you weren’t stupid.

and oh, had he irritated you. it felt like he had been drawn straight from your own personal hell to drive you crazy, but there was something charming about him. something that drew you in despite your earlier reluctance.

he’d leaned across the table at lunch, smirk softened into something sweeter, and brushed his thumb along your cheek. “you’ve got somethin’ here, love,” he’d murmured, his eyes smoky.

“thanks,” you'd rasped, subtly crossing your legs and praying he didn’t notice your blush.

you’d caved and given him your number at the end of your maybe-date. you were still operating under the idea that he wouldn’t want to see you again, so hey, you’d figured, what the hell?

but he had. he’d texted you that night, a simple hey there sugar ;), and against your will your heart had started pounding. your hands shook as you carefully typed out we’ve known each other for a day and you’ve called me how many nicknames?

you’d laughed, irritation be damned, when he had responded almost immediately: i can add on a few more. put it on my tab, toots.

you found, slowly but surely, that richie was charming and funny and obnoxious in a way that made you want more. he was crass, yes, and sometimes he made you want to gouge your own eyes out, but he was softer and sweeter than you’d ever have thought to give him credit for. and it was horrible for you, really, because there was nothing to stop you from developing feelings.

but there were nights where you curled up with richie in your dorm room, squished together on your too-small bed, your roommate blessedly gone for the night, watching shitty movies on your laptop with takeout scattered around you. nights where you were certain that everything you felt for him was reciprocated.

he had pressed his lips into your hair, his glasses digging into the top of your head. “this movie is something else, doll,” he’d murmured to you, tilting his chin towards where you were forcing him to watch the room with you. “not sure i know what’s going on anymore.”

you’d laughed, twisting your head to kiss his jaw. “that’s the point,” you had grinned. “this movie is so bad that it’s fantastic.”

he’d snorted, the tips of his fingers sliding under your t-shirt and tracing circles into the bare skin of your back. “not quite the word i’d use but sure, toots. i’ve definitely lost the plot though.”

you’d frowned, reaching to pause it to look up at him. “i can rewind it if you want?”

he’d smirked, reaching gentle fingers to cradle the curve of your jaw, turning your face towards him. “i can think of something better to do,” he’d purred, and his lips and his body had silenced any objection you could’ve had. not that you did, really.

he’d had that effect on you. time and time again, he had turned you into a bumbling idiot, a lovesick fool, a damned clown. you were the court jester in his kingly eyes, the puppet beneath his talented hand, the doll to sit high on his shelf. people thought it was he that was the bozo, but no; he played you like it was his job and you were too stupid to ever realize how masterful he was.

you’d giggled to him, stretched out in the quad with your head in his lap. he’d been leaning against a tree, one hand absently stroking through your hair, the other holding up a book for class. you had been fucking around with the polaroid camera your friend had bought you for your birthday, taking pictures of the trees and the students around you but mostly of richie himself.

“what’s up, sugar?” he’d murmured, glancing down from his book. his glasses had nearly slid off of his nose.

you’d reached up to correct them, smiling at him. “nothing, nothing. you just look cute. very photogenic.”

he’d rolled his eyes, bookmarking the page he was on and setting the book aside to fully give you his attention. “cute? me? damn baby, maybe you need these glasses more than i do.”

you’d scowled at him, as annoyed as ever that he never seemed to understand how gorgeous he was. “you take that back right now, asshole.”

he had laughed, grinning down at you. his palm had slid along your stomach, warm and secure against your skin, and his eyes had shone in the sunlight. “you always say the sweetest things, doll,” he’d teased.

he’d ducked to kiss you before you could respond, slow and deep and searching, and you had melted back against the grass. it was rare for him to initiate something like this in public, enough that you had kissed him back and not had a single other thought. when he walked you to class, he didn’t reach for your hand; when you met him for lunch, he didn’t kiss you hello or goodbye; when you studied together in the library, he never sat close enough to touch. at the time, you had simply thought he was reserved with his affections.

those polaroids you had taken were the first of many, proudly hung up on the wall of your dorm next to your bed. they weren’t all of richie: some of you and your roommate, some of your friends from your classes, some of the friends of richie’s you had met only once. but most of them had been of richie, because you were smitten and you couldn’t do anything about it.

every time he came over, every time he saw them, his face had done something complicated that you had never understood—a frown to a grimace to a smile that he forced on.

looking back, you wonder about every sign that you had missed. could you have saved yourself the heartbreak if you had simply paid attention? could you have gotten yourself out with your dignity?

it had never even occurred to you to define what you and richie were. you were stupid and young and content to just be able to love him, even if you hadn’t known him long. you never thought to ask him if you were dating, or if he was your boyfriend or not. you really fucking wish you had.

it came to a head not long after. richie had come over like usual, a spring to his step and a bite to his words that had been there for weeks now. he’d been a ghost of himself, eyes flickering around to see who was watching whenever you saw him on campus, not responding to your messages for hours, jumping whenever he saw you. you had just wanted him to relax for a bit.

you’d curled into his chest, laughing along with him to the stupid horror movie you were watching. “it doesn’t even look real,” you’d giggled, pointing to the spray of blood from on-screen.

richie had snorted. “‘cause it’s not real, it’s probably chocolate syrup.”

you had rolled your eyes, poking at his chest. “i know that, smartass. i’m talking about the effects.”

“i’m talking about the effects,” he had mimicked you, pitching his voice higher and sticking his tongue out at you.

you’d scowled, pinching his side. “you’re annoying and one of these days i’ll murder you.”

“oh, is that a promise?” he’d grinned, lopsided and too damn sexy for his own good. “not one of my kinks, i’ll admit, but damn, what a way to go.”

“oh, for the love of—” you’d lunged forward, knocking him onto his back and almost pitching the two of you off the side of the bed. he’d grabbed onto your waist to hold you steady. “i want to strangle you! with my bare hands!”

“that’s hot.” and he’d laughed, the motherfucker, like the sound of it didn't live inside of your ribcage and swim through your bloodstream. every inch of him was something specially designed to get under your skin and make a home there.

it still has a home there.

you’d growled, whaling on him with gentle fists that he did absolutely nothing to combat. he’d just kept laughing, holding your wrists in his big hands, glasses skewed. “you’re awful and i really fucking wish i didn’t love you.”

all at once, it had gone silent and he had gone tense. the expression on his face had not been the elation you had been hoping for; it was horror, plain and simple, and the shock of it had pitched you sideways off of his lap.

“you love me?” he’d asked through trembling lips, looking anywhere but you.

slowly, you had nodded. your voice had disappeared. and he’d nodded back, one short frantic movement, and then vaulted himself off of the bed.

“richie—”

“i didn’t think we were that serious,” he’d said, yanking his shoes on. “i thought we were just having fun.” like it was nothing. like you were nothing.

tears had welled in your eyes and your chest had ached with the force of it. your heart, which you had thought was safe in richie’s hands, was being crushed and ripped to shreds and you could do nothing but watch.

“richie, wait—”

but he had shrugged you off, forceful in the way he had pushed you back. the look in his eyes was wild and terrified and you didn’t recognize him anymore.

he hadn’t looked back at you, in the end. he had just shouldered his backpack and grabbed his phone and disappeared out the door. he hadn’t paused when you sobbed out his name one more time. he hadn’t even faltered.

foolishly, oh so foolishly, you’d held on to hope that that wasn’t the end. that you’d simply overwhelmed him and he just needed time. but as the days stretched into weeks and your texts and calls had remained unanswered, your hope had died the same way your heart had.

you had taken that fatal plunge; the ground was hard when you’d hit it.

you still have the polaroids. you’d taken them down after a few weeks, too hurt to see yours and richie’s smiling faces when he had disappeared from your life. but you still have them, in the shoebox you keep under your bed. and there are nights like tonight where you pull them out to stare at them.

your chest aches, the tears in your throat choking you. you should be all cried out by now but you aren’t that lucky. it seems every reminder of him is destined to detonate something inside of you.

you can still feel his smile on your lips. you can still taste his laughter. you can still hear the stupid voices he’d do to make you giggle. you can still feel him in your heart.

richie hurt you. god, had he hurt you. he’d hurt you so badly you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to smile again. but you’re still in love with him and you don’t think it’ll ever go away.

he’ll forever be the boy in your polaroids, the one that made you feel on top of the world and the one that made you feel like you were six feet under. you won’t ever be able to hear his favorite song without hearing it in his voice. you won’t ever be able to love again without feeling his imprint in your heart.

there’s something magical about falling in love. you won’t take that back. but on nights like this, you wish you never fell.

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retrievablememories · 4 years

Text

friends | haechan

title: friends pairing: haechan x black!reader genre: fluff, a lil angst request: “Do you think you could write about (black) reader dating haechan and meeting some of the other members for the first time. Something fluffy, maybe a little angsty bc worries they won’t like her” word count: 1.6k warning: self-consciousness issues, mentions of racism a/n: i was going thru it during the process of writing this fic so i hope it turned out decent. please don’t be afraid to share feedback or critique. life has been hectic sjdkjdajk but i’m trying to get it together

“Y/N, you look fine, I’m serious.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, fixing your hair and outfit for the millionth time that day. The bow in your curly hair seems lopsided, and you feel like nothing fits quite right.

“I’m 1,000% sure,” Haechan sighs, flopping back on your bed. He watches as you keep fidgeting around, wondering if he’s past the point of being able to convince you.

“Sorry, Channie. You know I’m really looking forward to meeting the guys, I’m just a little...nervous.”

“What are you nervous about? You know you can tell me anything,” he says, hugging one of your pillows.

“Just not sure if they’ll...like me,” you say as nonchalantly as possible, but there are few things you can slip past Haechan. He sits back up after hearing your admission, and you can see the concerned and slightly sad look he gives you in the mirror.

“Why wouldn’t they like you? You’re...you. If they don’t like you, I’ll just beat them up!”

You snort with laughter. “Thanks for that, but you probably shouldn’t fight your group members. It’s just, I don’t know, I’m...different, in case you haven’t noticed. Black people aren’t exactly the beauty standard around here.” You roll your eyes. “Not that I should really care, but still...it’s hard not to know what people will think of you just because of what you look like.”

Haechan slides off the bed to come up behind you, hugging you tight around the waist.

“I wouldn’t put you harm’s way like that, especially if I thought they’d have a problem with you because you’re a different race,” he says softly.

“I know, but sometimes you can’t help but wonder....people are hard to predict, Haechan.”

“You’re right about that…” He plays with the end of one of your curls absentmindedly. “I genuinely think they will like you though, regardless of who you are or what you look like...you’re one of the best people I know and the best girlfriend ever. They would be stupid not to like you.” Even though you don’t want to, you laugh at that. “We should never let differences stop us from loving each other, or making new friends, or...anything!”

You take in his words for a moment before nodding and patting his hands. You’re not sure if you can get to 0% nervousness just yet, but his words have already done a lot to calm you. “You know, you can be quite wise when you wanna be.”

“Duh—that’s because I’m a genius.” Haechan boasts before kissing your cheek and going back to flop on your bed again.

The restaurant you go to is a little hole-in-the-wall place where the owners know all the boys and let them eat in peace without all the fanfare that would come from any other establishment. Haechan has mentioned before that he enjoys having at least one place where people aren’t passing out over his good looks, and you can only roll your eyes at that.

Your stomach flips upside down as you both walk up to the building. The guys are already there; you agreed to meet up with them. Even though you’re unsure about everyone’s reactions, Haechan has refused to let go of your hand the whole time, even on the ride over to the restaurant.

“Your hands are sweating so much, you’re gonna drown me,” he laughs.

“Ugh, shut up,” you whine, but you laugh too. He opens the door for you, and you both go inside.

The place is small but quaint, as most mom-and-pop stores are. One of the waiters immediately waves to the two of you as he heads back to the kitchen, obviously well-acquainted with Haechan.

The other guys are seated in one of the far corners of the restaurant near the window; they call out greetings and wave you over once they spot you.

Haechan raises your joined hands together over your head, and you’re a bit confused for a moment before you realize he’s trying to get you to do a twirl. You laugh, embarrassed, but you do it anyway.

“Hyungs, are you excited to finally meet my girlfriend, A.K.A the most beautiful, extravagant girl in the world?” Haechan speaks excitedly as you both take your seats at the table.

“Of course we are, you talk about her nonstop!” Yuta says, teasing the younger boy.

“You didn’t tell us she was this pretty,” Jaehyun takes your hand in his and Haechan sighs exaggeratedly, pushing his hands into the mix to separate you two.

“Yeah, Hyung, I wonder why. Some of us here would actually like to keep our partners!” The other men laugh at that, while Jaehyun argues his innocence.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Mark says, grinning cutely. “I’m Mark.”

“I think she already knows who you are,” Haechan says, rolling his eyes like Mark just said the silliest thing ever.

“Dude, it’s called being nice! Try it sometime.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you respond. You’re still feeling a little nervous, but those threads of anxiety are quickly unraveling in the presence of their easygoing, laidback demeanor.

“It’s definitely nice to meet the person who’s been making Haechan so happy lately,” Taeil interjects. “But don’t be afraid to let us know if he ever breaks your heart—I’ll handle it personally!”

“Hyung, please.” Haechan whines.

The waiter from earlier soon comes up to the table to ask about what kind of drinks you’ll be having. He looks like he could be around Jaehyun’s age. “And who is this lovely girl? I’ve never seen you around here before.”

You tell him your name, and the waiter introduces himself as Hyungjoon—though you could already guess that from the nametag on his shirt. “Anyone that Haechan likes is a friend of mine. You should come by more often! It’s always fun to meet new customers around here.” He soon zips off to go get your drinks after taking your orders, and you turn to the other boys in the group.

“Sooo, what were you guys doing before you got here?” The boys immediately launch into an excited discussion about one of the new songs they’re recording, which they’re probably not supposed to be talking about anyway; but who really cares what SM says? Maybe it’s silly, but you feel warm and fuzzy inside that you can be privy to these kinds of talks, like you’re already a trusted friend.

You and Haechan end up sharing most of your food, whether it’s you sneaking bites off his plate or him feeding you straight from his chopsticks. This is usually par for the course when you’re eating alone together, but you feel a little embarrassed that he seems extra determined to play it up in front of the other guys.

You give him a boy, are you serious look by the time dessert comes around, with him playing airplane with the spoon of ice cream sundae he tries to feed you.

“Why do you insist on feeding me like a baby?” you ask jokingly, though you definitely don’t turn the scoop down, either.

“Because you’re my baby, duh.” Yuta and Jaehyun groan at the sappiness that Haechan is pouring on thick, while Taeil and Mark laugh at your reaction. You burst out laughing, trying to cover your mouth to avoid spraying Haechan with the ice cream, but you’re a few seconds too late. He shouts and whines like a kicked puppy until you wipe the remnants off his face with your napkin.

“You two really are like a married couple,” Taeil comments, giving you both a sly look.

“Don’t say that out loud, Yuta’s gonna start the wedding plans tonight,” Jaehyun says, and Yuta pretends to look offended.

“Tonight? We should at least wait until he buys a ring, right Haechan?” He reaches over the table to pinch the younger man’s cheek and he only swats him away.

“You guys are too much!”

“Did you enjoy yourself today?” Haechan asks you, swinging your hand in his. The night air is cool, but not uncomfortably so. It’s the perfect kind of atmosphere for a night walk in the park, which you’re currently doing.

The moon is nothing but a crescent in the sky, but the stars twinkle with their own brightness, obscured every once in a while by a drifting cloud or two. The sounds of nightlife surround you, crickets chirping and night birds singing.

“Yes, I’m glad I came.” You smile, squeezing his hand and leaning into him. “It was fun. Everyone was really nice, and I’m happy it went well…”

“I told you they would like you,” Haechan says, bringing your joined hands up together to kiss the back of yours. “You’re a star; everyone likes you. I often feel sorry and even a bit helpless because I know it’s not always easy for you living here...but no matter what, you’ll always have me by your side.” Haechan pauses for a moment before laughing nervously. “I didn’t embarrass you too much, did I?”

“What—no. I did think it was kinda cute,” you snicker.

“I just like you a lot, and I want other people to know it...and if they don’t like it, then they don’t matter.”

“Oh, stop—this is like a scene out of drama! You’re gonna make me cry.” You pretend to wipe away a tear, though you do hug his arm closer to your body, feeling more appreciated and grateful than you can possibly express. “...You’re a good person, Haechan.”

Haechan kisses the side of your head where your bow rests in your hair. “I’m glad you think so.”

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jpegjade · 4 years

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Prom Misses - Spencer

Requests:

Angst idea: Spencer and Reader were low-key friends in college and Reader fell in love. Spencer was too insecure and emotionally unavailable to reciprocate. Somehow he ends up reflecting on the "what if" in the future and regretting his past passiveness badly. Thanks! 🤗

Maybe Spence didn't go to his prom because he graduated early and reader had her own reasons for skipping (maybe no date, was a bookworm who felt she didn't fit in)...* Time break* Reader and Spence become friends in the future and realize they missed out and decide to plan their own pseudo+prom: dressing up for a nice dinner with dancing. You're so good at these fics!!

Warnings: it might hurt a little bit bc angsty but the ending is a little bit different than usual. bloop

____________________________

Spencer sat down at the booth of the diner. It was 11:52 pm and the waitress had served him three cups of coffee and a slice of apple pie. You loved apple pie so he thought he would order a slice before you got there… If you were coming. He believed in you, believed that there was still something left. You made a pact, after all. 5 years later, the two of you would meet at this diner at midnight if there was still something left between you. He didn’t forget; he couldn’t forget. He saved this date in his calendar and looked forward to it for the past 5 years.

He was halfway done with his third cup of coffee when he heard the door swing open. He turned around only to see another trucker sauntering up to the counter. Spencer heaved a big sigh and thought back to those college days.

*****5 years ago******

“You want to do what?” Spencer said, looking up from the textbook he was reading.

You sat on his roommate’s bed, although his roommate didn’t spend any time there. He was always gone and Spencer liked it that way. It was easier to focus when his roommate was gone. On the other hand, he enjoyed when you were able to stop by or when he was able to meet you between classes at the library to help you study. He was already getting his second Ph. D so there was nothing he couldn’t help you with.

“I want to go to that cheesy heartbreakers dance tonight.” You repeated. “Look, I didn’t get to go to prom. I wasn’t asked and I had too much going on in my life to go by myself. Hell, my friends didn’t even invite me to third wheel on their dates. I had my dress picked out and everything.”

You smiled sadly at the memory. It was hard to think about, the idea that your friends weren’t there for you and you spent the night crying.

“I graduated early so I didn’t even get the chance to go to prom.” He said, realizing he missed out on another milestone that other kids got the opportunity to experience. He didn’t really have friends to entertain the idea so what was the point?

“Exactly. And I think it would be fun for us to go. Stay a little while, drink some of the spiked punch. Experience everything we missed out on and make it our own prom!” You said. “I even have that dress that I wanted to wear…” You trailed off as you watch Spencer’s face stay stoic.

You hated how he could be so unreadable sometimes. You got that it was just how he was but it frustrated you sometimes because you wanted him to give you something to go off of. You just wanted him to say or do something, even if he told you no. In fact, you expected him to tell you no.

“Okay.” He said, finally processing something. “We can go. I’ve read this entire textbook three times and I need to collect my thoughts before I write a letter to the editor, pointing out the obvious flaws in his thinking.” He stood up from his bed, walking over to his closet, rifling around before finding a black dress shirt.

“Are you going to get dressed?” He said, turning around to look at your surprised face.

You hopped off the bed and tried your best to hide your smile as you left his room.

****Present day*****

Spencer tapped his fingers on the table. He checked his phone. 2 minutes closer and there was still no sign of you. He was holding out hope but he was realistic. You weren’t likely to show up. He knew that night… It was hard to remember but it was one of the best nights of his life.

“I didn’t know if I wanted to come tonight.” You said, sliding into the booth opposite to Spencer.

His head popped up, straightening his back. He was surprised to see you. It was only a minute until midnight. And you were here. You came...

“I didn’t think you would.” Spencer said, quietly.

“Like I said, didn’t know if I wanted to.” You were colder than he remembered. You weren’t making eye contact, instead looking around the building. “God, what did we see in this place?”

It was a shifty diner, for sure, but it was a place the two of you spent so many nights together.

“It was the pie and coffee.” Spencer said, pushing the apple pie slice towards you.

You smiled before grabbing the fork to start eating it. Spencer opened his mouth to say something and closed it. What could he say? It had been 5 years.

“How have you been?” He asked, although he knew the answer to the question. You had been single, hated your roommate so you moved back in with your parents, which wasn’t much better, and you spent a lot of time alone since you never posted about your friends, just your job.

He told Garcia about the meeting earlier that day. He wanted to see what your life was like without leaving a trace, if possible, and Garcia was the best person to do that.

“It’s been a long 5 years, Spence.” You said, pushing your empty pie plate away.

His heart skipped a beat. Spence. You were the first person to call him that, before JJ. It gave him hope that there was something there if you could call him that after the past few years.

“You look nice.” He said, smiling a little.

He didn’t know where to start. Everything ended so suddenly back then and he didn’t have anything prepared. All that time and he didn’t have anything prepared.

“Thank you. I’ve been taking care of myself.” You said, finally looking at him.

“So… You…” He was tripping over his words. Fuck. He should’ve made an agenda.

“You broke my fucking heart that night, Spencer.” You said, sighing.

“I know…” He said, suddenly unable to meet your eyes. He thought about that night for years, unable to get your face out of his mind.

God he was so stupid. Why couldn’t he just…

“You ruined me and all you did was tell me that you weren’t interested in me. That you had goals and dreams and you needed to focus because at the end of the day, you were going to be alone so you needed to accomplish them. Alone.” You said, recounting everything he said.

As if he needed to hear them again, you repeated the last word. “Alone.”

“I’m sorry. At the time I…” Spencer couldn’t come up with the right words. Silence fell over the two of you again.

“I don’t blame you.” You said, pausing as the waitress came by to refill your and Spencer’s coffee cups. “See, I didn’t know what I wanted. All I knew was that I wanted you. I wanted you forever. And I’ve grown up since then. I see where I was wrong.”

Spencer was speechless. You were really laying it out for him. He couldn’t say anything because he didn’t know what to say. So he let you continue.

“You were right. At the end of the day, all you had was yourself. You were a self-centered asshole who had goals and expectations for everyone around you and I couldn’t meet those expectations, could I? You were emotionally unavailable and I was too in love with you to see it.”

Was. Fuck. You had said ‘was,’ as in past tense. Did this mean you were over him? Spencer couldn’t ask. He didn’t dare ask. He didn’t even know where you stood with him.

“You know what’s really fucked up?” You asked, pausing to let him raise his eyebrow in response.

His throat felt dry. It was hard for him to focus on anything but you. And you were laser focused on him, he could tell.

“I still love you. I still love the guy who taps his fingers on the table because he’s nervous. The guy who stops talking because he can’t think of anything to say. The guy who’s too smart for his own good. The guy who… Who let me believe for a second that I had a shot with someone as pure as he is.”

“I didn’t realize it meant that much to you, that I meant that much to you.” He said, his heart stopping for a moment.

“Spencer, that’s the problem. You don’t realize because you are so emotionally unavailable that you don’t think that someone would love you as much as I do.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Fuuuuck was all that Spencer could think in that moment.

A silence followed. The door chimed in the background and a tear fell down your face. You looked up at him and you saw him rubbing his eyes, one at a time. He was crying…

“Can I ask you something?” He said, standing up from the booth.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, if that’s what you’re asking. I don’t trust myself with you.” You said, looking at his outstretched hand.

“No. I wanted to know if I could dance with you, even if it’s just one last time. Don’t make any decisions until you hear what I have to say, please…”

You paused for a moment. You thought about leaving. You thought about leaving him hanging. God you wanted to see him heartbroken like he left you that night.

“Okay.” You said, taking his hand.

He led you to a corner of the empty section of the diner.

He looked at the waitress, who took her cue. She hit play on the jukebox and started the song you danced to that night. The same one that made you realize just how deeply you were in love with him. The one you kissed him to and the one he left you on the dancefloor to… He grabbed your hand and put his other hand on the small of your back. He led, of course, and you fell into step.

It was just like you remembered it being. The building was basically empty, like that night. He still smelled like peaches and cream but it wasn’t strong. His hands were soft and he was just a little bit off beat but you didn’t mind. But something was different.

He dipped his head next to your ear, speaking softly and slowly.

“I can’t fix it. I can’t promise that I’m what you need. I can’t promise that I won’t put my job first. I love my job, I love saving people. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. But I’m missing something. I’m missing what we had. I’m missing you. You made me the better version of myself, whether I wanted to admit it or not. I thought I knew everything but it wasn’t until I got to see the relationships that my team held. And I realized that I had something special. I can’t fix us and I don’t want to start over. I just want to…”

He paused. He didn’t know what else to say.

“I want to try. You and me.” He finished. “Will you try to let me in again?”

You rested your head on his chest and closed your eyes before giving him the answer you felt in your heart...

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #mgg #oh my god im so lonely

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shadowtongued · 4 years

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long headcanon about the duality of love and the mahjarrat condition pertaining to it from his point of view. if you read all this babble i swear to god, i love you, i hope you have a good day. cw: sex addiction, child neglect, unhealthy coping, unrequited pains. reason for writing: hi i want to die bc of angst.

i think we all know even without playing medieval xp grind lore game, runescape, that sliske is old. very old. he tells us in endgame there's not much he hasn’t done with his life over thousands of years, even traveling to other planets and realms to just see what was out there and how far he could get. i’ve always projected his age as somewhere between more than 8,000 or even more than 10,000. we’re never given a timeline to how long the children of mah have lived. sliske has done a lot with his time; he’s killed a god, had quite a few elder relics in his grasp, SPOKEN to a elder god and managed not to die, mastered shadow magicks, has an excellent grasp on the shadow realm. he’s good with biology, chemistry, has a fair understanding of soul magic which is kind of a rare brand of knowledge, he’s tricked probably thousands into bad contracts to become wights in his army, understands the psychology and bad morals of people. he was a playwright, a high ranking officer, a spymaster. dude is just a determined polymath. you know what he hasn’t done? love. he’s never got to play with love.

mahjarrat are explained as having emotions, but dulled ones. they feel rage and pride apparently better than others. kharshai said after years of really believing he was a human, that when he came back to his true form he states “i feel raw power coursing through my veins. i don't feel pain like i used to, and i'm sure my intellect has increased. but somehow there is something missing. a capacity for emotion that i can't quite put my finger on.” they aren’t equipped for the same range of positive emotions as others are. they feel it, but they don’t understand it fully, it has been said by developers. this whole bit is sadly funny considering in canon, sliske catches feelings. he doesn’t realize he’s attracted to the player character. it’s stated many times, in his journals, in dialogue, etc. he believes their fates are tangled no matter what. and the saddest bit is he probably doesn’t understand these feelings and it confuses him to the point of anger. “ love! a mahjarrat in love? ... i almost wish that were true. it would certainly make the universe a more interesting place. ” “ so perhaps i have loved you. but that doesn’t mean i have to like you.” sliske’s main goal started off as to take the players immortal, unable to be crushed by the divine, soul and give it to himself so he could live forever, as mahjarrats do not have afterlives, once they die they are done, evaporated into energy. but in endgame we learn something from him hidden in masks that refutes that;

“I love you for more than your soul.”

you STUPID fucker, you’re in love.

the remainder of this is a lot of NON-CANON, personal headcanon interpretation that pretty much only works on this blog. as a rough summary: sliske’s ol’ mum was not fond of her kids, half-brother wahisietel or sliske since she did not see them as powerful as herself and was disappointed that's what her legacy came out to. a short, beefy, average at magic son, she had another go and was still disappointed with this spidery, scrawny, gifted but absolutely annoying stick underweight child. his father, saw him once or twice in his life and that was it. dyeosuthua wanted nothing more than to make them disappear and try again until she got offspring she didn’t want to throw into a lava pit in secrecy, infanticide was against tribal law due to population issues. sliske’s mother’s neglect was so severe, ( by the absolute boundless joys of rp development and mutual heacanons ♥ ) that wahi and nabor had an attempt at raising him and keeping him from freezing to death. why is all this jargon important? because while all mahjarrats are raised by tough love, sliske’s attention deprivation from his mother was so severe, he grew up and still has a slew of reactive attachment, psychological, and social issues he still carries as an adult. several times she threatened to kill him and almost made good on it more than twice. when wahisietel had proven he was a survivor of the first ritual of rejuvenation, sliske became dyeosuthua’s main target for abuse despite his gift for magic at a young age. nothing he did could impress her enough. and it left him constantly seeking approval and validation to an insecure mind.

the more he grew, the more confident he became mainly out of spite and to get attention. he’s loud, charming, makes you the only person in the room when he talks to you. he has an innate silver-tongued ability that persuades people to do just about anything. it was a front for his insecurities that he kept very very closed up. in the second age/senntisten capital, sliske had a pretty severe sex addiction as it was one of the few ways he felt validated and was able to get affection in a way he could digest. people with reactive attachment disorders often have sex addictions to fill the space of acceptance without having to commit.. easy, feel good intimacy without having to open up and let someone learn about your vulnerabilities and commit. it was pretty severe, considering mahjarrats find any kind of breeding or intimacies outside their ‘superior species’ as downright foul. sliske had always been the black sheep of the tribe and with his status as praefectus praetorio; head of secret police, really nothing put a damper on him trying to fill the void for affection he had. there wasn’t a species or individual he wouldn’t bed. he would easily take up propositions even for people who just wanted to fuck a mahjarrat because it was ‘exotic’ or because of his status as an officer, he now looks back on this and it bruises his insecurities even more that he allowed himself to do that. not out of pride for his species. but himself, being just a thing to be had because of rarity. azzanadra and his brother, wahisietel found out about it and while disgusted, partially understood what he was doing to negatively self soothe. at one point sliske and azzanadra, the champion of their god and head of the church, as well of one of the strongest living of their kin, had a lasting tryst for a few years and for awhile it made sliske feel very much self important in a way and alleviated his need to be needed so badly, this did not end well when sliske grew tired of their empire and wanted freedom. once childhood best friends and lovers had become absolute enemies once sliske became too unstable and azzanadra became too zealous.

sliske gave up his sexcapades for a long time, thousands of years, his libido dropped when he became interested in other projects and self healing when he was hit with the idea that he hasd essentially allowed himself to be an exotic fling and still burned over becoming his god, zaros, scapegoat after all he had done for him. love was a weird concept to him and still is. despite being adamant love doesn’t exist for his kind, and his belief that he is flawed, unstable, and embraced the idea of ‘you want a monster? fine! i’ll be the monster!’. he expects no pity, not be forgiven to things he has done and even in game when you sycophantically try to cozy to him, he straight up calls out your text choice was awful considering some of the shitty things he might have done to you. to sliske, all attention to him is attention, whether you’re praising or insulting him. he’s on your mind, he exists, that’s all he wants.

backstory aside the real part of this headcanon is that sliske actually wants love. it’s the only thing aside from an immortal soul he hasn’t had. sliske actually has an attraction to humans because they are empathetic, curious, passionate, and determined. he has an easier time assimilating and being around them since he has ALWAYS had a better sense of humor, socializing, and happiness than his kin. he feels emotions a lot stronger than his fellow mahjarrats. it allows him to talk to and connect to humans and humanlike species better. others of his kind have told him there’s “something wrong” with him for that. he’s actually a romantic, even if he’s just mimicking romance stories, movies, and actions from others. he thinks the idea of settling with one person and loving them is both mortifying and interesting. opening yourself up to someone and giving them the hammer to smash your cherry-red painted porcelain heart and seeing if they do, to him might be the ultimate form of trust and biggest gamble of russian roulette. the stakes are so heavy he’s high on the idea. but it’s also horrifying. mahjarrat are prolific for not opening up, not allowing others in, vulnerability out in the open is a death sentence. they live in a kratocracy/meritocracy where they kill off the weakest link. it’s not pretty. being soft is a useless, unnecessary, weak gene to them. it dampers survival.

but yet sliske keeps reading romance novels, writing his own confused poetry, and getting into unrequited one sided loves but practicing a backstabbing betrayal when one gets too close. i have to hurt them before they hurt me, betray and cut them down before they can do it to me. i think he wants to be loved. i think he kinda wants to be taught to love, for the emotions and the sake of knowledge. ( brb james newton howard’s ‘true love’s kiss’ from maleficent just came on spotify and i think i’m going to die bc i did not ask for background music thanks!!! ) he wouldn’t be the best at it, maybe a little too possessive with you, codependent, but very nurturing and fun loving. will sepnd a whole week spooning you.. people who hurt you past, present, and future may end up dead in mysterious ways or turned into a wight for you to beat the shit out of. but he’d try. he’s still got a broken child sitting behind his third rib. i think he would snarl the first few times someone genuinely got close to him, it would terrify him, being known on such a skinned, raw level. having gentle touches that are real and not a come hither to the bedroom. being known for something other than the confident, ego he has is death. he could be taught to be gentle for a crumb of consistent attention. might even cut down the murders and god killing down by 15%. love is not going to fix him, it’s not going to forgive the actual shitty things he’s done. it should never do that. but it will turn the lights on in a dark house.

love could really break him. i think so. i’d type more but this has gone on too long and i feel sad-happies.

#me @ me: die bitch #yell at me in an ask if i roasted both you and i at 450 deg f and basted you with butter and rosemary with a good wine too #// long post #✦ │ 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽𝚂 & 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙾𝚁𝙸𝙴𝚂 ––– i do hate parting with information.

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ineffably-good · 4 years

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Prompt: Road Trip

Summary: A look at three memorable road trips over the course of an ineffable friendship.

This is part of the Good Omens 30th Celebration Prompts - see all of the ones I’ve completed on AO3.

---

Outside Thebes, 1500 BC

“Imagine running into you here!” a familiar voice said on the docks of the Red Sea port of Elim, in the kingdom of Egypt.

Crawly blinked and turned around, trying hard to not show how much he wanted to kneel down and kiss the ground, now that he was back on dry land. “Angel!” he said. “Did you just arrive as well?”

“I did, yes,” the angel said, peering at him closely. “You look a little green around the gills, Crowley. Are you all right?”

“Oh,” the demon demurred, trying to be cool. “You know. Boats and me. I’m fine!” He waved a hand and swallowed hard, fighting a wave of nausea.

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes, not fooled in the least. “You’re headed for Thebes, I expect? Come travel with my group, I’ve got a camel just for you.”

“A camel!” Crawly said. “I’d prefer to walk, thank you.”

“You’re not walking from here to Thebes. It’s the desert. You’ll die.”

“Well then I’ll fly!” Crawly said. “I can wait until nightfall.”

Aziraphale made a face filled with compassion underlain by the tiniest bit of mockery. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Crawly!” he purred. “I didn’t realize you were afraid of camels! How foolish of me to offer. They are rather terrifying beasts, I can see how a demon would be put off by one. I’ll just see if I can arrange for you to be taken over on an ass, would that be better?”

Crawly rolled his eyes, his bluff having been successfully called. Now that the angel was calling him a coward, there was no way he was going to do anything other than ride a freaking camel from here to Thebes. How wonderful, to have a reputation to uphold.

This led directly to Crawly finding himself bumping and rolling along in a group of about twenty on the world’s surliest camel, several hours later, holding desperately to the saddle horn in front of him and trying to find a rhythm which did not exist in the animal’s god-forsaken gait. The camel was draped in blankets and tassels and other accessories which served to make it look cute and harmless, but its appearance didn’t match its demeanor. Every chance it got, it turned around and bared its teeth at Crawly.

Aziraphale pulled up next to him for long stretches of the journey, offering him encouragement and advice. “Try scratching behind her ears!” he shouted helpfully. “Isn’t the scenery gorgeous?”

Gorgeous, the demon thought sulkily. He tried Aziraphale’s suggestion and the camel turned around and tried to bite him, causing him to wobble and almost lose his seat.

The camel (whose name was Sheba, of all things) came to a dead stop and looked him straight in the eye, assessing something. Crawly frowned and concentrated, pulling up every ounce of demonic threat he possessed and allowing his eyes to darken to a gleaming red for a moment, trying to convey the sense of immediate damnation if the bloody ungulate didn’t pull itself into line and immediately. The tar pits of hell were perfectly sized to fit a few dozen camels, after all.

The camel was completely unimpressed. Hell didn’t frighten Family Camilidae – they had met demons before, and there wasn’t a demon among the bunch who didn’t find camels to be meaner, trickier, and less trustworthy than their fellow inhabitants of the lower circles. Most demons would rather be roasted on a spit than end up in a one on one fight with a dromedary, no matter what they were armed with.

Crawly kept up the glower and bravado for as long as he could, and was somewhat relieved when the camel broke the stare-off first. Had he won? He sat up straighter in his seat, pleased with his courage – he had won! He was fairly sure he had won.

The camel had other ideas, breaking free of the path and heading directly for the cliffside overlooking the Red Sea.

“’ziraphale!” Crawly shouted, losing all pretense of being in control of this situation as he held on for dear life. “She’s trying to murder me!”

The camel lopped along at a surprising rate of speed until he got directly to the edge, then skidded to a halt, performing a complicated bucking maneuver that sent Crawly flying over her neck and down over the edge of the ravine.

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale murmured, calling the caravan to a stop. “Stupid Sheba! This can’t be good!”

He dismounted and ran to the edge, to look for his friend.

Crawly was alive, about 20 feet down on a small rocky ledge that had broken his long fall to the river. He waved a hand weakly at Aziraphale but seemed unable to get up from where he was lying, a cloud of dust around him obscuring the extent of his injuries.

Somehow his words drifted up to reach the angel’s ears.

“Bloody…. Camels…” he moaned. “Can’t anyone invent something better than this?”

Aziraphale put a slight miracle on the entire party, distracting them from what he was doing as he flew down to rescue his companion and “help” him back up to the party. Time to put Crawly safely on a litter and with a substantial pain block for the rest of the journey. Once they reached Thebes, he would nurse the demon back to health.

Scotland, 1730

Usually, Crowley and Aziraphale traded duties whenever they could when their assignments involved long stretches of travel, but sometimes they had no choice but to carry out their duties themselves, even if they were headed to the same area. And so they found themselves both called to Scotland, on their way to Edinburgh to attempt to influence a series of rich nobles to their own aims.

Nothing said they couldn’t travel together, though. They took a rough carriage as far as Northumberland, then were handed a set of fine horses by one of George II’s lords to take them the rest of the way.

“Can’t we just – you know, snap our fingers and show up in a nice, cozy inn in Edinburgh?” Crowley groused.

Aziraphale looked somewhat sympathetic. He wasn’t a huge fan of horses either, although he had to admit that having some extra padding in his hips and thighs probably made the ride a lot more comfortable for him that it was for a bony specimen like Crowley. And he did enjoy the fresh air and the scenery.

“I don’t think we should,” he said. “It would definitely draw the attention of Above if I miracled myself directly to the castle three days early. And then they might notice that I had a demon with me for the whole trip, which could lead to questions, and that could be –”

“Oh, all right, all right,” Crowley snapped, knowing he was right. He did, though, magic himself up a little extra blanket on top of the saddle of the large thoroughbred he was riding. She was a mare, high spirited and a lovely dark brown. Although better than a camel, she obviously objected to having a snake demon on her back, which she showed by rolling her eyes and wickering madly whenever he came to mount her, and then either plodding along at a maddeningly slow speed or racing at breakneck pace ahead. She outright refused to do anything Crowley asked, but would, infuriatingly, obey like a sweet little lamb whenever Aziraphale intervened.

The angel’s horse, a large chestnut stallion in fine form and fettle, gave him no trouble whatsoever. And don’t think that Crowley didn’t notice how smug Aziraphale appeared about this sometimes. He did. He filed each and every instance of smug away in his mental files, to be revenged upon later.

After the horse threw Crowley for the third time in three days, Aziraphale had to admit defeat. They were simply going to have to find another form of transportation before Crowley ended up discorporated on the side of the road.

“Shaddup, angel,” the demon said irritably as he picked himself up out of the ditch and brushed off a combination of sodden vegetation and rot. “It’s not my fault, she just hates me.”

The gorgeous mare stomped her front hooves and made a noise of agreement. She did hate him. She really did.

“I can see that,” Aziraphale said. “Shame, really, you and horses. They’re such a convenient way to get around.”

“For you, maybe.”

The angel moved to take the reins of both horses and began leading them down the road. “Can you walk, my dear?” he asked.

Crowley grunted his assent and began limping down the road, putting Aziraphale’s broad form between him and the animals. If he was lucky, they could make it to the next town without one of the horses kicking him in the head.

“Great,” he sighed. “Walking. Even slower and more tortuous.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Aziraphale said pleasantly. “I rather enjoy walking. And it’s only an hour or two until the next village. Then we will try to get you onto an ox cart or something.”

Crowley was not to be mollified. He leaned back and spread his arms. “Could someone please invent something to make these fucking horses obsolete?” he shouted at the sky. “I’d consider it a personal favor!”

London, 2020

Crowley pulled up in front of the bookshop and, feeling insouciant, laid on the horn instead of going up to the front door to knock. He hopped out of the car and leaned against the bonnet, grinning broadly as Aziraphale appeared at the front door, frowning and looking affronted.

“Is this what we’ve come to now?” the angel asked acerbically. “The romance is over? No more coming in to greet me, you just blurt the horn until I come outside?”

Crowley grinned and produced a bag of pastries from behind his back.

“Oh, well then,” Aziraphale said with a wriggle. “You’re forgiven!”

“Let’s go for a drive, angel,” the demon said enticingly.

Aziraphale pretended indifference. “I’m not so sure about that, my dear,” he said. “You’re such a frightening driver, after all. Why would I want to do that?”

“There are three excellent reasons for you to go on a drive with me, angel,” Crowley said, his mood too perky for the angel’s game playing to make a dent. “Number one, it’s a beautiful day! Number two, I know an excellent place in the country where we can get crepes, about two hours north of here. Right where that really interesting inn used to be in the 18th century – do you remember? Rosie and Violet and their roadside inn?”

Aziraphale cast back and encountered the memory of good stew, cool ale, and excellent company. “I do!” he said. “That was such a lovely place.”

“Well now there’s a restaurant there, same plot of land. Shame you’ve never been there,” the demon said coyly. “Should really do something about that.”

“And reason three?” the angel said, smiling.

Crowley walked over and swung open the passenger door. “Reason three? It’s a CAR. An automated vehicle with horsepower but no horses!” He gestured at the leather interior. “Sitting comfortably, a tin of biscuits in your lap, while we zoom through the countryside with nothing to bite you or buck you or try to kill you with its bad temper?”

“Crowley, my dear, you know I’ve seen your car approximately a thousand times before,” Aziraphale pointed out.

“Shaddup, I’m having a moment here!” Crowley said. “Can’t we just stop and appreciate now and then that we are not on the back of animal when we have to get from point A to point B?”

Aziraphale laughed. “I see you woke up in quite a mood today.”

Crowley grinned at him. “Get in the car, angel. Places to go, people to see.”

Aziraphale stopped feigning resistance and allowed himself to be ushered into the car, his door to be carefully shut behind him, and his seat belt to be adjusted for maximum comfort. The demon was in rare high spirits, and he wasn’t truly going to resist participating in them for anything in the world.

#goc2020 #good omens #good omens fanfiction #Aziraphale x crowley #ineffable husbands #camels hate crowley #even more than horses do

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gtseven7 · 4 years

Text

My Seven Idols

Summary:

Got7 as highschoolers as they deal with graduation and college at the same time starting up their own Youtube channel as idols.

A/N: Second chapter skskskskssks updates are slow but it’ll be slower coz i have a job now lol and i just realized that my format (for all my fics) looks horrible on pc but it looks ok on mobile (thats where i used to do everything) imma be editing those bc they’re so awful i apologize.

//prev

The big doors of the gymnasium opened, allowing a certain man in. Walking with confidence and steady feet, the murmurs of the people slowly dies down. At the very front, the reason of the crowd gathering together, stood oblivious to the person who just came in. They were still dancing to the beat of the music, trying to charm the ladies watching. Until the music abruptly stopped. Jinyoung holds the plug on his hand. The five guys, known as Five Roses, who were dancing earlier paused and looked for the source of disruption.

The audience parted as if it was the red sea as Jinyoung, the student council president walks towards them.

See, Jinyoung has a perfect face, perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect uniform, probably perfect everything. Many girls and some boys has a crush on him, obviously. But the fact that he's strict, cold and savage dwindles the affection the student body has for him making him the not so desirable anymore.

"What the...this guy again...dammit." Ji Woo, one of the Five Roses said upon seeing the sour look on the President's face. "Why is he here again?!"

"I should be asking that. Why are you here? Don't you have class?"

Knowing better for themselves, the rest of the people dispersed and went back to their respective rooms. No one wants to anger Jinyoung. No one wants to be in his bad side because he's scary. Nobody could say what would happen if they did disobey him. There was no brave soul who dared.

Maybe Jung Hwan will dare, as he speaks. "C'mon man, leave us alone. We're practicing for the idol competition. Our school's name is at stake here." He was only rewarded with a scoff and an eye roll. Jinyoung finds idol competitions between schools funny. It was a well-known fact that he doesn't support it. At all. Especially if you disregard your studies in favor of it. His nonchalance about the matter slowly aggravates the five boys. "Our school's academic performance is at stake. Adding you bunch of idiots skipping classes will not help it." The leader of the group, Yeon So, feeling a little less happy with how things are going, strode towards Jinyoung. "Pres, we could care less. But since you took the effort to go here and nag us, we'll follow you. The next time you do it again though, I wouldn't care if you're the president."

Face to face. It was like a two wolves staring each other down ready to bite off the other. There was an air of crackling electricity between them, trying to win and make the other back down. "You think that would scare me Yeon So?"

"No. But that was a warning. Stay in your lane, teachers' pet."

The five boys walked away with a grudge, leaving an exhausted Jinyoung. Don't get him wrong, he understands the passion they have what they do. He thinks it's a wonderful thing: to be passionate about something. To do something that you love. He might be a little jealous of them for having something that he doesn't despite the fact that everyone thinks he's perfect. It also irks him that they sacrifice learning to do it. More so that their school's academic standing compared to other schools is pathetic. Add the humiliating downfall of their sports team.

Everything's not going right for their reputation. The only good win they have is the idol competition, which is not really saying much. It's Jinyoung's second term as president and his last year. The pressure he has on himself to exceed his performance from last year before he graduates lays heavy on his shoulders. Resulting to him being more uptight than he usually is.

"Thinking too hard there, aren't you?"

Turning to see who spoke, even though Jinyoung knows that voice very well. It was Jaebum. He's scratching his head while yawning, worsening his bed head. The president's eyes turned into slits. "Do I have to reprimand you as well?" His long time friend only shrugged, already used to the president's stern warnings. "It's our break, I took a nap." Jinyoung sighed. He already knows making the other follow him is a lost cause. It doesn't mean he'll stop though. "You weren't in class before the break."

Both walked out of the gymnasium to head back to the main building. "Mrs. Kim called me in her office. Apparently I'm the only senior who hasn't submitted college plans." Mentioning college made Jinyoung stop in his tracks. The big elephant in his life. Something that he avoids to think about these last few months. "I heard you submitted late as well. Who would've thought Mr. Perfect Jinyoung had doubts as well." Jaebum teased his friend. He had seen him struggle to finish the forms. Conflict clearly written on his face every night as he stared at the piece of paper that probably has his future. Hair disheveled when he pulls it out of frustration.

The man in question can't help but to huff out. Even after submitting his half-hearted plans, he couldn't help but still ask himself what he wants to do with his life. "Have you thought about it? College, I mean..." Jinyoung asked his companion. A light breeze flew by them as he waited the other to answer. "I know what I want to do. I've always known."

Music. Im Jaebum's first love. Of course. Why did Jinyoung ask anyway? He knows it well.

“What about you?”

They both walked the side field, mulling about the future and what awaits them.

“I don’t know. My parents want me to take Medicine, but Mrs. Kim said I’ll fit in well with a business course.”

“Do whatever you want man, whatever would make you happy.”

“Hmm…”

What would make him happy anyway? He doesn’t have an answer to that. He’s been asking himself for a long time but Jinyoung comes out with a blank space in his heart waiting to be filled by something he himself can’t answer what. Now with their graduation looming, entrance exams coming closer, Jinyoung felt like he’s out of time.

“If you knew what you wanted, why submit late anyway?” He asked his friend condescendingly, his JB hunter mode on. “I lost the form.”

And Jinyoung’s signature eye roll with a dash of an exasperated sigh came out as usual whenever Jaebeom does anything stupid. “I don’t even know what to say about that.” They both stopped walking, the president ready to rant again, his back facing the field where their prestigious basketball team were playing (prestigious my ass, they lost four consecutive games already). “You could have…” But Jaebeom wasn’t entirely listening, seeing the orange ball flying towards them. Specifically, at his friend.

“Jinyoung!”

Jaebeom held the other’s shoulder and pushed him aside. He shielded Jinyoung with his body, the ball hitting him directly on the back. He was almost hugging him, bracketing his smaller shoulders with his wider ones. "Ugh. What?" confusion was what Jinyoung felt. 'Why is he hugging me all of a sudden? If this is because I was being a bit sentimental… I'll hit you Jaebeom.'

"Omo! Sorry! Sorry!'

Jinyoung peered over his friend's shoulder and saw Jackson, one of the members of the basketball team. "Didn't mean to hit 'ya! Sorry." He was cringing and had his hands in pleading. Their president was almost hit with a ball. They might get suspended! "Next time, watch where you're throwing the ball." Jaebeom's reputation isn't that great to be honest. With his biting stares, long hair and seasonal peircings, he's known to be the school's bad boy. A man you shouldn't cross. Someone to avoid at all costs. It's also well known that even the great disciplinarian Park Jinyoung can't handle him. Now, Jackson who's receiving ill intent from the other, he didn't seem to mind and his apologetic smile just bounced off Jaebeom's scary aura. Jinyoung was quite amused.

"It wasn't me though! Sung Hwan threw the ball. I was only asked to fetch it. I'm sorry in behalf of the team though. Jinyoung, we're sorry for almost hitting you." He then bowed politely to express his sincerity. Jaebeom was dumbfounded at the boy who did not seem to mind his usual scary air.

When Jinyoung realized that Jaebeom was still holdong him protectively, 'Tsk, what a worrywart.', he released himself indignantly and smoothened his uniform. Seeing the other still bowing to him, he felt uncomfortable. "Hey, it's okay. It was an accident."

Jackson immediately straightened up and beamed. "Thank you! Anyway, are any of you hurt? The ball's a bit hard."

"No not really." Jaebeom answered nonchalantly. Trying to look like a cool senior. Again, the president rolled his eyes at him.

"We're fine Jackson. How about you, how's the team going? Are you still benched?" The athlete rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. He laughed lightly, but his smile decreased. Way to go Jinyoung. You officially made him feel bad. "Yeah… But that's okay! I can now do my other hobbies other than sports so…" Jackson covered his embarrassment with a hearty laugh, waving off the dampening of the mood. "No but really, I'm totally okay with it Jinyoung. No need to worry." He gave his most convincing smile to Jinyoung as the other frowned. Jackson's a foreign student who transferred to their school because of his parents' business in the area. Before he went to East High, he's already a great athlete with a bright future ahead of him. From what Jinyoung heard, he had already collected a ton of medals and trophies.

"Are you sure? I can talk to the coach. Seriously that Coach Jang has favoritism. Only letting Sung Hwan to shine."

"No no no! Don't worry about it. It's okay. I prefer it this way."

Jinyoung was not convinced but bit his tongue from saying anything further. He just nodded and it seemed to satisfy Jackson as well. But Jaebeom on the other hand looked like he didn't like the friendly way of speaking of the other. "Hey. You're a junior aren't ya? Pay some respect on your seniors."

Jackson looked at Jaebeom curiously, a teasing smile already on his face. "I'm older than Jinyoing though." The long haired senior's eyes widened. He turned to his friend to confirm and Jinyoung was not reacting to it. "He is?"

"Yes. You guys are the same age. And you both make it sound like I'm so much younger. It's just a few months "

The laugh that resounded the area was cheerful. Jackson's mood lifted up again. He bid goodbye to the two after grabbing the ball and jogged back to the court. But Jaebeom was stuck in his position, floored by the surprise of the fact and most likely because the foreigner wasn't really all that faltered in his presence unlike other people "Why is he a junior though?"

As the subjects from his old school were quite different from what they have, some were not credited. Thus making him repeat his junior year. Having no choice but to accept, since it was an urgent migrate. Jackson got into the team with his natural sporty abilities, even better than the current players they have. But unfortunately, Mr Jang doesn't care and only fluffs up his favorite, the captain ball Sung Hwan. Which was such a waste and irks Jinyoung to the core. They lost consecutive competitions already even if they have someone like Jackson, they never bothered to bring hin out anyway.

"You seem to know him well."

"I toured him around campus on his first day."

"Oh aren't ya such a good student president?" Ah, Jaebeom was joking around once again. A feat that most people don't see. "Apparently not, you won't cut your hair and remove that metal on your nose."

As if he was wounded by his friend's ribbing, he put his hand on his chest feigning hurt. "Yah! You said long hair suits me."

"My opinion outside school doesn't mean a thing inside. Cut that hair."

next//

#got7 #got7 fanfic #got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #got7 fic #my seven idols #park jinyoung #Im Jaebum #jackson wang #kim yugyeom #bambam #mark tuan #choi youngjae

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